The first connection

In a recent episode of How I Write, the Anglo-Irish poet David Whyte described writing as a path discovered step by step, never fully visible in advance. His words stirred unease in his interviewer, David Perell, who confessed to the fear of losing control. Instead of explaining further, Whyte simply asked him:

“Where do you feel that fear?”

What followed was the most beautiful exchange about the physicality of the creative process.

“In my heart racing, sweaty palms, on the right side of my stomach”, said Perell.

“That”, Whyte interjected, “is where you write from. That physical contact, that has a voice that speaks to you”.

“In the writing, you can actually put your hand over that part (where the fear is felt), almost like you put a hand on a speaker and feel the vibration of the woofer. That’s a membrane too, that’s where the revelation is”.

It is in that membrane where I want to root my dancing.

Connection in tango does not begin at the point of touching another, but in the way we notice our body, our breath settling, the subtle rhythm of our own heartbeat. It begins in the moments of discomfort—when we choose not to turn away, but to feel them fully and dance with them.

Before we ever step into the embrace of another, there is a quieter meeting waiting for us—the embrace with ourselves.

In an age of distraction, it’s easier to escape from what we feel. The comfort of TV and the numbness of endless scrolling keep us from truly listening. It takes a lot to put a hand on that part of our body and investigate that voice.

We tango dancers have an advantage: our preambles are highly physical. We shift our weight, sense our axis, adjust our posture, and root ourselves through the soles of our feet.

Being intimately in touch with ourselves is perhaps the greatest gift we can bring to the embrace with another.

Last week, over coffee, a friend shared the struggles in her relationship. Her deepest realisation, she said, is that every connection begins with the one she has with herself — and that this inner relationship must be at the heart of all others, especially the romantic ones.

Intimacy demands we love and respect ourselves first.

There was a spark in my friend’s eyes when she shared that, and it ignited something in my belly, as I was already drafting this post.

A place to land

Her words stayed with me as a gentle reminder that self-connection needs space in the fabric of daily life. It’s one thing to understand the importance of loving ourselves; it’s another to give that love a form, a practice, a place to land.