I have a friend that talks about tango as if it is a dear friend of hers, someone that she is committed to working things out with.
She might say, “Tango and I are in a fight.” or “Tango and I resolved our differences and are getting along now.”
It makes sense to me. She can convey her level of commitment by personifying her relationship to the dance.
When it comes to tango, I believe I get what this word means. My tango life is always a work in progress. I’m constantly discovering new things to practice and new ways to move (or a way to work towards a better economy of motion). I know that one bad tango day is just one bad tango day. It’s not the end all. I’m committed to tango. I’ve sacrificed taking part in other things so that I can tango….
Hold on though….does commitment require sacrifice? Or does it not feel like sacrifice when it is fulfilling?
Tango has offered me many things in the form of a family, a community, and an invitation to find healing. I wouldn’t trade that. I still deeply value those things.
At the same time, I lost my closest friend this year and tango can’t replace that intimacy I once had. I find that I’m constantly desiring connection outside of tango and I keep coming up empty-handed. I want the feeling of a warm embrace as I share the secrets of my heart with a friend. I want the reassurance that I am good after I’ve told a story of where I have completely botched something or said something insensitive.
I want to be honest with people who want to get to know me, too. I’ve got questions and I want to explore the answers and swap stories. How do I do that?
Do I have to commit to something else? Will I find this closeness if I join a service group? A bible study? A study group? A group of people with a hobby other than tango?
Is what I commit to really all that better and significantly more rewarding than what I have now? Will I regret it? Will I be tempted to return to what I once had? What does it mean to my integrity and virtue if I change my commitment?
This place of indecisiveness feels lonely.