Tango is a male dominated dance, and naturally, ladies will have to follow in the footsteps of their male counterparts, without any signals, she can’t move. Only when he leads, she follows. When he stops, she stops. The mixture of signals to go forward or backward is provocative, yet alluring.
It is a dance that lures you forward, but pushes you backwards unexpectedly. It is the thrill of the chase, the thrill of seduction and romanticism, and the fear of rejection and abandonment by your lover. Will he proceed? Or will he go backwards? That constant fear will never leave the viewers, that is why the atmosphere in Milonga’s are solemn… to the point that the question of happiness is abated.
I have an issue when dancing tango, that is to give up my control to the male leading the dance. It is something I find very difficult to do, that level of submission is beyond me. In my daily life, I always have to feel in control, and that causes my anxiety levels to soar (especially during work). The gift of submission to the dance partner, causes a fear, what if, he does not lead properly and causes me to sprain my ankle? What if, he directs me to an incoming path of a train? (crazy thoughts, but yes, they go through my mind)
In my view, submission is a gift, and can be achieved through partner dancing. When I was learning Modern Jive while in Melbourne, I noticed a woman who had serious issues with the male leading the dance, her resentment is so strong in her expression, that I could feel her mistrust and disassociation. Her dance was rough and unforgiving, her movements tough and unmoving. That was the ugliest dance I ever seen, and from that, I realised that feminism is not the answer to partner dancing.
There is a fine line between masculinity and femininity for women. If a woman is too masculine, she would be viewed as too tough, if she is to soft, she will be viewed as vulnerable. It is that conflict every woman in the 21st century has to face – to embrace or disgrace feminism, to be independent or dependent. That constant conflict is the source of many martial disputes and – divorce – for when a woman is unable to resolve her inner conflicts – she is unable to dance smoothly with her life partner – and that leads to seperation.
Dance is after all, an expression of life, and life is an expression of dance.
Synopsis
An amazing production based on a story on a ballerina who has to embrace her fragility and corruption – by acting as both the white swan (who needs a lover to release her from a swan’s body), and the black swan (who steals her lover away).
In her everyday life, she behaves as a dutiful daughter who listens to her mother like a virginal child. Her evil twin kept hidden in the recesses of her unconsciousness, waiting for the chance to release itself.
Her strive for extreme perfectionism leads to her unwillingness to let go of her duality – for it contains pure lust and corruption.
After a night of drinks, her sultry twin betrays her, and she becomes a seductress – and her nemesis is born.
Towards the end, the black swan kills her – and releases itself – and perfection is achieved.
Reflection
On reflection, the inner struggles of our everyday lives is representative of the struggle she faces as the white and black swan. We have our angels and demons, our lust and passions, for good or evil. This duality is what makes this world complete. For without duality, there will not be black or white.
We constantly fight to retain our goodness and forsake our evil intentions. However, there is no such perfection – for good and evil lies within the same person. Likewise, an evil person will try to kill all the goodness in his soul to become truly evil – only to realise that he has compassion in his heart.
Personally, I struggle daily with my demons. The ability to feel deeply for others can be a blessing and curse. Sometimes its better not to know what lies in the deep end of the spectrum, for once contamination sets in – it is irreversible. I would rather be innocent and kind, but the world is not kind to the good hearted. And to win – is to be truly heartless.
Hence, like the character in the story, I have an evil twin. As much as I try to suppress it inside, it desires to be released, or she haunts my dreams and fills my hands with blood. In the most unexpected moments, she takes over my body and transcends into who I am.
Why hold yourself back, when you are meant what you are meant to be?
On today’s lazy sunny Sunday afternoon, we decided to try the newly opened Thai Massage place in the city. It felt like were we indeed walking into Thailand from the shop’s entrance. The receptionist and masseur are native Thais, and the shop’s decor was inspired by Thai Buddhism statues and artworks. I noticed an orchid sitting on the pillow of the massage chair and wondered for a moment when was the last time I saw such colourful flowers in cold, gloomy Melbourne. The temporal exoticism of paradise recalled my memories of tropical islands and crystal clear blue waters, batik silk and wooden canoe boats. A shock came over my senses when the female Thai masseur greeted us in a subservient and demure tone, which was very unexpected of a female in an equal western society. Or maybe, I myself as a woman had been transformed to be assertive in my speech to be taken as seriously, that being demure is a sign of weakness.
J and I went hunting for mooncakes in Chinatown and found the most gorgerous colourful looking mooncakes in white almond, purple yam and green tea flavours. We feasted our eyes in the asian grocery store carrying a range of japanese snacks, chinese dumplings, malaysian coconut cream and vietnamese paste. J settled for Kimchi soup for dinner, while I preferred australian wine with cheese, and fresh strawberries with melted dark chocolate on the side. I cuddled contentedly on my bed from the feast to dream of my lullabies.
I hope you like the new look of my blog. For some time, I have been procrastinating to change it to reflect more on the style of writing I had developed over the years.
I am quite happy at the new look and feel of this template as it gives a more emotive feel to my writings.
If I have 48 hours in a day instead of 12 hours (half of which I spend on sleeping and doing nothing), it would be so much better.
I am thinking of buying a special kind of pen that records what is hand written, and transferred electronically to the computer using a USB drive. This way, I can write on my notebooks and transfer the writings later on to my computer and upload them quickly onto my blog. The only downside is this pen costs AUD$148. Is it worth the investment?
Visiting New York was a surreal experience. It has been 7 months since I last visited that place and there is an urging desire in me to visit again. There seems to be something waiting for me there, something that I have not uncovered. Something that is waiting to be opened; like a Pandora box.
I feel there is something missing, something that I did not pick up from that place when I last visited. Maybe 2 weeks was too short, maybe 3 months would be more appropriate. Maybe it was the manuscript that I did not leave at the writer’s house doorstep because the ending is not complete. Maybe it is my self esteem and lack of confidence. Maybe I was not fully ready.
Maybe it is the new storyline sitting on my lap that I have not developed for over a year. Maybe this is the one that will change my career direction, or my life for good. I know I have a compelling story but why am I not writing? Yes, I can blame it on everything else but it all comes down to the actual act of writing.
Maybe it is just me.
And I do want to visit New York again.
I do foresee myself there again, this time, more prepared.
