KEEP BREATHING

zen and the art of social dance

 

John Robert Mack

aka Jack Mack

 

 

 

This book is dedicated with love and joy

to all the students, teachers, and friends

who have danced with me.

 

 

 

 

 

INTRODUCTION

 

My life is a dance, an interplay of words and movements, a tug-of-war between what had always seemed the opposite poles of dancer and philosopher. Dancers move. Philosophers sit around pontificating.  Neither the twain could meet, until I found myself pontificating on the dance floor and said to one of my students, “You know, I should write this stuff down some day.”

“Some day” finally happened.  The words written here come from the deeply held belief that dancing is more than exercise; it is meditation, therapy and play, as well.  Dancing is a way to cleanse the spirit, to connect with something simpler and truer than the mundane life of taxes and heavy traffic. It is also a wonderful way to connect with other human beings.

This book is for the many, many dancers out there who scroll through volumes of teaching materials and realize that most of those can only be read by people who already know how to dance and who, therefore, don’t need them.

This volume is something different.  It hopes to touch the dancer’s heart and perhaps create a smile.  If you learn to be a better dancer along the way, so much the better, but these words hope to enlighten your heart more than they hope to lighten your feet.

Of course, many dancers are simply the Saturday night “Would you like to dance?” is slicker than “What’s your sign?” type of dancers.  For them, this book might be just the thing to have laying on the coffee table if they ever invite a dance partner over for a drink.

 

 

Keep breathing.

The human body can go about three days without water.

It can survive over a month without food.

Deprive it of oxygen for more than seven minutes,

and someone’s going to need to pick out a headstone.

Whenever you get nervous or tense…

keep breathing.

Whenever you become frustrated or angry with yourself…

keep breathing.

Whenever you’ve done that move five hundred times

and not done it right once…

keep breathing…

…and do it again.

 

Dancing is fun.

Learning to dance should be fun, too.

No matter how complicated the move

or difficult the technique,

learning should be as much fun as dancing.

You may become frustrated

or confused

or angry

or embarrassed

or tired and sore,

but the process should be enjoyable;

ideally, it should be as enjoyable as the end result.

If you find yourself arguing more than you are laughing

or crying more than you are smiling,

it’s time to take a step back:

do a cartwheel,

eat an ice cream cone,

watch the sun set.

Believe me, when you go back to your lesson,

the lesson will be there still.

It always is.

 

“Dancer’s Etiquette 101”

If I make a mistake…

then proceed to make it again…

and again…

and again…

…what should you do?

You should smile

and let me keep making my mistake.

It’s my mistake, so it belongs to me.

Don’t take it away from me.

You aren’t the teacher.

The ideal learning situation has three participants:

1. The follower.

2. The leader.

3. The teacher.

Each has a unique job.

The leader leads.

The follower follows.

The teacher teaches.

Even teachers don’t teach

the people they date.

They hand them over

to someone else.

In a group class

let all the other students make mistakes.

If something goes wrong

again and again,

ask the teacher for help:

“Can you tell what I’m doing wrong?”

It’s the teacher’s job to figure out

who is causing the problem.

 

 

Unforgettable

I danced with my mother at my brother’s wedding. In my memory, a big band plays Nat “King” Cole. I’m wearing a white tuxedo minus the jacket and my mother is the beautiful, vivacious woman she was at thirty-five. Her hair changes and shifts like those pictures of Jesus where you see him sometimes with a crown of thorns, sometimes with a serene halo. One moment her hair is long and auburn, pulled up in a bun; the next moment, it is short and dark, permed curly and flecked with gray.

We laugh and whirl: the room has large white tile, like a cafeteria in the 1980’s, the walls are far away and a disco ball paints moving circles of light on everything and everyone. There are people there and tables for dinner, but in my mind’s eye an immense space surrounds us, bordered by blurry images that don’t matter—that didn’t really matter at the time.

I was dancing with my mother, and that was the all-important detail. It connected me to the times in my childhood when I’d danced with her. In slashes and splashes I was, for a moment at a time, the same little boy she taught to polka.

My mother and I had just become friends again after several years of adolescent (and post-adolescent) angst which ended when we both—for the same reasons, but with independent catalysts—entered counseling. That dance was a celebration of our new-found friendship—a new relationship built between two adults trying to find their way through a maze of addiction and compulsion… together.

And so we danced a dance whose steps I no longer remember, but I assume was a variation on the polka. To second and third generation Polack’s like us, everything was a variation of the polka.

In my memory, though, we dance a thrilling and dramatic Viennese waltz, spinning and spinning, driving the rest of the universe, for a few splendid minutes, into an innocuous blur which cannot touch us.

But that vision is impossible. I hadn’t yet heard of the Viennese waltz. I hadn’t yet taught a single dance lesson.

And my mother was paper light and frail from years of struggling with ulcers. I have no idea what she looked like at the time because my only true memories are from a few years later (when she was wasting away due to illness) and from photos I’d taken of her when she still had the bloom of youth.

I can’t go back to photos of my brother’s wedding because I have none, and my brother and I have not spoken in years… not since a year after my mother died.

And so I have a memory of dancing with my mother at my brother’s wedding whose substance is based primarily in fantasy, but whose existence is absolutely rooted in fact.

Just before my own wedding—barely one month after my mother’s funeral—I wept when I realized I would not be able to dance with my mother as I had at my brother’s. By then, I’d been teaching for six months, and I would have been able to dance a waltz with her—and Natalie Cole had just released a song called “Unforgettable” that she sang with her father. The song wasn’t a waltz, really, but it was my mother’s favorite song, and whenever I hear it, she and I dance together again.

 

 

Learning to dance is like building a house:

without a strong foundation, everything collapses.

Learn your basics and learn them well.

Someone who dances five moves beautifully

has every advantage over

someone who dances twenty-five patterns awkwardly.

Don’t rush into learning pattern after pattern

in the belief that such moves make you a good dancer.

If you don’t have the grace and dexterity

to execute them comfortably,

with strength and delicacy,

you will only become a joke.

There is so much more to dancing

than learning a bunch of moves.

Baryshnikov once danced to the music of Frank Sinatra.

He was breathtaking.

He was inspiring.

He was a cat

and a butterfly

and a drunk

and a puppy.

He was in love with the music,

and he made me fall in love with him…

but…

He didn’t dance a single “pattern.”

Not one.

So forget about the fancy moves…

and learn to dance.

 

 

Never be afraid to try a new move out in the real world.

If you wait until you feel comfortable

with your new moves,

chances are, you’ll never try them.

Remember:

the only way to become comfortable with a new move

is to screw it up so many times

you’ve exhausted every conceivable mistake.

Confidence only comes with practice.

My guess is that most of your partners

would prefer to try and follow some slightly funky moves

that you’re still perfecting

than to keep circling the dance floor

like a plane waiting to land

doing the basic for ten minutes.

 

 

 

There are only two rules you need to follow.

Everything else is optional.

1. Don’t look down.

Your head is 20% of your body weight.

Looking down will throw you off balance.

Also, nine times out of ten,

your partner’s feet are doing something

completely different from yours.

Looking down will only confuse you.

2. Leaders always start with their left foot.

Followers always start with their right.

That way, when things break down,

as will happen from time to time,

both partners know how to get started again.

Don’t you wish everything in life

were that simple?

.

 

We learn to walk by throwing ourselves off balance.

Watch a baby learning to walk.

She stands uncertainly,

leaning forward…

then back…

then forward…

then back…

building momentum.

Suddenly, she is inspired:

she pitches herself forward,

and her little legs start pumping

to keep her body on top of them,

until (hopefully) someone catches her

and keeps her from falling.

The thing is,

most adults walk the same way:

head pitched forward,

body diagonal to the ground,

eyes on the sidewalk,

always wondering why we feel off-balance.

Stand up tall.

Take a deep breath into your chest

then …

release the air,

but don’t let your chest fall an inch.

Now—

Pull your neck back

so your head is directly over your shoulders.

Don’t tip your head back

or tuck your chin under.

Have someone place a cupped hand

an inch or so behind your neck.

Now—

bring your neck to their hand.

Wow.

You’ve grown two inches.

Watch people move.

Most of them walk

with their head in front of their body;

they look like turtles

sticking their heads out of their shells

to see if it’s safe outside.

 

Dance Counseling

Dancing is a life-long relationship. It is a relationship between you and your body. Between you and the music. Between you and the rhythm. Like any relationship, it will change over the years. Sometimes, it will seem like your best friend and sometimes like your worst enemy… but as long as you want it, dancing will always come back to you.

Your life will change, and you will become frenetically busy sometimes. These are the times when dancing should be your best friend, but when it will probably seem like a distant relative. All you need to do is let the relationship change. Sometimes a marriage is about romance and passion and drama… and other times it’s about falling asleep in matching recliners while watching a movie.

Dancing doesn’t need to mean dressing up in rhinestones or a tux. It can mean turning on the radio and twirling around the furniture while you sweep the house.

And, like any relationship, you need to avoid getting into a rut. A marriage needs a little spice to liven it up once in a while. You run off to Cancun for a week of excitement and thrills… or you hole yourselves up in the house for a week and just tell everyone you’re going to Cancun for the week so they leave you alone.

Don’t let your dancing get into a rut, either. Take a belly dancing class. Learn jazz, tap or modern. What about ballet? Do you know how to do Cumbia? Any classes you take will make you a better dancer. Or just find a new playlist with music you’ve never heard before.

Anything.

There will be times when dancing is a struggle. For emotional or physical reasons, you just don’t want to, or you feel you just can’t take one step to the music. Do it anyway. If you can’t step… nod your head or wiggle your fingers. Dancing means moving to music. It doesn’t have to mean a night at the ball.

When I was told I had a herniated disc in my spine, I thought my dancing days were over. That was forty years ago, and what I discovered was that the only times my back hurt—other than when I lifted something stupidly—-was when I didn’t dance regularly. Mind you, you always ask your doctor before doing anything physical, especially if you have had an injury, but in my case smooth, relaxed dancing helps my condition tremendously.

But my relationship to my dancing had to change.

No more jumping up and down like a pogo stick for me!

Dancing has been with me my entire life so far… because I have allowed the relationship to change as I have changed.

 

Dance.

Dance with your parents.

Dance with your brothers and sisters.

Dance with your children.

Dance with somebody else’s children.

Dance with your best friend.

Dance with a complete stranger.

Dance with your accountant.

Dance with his wife.

Dance with your teacher.

Dance with your grandparents.

Dance with yourself.

Dance with the grocer.

Dance with the bank teller.

Dance with your pets.

Dance with a minister.

Dance with a principal.

Dance with a soldier.

Dance with the Devil under a full moon.

Dance with the angels on the head of a pin.

Whatever you do…

Whenever you do it…

Wherever you do it…

With whomever you do it…

And for whatever reason:

Dance!

 

 

Om

Yesterday, I danced with the universe.

We get so caught up in looking good, dancing well, leading well, following perfectly and spinning like a top that we forget, sometimes, to dance. Many people, it seems to me, forget that one of the primary reasons to dance with someone is to be with someone. We study at length and in depth the concepts of “connection” to “connect” with our partner, but, in reality, we’re just pretending that the other person even matters.

How much do you worry about how you look on the dance floor?  How often have you chosen your dance partners because you thought they’d make you look good or help you win a contest… or help you to dance better so you could then find an even better partner who would help you win a contest?

Shame on you.

I once attended a dance competition with a dear friend. Watching some of the most amazing dancing I had ever witnessed, I was surprised when my friend said, “Wow, this is all so phony. They’re all pretending to be sexy.”

“What?”

“They all act like they’re flirting and trying to be sexy, but it’s so obvious that none of them means it. It’s all fake.”

It amazes me how often we use dancing with a partner to pretend so many things. We pretend, mostly, that we’re connecting with our fellow dancers. How much do you know about the people with whom you dance? When was the last time you sat with one of them on the floor of their living room while they told you about losing that important promotion at work?

It’s easy to share our joy. It’s easy to share a dance… but do we ever stop putting all our effort into dancing well… and just dance.

One day, a friend and I were working on connection. What with the normal stress of everyday life it just wasn’t working, so I decided to try an experiment. I put on some very relaxing music and just moved around the room with her… no fancy patterns… no patterns at all, really, just walking around the room in time to the music with this very important friend.

I suggested she close her eyes and look around.

I did the same thing. (Of course, I opened them every now and again to avoid crashing into the walls… but you get the idea.)

Believe it or not… I saw her… my partner. Not like in a bad Star Wars special effect… but I could “see” where she was and became totally focused on her. Without all the distractions of what other people thought of me or what I thought of myself or what-pattern-am-I-going-to-lead-next… I really focused on my partner… and we “clicked.”

It was amazing. We locked in sync with each other… wherever I moved, whatever I did… she followed. I would go forward, backward, sideways, do little pivotty things… all non-patterned movement… and it felt like ballet. It was that smooth. It wasn’t anything fancy, I’m sure. To be honest, I’m not really sure what we did… but… I felt connected to her.

Then an even more amazing thing happened: with my eyes closed… without the aforementioned distractions… I saw myself as well. It was like a deep meditation where I could see myself as this pure ball of light and all the universe connected to me… and to us.

I tried to find that connection again the next time we danced. Of course, it wasn’t there as long as I tried to find it… so I stopped trying to find it and just “looked around” and found my partner again, and so we danced.

Click!

In general, dancers use their dancing as a way to pretend to connect to other living beings and to pretend to connect to themselves. The next time you dance with someone, I challenge you to stop trying to do the fancy footwork with your partner and just be with them.

The results, if your efforts are sincere and not just another pretense, may astound you.

 

 

The best way to lead or follow is to understand both parts.

For about six months, I taught classes

designed specifically for folks

who wanted to learn lead and follow.

At the same time, I taught mainstream classes

where the students learned only one part.

Much to my surprise,

I found myself teaching more to the first class

in a four-week series

than I could teach to the second,

even though they were only learning one part.

Oh, there would be some confusion

in the lead and follow classes.

People would flap their arms up and down

until they remembered the right dance frame….

(I kept thinking of Robby the Robot

with his flapping robot arms:

“Danger, Will Robinson!”)

…but, after the initial confusion,

they picked up patterns more quickly,

and their lead and follow was much stronger

than their single-part counterparts.

The only way to really understand what it is like

to follow five hundred basics before every turn

is

to follow five hundred basics before every turn.

The only way to understand how hard it is

to lead that turn

is

to lead that turn.

It is always helpful to dance in someone else’s shoes.

 

 

Dancing is a social occasion.

They are called “social dances”

because, when you dance,

you are meant to social-ize.

That means talk.

From the moment you take your very first steps,

you need to learn to be comfortable talking and dancing

at the same time.

(You thought walking and chewing gum was difficult?)

Why develop a skill meant to help you meet people

if you aren’t able to speak to them once you’ve met?

Most of my students must think I have no social life.

As soon as I teach them a new step,

I start talking to them:

“Any big plans this week-end?”

“How’s your new dog?”

“Is the baby walking, yet?”

I don’t do this because I have no friends.

It’s actually part of the learning process.

Your brain needs to let go of the feet

to make the mouth move.

Just don’t forget to stop talking

when the teacher is trying to speak.

 

 

Make mistakes.

Make lots of mistakes.

Make a few more.

You will only do it right one time

after you have done it wrong a thousand.

So go ahead and get the first thousand out of the way.

When you make a mistake

make it a BIG one,

and make sure you do it on your lessons

or in a class when the teacher is watching.

So many students become nervous and flustered

when the teacher is nearby.

They are afraid of “messing up” in front of the teacher.

Exactly!!!

That’s what you’re supposed to do!

I’m not there to watch you dance perfectly.

I’m there to see you mess up

so I can help you avoid that mistake in the future.

If I don’t see your mistakes,

how can I help you learn?

So make as many mistakes as you can.

And enjoy them!

 

 

Performance Anxiety

When I was a kid, someone told me that if ever I were nervous about speaking in front of a crowd, all I had to do to drive away the fear was to imagine that everyone in the audience was sitting before me in their underwear.

So I’m standing up front in the sixth grade, giving some sort of book report or something, and I begin to feel nervous. I remember this quaint piece of advice, engage my imagination, and, quite suddenly, I’m looking out at a classroom full of scantily clad boys and girls. Needless to say, the very last thing I’m thinking about is my book report.

Remember, this is the sixth grade.

I’m hit by a rush of preadolescent hormones, and I consider myself lucky to be able to mutter a single word. Actually looking up at my audience, clad as they are in next to nothing, is simply not an option. I’m certain they all know exactly what’s going through my mind, and if certain of my classmates, the ones who I find most distracting in a state of imaginary undress, guess what is going through my mind, I am in serious trouble.

For years, whenever someone made that suggestion again, I would blush brightly.

If I tried to use that philosophy while performing now, I’d be forced to face the fact that while, in my imagination, all those people out there looking up at me might be in their underwear, in the cold hard world of reality, I’d still be up in front of them wearing leather pants and a translucent Lycra top.

Again… but perhaps for different reasons… not helpful.

I performed in some way, shape or form nearly every weekend in high school, be it drama, debate, speech, music or track… almost every weekend for four years. I continued performing in theater all through college and beyond. At first, performance was an escape, a way to run away from home while still getting three meals a day. Later, it became a habit and a way make new friends. There was just one problem: from the beginning, and throughout the years, I suffered from acute performance anxiety. I felt total, abject fear of getting up in front of anyone for any reason whatsoever.

I remember the first speech contest I attended; I was fourteen, reading “The Black Cat” by Edgar Allen Poe. As I stood before a room of hostile strangers, I could barely read the words on the page because my hands were shaking so badly, and I could literally see the beating of my heart through the front of my shirt. I felt like a character in the story I was reading.

Then… suddenly… peace. The fear vanished. My hands kept shaking, but my heart slowed down. It was as if a part of my mind had simply decided, “This emotion sucks far more than I care to feel,” and then quietly shut the door against it. I thought it meant I had worked through the fear, that the fear was gone… but every Sunday, a severe bout of depression waited for me as I came down from the surge of panicked adrenaline pushed away every Saturday.

It took me two years to realize I was terrified of performing in front of people. Terrified… really

Well, if I worked very hard at my crafts, surely I would stop being afraid because I would become so darn competent and prepared… and that helped some, but I still threw up buckets the night before solo band competitions. I thought that meditation and breathing exercises and maybe even therapy would help me get to the root of my problem and thereby solve it. Those things helped, too, but the root of my problem was quite simple: the idea of getting up in front of people terrified me.

And so I took a job—teaching… dance no less!

That meant standing up in front of people every single day. What sort of psycho was I?

A Polish psycho… and a Virgo to boot. I refused to let my fears interfere with what seemed a wonderful career opportunity.

So I started teaching… and I broke out in cold sweats before every lesson and had to hide out in the bathroom or the office to regain control several times a day.

Ten years later, I attended a charity fundraiser to teach a few hundred folks how to do the two step, and I didn’t even realize I should be nervous until the room filled up, grew noisy, and I became afraid that I might not be able to project loudly enough to be heard.

But as soon as someone handed me a microphone, I forgot to be nervous again.

Really. It was fun.

So what changed?

Me?

Two things changed, and maybe a third.

1) Somewhere during college in Milwaukee, Wisconsin I discovered that going out to dance clubs and jumping up and down for four or five hours was amazingly therapeutic. It was great exercise, and I woke up the next day feeling great. The experience was euphoric… almost religious.

For holidays, however, I would return to the land of my birth a hundred miles north of Milwaukee. It was a smallish town where I could go out to a dance club and find the floor completely empty until midnight. Well, that only left two hours to dance and a whole lot of time sitting on a bar stool by myself

So, finally, I figured, “Screw it.” There weren’t more than three people in the place—I’d go ahead and dance by myself.

At first, I was nervous: two drink minimum the first couple of times I got out there. But no one laughed… or, to be more precise, I was so involved in my own dancing I never noticed whether anyone laughed. A number of times, the club would fill up without my realizing it

And an empty dance floor had distinct benefits: I could get into the music a lot more because I didn’t have to worry about bumping into or hitting anyone.

And more often than not, someone would say something complimentary when I finally left the dance floor… dripping wet and exhausted. What did they usually say? They would say I really looked like I was having fun, and they respected the fact that I could go out there by myself and dance with a freedom they knew they didn’t have.

It was the freedom—more than anything—that people admired.

So if I fell down (which I have done more times than I care to recount) and laughed at myself and kept dancing, their estimation went up. Not down… up. After a while that kind of dancing stopped being scary. It didn’t feel like performing any more. I was just exercising, and no one was forced to watch.

But put those people in rows of chairs and call the dance floor a stage… and the panic would still set in.

2.) I got up in front of people a lot. Every day. (That happens when you’re a teacher.) Sometimes I was brilliant; sometimes I was a complete idiot. I discovered that if I made mistakes in front of a class… they liked it. “Heck,” they thought, “if the teacher can make a mistake, and it’s okay… it must be all right for me to make mistakes, too.” And they would stop trying to be perfect… they’d make mistakes… and, because they were making mistakes, they would learn how to dance.

So I started letting myself be goofy in class, and it helped loosen up the students. Originally, I had been afraid that if I didn’t act “professional” enough (read as “stuffy” and “uptight”) the students wouldn’t respect me. What I learned (after a few months) is that allowing myself to be human (read “goofy” and “imperfect”) gives my students a feeling of freedom similar to the freedom I had found for myself on the empty dance club floor. Once I acted the goofball intentionally, the fear of looking foolish eased up. After all, that was part of the point, now.

The constant doing of it helps, too. Out of the countless lessons, classes and workshops I teach each year, a certain percentage goes poorly… but most of the time I do okay. If I only got up in front of people once a year—that one time would assume a tremendous amount of importance. The fact that I do it every single day reduces the significance of any particular failure.

3.) (Maybe) About ten years ago in meditation I had a vision of my future. I saw all the dance, theater, writing, teaching projects I hope to create over the course of my lifetime. I saw the kind of life those sorts of projects would most likely give me.

At the time, I was in the middle of a possible lawsuit and fretting (to say the least) about the outcome. When I looked ahead and considered the many potentially controversial projects in store for me, and I thought about all the public exposure I’d have if my career followed the direction I hoped—I saw all these things in my future and thought to myself, “Geez, if I let this little affair get me all bent out of shape, what am I going to do when I have hundreds of protestors outside my theater/dance hall/lecture hall because of the naked dancing nuns in my musical adaptation of the life of Saint Francis of Assisi?”

If I am going to be in a public appearance kind of job for the rest of my life—and my audience is only going to get (hopefully, anyway) bigger… I better face the fact and once and for all stop with the stressing out about it. It’s either that or get the heck out of public speaking and the performing arts as a career and go back into designing video games.

So I told myself to stop being so darn uptight about it.

And, believe it or not, I actually listened.

And, believe it or not, it worked.

Almost overnight… it was that simple… after ten years of hard work.

 

Thumbs are unnecessary for dancing.

They are a gift to us

to help us type efficiently,

to tie our shoes,

and to open doors and pick up spoons.

We do not need them to dance.

Avoid squeezing desperately with your thumbs,

whether leading or following.

A thumb lock of death will hurt your partner,

make turns more difficult,

and render your dancing awkward.

I once discovered,

quite by accident,

that all the followers in one of my group classes

removed their rings before coming to class.

Why?

Because they were tired of having their fingers squashed,

and the rings made it even worse.

Similarly,

avoid grasping your partner’s thumb

and holding it like a joystick.

You cannot control your partner’s movements

as you would a race car in a video game.

I never tire of watching leaders

who flap their hands like birds

trying to dislodge their partner’s chokehold on a thumb

so they can try to do open patterns.

 

 

Leading is a suggestion, not a command.

Leading a turn is your way of saying,

“Gee whiz, wouldn’t it be fun to do a turn?”

not

“Yo, You gotta turn, NOW!”

You suggest when to turn

and which turn to do;

it’s up to me to do the turn myself.

To execute a turn smoothly,

I need to spin directly over my center of gravity.

You, because you are not me,

will never know precisely where my center is.

If you force me to turn,

you will only throw me off balance.

Trust me to turn myself.

Give me the freedom to reject the turn

if I happen to be off balance at that moment.

If you try to turn me forcefully

when I’ve just stepped on a wad of gum,

you could twist my ankle.

You could also wrench my shoulder.

Either way,

I probably won’t dance with you again.

 

“Dancer’s Etiquette 101”

Part 2

If I make a mistake that hurts you…

stop me immediately.

 

 

Start Every Day Dancing

No, I don’t mean set the alarm an hour earlier so you can drag yourself out of bed to work on your Cuban motion. Just the opposite. Get up. Put on some music. Jump around… or shuffle around with your cup of coffee in one hand. Wiggle in a chair. Whatever.

I started doing this when one of my students decided to compete in country-western competitions. Newcomers usually started around 7:00. That’s AM. Not my usual dance time. Since most of my students have professional careers, my day often doesn’t start until mid-afternoon. So I figured I should start getting up early once in a while so my body could grow accustomed to moving around at the crack of dawn instead of the crack of noon.

Knowing better than to believe my body would tolerate anything that seemed even remotely like coordinated effort, I started by just putting on some fun tunes and moving around free-form like Stevie Nicks in a music video.

Wow.

You know what? I was in a good mood the rest of the day.

Now, I’d like to be able to tell you that I do this every single morning and that since I discovered waking up to dance, I’ve reached enlightenment and discovered a cure for cancer. Well, it’s more like three or four times a week. And no enlightenment, yet.

But—and this is the truth—the days I wake up dancing, even if it’s just five minutes, are always more fun.

 

 

Your partner is the center of your universe.

In nearly all turns,

the goal is to return to your partner as quickly as possible.

It’s me you’re dancing with,

so look at me.

Use your eyes.

Human beings will tend to move towards

whatever we are looking at.

(This is why there are so many secondary car accidents.

We want to see what happened

and crash into the median

as we stretch our neck in that direction.)

If you keep your eyes on me as you spin,

you will come back to me.

You are less likely to float away

or spin off into deep space somewhere.

If you let your eyes wander all over the dance floor,

that is exactly where you will go.

When I spin, I will keep my eyes on you.

In this way, we will stay together more easily,

we will avoid careening into other dancers,

and we will avoid losing each other completely.

This is also true in life.

 

 

The exception to the rule.

If I am spinning in a dance that travels,

I need to watch were I am going.

This should probably be obvious,

but it’s not.

As I turn, I watch the track

I’m traveling,

and most of my spins

will start and end there.

Once I finish spinning,

the center of my universe

returns to my partner.

 

Learn dances for the styles of music you like.

It seems an obvious suggestion to me,

but very few of my students

have ever thought to ask for dances for

their favorite kinds of music.

Bring some music for your teacher to hear;

ask what dances you could do.

Learn those.

Even the latest top 40 styles are danceable,

As are hip-hop,

grunge,

folk,

funk,

rap,

and rock…

You can do social dances to any of these

or any others you could name.

If you like big band,

learn Fox trot, swing or jitterbug.

If you like blues,

or any of the styles named above,

learn West Coast swing.

If you like Latin music,

learn cha cha, rumba, or salsa.

If you like Sousa marches…

join a marching band!

 

 

Dancing may not bring about world peace, but…

Just imagine for a moment

how different a place this world would be

if soldiers danced with each other

instead of firing guns and missiles.

How could we justify bombing a country

if we had all enjoyed a waltz together?

I think the world’s leaders

should always meet in a dance hall

and do the jitterbug

before sitting down at the bargaining table.

Maybe if children,

at an early age,

were taught how to dance with each other,

and shown good ways to meet and interact,

they would be less lonely

and less likely to pull out a gun

in the middle of a schoolyard.

And, who knows, maybe they wouldn’t grow up

to be world leaders whose only solution

is pushing a button or sending in the troops.

 

Lead/Follow

Why do women have to follow? After a hundred years of struggling for equal rights and greater choices in their lives, why are they forced into subservience on the dance floor? Of course, someone needs to lead and someone needs to follow, but why does it always have to be one way?

I once taught a couple where the husband was about 5’6” and the wife was well over six feet. Wow… did that cause problems, figuring out how to teach him to lead a tunnel or fancy pretzel was soooooo complicated. Several times I suggested that she learn to lead to make things easier… but she was adamant that her husband lead and she follow.

Mind you, she tried to backlead constantly. And of course, off the dance floor she was a university professor and made more money than her husband… but something just seemed wrong to her about leading on the dance floor.

Point blank, it’s usually easier for the taller of two partners to lead, and some folks are more inclined to follow, regardless of gender. Following is, in general, a more right-brain kind of activity; leading is left-brain. As a teacher, I need to know how to lead and follow equally well… but whenever I learn something new, it is much easier for me to learn the part as follower, because I learn through movement, and it is easier if my coaches lead me through a new sequence, rather than trying to say, “Okay, now lead a such-and-such followed by a thus-and-so.”

Besides which, darn it, I prefer following. Right now, most of my professional time is spent leading, and I would really like to be able to follow more, but if a woman asks me to dance, she is shocked and appalled if I ask her to lead. It’s like I’ve committed some kind of sin.

If everyone knew how to lead and follow, then everyone could perform the role to which they were better suited and which they preferred. Besides which, they would all be better dancers because learning to lead is a proven way to be a better follower (and vice versa).

And when 50 men show up for a class, but only 20 women do, there wouldn’t have to be 30 men standing around doing nothing… they could dance together… but that’s a different chapter.

 

 

Dancing need not be difficult.

An ancient African proverb states:

“If you can talk, you can sing.

If you can walk, you can dance.”

People see professional ballerinas

or the greatest of tap dancers,

and they think to themselves:

“Wow!  That’s wonderful!  It’s really great!

But I could never, ever do anything like that,

no matter how hard I tried!”

But dancing is meant for everyone,

not just the professionals.

When you watch the national championships,

you’d never guess that those refined, polite dances,

many, many of them,

were born in smoky bars,

street cafes,

civic festivals

or in brothels, even.

Dancing is not meant for a special, select few.

Anyone who can hold hands,

jump up and down,

sway side to side,

roll in their chair

or wiggle their butt

(even a little)

can enjoy a social dance.

That’s why the basic components of dance

are things we do in everyday life.

Social dance is built out of parts

most of us know

by the time we learn how to walk.

 

Sacrifice frame for nothing.

Just as the frame of a picture

holds the picture together

and keeps it in place on the wall,

your dance frame holds your dancing together

and keeps you in place

in relation to your partner.

Without a good dance frame

communication is impossible;

it’s like making a toy telephone

with two tin cans

and a string stretched between them.

As long as the string is held taut

between the two tin cans

you can talk from one to the other.

If the string is loose and wiggly,

nothing comes through.

It’s the same with dancing:

if your arms are loose and wiggly

communication breaks down.

Hold your arms correctly

for the dance you are enjoying.

Maintain tone in both arms.

Don’t let your elbows behind your back.

Don’t clutch your partner desperately.

And your dancing will always be picture perfect.

 

 

“Tips.”

If you get stepped on

—most of the time—

it’s your own fault.

It’s your job to get your feet

out of the way.

 

 

Whenever we feel insecure, we tense up.

If we aren’t certain of what is about to happen

our muscles turn rigid.

If we are about to try something really, really, difficult

every square inch of us becomes hard as stone…

which is really too bad.

Our muscles operate much more effectively

when they are relaxed.

Wouldn’t it be nice to have our bodies

at their most effective

when we’re trying something really hard?

If you are about to try a new step,

take a deep breath and relax.

Soft limbs will move more nimbly than tense ones.

If you are about to try a difficult spin,

take a deep breath and relax.

It’s easier to keep your balance

when your knees aren’t locked.

If dancing to really, really fast music,

take a deep breath and relax.

It’s easier to move quickly

if your muscles are not carved in stone.

 

 

What is the difference between a dancer and a dance teacher?

A dance teacher knows how to teach. It’s quite simple, and yet I’ve met many, many people who seem to forget this truth. They assume that because they have learned how to dance, they should also be able to teach someone else… and yet I don’t see people flocking to Taylor Swift for vocal lessons.

I love when I see folks with their friends on the dance floor trying to struggle through a couple of patterns—and it’s great to share your knowledge—but always remember that if your friend isn’t picking up the patterns, it’s likely more the fault of the “teacher” than the student.

Don’t get impatient or expect them to pick it up the way you did when you were with your professional private instructor. Be patient and always assume it’s your “instruction” at fault and try to find a different way to say it.

Oh… and this is one that really annoys me… demonstration is not the same thing as instruction! “Okay… you do the same thing I’m doing… just like this… okay, except on the opposite foot… no, like this… don’t you get it? Like this!”

If you can’t tell them—using specific words—which foot, in which direction and at what time, chances are it’s your fault if they don’t get it.

Keep in mind that I’m not telling you not to show your friends what you know (although you better be really, really, really careful if it’s someone you’re dating), but if you do, please be patient and don’t get mad at them if they don’t get it.

If they end up feeling stupid, they may never want to try to dance again… and that would be very, very sad.

 

Rejoice when you notice your mistakes.

Not necessarily because you made a mistake

(as wonderful as mistakes can be)

but because you knew you made one.

The first step to correcting your mistakes

is knowing when you make them.

If you only know you’ve goofed up

when your teacher

(or dance partner)

tells you so,

you’ll never be able to improve.

You start out oblivious to your mistakes:

“Huh? I did what?”

Then you notice after the fact that it happened:

“Oops, there it is again!”

Then you catch yourself in the act,

even though you are still powerless to stop yourself:

“Rats!”

Finally, you reach a stage where you can prevent

the mistake from happening in the first place:

“Sweet!”

This is how you improve—

and it all starts by noticing that a mistake has been made.

So don’t berate yourself for making a mistake;

praise yourself for noticing,

and never deprive your dance partners

of the joy of noticing their own mistakes

by constantly pointing them out.

 

 

To be a better follower, close your eyes.

It’s very difficult for you to back-lead

if you don’t know where you’re going…

though some still try.

Relax.

Take a deep breath.

Close your eyes

and trust that your partner knows what to do.

I won’t back you into a wall.

I won’t spin you into a post.

Trust me.

Following is a non-logical process.

Turn off your brain.

Let your body feel what I’m doing.

Don’t try to anticipate what I’m going to do next.

Wait for it to happen.

A good way for someone to tell if you are following

is to watch your feet.

If I’m leading, your feet should always hit the floor

a split second after mine.

Unless you’re psychic, they’d have to!

My foot moves before yours does

because I know where we’re going before you do.

That’s okay.

I won’t leave you behind.

Trust me.

Relax.

Keep breathing.

 

 

Leaders:

Try really, really hard to avoid backing your partner into a wall.

 

 

There is no mathematics for Social Dance.

Be leery of teachers who use absolutes:

Every…

All…

Always…

Never…

These are words that rarely apply to social dance.

There are as many ways to take a step

as there are teachers to teach it.

Teachers who tell you that they are right

and the others are wrong

are telling you more about their egos than their abilities.

My technique may be different from yours,

but neither of us is necessarily wrong

unless what we are doing simply doesn’t work,

and even then our techniques may simply be incompatible.

This still makes neither of us wrong.

“Different” is not “Wrong.”

“That doesn’t seem to be working for you;

why don’t you try it this way, instead,

to see if you like it better.”

Learn as many competing theories as you can,

decide which fits you best,

and stick with it…

until you find one you like better.

Don’t let me bully you into doing it my way

just because “I’m right and you’re wrong.”

 

Floor Rage

Don’t let another dancer’s lack of consideration ruin your fun. More often than not they don’t realize they’re doing anything rude. I see this sort of thing all the time: a couple is dancing and having a good time when some unthinking dancers practically run them off the floor zipping by faster than the speed of sound… or nearly decapitate them with a trick that would make the Brothers Karamazov cringe. Maybe the unfortunate couple can shrug this off once or twice, but if such rude behavior continues, the couple who had been having fun begins complaining and perhaps they start bickering.

Pretty soon, they leave the floor, or, worse yet, they retaliate by trying to cut off the rude couple or by bumping into them.

Wow. Talk about road rage on the dance floor.

I understand the frustration. I’ve been there. But trying to “teach them a lesson” helps whom, exactly? If they are that rude, you aren’t going to teach them anything by behaving the same way.

You’re only going to enforce the idea that such behavior is appropriate. Politely letting them know that their behavior is inappropriate might do some good… maybe… and sometimes complaining to the management helps—after all, they want people to be happy. But “taking things into your own hands” only turns you into the exact same boorish lout about whom you have a legitimate complaint.

While all your attention is focused on “punishing” the rude couple or in glaring at them and thinking evil thoughts, two things happen.

1.) You aren’t paying attention to the floor around you because you’re too busy being angry and, chances are, you’re doing the exact same thing to other couples that the rude couple did to you.

2.) You aren’t having a heck of a lot of fun, anymore.

So what do you do? If their behavior is physically dangerous, tell them so immediately. Chances are they have no clue. If it’s not actually dangerous, but merely annoying, just laugh at them. No, I mean it. Out loud, even. Most people who are behaving badly on the dance floor think they are good dancers, and their behavior comes from a desire to “show off.”

Or ignore them. Keep dancing and have a good time. Don’t give them an audience.

…and maybe hand them a business card with the name of a good dance teacher when they take a break. Tell them, “Ms. Reynolds did us a world of good when we were first starting out.”

 

 

Be grateful that you can dance.

Even as I write these words,

telling you that anyone can dance,

I think to myself:

“What about the people who can’t walk?

What about folks who have no legs

or who don’t have the use of the legs they have?

What good is all this jabbering to them?”

I’m afraid the answer is simple:

I have no idea…

although I have seen some amazing

dancers in wheelchairs.

If you can dance… dance… and be grateful.

Dance your joy.

Dance your sorrow.

Dance with your friends.

Dance with your family.

Dance with your lover.

And if you are afraid to dance

because you aren’t good enough…

because you’re too old…

because you aren’t beautiful…

because your partner is the wrong race…

religion…

or gender…

Think for a moment how lucky you are

to be able to dance at all.

There are those who will never dance a single step.

Keep it in perspective.

I don’t care if you are afraid to dance,

or if you think you are awkward

or your timing is poor

or no one will dance with you

or everyone will laugh.

If you can dance… DANCE!!!

And be grateful you have been given the opportunity.

 

 

Too many people take this life for granted.

They spend too many hours

at a job they hate

and too few hours

with the people they love,

doing the things they love to do.

I’m not saying we should be lazy,

but we need to maintain balance.

Which is more important:

A brand new car with all the trimmings

or

watching your little boy’s first step

or your little girl’s first cartwheel?

We spend so much time working

for all kinds of things

we never have the time to use

because we are too busy working.

I know some people need to work 80 hours a week

just to put food on the table.

I understand this.

I have been there.

But children need your time

just as much as they need

a new pair of shoes.

If you have time for them now,

they will have time for you later on.

If you don’t have time for them now…

 

 

You will learn no turn before its time.

Dancing is like an Olympic sport, now.

As with any athletic activity done badly

injuries can occur.

Done well, dancing will keep you active

to a ripe old age.

Done poorly, it can be dangerous.

If you try to lead a complicated turn

or trick

or drop

or lift

without proper knowledge

someone will get hurt.

I don’t say these things to SCARE you,

but to give you the proper respect.

Many lifts and tricks are as demanding as acrobatics.

I have seen people taken away in an ambulance.

Even “non-athletic” turns

can cause dislocated rotator cuffs

or broken ribs

or scraped knees

or bloody noses.

I have seen all these things happen.

99% of the time

they happen because someone

was too anxious to get to the fancy stuff

before they understood

how the basic stuff works.

You do not learn a trick by watching someone else do it.

Think of a magician

who makes his tricks look easy

by doing all kinds of stuff that you don’t see.

Would you try to saw someone in half

before the magician taught you how it was done?

Is throwing someone into the air so much less dangerous?

Don’t assume you can follow these tricks

if you have a good leader.

Don’t try to lead complicated pretzels

or nifty lifts

unless they have been taught to you.

Don’t be scared.

Be smart.

 

 

“Tips.”

The two biggest challenges to turns and spins

are so common

that whenever someone asks for help,

even before I see them try a turn,

I tell them:

1. Stand up as tall as you can.
2. Relax your knees.

Those two things help 90% of my students.

 

Benefits

Why do you take dance lessons?

Most people would answer, “Well, duh, I want to learn how to dance.”

The problem with this answer is that, in most cases, it is almost entirely incorrect. Hardly anyone takes social dance lessons so they can learn how to dance. If that was the reason, everyone would take their lessons, practice a bit and then take some more lessons. They wouldn’t go out to dance, they wouldn’t perform, and they wouldn’t compete. To be frank, if you really take lessons just to learn how to dance, you should be taking ballet or jazz.

So why do you take dance lessons?

There are as many answers to that question as there are people taking lessons. Some people remember how much in-love Grandma and Grandpa looked when they waltzed together. Some folks want to be graceful and poised. Some people want a hobby that burns more calories than doomscrolling.

One student told me, “I saw Gomez Addams do the tango and want to be able to do that, too.”

Many have said, “Dancing will help me get dates, right?”

Still others hope that doing something as a couple will help the relationship.

These are all wonderful reasons.

They tell you the benefits of dancing. They tell you what you hope to get out of dancing. Sometimes, remembering what it is you hope to get out of dancing makes it easier to put the work into it.

Sit down and write five things you hope to gain from dance lessons. Be honest. The best answer I’ve ever heard was, “To pick up chicks,” because it was the most unashamedly honest. Share your answers with your teachers. Make sure the lessons you take lead you toward the benefits you desire.

I mean, let’s be honest; the guy who wanted to meet women didn’t need a lot of patterns, and he certainly didn’t need a lot of theory. He needed the ability to dance with anyone he met, to lead his partners so effortlessly they felt graceful, and the knowledge of how to make a few simple patterns interesting enough that his partners would be able to dance and carry on a conversation at the same time.

So… why do you take dance lessons?

 

 

Everyone should dance naked in the rain

at least once in a lifetime.

Preferably on a regular basis.

Grab someone’s hand,

pull them into the night,

throw your clothes on the ground

and frolic in the deluge.

Frolic.

What a wonderful word!

Use it often and mean it.

Dancing shouldn’t be only for a hardwood floor

or a studio

or flashing lights

or tuxedos and beaded gowns.

Get outside into the sun

or under the moon

and feel the grass and mud

between your toes,

or prance along the ocean

on a sandy beach,

kicking up the sand

and plastering your skin.

It’ll wash off.

Especially if it’s raining!

 

How can dancing be a sin?

Where in the Bible is dancing condemned?

On the contrary, the Psalms tell us:

“Let them praise his name with dancing

and make music to him with tambourine and harp.”

I can have sex in a chair,

but that doesn’t make sitting in it a sin.

I can have sex in the ocean,

but that doesn’t make swimming sinful.

I can have sex on the dining room table,

but dinner doesn’t put my soul in jeopardy.

Anything, done with the right attitude, can be sinful.

Anything, done with the right attitude, can be innocent.

Certainly, dancing can be a form of courtship.

So is going to a movie…

or having a picnic…

or attending church…

Why is dancing the only one that’s considered sinful?

 

 

There can only be one brain working at a time

on the dance floor.

If we both try to direct our movements

we will constantly work at odds,

and our dancing will devolve into chaos.

There must be one leader and one follower.

Anything else would be like having

two captains on the same ship.

There are some teachers,

primarily in West Coast Swing and Argentine Tango,

who are experimenting with exchanging lead/follow.

I am very excited by this development!

It’s a great thing!

But, even here, there is only one leader at a time.

If you want to lead… lead.

Don’t assume that because you’re a woman,

or because you are small,

because you are passive

a vegetarian

or blue

you must follow.

However…

if you are following… follow.

Let your leader lead.

The most common sentiment is:

“If they’d lead me, I’d follow.”

followed closely by:

“Someone out there has to lead.”

If you don’t let me lead

I’ll never learn how.

When you are following,

let me make my mistakes

and don’t always assume the mistake is mine.

Leaders have so many things to keep track of,

starting with:

“What dance do I do to this kind of music?”

followed by

“How do I start this dance?”

and

“Okay, this is a great basic; what else do I know?”

“How do I get into that other pattern?”

“How do I avoid smacking my partner into that wall?”

“Am I anywhere near the right beat?”

“What do I do if the music changes?”

“Oh no, it’s speeding up!”

The list goes on and on.

Be patient,

forgiving…

and,

when all else fails…

close your eyes.

 

 

Leaders:

Never let your partners start to think.

Once they start to think

it’s almost impossible

to get them to stop.

(This only applies on the dance floor…

not in real life!)

 

NRFB 

There’s a phrase used among toy collectors: NRFB… Never Removed From Box. It means that the toy in question has never been taken out of its original packaging and is therefore presumed to be in perfect condition. These are the toys people consider the most valuable. There are some older toys, NRFB, that are worth thousands and tens of thousands of dollars. Yep, I’m talking Barbies and GI Joes and Tonka trucks worth more than I earned last year!

However, the moment you take that toy out of the box and play with it, it loses most of its value. The moment you actually use that toy the way it was meant to be used, it becomes worthless… just so much plastic or metal.

Wow, that is so sad to me. The moment you play with a toy… the moment you use it to fuel your creativity and go on an adventure with it, the toy loses its collector’s value.

Too many people live their lives the same way: NRFB.

Never Removed From Box.

They are afraid that if they step outside the box in which they live, people will lose respect for them, that they will lose their value. They never take the chance to see how far they can stretch… to see why they were really made… to see what creative adventures they were meant to have.

It makes me especially sad to see dancers living the same way. They learn the patterns and the acceptable dance moves and styling, and they always make sure they know which dance is meant for which song. If they aren’t sure, they wait for enough other people to get out on the dance floor so they can avoid doing the wrong dance.

As if that were possible.

Take yourself out of the box. Run the risk of “losing your value” so you can have fun with your dancing. Stop trying to decide which dance is the right dance for a song. That’s just another box.

Dance your favorite dance, regardless of the music. Or dance whatever dance feels right for the song and for your mood… or forget the idea of naming the dances at all and jump up and down until you need to stop to catch your breath. If you’re in a store somewhere, and they play a song you really like… dance up and down the aisles.

Whenever you’re dancing, always see how far your arms can stretch… how much your hips can wiggle… how big a smile you can smile… how goofy you can be… how sexy you can be… how much fun you can have…

Let the music play with you.

And ask yourself… if you were a Barbie doll, would you rather sit in a clear plastic box all your life so someone on E-bay will give someone else a thousand dollars… or would you rather go on a series of amazing adventures with someone who loves you for what you are really worth?

I challenge you to take yourself out of the box.

Do the things you’re most afraid to do.

Play the game.

Take the risk

And don’t be upset if you get a little dirty.

 

On a crowded dance floor,

it is your responsibility to be aware of the other dancers.

Let me say that again:

On a crowded dance floor,

it is your responsibility

to be aware of the other dancers.

Do not assume the floor is yours.

Do not act as though the floor is yours.

If you are the only couple on the floor

feel free to take up space.

Move around.

Flail your arms.

Do wild turns,

and dance from one edge to the other.

BUT as the floor fills up,

it is your responsibility

to keep your movements smaller.

Leaders: stop throwing your partner into the next county.

Followers: watch those kicks and mind your elbows.

And NEVER do tricks or lifts

when the floor is full!

Dancing is a cooperative game,

not a full contact sport.

The only contact you should have

is with your partner.

 

 

Remember:

There are no grades.

There are no tests.

Dancing is fun!

 

 

Following is not about thinking.

It’s about feeling.

I need to turn off my brain

and let my body follow my partner’s movements.

The signals come from my body

not my logic.

Mr. Spock would not have made a good follower.

 

A Rose is a Rose…

What makes a tango a tango and a two-step a two-step? The conventional answer is that in tango there are these three steps you take and then a side-together kind of thing, whereas in two-step, it’s two little steps and then two big steps. Or maybe it’s that tango is counted “slow-slow-quick-quick-slow” and two-step is counted “quick-quick-slow-slow.” Except that some people count two-step “slow-slow-quick-quick” and only American style tango has either that pattern or that counting.

“Well, in that case,” says Conventional Wisdom, “Tango has that marchy, dramatic music, and two-step has music that’s twangy and usually involves cheatin’ hearts, fast cars, and horses.”

Well, then why do we always dance that “three steps and a side-together thing” for that marchy music and the “two little steps and two big steps” for the twangy music?

“Well,” responds Conventional Wisdom, “‘Because that’s the way you’re supposed to dance tango, and that other way is the way you’re supposed to dance two-step.”

Hmmmm.

I use these two dances as examples because, in most minds, there couldn’t be two dances as far apart as tango and two-step.

I have been dancing since I was a wee snip of a lad. I would play music and dance around the room doing whatever the music told me. You see, I became great friends with the music. We’d have a conversation: the music talked to me with words and notes and feelings, and I responded with my body.

Fast, happy music made me jump up and down and spin around a lot. Slow, sad music made me wave my body around like I was a weepy underwater plant.

Then I started training as a dance teacher, and, suddenly, the music ceased to matter.

My coaches and step lists told me how to move through the patterns. And some of them went so far as to say that having music playing during a lesson created a distraction. “We’re worried about serious technique here; we can’t do that with all that noise in the background.”

I once attended an international dance conference as a photographer, which meant I had access to all sixteen rooms holding classes during every session. Sessions every hour to an hour-and-a-half for four days. Eighty per cent of those classes… lots and lots of classes… used no music at all… and many of those that did only used music for a small percentage of the class.

I was flabbergasted. For me, what makes a tango a tango is the music and the way it asks me to move. It’s the picture I see in my mind whenever tango music plays. I see passionate dancers and toreadors and bulls and capes. I see couples in an embrace so frantic it almost seems like they’re fighting. And, who knows… maybe they are.

The steps I do don’t matter. The official timing doesn’t matter. It’s the way the music asks me to move that makes it a tango.

Two-step music gives me that perfect moment a cool breeze hits when I’m in the shade hiding from the heat of the sun at noon out by a live oak tree. It’s a bottle of Shiner and good friends and all the weekend ahead of me before another week with my nose to the grindstone. It’s a laugh and a half and a tear in my beer.

Try this experiment: Do two-step patterns to tango music. Do tango patterns to two-step music. As long as I dance the steps the way the music makes me want to move… they work perfectly.

Put on Mozart and dance West Coast swing.

Dance Foxtrot to Matchbox 20.

Sometimes, it is easier to learn technique or balance or patterns without music playing. That’s certainly true… but it’s not dancing. Dancing is a game I play with my dance partner and our other partner, the music.

The steps I do don’t matter very much.

It’s the dancing that counts.

 

 

Correct posture isn’t something to think about

only when you’re dancing.

Wherever you go,

Whatever you do,

you should try to keep your back lined up correctly.

If you only stand up straight when you dance,

the moment your brain gets caught up in your feet

(almost as soon as you try to move, I would guess)

your posture will be the first thing to suffer.

This will throw you off balance

and make that new step even harder.

Go for quiet walks on the beach

and think about nothing but standing tall and relaxing.

Breathing helps, too,

unless you’re fond of the color blue.

Good posture isn’t about

holding books on your head

to prepare for a debutante ball.

It isn’t about looking snooty.

It’s about having a healthier back

well into old age.

 

 

90% of leading is moving in a specific direction…

…with confidence.

Don’t push your partners.

Don’t pull them.

Don’t yank them around with your arms.

If you want to change directions,

simply decide where you want to go

and go there confidently.

If you have a half-decent frame

your partners will go with you.

If you hesitate because of uncertainty,

your partners will get confusing signals

and try to second-guess you.

The moment they start thinking

it’s almost impossible to get them to stop.

There’s a saying:

“One who hesitates is lost.”

In social dance, it’s a little different:

“One who hesitates has a partner who is lost.”

If you want to go to promenade,

simply go there.

Don’t “open your partner.”

Don’t push them that way.

Just go there.

“If you lead it,

they will follow.”

For this to work,

(and there is always a catch)

you must have a solid frame.

Pretend your upper body is in a cast.

Once you are in dance position—

nothing changes.

If I turn to the left

by pointing my chest to the left,

my shoulders and my arms go with, too.

If I turn to the right

by pointing my chest to the right,

my shoulders and my arms go with, too.

If you leave your arms behind,

you will most certainly leave your partner behind, as well.

 

 

“More tips.”

The outside edge of your foot

was not designed to carry weight.

The strongest part of your foot

(the part built to help you keep your balance centered)

is called the metatarsal.

(It’s that knobby knuckle part just under the big toe.)

If you roll to the outside edge of your feet

and your legs are locked,

most likely, you will fall over.

(Or at least fall out of your turn prematurely.)

You’re simply not meant to move that way.

To spin, you need to center yourself

over that knobby part

so your body lines up in a single column;

now the laws of physics are on your side.

Most people, when they try to spin,

roll to the outside edge of their foot.

They don’t have enough control

to stay centered over their point of greatest strength.

Their momentum carries them off balance.

Learn how to strengthen your ankles

and keep your weight centered.

This will improve your turns and spins.

 

 

Wherever you are, there you are,

and there is a good place to be.

When spinning, keep your feet under you

and keep your toes pointing forward.

Don’t try to increase the amount you turn

by twisting your feet under you.

When your body stops turning,

chances are, that’s as far as you can go

and still keep your balance.

Also, don’t try to start your turn with your feet twisted.

This problem is much more common

than you might suspect.

Afraid that we won’t turn far enough or fast enough,

we unwittingly allow one foot

to step clear around behind the other.

It is difficult to turn if your feet look like this:

R

L

[Graphic inserted here.]

 

Yet many people try to do just that.

A clean, well-balanced, single turn

(or half turn, for that matter)

is more impressive than an out-of-control triple.

Also—as usual—if you let your body stop

when it wants to stop,

the doubles and triples you do eventually

will be awesome

because you will do them well.

Only turn as much as you can turn.

Only do as much as you can do.

Always be right where you are,

not where you wish you were

or where you think you ought to be

or even where you’re probably going to be in the future.

 

There is a black hole in the middle of the dance floor.

Watch any group class

which features line of dance.

Inevitably, as the students start dancing

around the floor,

they close in on each other

and wind up clustered together

in the middle.

When viewed from above,

I am quite certain,

they resemble a converging spiral.

There is a mystical, gravitational force

which pulls dancers into the center

away from the walls.

You must fight against this force

and try to dance away from the center.

The larger the circle, the more room you will have,

and the easier it is to dance.

 

Whoever is moving forward gets the gas pedal.

Even though the leader always gets the steering wheel,

the follower sometimes gets the gas pedal.

So whenever you take a forward step…

take yourself there.

Don’t expect me to pull you along

when I’m going backwards.

Your every forward movement

should fill the space

I am creating.

Your every backward movement

should create space

for me to fill.

Dance becomes a smooth transaction

of give and take…

BUT

don’t forget who has the steering wheel.

Even though you take yourself forward,

you still need to step where

I lead you to go.

This truth is one of the greatest challenges of following.

 

 

“Ancient Dancers’ Proverb”

A wise friend once said:

“Wow, she is such a good dancer,

you can see it when she’s just sitting there,

eating crackers out of a box.”

 

 

Do not use your partner as a weapon.

(This is a bit of advice for leaders.)

No matter how annoying

the other dancers on the floor may be,

it really isn’t acceptable to use your partner

as a projectile or sling.

There is a great temptation

to fling your partner at the floor hogs,

teaching them to stay in their own space,

but using your partner as a weapon

is unfair to your partner.

There are many creative ways

to “accidentally” bump into them on your own.

 

 

Male Bonding

What the heck is the big deal with two guys dancing together? I mean… have you ever watched wrestling? You get two nearly naked men, put them on display and have them grapple with each other in positions that would embarrass me. That seems normal to everyone, but put two fully dressed men on a dance floor with enough room between them to drive a truck through, and people freak out. I just don’t get it.

My first studio was a smaller business with two men and one woman teaching. The day before I started training, by coincidence I assure you, the only female teacher walked out.

As a result, everyone there, male or female, who wanted to learn to dance, danced with a male teacher. So I guess it never occurred to me that there was anything strange about it, and this was 1992.

“Well, you know,” Some People have tried to say, “Dancing is different from wrestling… dancing is romantic.’”

So every time I dance with someone, it’s a romantic thing? Eeeeew!  What about when I danced with my mother? Or my sister? Or my Grandmother who smelled like mothballs?

Every time I dance with a student… it’s a romantic thing? Man… I need to charge more! Granted, dancing can be romantic in a way that wrestling (usually) isn’t… but it’s not always romantic. Most of the times that two people are dancing together… it isn’t a romantic thing at all.

Besides which, going to a movie together can be romantic, yet no one assumes that every time I see a movie with someone, it’s a kind of flirtation.

The guys on a sports team run around naked in the shower together… and no one thinks there’s anything romantic or strange about that. Heck, reporters go in there to conduct interviews.

Why does watching two men dance together make people uncomfortable when so many other activities—many of which are just as intimate—are perfectly acceptable? Why can men can touch each other only when the contact is violent?

What does that say about our fathers and our sons?

I once watched a friend of mine while he taught his grandson how to dance.

It was the most beautiful thing in the world.

 

Having a solid dance frame does not mean squeezing your partner.

Most people,

when I ask them to firm up their frame,

hold me tighter.

That’s not quite the right idea.

Hold your right hand,

palm toward your body,

about a foot away from your chest,

with your elbow out to the side.

Having a strong, solid frame means that your hand

will stay about a foot away from your body

no matter what.

If someone pushes your forearm towards you,

keep your hand the same distance from your chest.

If someone pulls your forearm away from you,

keep your hand the same distance from your chest.

It’s kind of like being a statue.

If you do this, whenever your body moves,

your whole arm moves with it,

and your partner goes with you.

Your goal is to keep your arm from moving,

not to pull your partner off balance.

Squeezing your partner only tires you out

and annoys your partner.

(Well, not always, I guess.)

 

 

Always move forward from your center.

Pretend someone has hold of your belt buckle

and is pulling you forward like a toy on a string.

This is where your movement begins:

in your center…

not in your feet.

Many leaders,

thinking way too hard about their feet,

let their legs shoot forward

and consistently step on their partners’ toes.

They are trying to move by swinging their legs

and then catching up their bodies,

but their partners can’t feel the movement of their feet,

so they don’t know how to stay out of the way.

You can do tap routines

without your partners knowing what to do

because kicking your feet and tapping your toes

communicates nothing.

Your partners will feel the movement

but won’t sense any direction

because they are not connected to your feet.

They are connected—

via your frame—

to your center.

If you move from your center—

and have a solid frame—

your partners will feel their center being moved

and will know in which direction to step.

Away you go!

So keep your feet under you,

ease forward without letting your feet flop around

and move from your center.

 

 

Notes from a dance competition

There are two groups into which nearly all dance competitors fall: those who look like they enjoy competing and those who look like competing is an ancient form of torture

Dancing, in its original form—which came into existence shortly after humans decided that it was fun to bang rocks together to imitate a beating heart—was extremely spiritual in nature. The theory is that whatever form the movements took was a direct expression of the dancer’s visceral connection to the rhythm. In other words, people danced for the sheer thrill of dancing. Several thousand years later, we put on fancy costumes and torture ourselves with carefully choreographed routines whose sole purpose is to impress five or six people sitting up on a raised platform.

Why do people dance? Because they love to dance.

Why do people compete? To be brutally truthful, it’s usually because they want other people to tell them they’re good dancers. They want the recognition.

So who is more fun to watch, someone who has the joy of dance lighting their eyes or someone who has the fear of the gods flickering behind a forced smile or a frightened grimace?

Now think about who the judges would rather watch.

Ask yourself why you spend so much time perfecting your feet, and yet you never practice your face. See, your first goal should be that you are actually having fun on the dance floor. If that isn’t possible because you’re too nervous, you should at least learn how to fake it convincingly. Nobody wants to watch someone who looks like they are in pain; human beings, on the whole, are far too empathetic. The judges, being human beings, too, don’t really want to watch your tortured expression.

You will truly score more points if you look relaxed and give the impression you are having fun… that the dance you are performing is a direct expression of the joy you feel inside.

I know people who pay anywhere from $50 to $200 an hour to learn the exact placement of their feet during the second measure of a waltz twinkle. Next time you go in for a lesson… ask your teacher to show you how to smile and have fun while doing that twinkle.

Believe me, it’s a learned skill, just like turning a pivot.

I overheard a student of mine talking to another competitor.

“Are you having any fun out there at all?” he asked after she left the dance floor.

“Of course, I am,” she insisted.

“Well, you really oughta communicate that to your face.”

 

 

If I have one goal in this lifetime,

it is to make people think.

Many of my little bits of advice

contradict many of the other little bits.

That’s okay!

Some don’t have much to do with dancing, either.

That’s okay, too!

As long as they make you think.

Feel free to disagree with me,

and try to figure out why you disagree.

Ask someone else if they agree with me.

Talk about it.

If I say something which upsets you…

ask yourself why you are upset.

Think about it.

Think about it.

Think.

 

Thanksgiving

How often do you complain about how far you are from your dance goals? How often are you thankful that you can dance at all?

I have always been amazed by a student of mine. Let’s call her Sally. Her son was injured in combat in Iraq. He was in a hospital for months and months and had more injuries than I can even think to count. The one that comes most frequently to mind is the fact that they hoped to reattach his intestines sometime in the first year.

Every day, Sally sent out an email to a host of friends and well-wishers, telling us all about her son’s progress. After a lengthy stay in Washington DC because he was too weak to transport home, he was brought to San Antonio, which was quite a bit closer to their Round Rock residence.

Sally’s husband spent most of his time here in Texas, earning a living and taking care of their daughter. Every day, Sally reported how her son fared and said how grateful she was for all the loving, supportive friends she had and for all the amazing gifts with which she was blessed.

I remember how excited she was when her son regained the ability to operate the TV remote for the first time. It was such a blessing for them. She expressed such sincere gratitude for every tiny step forward.

It makes me think.

Are you a better dancer than you were a year ago? Than you were ten years ago? And even if the answer is no, then the question is, “Can you still dance?”

Yes. And yet I get angry and impatient when my progress isn’t as fast as I desire.

Some people are grateful to be able to operate the remote for the TV.

Wow… I am so grateful that I can dance and that I have the opportunity to write about it in a book like this one.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Now, what was that you were saying about your dancing?

 

 

Social dancing is about connection…

and lead and follow…

learning and teaching…

breathing…

moving…

knowing which way to go…

and what to do once you get there.

Isn’t that what life is all about, too?

Whatever you do…

wherever you go…

go there dancing!

Find a partner—

whether that partner is your spouse…

a lover…

a relative…

a teacher…

a student…

or your dearest, best friend…

or even someone you’ve just met—

hold them in your arms

and dance…

and dance…

and never stop dancing!

Chances are, you will not have the same partner

for every dance for your whole life.

In fact, you will most likely have many, many partners

over the course of a lifetime.

Some you will forget…

some you will remember…

but some you will carry with you

until they turn on the lights

and the band stops playing at the end of the night.

They may step on your toes,

and you may step on theirs…

but that’s all part of the learning process.

It’s okay.

Don’t stop dancing because you’ve made a mistake.

Don’t stop dancing because you’ve made a thousand.

The world’s best dancers

step on each other’s toes

and bump heads a lot

before they reach a state of grace.

All of those partners

and all of those dances

and all of those mistakes

are what give life meaning.

 

 

You have to go through Dork City

To get to Coolsville.

No one is born dancing.

We all go through an awkward stage

where our elbows seem like enemies

and our feet feel like traitors.

Embrace that!

When we’re afraid of looking stupid

our movements tend to be meek and inhibited.

We catch a glimpse in a mirror or a video

and our worst fears seem validated:

“See? I can’t dance.”

Yes, you can. Go home and close all the blinds.

Turn on music that forces your body to move.

Will it be pretty?

Not at first, but if you give your body permission

to bust a move with sincerity and feeling,

eventually, it will.

 

 

Life is change.

Change is not the only constant in life; it is life. The moment of conception is a change. Death is a change. So is every moment of every day between the two and beyond. And yet…

And yet most of us rant and rail against even the most insignificant changes. We fear change.

It’s like being afraid to breathe: causes problems in the long run.

In 1995, I moved to Texas. That was a change. Actually, it was two changes. The move to Texas was one change, going full time into ballroom dance was another. Up until that point, my life had been focused on theater and writing. Teaching ballroom was what I did to pay the bills. Somehow, it took over.

I have spent thirty years teaching social dance. With the term “social dance” I include everything two people can do together in public legally, not just traditional ballroom dances. I have spent thirty years doing this and developing a significant level of expertise. I have competed, have taught competitors, have taught teachers, have written a monthly column and a book. And, as always, I have loved working with absolute beginners.

Then my life again changed again. I moved to Virginia Beach and spent 2012 to 2015 focused on my writing. I attended workshops and classes and eventually taught workshops and classes. As with dance, I loved working with absolute beginners.

Then I returned to Texas, and an entirely new world exploded around me when I began work as a professional photographer.

Boom. Change.

However, when I discovered studio photography… it was like going home to the theater that had, in fact, been one of my first loves. I started using photographs to illustrate my stories.

And, of course, I took photos of dancers.

Lots and lots of dancers.

The point is, of course, that every change is a point on a spiral and not on a circle, so that even “returning to the point of origin” creates change. It’s a new level on the spiral.

We never truly relive the past.

You can’t cross the same river twice.

This project is an expression of the spirals of my life.

It is words… it is dance… it is photography.

It is change.

 

Epilogue

 

The world has changed since I first wrote these words. Dancing has changed. And yet, many fewer changes were needed than I had anticipated when I put it all together. The prose portions  were written for a publication called The Dancer’s Guide, which was the Central Texas go-to magazine for everything in the world of dance back in the day.

What has changed? Well, the rigorous strictures of lead and follow have relaxed, and some dance circuits now allow men to follow and women to lead, and the idea of two men dancing together isn’t nearly as freaky as it once seemed. Yay.

And yet… and yet.

And yet I have changed, too. My life has cycled through several rounds on the spiral, and yet… I just got off the phone with a dear friend who has been with me for longer than I have known how to dance.

And yet I just gave a dance lesson to another dear friend I met over fifteen years ago who was once in my teacher-training program and is marrying later this month. Yesterday, I met with a photography protégé to train for his first professional shoot.

Today I had a meeting with yet another dear friend to discuss our photo shoots for the next couple of months, and we created his new business card.

My life is full. I have so much gratitude to the myriad people who have been a part of this project and who have filled my life with joy… who have danced with me, and written with me, and have let me take their photo.

Thank you all. I love you.

Keep Breathing.

 

See you on the dance floor

 

 

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

No one becomes a teacher without teachers of his own.  Some of the greatest and most influential in my life have been Joyce Mack, Barbara Roloff, Helene Pohl, Ellen Hunnicut, Brian Liston, Wesley Girlinghouse, Roger Danielson, Chuck Franklin, Glenda Nelson and Barry Jones.  They have helped to make me who I am today, and I thank them humbly.

Most teachers, if they are willing to admit it, have learned as much from their students as they have taught. The students who have helped shape my thinking over the years are far too numerous to mention without an entire volume of their own.  I must, however, at the risk of excluding many who are equally important, single out a few who have been especially helpful in compiling the work at hand:

Julie, Marian, Monta, Ryan, and Tom… I thank you.

More gratitude than I can express goes out to everyone who braved both the heat and the rain to dance for my camera:  Monta Akin, Jim Roberson, Alex Eckhoff, Marian Roberts, Archie Roberts, Shawn Calamari, Mandy Wade, Rosera Tateosian, Steve Tateosian, David Arts, Lee Kelly and Mylie Alrich.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

(From The Dancer’s Guide.)

 

Who am I to think that the words I write here, page after page, are worth the time it takes to read them? I don’t have any national titles. I haven’t won any major dance competitions. I didn’t study at Julliard.

Good question.

What have I done?

Well, I’ve been teaching for forty years, I’ve taught dance, theatre, speech, debate, reading and, believe it or not, computer literacy. I’ve also directed, choreographed, and produced for local and regional theaters, as well as doing all of those same things at a couple of different schools and two colleges. I have taught thousands of folks ranging in age from five to ninety-five across all the fields I have already mentioned.

My first love is teaching… dance is just one of the ways I do it. My actual degree is in writing and philosophy because I have always been and always will be cursed (or blessed) with the need to think about things and to write down my thoughts about them. That’s where this book comes in. As a dance teacher, my primary focus is on teaching dance.

Most teachers I know are in love with dancing and teach to make ends meet. This is not always true, and when it is true it is not always a bad thing… however, the amount of time many other coaches spend perfecting their own dance skills, I spend researching, practicing and perfecting the craft of teaching. Sure, I spent a couple of hours last night bruising myself while I worked on a new routine I am choreographing for myself, but I spend just as much time reading educational theory and human psychology and talking with folks who are top educators in their own fields.

I also spend hours every week working on my writing. I have been paid to write a training manual for a local dance studio and was once commissioned to write a play. I even wrote a book about dance, collected from things I find myself saying to folks over and over again, and the people who have read it have told me they find it interesting and helpful… some of them have even said that they like to pick it up again and again and that they always find something new and useful in it.

Those sorts of compliments always make me very happy.

So those are the things that led up to the point where I originally wrote these words in a monthly column, but, when all is said and done, what is it that really makes me think I was worthy to do so?

Mostly, I guess it’s because Susan Wiggington let me.