Category: Better together, harder alone
A series of posts exploring the ideas of self-improvement, friction and how Tango works in a different way than the modern world.
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The false promise of self-improvement
Become the best version of yourself. Invest in yourself. You are your greatest asset. You don’t need anyone else to be whole. You have probably seen or heard these, or similar, motivational messages encouraging self-improvement. From physical to psychological and social aspects of life, there is no shortage of content pushing us to upgrade ourselves.
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Your improvement doesn’t buy you freedom
In my last post, I left you with a rhetorical question. Suppose you improved yourself to the maximum. Suppose you had perfect technique, an expanded vocabulary, and exceptional musicality. What would all that mean if you still couldn’t find a partner to share them with? The answer seems obvious. And yet, the question itself quietly…
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Your pleasure is not the goal
If the goal of my dance is my enjoyment, what does this make the other person? Are they reduced to a variable in my pleasure… a means to my end?
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The excuse gap and the internal quiet
In the last post, I wrote about the two different orientations of growth in Tango and the key differences between them. Especially in how they see the partner in the dance equation. The post finished with the following questions: If your growth orientation and intention are right, why does judgment remain? Why do good dancers…
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Which mountain are you climbing?
We believe that in Tango, as in many other activities, the higher you get, the lonelier it becomes. The better you dance, the fewer people you find to truly enjoy dancing with. So if improving means that fewer and fewer partners satisfy you… if you need those very few at “your level” to enjoy a…
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The gift of the wrong partner
In a world that counts everything through performance… likes… followers… output… Tango pushes us to develop something else. Something that doesn’t really fit into metrics. Presence. So if presence doesn’t “pay”… why develop it at all? What is the value of it?
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The perfect tanda was never the point
What if we could remove friction altogether? From our dance… or even from our lives? Why do we need it in the first place?
