June 29, 2018

We spent two hours dancing. At the end he reminded me of the first time I first showed up to his class. He remembered my uncomfortable laugh and my struggle to get 8 basic steps right week after week. But tonight, 4 months later, he put his hand on my shoulder and told me he was proud of me. That man was Uno.

Uno is an older man with a thick accent. He is the teacher of my Thursday night salsa and rueda group lessons. I moved back to Ottawa on a cold Sunday in January and by Thursday I was in Uno's class. It was the first one I found on MeetUp. Almost every Thursday since February I have shown up. Uno sometimes teaches with negative reinforcement with a strong "No! No! Not like that!" and he often switches between English to French forgetting that I don't understand.   

On Thursday during those two hours, another older man who isn't much taller than me with the bluest of eyes and the softest hands took his turn to dance with me. He has been one of my favorite dance partners. He quietly told me to loosen up, to feel the music, to keep my frame tight, stop moving my arms so much, and be patient with myself as he spun me around the room. He is Mr. Tempo. We always wait to start on his beat - the whole class. 

We switched partners again.

A man who is 68 years young with 3 daughters around my age listened to me beat myself up as we danced. I messed up, over and over again, I apologized, I fell out of tempo, I made wrong turns, and did the wrong steps. I confessed to him I fell off my horse and I didn't know why. He looked at me face to face, smiled and said "It's okay. I'll get you back on". With my right hand in his left, and my left on his should we started again. He chose moves he knew I would get then he quietly said "nice" or "you got this" as I more confidently completed the patterns. He is Papa.

When I walked out to the parking lot Papa and I talked for almost 30 minutes before we got in our cars. It became a bit of a ritual of ours to talk about what went well in the class, sometimes he'd suggest some more patterns we could learn, or we'd just complain about people who didn't take things seriously. He would tell me about his wife and coaching his 3 daughters in their sports, or how surprised locals were when he and his girls would start dancing at resorts in Latin America because he thinks he is an unlikely salsa dancer.

On several occasions during our parking lot conversation, I felt emotions rising. Papa talked about how he coached his daughter to skate and it reminded me of my Dad SO much. But Papa has no idea. For some reason I didn't let it rise to the surface and am only now processing the weight of all this energy. 

Cookie is a man about 70 years old. He's been teaching dance for more than 20 years - mostly ballroom though. Cookie and I have been meeting a couple times a week for private lessons and sometimes we go out social dancing Sunday nights so we can practice. Cookie likes to gossip and when we both need a break from dancing we sit on the sidelines while he points out good dancers and he gives me tips on how to improve. Often we talk about things other than dance, too. During our lesson before Father's Day Cookie stopped me mid-dance and turned the music off. He said he could tell something was wrong. I tried to pretend I was fine but he knew. I sat with him and I cried as I told him about how difficult it would be to celebrate Father's Day without a Dad for the first time. Cookie told me that he believed nothing happened by accident and that if I ever needed to talk or just go for a walk, or dance he'd be available. 

I feel really lucky to have met all these incredible men my Dad's age. And to even meet younger men who have shown me my first steps on this journey. From my very first salsa steps with a 20something in Mexico, to cumbia with a local, and bachata steps with someone I had a huge crush on.

Dance has been about so much more than dance. I have learned this year that I can still trust men. That I can take criticism. How to laugh off difficulties. That I am stronger than I thought. How to let others lead me. How to be softer. When to give tension and when not to. How to feel more deeply. To enjoy this beautifully broken and flawed body I am living in. To stay committed to something even when it's hard. To meet new people. To be compassionate and sensitive to new learners. How to have fun with something even when you're bad at it. To search for my own style. How to ask for help. To connect more deeply with the energy of others. To smile. To be patient with myself. To love things again. 

I still have a lot to learn. But I am proud of me, too. 

You never know who you are dancing with. The man who came alone - his wife died. The woman who can't stop apologizing - she was abused and lost her confidence. The person who thinks they know everything - they're struggling to keep it all together and this the only place they feel in control. Do a basic in someone else’s proverbial dance shoes before you judge them. You have no idea how you are impacting their dance journey..and their life.

Nothing happens by accident. The trips to Mexico. The people I met there. The dances. It all brought me to this exact place I needed to be. The lessons I needed to learn.

What lessons have you learned in unsuspecting places?