Hemispheres, Hearts

Jessica shares her feelings about the connecting power of tango and a deeply evocative experience dancing in Perth, Australia.

Out of the blue, on WhatsApp, I got this message… sometimes you can’t help but love technology; I came home exhausted from the 40 degree heat and the tired kids at school getting used to the start of the school year, I flopped onto the sofa, too knackered to do anything more than scroll through my phone and I read this message:

‘Sally (my Tazzy tango friend whom you met in London) is trying to get in contact with you... she will be in Perth sometime soon and hoping your timings will coincide to go out dancing’

From my brother, an artist based in South London. A tango teacher who runs and co-ordinates the Tango 178 milonga at New Cross House. I don’t see him often. Living in separate hemispheres can do that. We chat too infrequently. The occasional WhatsApp message. Facebook posts give us vague ideas of what each other are doing. But life is busy. Distances are so vast somehow we just don’t connect or communicate that often.

I do dance tango, not with the grace and subtlety, poise and musicality of my brother, but I do dance tango. I residually remembered Sally from a visit to London pre COVID. But only a hazy memory. I remember the dances and the atmosphere of the milonga and the leaders. But less so the followers whom I probably had less opportunity to meet properly.

I was of course happy to bring Sally to a Perth milonga.

Tango has changed my life. I decided to learn it even before I really knew anything about it; what the music sounded like; how dancers moved on the floor; I didn't even know it's the hardest dance to learn. But what I also didn’t know is that it can totally transform your life - the way you look at life and what you look for in life. I didn't decide to learn it because I saw it and fell in love with it. No, I decided to learn for quite a different reason, and possibly the saddest reason of all. I chose to learn it as a way to say goodbye to a life. And ironically, even though I did not know that tango is all about connection, I chose it to try to be connected with my brother and to find a way to defy time, financial and hemispherical obstacles. I chose to learn to dance tango because a milonga was being held for a funeral and I couldn’t afford the airfare. I chose to take up tango lessons so at least I could learn the skill of tango and when I danced it I could feel I too was celebrating the life of a loved one. It has always struck me as ironic that despite my utter ignorance about tango, and the fact I didn’t chose it as a dance and it thrust itself upon me in an unusual way, I actually took it up for the very essence of what tango is. I took it up because I was longing and striving for connection. I took up tango to be connected with my family far, far across the globe. They are all based in Europe and I live in Perth Western Australia, about as far away as it’s possible to be..

That was ten years ago. Little did I know when I started that journey that it would actually change my life. It has been the longest journey, and I am certainly not a natural dancer and I am certainly not a very technical dancer and I am still not very musical. And yet, here I still am dancing tango. What I have learnt is the type of learner I am and that I learn by feel and response, which in a way is ideal for a follower. I learnt I am not good at remembering sequences of steps, which in a way is ideal for an improvised dance like tango . But the most important thing I have learnt is not only how to connect, but the beauty of connection. The connection I discovered in tango, I have noticed I now strive for in every part of my life. In everything I do. I live life and and love life like a tango dancer. Connection is everything to me. I give everything of me to the moment or situation because that was what I learnt from tango. I learnt the exquisite beauty of total connection. Now obviously sometimes as I am striving for that connection when I dance, sometimes it is elusive. But we have all felt it; that tango moment, when for a tanda, or a song, or even just a few moments in a dance you find that blissful connection that feels like pure happiness, or poetry or ecstasy….there simply isn’t a word big enough to describe how perfect that moment of tango connection is. It’s a bubble that suspends time, is bigger than words, breaks down all barriers and makes you feel at one with that person, the music…

Tango taught me how beautiful connection can be in its purest form which is a blessing and a curse. I strive for that same deep connection in in all my relationships, with friends, with family, with my partner. I realise often that not everyone knows (or perhaps doesn't even need) that level of connection. Not every one has the heart of a tango dancer. So I can find myself feeling empty in certain relationships that don't come close to that feeling of connection, that Namaste, that place in your heart that is the same in you as in me.

That is the curse.

Once you have learnt and felt such depth of connection not having it is a noticeable absence, a hole. I yearn for it in every relationship I have.

But it is also a blessing. Because when you form friends and partnerships who also know how to connect with the level of depth and intensity, then you find such happiness and inner peace that the world is simply a beautiful place to be in.

That is the blessing.

I am so very lucky and grateful to have tango and to have the heart of a tango dancer.

I did not think tango could add anything more to my connection addiction. I thought tango had taught and given me everything I ever needed to know about connection. But last week tango surprised me again. Tango brought two worlds together again. Mid-week, a Wednesday night, two worlds met and suddenly I was close and connected to my brother and his tango world, though we had neither of us moved from our homes in separate hemispheres.

I had received this request to welcome Sally to the Perth tango world. I had vaguely met her, yes, but I would not say I knew her. She was, it transpired, only here mid-week so the only milonga available to go to was one I had never attended. I had no idea if any of my usual leaders would be there no idea if it was a good night out, and no idea if I would connect and feel at ease with this stranger called Sally. But in the spirit of being close to my brother and sharing a love for tango, I texted my favourite leaders and asked them to join me, I even asked my non-dancer boyfriend to come along because by meeting a friend of my brother’s I felt it was as close as my boyfriend could get to meeting a family member any time soon… an odd thought process perhaps, but somehow it made sense to me. My boyfriend would come after his underwater rugby session though, so I would be arriving at the milonga alone.

And so, a little nervous, I entered the hall that Wednesday night. None of my leaders had yer arrived, but there was a beautiful elegant lady, glowing with smiles walking across the dance floor to meet me. And it was Sally.

What proceeded was the most wonderful night. I asked a few more of my tango friends and acquaintances to make sure they asked her for a dance, afraid she may spend much of the night sitting and that would be such a tragedy. But I didn't have to. As the evening progressed she had many dances with many people. The tango dancers of Perth truly welcomed her and and during the few tandas where we were both sitting, we found enough time to talk, and share our tango journey. She even shared a few photos of my family, my brother, his beautiful girlfriend, my niece and nephew. And as I sat in that hall, thousands of miles away from my family, in a world that was almost a gift from my brother even though I have only ever danced with him a couple of times, I felt so close, so connected to my brother and his tango world in London. Sally and I, worlds apart, different tango styles, different tango continents, different tango worlds. Connected at Perth Tango Club.

That tango connection magic was happening all over again.