No mind

The zone = no mind.

Must read more about no mind. Also, must read the Tao of Tango!

Performance anxiety

If I think I've got problems with finding the zone, Eli Manning's got it worse. Seems like he was struggling with his own performance anxiety this weekend. I wonder how much of the problem was knowing that his brother was watching.

I don't have 80,000 people watching me, thank god. Nor do I have half a dozen 230lb men desperately trying to knock me off my feet. But I do think the mental state required to perform at your best is more or less the same in tango as in sport. You need to find the zone, that almost trance-like state where everything seems to happen without effort, where you're not thinking because you're really present, where you're at your centre and therefore perfectly balanced.

When I was at uni I captained our college pool team. When I was playing at my best it was because I was in exactly that same state of mind. In that state of mind I made shots that I would have thought were impossible if I'd actually thought about it.

I wonder whether there's anything in sport psychology that can help me with this. I'll investigate and report back. So far I've found articles about the zone in gymnastics, golf, and reffing football, but none of them are telling me anything I didn't already know.

Part-time wings

Chloe: When I dream, sometimes I remember how to fly. You just lift one leg, then you lift the other leg, and you're not standing on anything, and you can fly. And then when I wake up I can't remember how to do it any more.

Dream: So?

Chloe: So what I want to know is, when I'm asleep, do I really remember how to fly? And forget how when I wake up? Or am I just dreaming I can fly?

Dream: When you dream, sometimes you remember. When you wake, you always forget.

Chloe: But that's not fair...

Dream: No.

Brief Lives

In this week's lesson, it really felt like tango with wings. It was pure tango heaven. My teacher looked at me and said, 'Why don't you dance like this at the milonga?'

And that, my friends, is the fifty-million dollar question. In class lately, I feel like I have wings. I feel centred, present, stable, responsive, light, smooth. But at the milonga, even dancing with my teacher, I am definitely earth-bound!* I miss things, I stumble, my balance is uncertain, the Brain is on guard.

It's like those dreams where you can fly, and then you wake up and you feel like you ought to be able to still do it, but you can't. Or it's like someone's taken my body and switched it for one that doesn't quite fit.

Of course, there are plenty of reasons why it's harder to dance at a milonga than in class. You're surrounded by a press of people on the floor, so that's one extra thing to be aware of. There are people all around who may or may not be watching. A particular problem for me is the worry about what my partner thinks of the way I'm dancing (ssh, Brain). Then there's extra noise and less light, or disorientating light if the venue has disco lights (yep, really). But still. It must be possible to find a place where this stuff doesn't affect you too much.

On a happier note, many thanks to Tangobaby for pointing me at these gorgeous wings. I want a pair to go with every pair of CIF I own! I may have to content myself with a glowy hair thing, though - dancefloors here are chaotic enough without me introducing wings into the equation.

---

* Not the best choice of words, as a large part of my recent improvement has been down to the work I've done lately on grounding! But you know what I mean.

Centres

In Wisdom Quest I've just come across some exercises about centres: one to draw down 'sky energy' for your mind, one to draw down 'earth energy' for your body, and one to balance the two. The earth energy one involved working with your centre, in the tan tien sense, the area within your pelvis, which of course I've been thinking about a lot lately with all this grounding and home stuff. (The balancing one involved balancing the two energies in the heart region.)

Anyway, one of the things it suggested was that you can unite your mind and your body by focusing on that point, that lower centre; that that brings your mind, which normally races around from thought to thought, past to future, back into the present, rooting it in the here and now, and into stillness. Which certainly echoes my recent experience - thinking about my centre / home is doing wonders for my mental presence.

Grounded, centered, balanced

This home thing, this grounding thing, is starting to mean things to me in new ways. Previously, the idea of grounding meant little more to me than the idea of earthing excess energy. Then I started to try to think in terms of roots, of being rooted and therefore stable. That led onto the lower chakras and the home thing, and that to Hestia, first and last, and now I'm really starting to see how and why Hestia is first and last. You can't do anything properly if your home ground is messed up. Home in the sense of a physical home, and how much difference it makes when you create a nice home for yourself. Home in the sense of everything beginning at home, of people in glass houses, of the apprentice year, of sorting yourself out before you try to go out into the world, of putting your thoughts in order before you go to bed.

Tonight, I concentrated on the tango equivalent of home - axis, centre, posture. Just that. And it made a huge difference. I think that I've been paying insufficient attention to myself when I dance - I think I tend to focus too much on what my partner's leading, and not enough on where I am. I look outside myself, assuming that my body can look after itself. But bringing some of my awareness back into my own centre hugely improved my ability to follow what's being led, both in terms of my physical ability to do so (thanks to being more on my own axis, more grounded, more balanced, more relaxed, and therefore better able to respond), and in terms of my ability to read what's being led (because somehow it makes my mind more centered and responsive too, and enables that state of mind in which I'm accepting and open, enjoying and not judging.) I really felt transformed. I felt perfectly balanced and perfectly able to respond. I knew I had plenty of time to do whatever was asked of me. Even in quick, long turns, I pivoted, with all the time in the world, and then stepped, with all the time in the world. It was amazing.