Changing the world, one dance at a time...

Hi. My name is hanspetermeyer, and I'm a dance-aholic.

That's a good thing. Dancing keeps me physically fit. It puts me in the arms of women of all ages, shapes, and sizes. It keeps my heart and mind opening to change. 

I can't reduce all things in life to what happens in the dance space - but I try. Something happens when two people dance together. It speaks volumes about how we deal with change.

I'm not naturally graceful when it comes to making or accepting change. Just ask my ex's. Nevertheless, I think I'm making progress. Dance is a big part of this. It gives me a metaphor and a practice for being a little more open, a little more flexible.

It all comes down to trust.

I'm a little afraid to leap into the void that's what most "change" feels like to me: stepping into the unknown. There's no one to lead me, no guidelines, nada to hold onto. After a few of these leaps I've become a little more trusting, more willing to follow circumstance, my heart, or whatever is driving change. Sometimes I even get excited about change because I feel the juice of creativity, of really being alive!

It's the same with dance.

I've been dancing pretty seriously now for a few years. I've got a handful of dance styles that I'm pretty comfortable with. And I'm feeling the kind of confidence that translates into big smiles on the faces of my partners. Now, not only do I want to leap into that unknown juicy place where a dance may take me, but I'm attracting dance partners who are as excited about that leap as I am. Muy cool.

Here's how I think about what I do: every dance gives me an opportunity to lead a partner into uncharted territory. As much as we know about a dance, or each other, we are "making it up as we go along." We literally step into change change change.

The shorthand is something like this: if you've accepted my invitation to waltz, foxtrot, or shake your ass to salsa then you've agreed to experimentation and play. You're joining me as we step into the abyss. You're trusting me Ð at least a little Ð to get you back to your table safely. 

Once you've signed on to trust me, we will do things that'll surprise, astonish, and amaze both of us. Too cool. I know. I get to do this several times a week. It's not because I'm a flash dancer. It's because we're coming together to make something new, the dialogue between our bodies, shaped by our knowledge of dance, our sympathy with the music.

Every time I ask someone to dance, I am asking them to trust me in this creative, juicy place. A place with lots of change, lots of unpredictability.

I dance with lots of the same great dancers every week. We've already got a high degree of trust established. But even so, when I ask Rachel or Karen or Loretta to dance - even for the 100th time - I'm still asking them to trust me to be creative, and to be be safe. To be trustworthy.

Dancing is about change. It's about initiating and maintaining relationships of trust so that change is both graceful and exciting. If my partner trusts me, if I trust myself - magic happens.

As a lead, I responsibilities. I'm saying to my partner - through my movements, my confidence - that she is safe as our two bodies step into the blank space of what our dance will be, as we begin to move to a particular song in a particular dance setting. I need to be careful: full of care for my partner. I can't run her into people, walls, or chairs. I can't put her in compromising or inelegant positions. All these things happen. Sometimes they happen to me. Some lessons aren't graceful, or easy. 

Some dancers are quite willing to go wherever I lead them. They're confident. They know they'll be able to move through whatever challenge or abyss I dance us into.

Others are reluctant. Hesitant. Maybe they don't know me. Maybe they don't trust themselves (particularly if they're new dancers). Maybe they just don't trust me. I need to be careful. Our first steps, our first dances even Ð these are the proving grounds for their trust in me, their willingness to embrace the uncertain, changing places that are the heart of joyful, soulful dancing.

It's exciting: how quickly trust develops on the dance floor. Without words, with just a feeling of frame, rhythm, and the sense of respect and safety. 3-4 minutes of moving together can inspire warmth, connection, willingness to play, to take risks. Smiles appear spontaneously. Eyes sparkle.

It's a model for how to do other kinds of change.

Today, faced with touch choices and changes, I try to imagine them as a dance. Do I trust myself to lead here, to follow there? Am I willing to go with music of the universe and "make it up as I go along?" Just how much creativity and uncertainty can I tolerate, can I risk, for the sake of the kind of beauty I know flows from risk-taking and trusting on the dance floor?

It's not a perfect analogy. But on the dance space I learn to trust, to be trustworthy, to respect, to take care, to be willing to take risks.

There are few givens in the life I've lived. Many, many abrupt changes. What is my capacity to move through challenging circumstances and retain my equilibrium, my connection to what is true and beautiful about who I am? I am creating my life through these choices, these changes. I want it to be rich and beautiful.

The challenge is not so different from navigating a crowded dance floor, the music fast, passionate, and me with my beloved in my arms: I want to do this with integrity, with grace - and in away that inspires trust, loving, and the opening into a beautiful future. Even if that future is just the next dance.

Change change change. cha cha cha...