To Trust Its Lead

            At the age of 3, I donned my tap shoes for the first time, and here began my love and passion for dance.  I will forever be indebted to my mother for the countless dance competitions to which she traveled with me, the costume changes she facilitated with only one competitor between my routines, and the way that she didn't coach me from offstage like so many other "dance moms" but rather let me perform on stage whether I remembered my routine or not.  This is not, however, a post about my childhood as a competitive dancer.

            Fast forward through 13 years of competitions and I was still as in love with dance as the day that I pulled on my first pair of tights.  In ninth grade, I had more academic commitments and less time to spend at the studio, but I had also heard of this thing called "swing dancing" and my curiosity got the better of me.  I walked into my first Swing lesson not knowing what to expect, but for the first time in my life (besides of course when my grandfather had let me dance on his feet and at the middle school Halloween dance when I, dressed as a sock-hop girl, and my vampire-crush swayed awkwardly to Green Day) I was standing face to face with a dance partner who would be – GASP – the "lead."  I competed in dance for 13 years, all of which I had spent as a solo competitor.  When the curtains opened, I was always alone on the dance floor.  I had always been the one who decided how I would perform, which steps I would do when, and how far I would travel onstage.  Of course, I had the input of my dance teachers and my mom in the classes before a competition, but ultimately, I controlled my movements.  My weight would shift to my left foot when I decided it would, I would follow through with a move only if my mind let me… ME.  SOLO.  But this was not swing dancing.

            Social dancing is different.  After four years of infrequent social dancing in high school and now two years of actually learning these genres in college, I now know East Coast Swing, Lindy, West Coast, Blues, Salsa, and some ballroom (and others very vaguely).  I am not saying I know these well, but I know enough to get by at a social dance event. All of these styles of dance, however, challenge me because they demand that I rely on my partner. I have, out of choice, been the dancer who takes the cues of the one who is leading me.  I have learned to be a "follow," and I can say in all honesty that this is the first area in my life where I have willingly accepted that role.  For me, swing is scarier than I allow my leads to know.  I have to trust them to tell me what to do.  It is not up to me; rather, I take their cues, sometimes given strongly and other times lightly, sometimes clearly communicating exactly what step to do next and where to move and at other times only hinting at where I should go in the next 6-count.  Through this, I have learned to trust.  I have learned to be led by decisions that I am not making, to take the cue given by another and with that person, to create something beautiful.  As a soloist, a headstrong leader with bold opinions and confidence in directing my own life, I have learned through Swing dance to finally move with another person and to trust them as my lead and to trust the moment of the dance itself.

            When I began preparing for study abroad, I realized that dance is one thing I would miss greatly from home.  I would not have the Saturday night dances at Lancaster Swing, Blues dancing the Mullberry Arts Studio with Indigo Blues, or the occasional lessons at York Social Dance Studio to satisfy my craving for dance every week.  So I did what a dancer does and joined groups for Swing dancing in Perugia to find out where to dance here.  I sent messages to people in those groups, asked at my university here, and even turned to Google to see where I could dance.  (Needless to say, I have not yet found an actual event for Swing, but I have not stopped trying.)  Finally, after a few weeks without dancing, my friend and I ventured to Bologna a few weeks ago and happened upon a performance in the center square.  As pairs of Swing dancers danced to Frank Sinatra, I looked to Connie who knows that I am a dancer and who immediately gave me the all-knowing "Go ahead" look before I ran to watch them.  I couldn't stand still, so I asked a dancer if we could dance (or rather stumbled through a sentence in Italian that I think meant "Can we dance together?") and soon found myself among the other dancers.  He and I couldn't communicate because speaking Italian and not stepping on his feet took multi-tasking to a whole different level, but I still had to trust him.  I had to move with him and I had to follow his lead.  After the dance, I thanked him and walked away from the crowd only to realize that I had just casually walked into an actual studio performance, but I fit in and I'm sure nobody noticed.  I was beyond grateful for those four minutes of dancing and my craving for dance was – for the moment – satisfied.

(Excuse the poor quality.  I took a screenshot from a video that my friend captured.)

            After watching the performance for a few more moments, I left with my friend but began to think.  What is it about Swing dancing that I love so much?  Besides the obvious movements, the feeling of being connected to the music with my dance partner, and the expression that dance permits, it has been something more meaningful to me since I left for Italy.  After some reflection, I realized what I've shared with you above: Swing dancing has taught me to trust somebody else's lead.  It has taught me to be completely in the moment because on the dance floor, there is nowhere else I need to be.  It has taught me to take four potentially scary, unchoreographed minutes and to turn them into something beautiful.  I realized that Swing dance is so very similar to studying abroad, and nothing could have prepared me more.

            As I said before, I have always been comfortable taking the lead.  I have made my own decisions.  I have taken the advice of others but ultimately I have made the last call.  If you know me, you also know that I am a planner.  I prefer a concrete itinerary of what I will be doing and when I will be doing it.  I am most productive when at least seventeen sticky-notes dot my desk, and I like having a schedule.  I am not used to throwing my schedule in the air and saying "Let's just see what happens," but for the past 8 weeks, that is exactly what I have done.  That is exactly what making the most out of study abroad demands from me.  I have accepted, now, that scheduling a last minute trip to Bologna and making reservations for a place to stay an hour before arriving can lead to a fun and adventurous weekend.  I have swum in the Blue Grotto, tried foods I never would have imagined eating, jumped onto a train as the doors were closing while only being able to hope that it was the right one, and have found myself in countless situations where I have had to trust the kindness of a stranger because no matter how many months I spend here, I will never understand the Italian train system.  One common denominator I have found in all of my study abroad experiences has been that there is no other option than to trust the moment in which I have found myself.  I must trust it and I must savor it.

            Just as when a lead asks me to dance, study abroad has led me into an exciting and a whirlwind adventure.  I have followed the cues that it has been providing whether they are given strongly, lightly, well in advance, or at the very last moment.  In 8 short weeks, I will return home.  My study abroad experience will end, and I will no longer find myself in these exhilarating and life changing moments.  I will, however, return to Swing dance with a newfound appreciation for what it has taught me.  Much as in my four short minutes on the dance floor, I will have spent these four short months in Europe going wherever the moment takes me.  I have trusted and I have followed where it has led me.  Study abroad, just like Swing dance, has allowed me to take four potentially scary, unchoreographed months and to turn them into something beautiful.