This is a guest post by Jordan Giarratano.
Brandon picks me up at the airport. I am now a resident of Seattle. Three hours later, I’m on a dance floor.
Problem is, I don’t know how to swing dance.
Oddly, this is not a concern for either of us. It is abundantly clear to me that I will need to learn to dance if I am to integrate seamlessly into his social calendar. Further, the unspoken contract of couch surfing requires that I accept, with enthusiasm, any and all demands of my host.
Tonight we go to East Side Stomp, a Kirkland dance studio. Ben White is the instructor of the drop-in lesson. He is affable, enthusiastic and impossibly tall. This last quality gives me hope that I will not be set back by my own gangly frame in this new endeavor.
Ben leads all of the newcomers through the basic steps of east coast swing. After the lesson, we are wound up, pointed in the direction of the dance floor and instructed in the social etiquette of the scene.
The music starts and I suddenly have no idea what I am doing. The staggeringly small amount that I was taught in the previous hour is gone like the elements of the periodic table, like the names of the state capitals—I am clearly failing this first test.
There will be more time to fail. In this first week, I will dance five out of seven nights. I like a challenge, and I believe in immersive learning. So I’m ok with this. But, I do not improve.
Despite my charm and boundless enthusiasm, each night is an exercise in frustrated awkwardness. After a few nights, thankfully, I at least find the rhythm.
My limited collection of moves frustrates me. I feel defeated by my inability to get as good as I can sense is my potential.
I beg Brandon to teach me new steps. He encourages me to focus on my foundation steps. I am hungry to learn more. I need it. I know the awkwardness will go away when I learn some more moves.
Why am I so frustrated?
I earned a black belt in the Korean martial art tang soo do when I was sixteen. For the next ten years I taught an endless stream of students how to kick high, punch straight and overcome their inabilities. I’m not new to physicality, coordination or balance—so why I am so frustrated with swing dancing?
Bruce Lee also danced the Cha Cha.
I approach the martial arts with passion, confidence and dedication. New students always watch me. My roundhouse kick is a near-perfect blur of torque and cracking reverberation. Only the most experienced trainers in any gym I visit can safely hold pads for me.
Newcomers always express shock at this display of power, and I oblige them with a quick lesson. I adjust their stance. I modify their technique.
But still, they think I’m holding out on them. They think it’s all muscle. So, they tense up their legs, tighten their fists and make constipated faces. They lob their feet at my pad, awkwardly, blindly hoping to hear the satisfying thud of shin against leather. They are always disappointed.
The more they resist the truth, the longer it takes them to master the kick.
Power, in the martial arts, is a paradox. The harder you try, the softer you hit. Striking is an art of technique and tension.
I tell this to my students but they do not hear me. I slow them down, I take the “try” out of their movements. I teach them to loosen their body completely, to feel the kick start in their pinkie toe, come up through the thigh, to the chamber of the hip, into the gut and the upper body and to lead this chain of sensations consciously, beautifully and destructively into the target.
There is no secret. It’s all about time and practice.
Very few students ever truly master that basic kick. Eager for power and to impress those around them, they learn it wrong, substituting leg strength for technique. Their kicks may feel hard to the untrained partner, but they are now limited by an artificial ceiling. They were too afraid to look weak and inexperienced, to own their true level of ability. Sadly, they will never reach their potential.
Guess how long it took me to master the basic roundhouse kick? Several months after earning my black belt.
Another night, another dance. I sit on a bench, entranced, watching follows led confidently through a dizzying array of brilliant steps, turns and spins. It looks so fun. I want to do that.
And I realize finally that I want to kick hard without learning how to kick properly.
Well, I’ll be damned. I am my own worst student.
There is a tragic notion that envelops our culture that the only reason to do something is to be great at it or to make a career of it or even worse, to make money off of it.
Rather than embrace the sheer crazy joy of trying something new, we are secretly ashamed to show inexperience or confusion. We rush to put on the appearance of understanding, and in doing so, we shortchange ourselves.
We learn techniques poorly or not at all. We overcompensate with flash and style, and we are always comparing ourselves unfavorably to those who inspire us. Fun becomes frustration, connection becomes alienation. And we wonder: why try doing anything at all?
I finally took the advice that I give to every single one of my martial arts students: Let it go.
The second I stopped trying so hard to be good at swing dancing, I began to have fun. The woman in my arms, no longer a prop to my awkward routine, was now a dance partner. The dance, even at its most basic level came alive with the music, with the collaboration of lead and follow.
I know the basic steps, I can spin her and I can catch her. That’s all I know. I’m enjoying myself and that’s all I need for right now.
Now young Lindy Grasshoppers, what will YOU do?
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{ 14 comments… read them below or add one }
THIS is one of the best things I’ve read in a long, long time. BRILLIANTLY written, Jordan. I genuinely hope that lots and lots of beginners read this, take it to heart, and do likewise. Your advice to get the foundations down and ENJOY the process is absolutely invaluable. Enjoy the path, my friend. It is clear you are going to do very well indeed!!!
Thanks Peter! The quality of Seattle’s scene and the kindness/patience of the many instructors and follows I met made it very easy to get into the right frame of mind quickly.
This is a lesson that can take people months to learn. I am glad you have found a new hobby. I’ll keep an eye out for you on the dance floor around Seattle.
Brilliant!
Jordan, I love this article for so many reasons. Favorite lines:
“The more they resist the truth, the longer it takes them to master the kick.”
and
“They were too afraid to look weak and inexperienced, to own their true level of ability. Sadly, they will never reach their potential.”
I think this speaks to what I’ve seen as a teacher AND experienced as a dancer. Fear of doing it wrong does create an artificial ceiling, at any level.
Thanks!!
Love it!
When I first started dancing, I was convinced that I could be a better follow if only I knew more moves. Especially the ones leads tried on me that I failed to get the first time. I was impatient. Coming from a ballet and spanish dance background, I was used to learning new moves all the time and knowing how to put them in a sequence that looks nice. I thought I could do a similar thing with Lindy Hop.
It took me quite awhile to realise that mastering the Lindy Hop had very little to do with building a repertoire of moves and more about mastering the basic elements of following, such as frame, pulse and learning not to anticipate; and to understand that getting a firm hold on the basics would make it much easier for me to learn those “moves” I was so driven to get in the first place!
Amanda Own wrote “It took me quite awhile to realise that mastering the Lindy Hop had very little to do with building a repertoire of moves and more about mastering the basic elements of following, such as frame, pulse and learning not to anticipate; and to understand that getting a firm hold on the basics would make it much easier for me to learn those “moves” I totally agree on this with Amanda Owen. It came to my mind what a guy was telling me about
the dancing skills of his dancing partner who also happens to be his girl friend. (by the way it was not a Lindy Hop class) He said that his girlfriend should stop trying to learn as many as possible quickstep and slow foxtrot steps or moves. She should concentrate in mastering the basic elements (what Amanda wrote). I am a leader but always in my mind I put myself in the Follow shoes … Am I leading her correctly? Do I signal my intention properly? etc etc.
As the saying goes It takes two to Tango….
Thanks for so eloquently putting into words what got all of us so hooked on this dance in the first place.
Best thing I’ve read on this site! Totally 100% agree.
The trick of course is to simply keep at it, realize you’re not all that good, but still keep asking follows to dance, over and over again. Also, taking tons of privates helps. :)
Can I reproduce this article for mt Perth Western Australia students, please?
You and your brother were never coordinated; that’s why we never went to skating parties. I still can’t believe Goldy. Wow!
i was so intimidated my first dance lesson. it made me so frustrated and my brain hurt from learning the steps. it took me four months of lessons before i would set foot on the social floor. i was afraid my first time on the social floor but then it grew on me and it has been something that i enjoy on a regular basis. the biggest thing you can take away from this is have fun doing it and technique will come with time and practice like all things. you can’t expect to be amazing at it the first time around.
This was such a good post. You nailed down some truths here. I especially loved your comments about our motivations for doing something and how we tend to turn it all into a big competition or have to find some other reason to justify doing it, such as making money off of it.
The beautiful paragraph that caught my eye the most was: ”
Rather than embrace the sheer crazy joy of trying something new we are secretly ashamed to show inexperience or confusion…”
I didn’t start dancing until I was almost 40. I look at my kids and see that if I’d started at their ages I could have been amazing, because they both have passed me up, skill-wise. I know I’ll never be a rock star amazing performance lindy hopper. That doesn’t stop me from finding and sharing tremendous joy in the dance. With almost 6 years of regular dancing, I have a good bit of repertoire. It is still exciting to me to see new dancers fall in love with this great dance and amazing to watch others develop as dancers across time. Thanks for joining in the fun!
Shirley
Beautifully written! This article speaks volumes on so many levels in life lessons. You continue to make me proud :)