Sunday, February 11, 2018

"Takes Two to Tango"

Eartha Kit had it right. Her name itself suggests so. One needs to be kitted-out on this earth best to coordinate with others. Then too, the 'It Takes Two to Tango' song itself suggests the duality inherent in life; energy overcoming inertia. But one is better off to have the steps learned, a basis by which to integrate the variables. Yet to many the dance of life comes naturally; any partner will do. To others, steps need first be learned. And many just don't want to dance at all. It's as though we do not hear the same music. The rhythm is off. The beat is unequal. Our chemistry does not jive. But some of us keep applying the lessons, and although we may not master the steps, we certainly get to enjoy the dance, however unnatural we initially may appear. Or awkward we may feel. Growth can be a vertical accretion, and we learn from others.

Natural accord is a marvelous thing. One speaks easily to another stranger on the phone, or over a counter, like making new friends. One can do that with people one knows too. Yet some stultifying of phrases can block up the flow with others. It's as if some sort of disconnect is at variance with possibility, with potential, with being commensurate as a way of life. One or the other has not given in to the music. And the music, as we both know, takes two to appreciate, (even though one of us may play the lead). But we certainly do not all like the same (i)tunes.

Broken promises are like that. A song that runs in the expectation plays, and then the band suddenly stops playing. Broken conversations are like that. A series of questions that run dry, because one or the other does not syncopate, does not advance the dialogue, does not reciprocate or resonate with an adjoining. We cannot and do not Tango. It takes a certain passion to do it well, beyond the conventional steps, beyond the traditional expectations of contrapuntal tensions. It takes degrees of resonance that involve similar interests, similar experiences, similar ages, (even), and very much it is about similar cares. Birds of a feather flock together, is Holland's Theory. (Now which part of that really needs further explication?)

Every 'thing' resonates with our subjective apprehension of it. Everything. We like the brick wall because.... We like the T.V. show because.... We do not like this or that or him or her, because. It is a universal imperative that we are selective, individual, apportioned, allotted, conscripted, and contained, curtailed, and confabulated by our own proclivities. It is at once isolating and invigorating. I am 'me'; not you; not he or she, but me! And the thing is, if it takes two to tango, then I at least expect the other to know the steps! (Who's the idiot who gave me this jarring tune, this awkward moment, this aberrant partner, this indelicacy to my sensibilities? Who? It's their fault I can't get it right; it's their fault I appear the fool. It's their fault the music is off, or at a discord, or hateful, hurtful, and fraught. If not for the anchor of others, where might one be?)

Thing is, it takes two to tango. We are dependent on the other to make us mutually of a 'perfect' accord, (as imperfect as the journey toward all but a momentary perfection can ever be). If another is 'perfectly' to interact with me, then somewhere in our chemistry there needs to be a deep recognition of our essential humanity, not the superficiality of dance steps learned, the artificial conventions of observing rhythm and meter and rhyme and pacing, but the real raw and visceral reality of the fact that we are of the same species, humankind, as differentiated as we may appear, and as differentiated as our acculturation may be. It takes but a catching of the eye, a seeing of the light in the soul, a reciprocity betwixt the essence of each other, and all else disappears. Unnecessary. Acceptance is all. Compassion is all. Awareness is all. And since it all is a part of everything, even not condoning can be 'all'. Integration is like that. It loves every tune, but does not 'like' some. It can even disapprove. And it certainly cares to pick its partners.

Now then, who will come dance with me?