a part of Transcendence mini-series I returned to Barbara on the balcony. I was glad to see we were at peace with our little dispute. We were in the same 'boat' anyway, two beginner tangueros, trying to comprehend the tango universe, its social component perhaps being the most slippery surface of all. I enjoyed how we grew and developed together. In our duet, she was the cool one, I was the ambitious one. That much was becoming clear. Finishing her glass of wine, she said she wasn't going for the Saturday's milonga tonight. She left soon. My thoughts were back with Agnieszka. It would take me 45 minutes to get ready and be on the dance floor with her. But I just couldn't see that happening. Our transcendental tanda was so far out I could not possibly hope for a dance like that anytime soon. It would be like expecting fireworks on January 3rd. Sh*t like that don't just happen. I had already decided it was time I took a little break from tango. So I texted her back I wasn't coming due to my need to slow down a bit. She only replied with a sad face smiley. And sad, I was. Actually, I would be lucky to only be sad. Sadness is a clear and simple state. Mine was far more complex. To call things what they they were: I was afraid. I was scared to dance with Agnieszka again and experience anything less than transcendental. Or at least spectacular in some other capacity. But it would have to be nothing short of breath-taking. So, what were the chances of that? What I was most afraid of was not that our dance would be terrible. That would actually be fun, because we could laugh about it. I was afraid it would be mediocre. Okay. Acceptable. Fine. Good enough. Any of those half-ass experiences would make me devastated. As the mind ruled over me, I saw it is actually ruling over reason also. Why else would I rather stay at home and practice some imaginary tango diet, than dance with Agnieszka? It didn't make any sense. I knew that it was unrealistic and impossible to only show up on the great days and have extraordinary experience, because one never knows when this experiences will happen. Or with whom, for that matter! But I succumbed. Badly. All my wisdom couldn't help me get rid of the greatest helper of all – my mind. The game was rigged. He knew me too well. Or better yet – he knew himself too well. He finished the battle with clean cuts, right to the heart. All the while I stood by and watched. You see, this is the thing with extraordinary experience. We people yearn for it. We want it. We tell our best friends how much we need it. We design it in our minds and then call it dreams. And after we've had it, we put it in the frame and hang it in the best spot of our conscience: just in front of our eyes, thus making sure no other new reality can be seen. And of course, then we tell our best friends about it. As often as they would listen to us. We might even write about it, if you know what I mean ;) Simply put: we cling to what we refer to as the extraordinary experience. Myself, I would rather cling to that transcendental tanda in my mind, than dance with the real Agnieszka. This is how I turned my back on reality. Because I framed the reality of that Saturday evening as a reality, unable to blossom with anything that could kindle my fire. I framed myself as the unable one. That Saturday evening just seemed too ordinary. It was the perfect example of everyday life. And as a matter of fact, I later learned nothing special had happened that evening. Nobody spoke about it, nobody wrote anything, nobody posted on Facebook. Nobody proved me wrong. It was just a slice in the everyday life pie, a slice nobody wanted, but many got anyway. It's called life, right? Come to think of it – what about that Monday? You know, that Transcendental Monday? Was it not just another non-special day? Was it not the most ordinary day (and a Monday at that) ever? Furthermore, did my tanda make news, at least on Facebook? Nope. Nobody knew, nobody seemed to care. How do I manage to forget that the only place the extraordinary can rise from, is the ordinary? Extraordinary is an extract from the ordinary. Everyday life. That's all magic potential we'll ever get. And it ain't just good enough. It's all that ever was, all that ever will be. What greater gift than that, knowing any moment could take your breath, hoping you wouldn't mind? Or remember, even. <Transcendence part 4: after the tanda (the ordinary) is the final episode of Transcendence mini-series.>
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AuthorBlaz B, social tango dancer since February 2015. I'm sharing these posts to inspire future tango beginners, to encourage today's beginners and to possibly entertain those dancers, who have already become regulars at tango heaven.
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