Grace and Loving the Dance of Life

At the end of a life, what did it all mean?

Was it about attaining an unattainable idea of perfection, or in seeing the perfection in the unfolding of our imperfect lives?

I will never win an Olympic Gold medal in swimming, but I love to jump in the pool and enjoy the sensation of cool water kissing my skin.

It would be a tragedy for me to deny myself the pleasure of swimming, simply because I’m no Michael Phelps.

The same is true for my expression of Argentine Tango.

I love to dance; love the Milonga; love the music, the embrace, and the presence I feel of being in The Now, when I listen to my partner and follow to the best of my ability in a given moment.

There are those who dance to attain perfection of motion. They want to be “the best”, and I love to watch them dance. It is amazing to see world-class performers in action. It takes my breath away, and I give them due applause.

There are those who dance simply to find connection. They are less interested in innovative footwork than in an exchange of energy, which brings them a deeper understanding of themselves.

Sometimes the two desires are one and Tango is allowed to move at full throttle. This is magic!

For a time, I was feeling a self-imposed pressure to attain “perfection” with Tango. I danced nearly every night and became obsessed with my growth.

I wanted to be “good enough” to dance with all of the best leads.

I became judgmental of my current level of development and thought, “I just need to work harder; be more dedicated; improve!”

Then one night I had the pleasure of experiencing GRACE in action as I was dancing with an advanced leader who could dance circles around me, if he had chosen to do so.

I was having an “off night” to begin with, and our pairing was uneven, to say the least.

He moved swiftly and precisely with an easy flow of motion, while I was stumbling, sluggish, and leaning too much for him to have any real freedom of movement.

I began to tense-up. Judge. Worry. Fear.

But anytime I stumbled or made a misstep, he playfully sang, “wheeeeee” in my ear, as if we were on a ride at an amusement park.

This made me laugh and helped facilitate self-forgiveness, and a release from the grip of self-judgment.

The Grace he offered was a gift, which reminded me that the journey of development is fun, and judgment has no place in the process.

This is not to be confused with assessment, which IS necessary when developing a craft. What I am referring to is a tearing down of one’s self and others. It serves no one.

I might never become a world class Tanguera, but I so enjoy the journey, the music, and the friendships I am making in the process of my growth, and there is a kind of beautiful perfection in this realization.

As in Tango, so it is in Life.

I am far from perfect. There are plenty who could attest to this fact.

I make mistakes, stumble, fall, cry, mourn, shake my fists at the heavens at times, and ask, “WHY….?”

Then I hear Spirit sing a playful song, “Wheeeeee,” and remember that the joy of living is not in having a “perfect life,” but in being love and embracing the moment with all of it’s imperfect perfection.