Before you say no

The most familiar no in tango is the one we see.

In milongas, an invitation is rejected without words. A glance is not met. A head turns away. A body doesn’t move.

“No, not this dance.”
“No, not this moment.”
“No, not this person.”

We call it choice. Etiquette. Preference.

And before the head turns away, we feel that no.

A shift in the diaphragm that doesn’t open. A readiness that doesn’t appear in the feet. A small internal withdrawal that happens before thought.

I have said no many times. Often it felt immediate, even bodily. And yet, later, I found myself wondering what exactly I had been responding to.

What if the no comes before the encounter? Before I know exactly what I am rejecting, before I have truly met the person in front of me.

How quickly do we turn a person into an idea?

Can a no feel embodied and still come from a story?

How many dances have I declined without ever meeting the person?

What is the difference between intuition and prejudice in the body?

When does discernment become closure?

Alla shared a story the other day.

A man approached her to invite her to dance. The invitation came through a glance. Her answer was immediate.

No.

Not because of the dance. Not because of the embrace. Not because of anything that had happened between them.

The no arrived together with a story she had been carrying about him for some time: that he was lonely, that he came looking for contact more than tango, that she already knew who he was.

Afterwards, a question appeared:

Was that no coming from her body, or from her narrative?

The question stayed with me.

Beyond the dance floor, I notice my own no’s. I notice how quickly I close to people, places, and possibilities.

How often have I said no before the encounter?

How often do I listen to the hundred reasons not to go, rather than the small part of me that knows I need challenge, surprise, or growth?

Not every no comes from the same place.

Some protect us. Some keep us honest. Some help us stay connected to ourselves.

And some arrive before we have actually met the person, or the situation, in front of us.

Perhaps the practice is not simply learning to say no.

Perhaps it is learning to recognise where a no is coming from.

The no that comes from presence.
The no that comes from fear.
The no that comes from exhaustion.
The no that comes from an old story.

The no that opens space.
The no that closes it.

What do you say no to?
And where does it begin in you?

Join us.

Saturday, June 20
We’ll meet on Zoom at 5 pm UK time.

Stay attuned
Jesus Acosta