Landing

Falling has been one of the greatest fears of my life.

You would notice it whenever I walk the hilly paths around Totnes and Dartington.

You would see it in the way I hesitate before walking down a steep path or a flight of stairs. The first step feels like a cliff. Once I’m moving, I’m fine. It’s beginning the descent that frightens me.

At the start of a descent I take maximum precautions. My body starts constraining, clenching, which, ironically, makes falling even more likely.

So, I make sure I’m close to a bannister, or a tree, or a branch or a rock I can grab in case I stumble.

Back in January I decided to launch Dance in Conversation, to go beyond digital realms, and meet people face to face.

For months, I’ve been imagining and shaping an in-person space where we enquire into what is alive in the dance.

It’s been months of training, dancing, and co-creating with my mentor.

I’m ready.

And I’m not.

Over the last few weeks, the fear of falling / failing has undermined my readiness.

I’m still looking for a venue. I still need to set a date and begin telling people what Dance in Conversation is.

It’s a first step that feels gigantic, so I keep looking for bannisters: reviewing plans, signing up for another training, delaying.

It's a familiar tactic. It's the same one that shows up in dance spaces: once I am on the dance floor, I let my body navigate the space. What delays me is extending the first invitation.

Would anybody show up?
Is the message clear?

Writing and posting this is me not being ready, and taking the first step anyway.

The first in-person gathering will happen in Totnes this October.

Gulping.

My mind racing.

I’m inviting you to come and dance with me.

Fall with me.

The theme is Landing. It’s not flying or rising, but dropping into our feet and the ground.

From head to toe. Onto the floor, and meet each other in the descent.

We’ll explore what it means to fall into the body.

Into the ground.

Into relationship.

Perhaps that’s what landing really is.

I haven’t even booked the venue yet. That’s how close to the beginning this is.

I’ll share the details soon.

I'm not asking you to bear with me, but to dance with me. Unready.

Stay attuned
Jesus Acosta

Does sharing a meaningful dance create any responsibility toward one another?
What happens when we remember that we are human beings dancing with other human beings? Our minds can tell us many things, but our bodies speak a much older language: one of touch, presence, and connection. ​In this gathering of Tango Sensaciones, we'd like to explore these questions together, listen to one another's experiences, and discover how differently we each make sense of closeness, expectation, and connection within the world of tango. We'd love to have you in the circle.