May 24, 2016
Tolerance and Grit
In my spare time, I like to go fishing.
Gu Feng once captured the essence of fishing in a poem:
“Veiled in mist, the valley sleeps,
By the stream where bamboo sways, crimson petals keep.
In hush of dusk, I cast my line,
The breeze a whisper, the night divine.
Raindrops tap on pavilion eaves,
A fleeting song the twilight weaves.
At dawn, in robes of silent blue,
Beneath my umbrella, traced with dew,
Alone, I walk the stony way,
Lost in dreams where echoes stray.”
Picturesque, indeed!
But I am no poet. For me, the joy of fishing lies in the bite. Without it, even the most tranquil scenery can’t fully satisfy. Fish are unpredictable. Some days I catch nothing; on most, I’ll land two or three an hour. But now and then, the fish become wildly active—you cast your line, and they rush to bite, one after another, you catch dozens in just a few hours. These frenzied moments are rare, but they’re what keep me hooked. The thrill lies in the anticipation, in the possibility. Miracles, after all, are not everyday occurrences.
This feeling mirrors the experience of dancing tango. The elegant venue, soft lighting, smooth floor, enchanting music, and stylish attire are all part of the charm—but without the right partner, they’re not enough. Then, one night, unexpectedly, you meet someone whose height, skill, musicality, temperament, and demeanor align perfectly with yours. It's as if the universe has conspired to bring you together. You move in harmony, sharing a dance that’s both seamless cooperation and individual expression. It's a revelation—transformative and unforgettable. From that night on, you return to the dance floor again and again, hoping to recreate that magic. But just like in fishing, such moments are rare. In my fourteen years of attending countless milongas, I’ve experienced it only a handful of times. Yet those few dances are enough to keep me coming back. Tango, like life, is the pursuit of a dream. And in both, miracles are rare.
We often forget that imperfection is life’s default setting. To truly enjoy the world, we must learn to find beauty in the everyday. Voltaire once said: “What is tolerance? It is the consequence of humanity. We are all formed of fragility and error; let us pardon each other’s folly—this is the first law of nature.”
Yet we also yearn to transcend the ordinary. To become extraordinary requires perseverance. It is through embracing the routine, the mundane, and the imperfect that we achieve greatness. So let us encourage ourselves to be resilient. Miracles may come—not as gifts of luck, but as the quiet rewards of dedication. That, too, is a law of nature.
Postscript
I wrote the above nine years ago. Since then, as my dancing has matured, so has my experience. Most of the people I dance with now are seasoned dancers, and the extraordinary moments I once yearned for have become more frequent. When two skilled dancers meet, even if they are strangers, magic can happen. That is the true beauty of mastery. —February 22, 2025
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“Only by repeating the ordinary countless times can one obtain the extraordinary.”? Fourteen years of tango. When was your first magic tanda? One or two years in? When I think back at my skill level at my first magic tanda I’m convinced the miracle wasn’t the heavenly connection; it’s that the magic happened to me, such a low skilled dancer. I don’t think a magical connection is created by will, or improved dance skill. It happens when the moment is right.
ReplyDeleteRecently I had a discussion about magic tandas with man who is an excellent dancer, professional instructor, and performer. I asked him how often he has a magic tanda. I was surprised when he said he had a few when he reached a certain level of proficiency, but hadn’t had any in years. Maybe because tango is a vocation, maybe because he thinks about technique too much, maybe because his reputation creates expectations, maybe because dancing for personal enjoyment just isn’t available. Who knows? But the skills he developed through tolerance and grit have never been higher. In his case, the number of magic tandas appears to be inversely related to skill. I’m wary of these notions of grit, tolerating, paying your dues, suffering, earning status, achieving excellence….climbing the hierarchy. This is the language of a shame culture, where inclusion and exclusion are the motivating factors, and the mob defines right and wrong. I prefer offering your embrace, accepting the lead, learning from the novice, connecting, allowing time, opening your heart, 惜缘. This is the language of a community regulated by conscience. I encourage people to web search “Honor-Shame vs. Guilt-Conscience cultures”, and look at their tango community from that perspective, and the header statement that appears on In Search of Tango.
Excellent point. The first time I completely enjoyed a tanda was in my sixth year, in BsAs, where the dance level, number of dancers and chance of meeting a match are all higher. Dance level, by which I don't only mean skills but also the understanding of the dance, matters. It is true that with increased experience and expectation, chances of meeting a match seem decrease, even to a point that one may lose hope. That's why I wrote this piece. Miracles favor not quitters, but those who are prepared. I recommend Angela Duckworth's book, Grit: Power of Passion and Perseverance.
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