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The Argentinian tango night at Reading's Canoe Club creates a strange mix of pleasure and pain. Pleasure to see familiar faces and hear the music. Pleasure to be close to the River Thames on a Saturday night, taking the pulse of the river and admiring candlelight from the terrace.
Pain reflects my embarassment and lack of control. Memories of lessons past drift in and out as I pivot clumsily and accept invitations to dance with strangers. The negative voices rise in my head: "You can't remember the steps;" "You could have bought a new dress;" "You're out of your depth." Can I go home yet?
I stop. I turn around and notice the other dancers of all shapes, sizes and ages. Experts encourage newcomers to join the dance regardless of faltering steps and moments of indecision. I remind myself that I have chosen a difficult dance and allow myself to enjoy the learning right now. Skill grows with practice and encouraging teachers: the real tango lesson.
2 comments:
Is it you in the picture? Looks great!
No, that's my teachers!
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