Zen Buddhism and Martial Arts
Home » Literature Archives »The Zen of Dance
THE ZEN OF DANCE
by Fa Tian Shakya
I can only imagine what Dr. Carl Jung, the Swiss Psychiatrist, would say to me if I were his patient. I'm there sitting in his office listening. He speaks in his thick Swiss-German accent, "You, mein Herr, are ze classic introvert, vis ze zinking function in ze primary und ze intuition und zenzation functions zupporting. But you are not yet complete." I get a worried look on my face. He leans forward, "You must get in touch vis ze feeling function zat is reprezzed in ze zub-conscious mind. You muzt integrate ze feeling function to become a whole individual." I'm absolutely sure that he did not say, "Vy dont you take ze ballroom dance lezzons?" And yet, this is what I did. And through the process of learning to dance, I began to see how I could approach that missing feeling function; and bring it to the surface to begin the integration process and make myself complete.
My wife and I had planned to take a cruise for our 20th Wedding Anniversary last year; but the damage caused by Hurricane Katrina, and the subsequent leasing of much of the cruise fleet to house the displaced, halted our planning. So as our 21st Anniversary approached, we received word that the cruise ships were back on the high seas; and we began planning our vacation again. That's also when my wife began secretly formulating a plan to get me to learn to dance.
Richard Geer and Jennifer Lopez(Shall We Dance, 2004 Miramax)
She began by dropping little hints hints that I purposely ignored about taking lessons. I would come home from work and there would be flyers on the kitchen table with information about places that offered dance lessons. I would leave them untouched right where she put them. One night she stopped at the video store on her way home to rent a DVD. I expected some rather sappy romantic comedy, but instead she rented "Shall We Dance" with Richard Geer and Jennifer Lopez. In the movie, Geer's character passes a dance studio on his way home every night, and bored with the routine of his life he stops and signs up for lessons. Another night as we surfed for something to watch on TV, she stopped at "Dancing With the Stars." I was a shocked to see Emmitt Smith moving gracefully around the dance floor. This was followed by a request to record the PBS special on ballroom dancing. Eventually the hints about taking dancing lessons became an outright request, and I had to make it clear that I wasn't interested in taking dance lessons. End of story (or so I thought). Then she played her trump card. She pouted. Her lower lip quivered and she whispered, "You mean you don't ever want to dance with me?" She turned and ran out of the room.
Cheryl Burke and EmmittSmith (Dancing with the
Stars, ABC)
Its not that I had anything against dancing aside from the fact that you usually do it in public. As Dr. Jung pointed out, and I agreed, I am the classic introvert. I just couldn't think of any reason why I needed to learn to dance and certainly not ballroom dancing. However, my reasons for balking at the idea seemed hollow. My protests were born of the notion that I should not want to take dance lessons. Maybe it doesn't make a lot of sense, but men believe that there are things we simply don't do - at least not without an argument. A man doesn't willingly hold his wife's purse while she tries on clothes at a department store - if he goes shopping with her in the first place. A man does not go into Victoria's Secret alone or with his wife. And certainly he doesn't take dance lessons. These strange ideas appear out of nowhere. I began thinking that one of Dr. Jung's famous archetypes was behind this and that I was manifesting a hidden part of my sub-conscious which caused me to resist doing those things which may appear unmanly. Yeah... it was a bunch of bull, but for a while I actually fell for it. With this thought in mind, and though I still wasn't comfortable with the idea of taking dance lessons, I caved.
In an attempt to make me more at ease, my wife kept insisting that lessons would be "fun," that we would get to meet new people, go to dinner dances, and best of all, we could use our new talents when we took our cruise. I could tell by the sparkle in her eyes that she was really excited about this. Dr. Jung noticed too, and nodded his head as I mumbled, "Damned extraverts." Dance lessons would begin the next Tuesday.
Of course, learning Zen isn't the same as learning to dance. Zen is a private journey, one we can only make alone no partners, no spectators. However, not unlike the dance, there are steps we have to follow and practice. In the beginning, we're stiff. We might find that while meditating, it's difficult to remain focused for the count of ten, so we have to start over at one. Maybe we forget to practice patience and lash out at our family, so we ask for forgiveness and watch our thoughts and feelings. Or we notice that we're hoarding possessions, so we try to practice generosity. And with time and practice, Zen becomes a part of us, and we become less stiff and begin to act more natural. We stop holding on to judgments and opinions as if they had any real meaning. When we find ourselves reacting negatively, we have the patience and understanding to stop and take a breath. We gain the ability to bring to the surface some of those hidden or repressed parts of our psyche where we can work with them in a straightforward way. It doesn't happen over night, and certainly not in a few weeks. But with honesty, discipline, and perseverance it will happen.
In the beginning my wife and I were stiff, like robots. I can't count the number of times we stepped on each others toes. We were frustrated by our lack of coordination, and we both tried to lead. We found a few muscles we didn't know we had. But we practiced at home, and after a few classes the dance steps began to come more naturally, and I wasn't hearing my wife saying under her breath, "Step pause, step pause, quick, quick" during the Foxtrot, or "1 - 2, 3" when we waltzed.
Sometimes when I feel awkward about all this, I imagine myself back in Dr. Jung's office, defending my choice of "therapy" by citing those Whirling Dervishes, the Sufis who do a dancing meditation, although "ze don't danz vis ze vimen." I haven't decided yet whether to tell him about that dream I have where I'm Fred Astaire in Master's Robes.
Shall we dance?
Fa Tian Shakya
