story behind the heART: i choose you

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In an exploration of new dance forms, I began taking contact improv classes. Contact improv is a free form, individual dance style without specific moves, requirements, structure or rules on when and how to engage with partners. The classes and dance sessions challenge me, in a just right way, to connect with my body, my desires, my movement in the world. This amazing opportunity necessarily came with the chance to also connect with my fears and inner critic. Every class, the narration inside my head would assume everyone else in the class was "good" (whatever that means) at dance, certainly better than me. At some point fear would get me to worry if I was wearing the right clothes, such an absurd fear in this very not-clothing-focused community. When it was time to partner for exercises, worry would start in on whether someone would choose me, or if chosen if I was doing the dance "right".  How awesome it is to show up and greet these fears and worries, dance with them for the 2 hours of class then walk away from it all.  Feeling myself wobble, literally and figuratively, brings all kinds of powerful insights and creative bursts.One evening, I ventured to a new studio to try a different teacher's contact improv class. Seeing all new faces, the inner dialogue reverted back to those fears about being the new person, being chosen, being good enough. After we warmed up and I had a delightful encounter with a dance partner, it was time to choose a new partner for the next series of practices. Immediately, I had the feeling from elementary school of being the last chosen for the kickball team as the dance class seemed to have all partnered before I turned fully around to face them. Ugh. That feeling.  Just then, a man walked around the teacher and "choose me" as if I was the most amazing creature on the planet rather than the only person left to partner with. We were physically unlikely partners as my shoulder was somewhere near his waist so we had some fun giggles trying to follow the exercises to lean into or roll with one another. After a short while, our dance connected from the inside, the butterfly one chases in contact improv (and life, actually). We began dancing this beautiful, rolling, smooth, juicy dance. I could feel our pushes and pulls balance each other out so we never lost contact, moving from one place to the next and beyond. I closed my eyes, following my breath and his while we moved. I was lost in the dance with my eyes closed, until I realized my feet were no longer on the ground and I was moving in the air. A split second later, I'd fallen to the mat. "What happened?" I whispered to my partner. "You tensed up, you fell out of the dance. When you let yourself be lifted, you have to let go. You have to trust me." A quick, "Ha!" escaped my mouth as I leaned in to whisper, "I can't do it. I can trust you when both of my feet are on the ground. But I don't know how to let go AND trust you."  Oh, yes, this dance is life.Without any judgment, he warmly said back. "Oh. Well, that is how you allow yourself to be lifted without falling. If you want to try again, just lean in and if I feel you trusting then I'll lift you." We stayed partnered while the rest of the class switched as we carried on with our mesmerized, at least one foot on the floor dancing. I became lost, again, in the dance. Sometimes eyes open, sometimes eyes closed, feeling guided by the breath and movement and nothing else. I practiced leaning in to him a little more each time. Realizing I already knew what it felt like to fall to the mat and that I would be okay, I decided to see what letting go and trusting would feel like. As he lifted me, I opened my eyes: This is what letting go and trusting feels like! Being steadily held high moving throughthe air, I could not stop grinning. I felt free. I was flying, literally and figuratively.Somehow, I gracefully landed back on one foot then the other as we continued to move together on the mat and in the air until the teacher called the class together for the closing circle. As the dancers and teacher sat cross-legged on the floor and reflected on the experiences, my partner laid his head in my lap. I looked down at his face and body extended in front of me. How do I say thank you for choosing me, for teaching me that for a few seconds I actually can let go and trust at the same time? I began to run my fingers through his hair, trace my fingertips over his face, caress his shoulders with my palms. With my hands, I imagined him as the person I can let go with and trust.As the closing circle of class ended, more people arrived for the dance jam that followed. I was not staying for the jam and went to put on my shoes. Seeing my dance partner sitting on the bench, I went to chat with him on my way out. We'd exchanged less than 30 words the entire class. "Are you staying for the jam?" I asked. "I'm not sure. I always come to class because I know I'll be touched. At the jam, I'm never sure if I'll dance with anyone without the instructions." I was confused. He explained, "I am terribly shy. I can go days without talking to anyone and longer without being touched by even a handshake. I come to contact improv class because I can feel touch." I soaked this in briefly, "This is so interesting to me since my perception is of you being larger than life and adored because you lifted me and made me feel like I was flying. I felt free."  As we chatted, I realized his keen ability to sense my leaning in and lift me came from well honed observation skills and appreciation of touch born of loneliness and a craving.I bowed slightly to him as I turned to leave, "Thank you. Thank you for that taste of letting go and trusting. I will try it again." He nodded from his seat on the bench toward the spot on the floor where he had laid his head in my lap. "Thank you for touch."Throughout the following days, I mused on the many ripples of this profound experience. I overwhelmingly felt grateful for being chosen. In creating this love note, I acknowledge we are choosing and chosen all the days long. This is the LoveYou2.org love note with the most space filled with words, the least space for customizing, the boldest statement. What would it be like to totally show up for that choosing. How can I do that in return? I choose you for this dance. I choose to show up for you. Ditto.