惜缘 – Cherishing the Connection of Fate

A reader recently commented on my post The Spirit of Tango: “A ten‑minute tanda is a radical response to the dehumanizing reality of modern life. It is an opportunity for two humans to embrace each other in the promotion of humanity. Don’t let that precious moment slip away because your partner isn’t a good enough dancer, tall enough, young enough, old enough, attractive enough, or friendly enough. Every embrace has a story—dance with it.”

I lingered on this comment. It reminded me of a Chinese motto: 惜缘 (pronounced shee-yuan).

惜缘 means “to cherish the serendipity that brings people together.” On my office wall hangs a calligraphy scroll that reads: “Cherish those who are brought to you by fate. They enrich your life. They are the footprints to your destiny.”

This way of thinking can feel unfamiliar in the United States, where human connection is often less emphasized than personal freedom, independence, and self‑reliance. Many Americans live, work, and even pass on alone. Fierce defenders of gun rights yet often unaware of the richness of communal life, they frequently let opportunities for meaningful connection slip away.

But life is not a solo dance—not even for Robinson Crusoe. Our lives are shaped by the people around us: the parents who raised us, the siblings who grew alongside us, the classmates who studied beside us, the teachers who inspired us, the colleagues who collaborated with us, and the friends who shared our joys and struggles. Fate brings only a limited number of people into each person’s life. These individuals are precious resources granted by serendipity. Those who cherish them often build great enterprises and achieve meaningful goals; those who do not frequently find their lives lonely, friendless, and unfulfilled.

What is true in life is equally true in tango. In every city, there are only a limited number of people who dance tango. Despite their differences, dancers share a longing for fellowship, a belief in fraternity and love, a sense of nostalgia and romanticism, and a passion for tango. Those who value one another create a vibrant, welcoming community. Those who build walls and burn bridges, on the other hand, sow division and diminish the very thing they claim to love.

Sadly, this happens too often. Many dancers fail to appreciate what has brought them together. Some become haughty and prejudiced, viewing others as rivals and treating them with indifference or disdain. They dance not to enjoy connection but to display ego. They form cliques, compete for dominance, and push out anyone who threatens their status.

Tango cannot coexist with ego‑driven individualism. I hope we can learn from the philosophy of 惜缘 and cherish the good fortune that brings us together—because this is what makes tango so captivating. Tango is not merely a skill. It is companionship. A communion. A quiet rebellion against alienation. It invites us to restore our shared humanity through love, connection, and presence.

Rather than trying to reinvent tango, perhaps we should let tango reinvent us—into people who are more connected, more compassionate, and more cooperative. (See Tango Is a Fellowship.)