My Second Private with Luna Palacios

I arrive on time. I see her barefoot standing on the grass wearing a purple jumpsuit covered by an old and artsy tank-top. It's sunny out. I smell the freshness of the outdoors. We go inside and then I see her boyfriend coming downstairs for the class. We are about to start. She finds a song for us to start dancing. She is wearing glasses and that makes her face look much more serious. No make-up. Just a simple heart necklace hanging from her neck. The necklace is made of bronze and silver. Her neck shows (I assume) a big allergy mark. Her hair was pulled back and, I suspect, unwashed, somewhat disheveled. She looks natural. We start the class by her telling me that now she would like me to focus on the energy of my hips and my gluteal muscles. She wants me to speak out loud with my tango. She goes on by saying that my upper body has to be the commander, I am in control of my body. My body has to give a message, it has to respond to the invitations the man I am dancing with makes. She also tells me that my legs and feet will follow me. It is almost like she's telling me not to be afraid. That I have to worry about my upper body and be aware of it as much as possible. Luna demands from me. She is sharp. Her footwork is precise and quick and yet fluid and dense. Her posture makes her look tall. Elegant. She wants me to dare on the dance floor. She needs me to stop being shy. She wants me to be the outspoken woman who inhabits my soul. She wants an intentional me on the dance floor. She said she wants to see more of a crazy woman when I dance. That made me ponder: is someone like me capable of learning something like that? Is that learnable? What if I stay forever just a mediocre tango dancer? Not progressing in the direction that I want is being mediocre. She shows me the turns, how to turn, how to have the energy focused on the hips. How to explore the music. How to create a new dance within me and my partner. We try a new movement. I fail. I get embarrassed. We try it again. She doesn't like the position of my knees. We try again and again until I do it better, but not exactly the way I want it to be. As always, I am very harsh on myself. We move on to the idea that I should be more daring on the dance floor. I dance three songs. During the third one, I really feel I am grasping at the concept of tango and energy. I feel mad. I feel passionate. I feel sad. I feel the song. I hear Luna in the back cheering like she's watching a soccer match. I feel like I am giving all of me to that song. I feel taller and empowered by that energy. I feel strong and vulnerable at the same time.
My dad and I leave the class. I feel exhausted and happy. I feel like I want to run to a milonga and just dance. We leave and in the sun, while the heat burns my skin, I feel the joy of being alive and being a tango dancer. I pray not to forget. I urge my daring self to show up the next time I dance: for that it is to be totally alive and yet meditating in the wings of music.