A Better Person

Swing Dance Meditations: Part 3

My Lent this year took an ironic turn. At the same time while I was screaming into the void saying "I am not in the wrong, my ex is; I want to become everything my ex didn't want me to become" I was also getting my shit called out in the dance floor, and somehow liking it very much.

For Lent, I wished for the harsh inner voice within me to be excised forever from me, but my teachers and my friends on the dance floor instead told me instead that the Harsh Inner Voice is good, because it drove them to improve their dance. I recalled that the Harsh Inner Voice has been, in my own past, a helpful voice. What has gone wrong since that time?

The harsh inner voice I wanted to excise said "you are not good enough", but the harsh inner voice that helped my friends along said "you can work on it here, here, here, and here". It helped that people said the latter out loud to me, in person.

In boxing class, we worked the bags repetitively, and every session I focused on something different. One day it would be shielding my face, the other day it would be posture, and the day after it would be which knuckles to land on... All these work by the fact that I am breaking one big task into small manageable tasks. Dance practice, from some angles indistinguishable from boxing practice, is very much the same deal: one day to focus on etiquette, one day to focus on switching between modes, and other days for other techniques, and so on.

Here I list some things that I have focused on in the past year. Since dance skills are often also life skills, these could help me become a better person overall:

Confidence. Ask her for a dance. Ask him for a dance. Deal with rejection and heartbreak. Try new moves from the last class. Try to make up some bullshit moves. Follow through with the bullshit moves. 

Situational awareness. The dance floor is crowded; move to a safer spot. Don't let you partner bump into other people. Listen for movements in the music. Be ready for surprises.

Empathy. Watch out for signs of distress or other changes in mood in your partner. Look out for people who look like they might like a dance. Do simpler moves with beginners. Be kind. Build each other up. Appreciate that people are all kinds of different. Accept them in all their differentness. 

Communication. Forming an intention. Communicate by touch. Be clear and firm. Move into a light dance mode where a verbal conversation can happen (I like this).

Ego death. Accept constructive criticism. Ask for criticism. Prioritise the partner's quirks over showing off own moves. Give partners credit for a good dance. Learn from other dancers on the dance floor. Be open-minded.

Self-care. Hydrate adequately. Take breaks (you have to do this yourself, because everyone and everything else can only push you to dance harder).

Self-knowledge and humility. What are my own preferences? What are my own boundaries? How do I play to strength? What are my deficiencies? What do I focus on next?

With my sister at the Halloween Party, Swingstation, October 2024 

FOOTNOTE: I would advise newer dancers (and my coaches would say the same) not to presume that your dance partner would remember or even be aware of your mistakes when you make them. The prevailing culture is that whenever something feels stuck, everyone defaults to blaming it on themselves. The implication is that everyone is more focused on themselves than on you than your anxiety-warped brain might imagine, and that in the end we all become our own worst critics. However, it would be a mistake to say that no one remembers the dance; I remember a lot of dances, most of them because they were very good.

I Can't Run Away From Myself

Lindy Hop Spiritual Meditations: Part 2

It was the Sunday after my-ex-and-I's wedding plans were cancelled. I was praying in St. Iggy's. It was a traumatic weekend, so I was praying extra hard. Being brutally honest, my prayers are most often a one-sided affair where I vent and Allah takes his time replying to my texts, to the extent I might doubt if he is really listening. 

To address this tendency, the Catholic praxis (as I was taught) would be to get one's ears perked up and predisposed to pick up Allah's hints, as the fact is that he is always saying something, even when he appears to be silent, and the rest of y'alls just too obtuse to hear anything most times

I heard Allah loud and clear that day. I was no superstitious oik who sees Jesus on toast or Mary on a daffodil, but I was pretty desperate, and therefore open!

You might have heard it said in spiritual testimony that the voice of Allah is "small, yet firm". I experienced it as a thought that builds and builds until it filled the room. The thought was this:

SHE CAN RUN AWAY FROM ME

I CAN'T RUN AWAY FROM MYSELF

During our last conversation and the unraveling of the last tendrils of our life together, my ex had played the psychologist and said I had "self-esteem issues". I have no idea which Sigmund Freud sleep paralysis demon inspired her to say this; besides, I am sure psychoanalysis was crossing a line, so it couldn't have been a thought from my own mind, or planted in me from her, because I was still very mad at her for leaving. So, this could only have come from above — I can't run away from my own issues.

The other odd thing was that I experienced this message as a Consolation. Imagine feeling at peace after being called out for your shit! Yet, here we are.

St. Iggy's

The Will of Allah

Lindy Hop Spiritual Meditations: Part 1

If I were someone else overhearing me say that I joined the Swing Dance community in Singapore because it was the Will of Allah, I would have laughed myself out of the room, because what the hell is even that

I am dead serious, however.

How the heck did I end up in Swing Dance?

The coincidences and chance encounters that led me to the dance floor were myriad: The first cause, for context, was a bad break-up and the me suddenly having sweet fucktons of free time on hand, free from wedding prep.

The proximal cause, however, was an Olafur Eliasson exhibition at the Singapore Art Museum (interim campus) where I wandered into, feeling lost. My friend Joseph Chua, who I had lost touch with for many years, appeared again to me, and he invited me to watch a dance performance where he and a few other mates would be performing in. This was a dance that goes with an installation of rigged colourful lights that shone onto a semi-permeable wall across the room, so that any one (dancers especially) could cast moving shadows that looked interesting.

No one warned me that there was gonna be audience participation

So I found out about that bit when one of the other dancers took me by the hand out of the blue. She led me to the middle of the shadow room, and we danced something. It wasn't Swing and it wasn't the athletic and expressive flourishes that the dancers were doing right before; I remember it was fast and I just bullshitted all my moves. But, it just felt so good

In Catholic praxis, we had been taught that in prayers one could come to a place of desolation or a place of consolation. This bit was definitely a consolation; which was poignant, considering that I was in the middle of a very desolate part of my life. I took some time to ponder this fact.

I still haven't explained: why Swing Dance, out of all possible dances?

Back in October 2022, Miguel de Jesus was heading a cell group under the Archdiocese. Among the group members was Arisa McIntyre, who was very involved in Swing dancing. She invited Miguel to Aliwal Arts Centre one Monday evening, alongside Mark Pereira, and then Miguel invited me. That Monday night, 2 Opus Dei members found Lindy Hop for the first time.

My first impression of the group was that, even for someone from the famously shady Opus Dei, that the community seemed cult-like. People were smiling way too much, seemed way too happy, were too friendly to outsiders, and everything was self-referential i.e. about the dance. However, after the Olafur Eliasson exhibition, where I was demurring which kind of dance class to get into, these qualities were also what came to my mind.

Lindy Hop is a happy dance. It grew out of the culture of slaves, and then of the working class. It is a silly dance. It is a dance danced by people who do not take themselves too seriously. These people live a life liberated from their harsh inner voices. They put adequate cardio into their exercise regimes. And, I think, I would like to be more like them.

What about my sister? How come she joined too?

I got her into it. Jamie could do with opportunities to meet new people. There was a discount for people who sign up for class with a friend, besides.