Coming Out Of The Shell - How Nim Got Her Groove Back

The last three days I spent dancing the night away in Cherating for the Malaysian Salsa Festival 2006, after a hiatus of two months where I almost walked away from salsa for good. During this period, I even seriously considered not going to the festival at all as my light for salsa dimmed considerably and almost faded out completely.

When I did decide to go, I was concerned that I wouldn’t be able to do a lot of moves anymore after the serious lack of practice. But a magical thing happened.

Not only did I found my groove quickly, I danced like I’ve never danced in my entire life.

And that's when a revelation hit me.

Boy, was I enlightened.

Before I can explain what I was enlightened about, let me give you a quick history of my tumultuous relationship with salsa.

I was introduced to salsa a few years ago. I quickly fell in love with the sensual soul of the rhythm and the equally intoxicating sway of the dancer. I wanted to get lost in the music like that too so I signed up for lessons.

In fact, those who know me ;-) can attest to my sometimes disturbingly aggressive behaviour during lessons and at clubs. I must stand at the front, preferably right behind but at a 45° angle from whichever instructor is in charge. I am always eager to do it right in the shortest time possible so I can hungrily lap up the following move.

At the clubs I enter into a dance eager to execute a move precisely, just to demonstrate to myself that I got it right. But inside - you may be surprised to hear this given my enthusiasm - I felt empty. The pleasure of dancing, the satisfaction of being one with the music wasn’t mine.

I compensated by taking more classes, expanding to more styles, rooting for what I knew was a crucial missing link but not knowing what exactly it was! I tried to move like the Latinos, to feel like them. I watched videos, read about salsa online. 24/7 I was thinking salsa, salsa, salsa.

I hit the clubs often and danced non-stop, looking for the fix that’ll keep me satiated. I moved like a shark to more and more advanced dancers hoping for a bigger thrill. On exceptional moments, there was the orgasmic burst of satisfaction.

But most times, there was the persistent vacuum inside. And then I would hungrily move on to the next partner, thinking that this would be the dance where I’ll feel complete. But the sporadic kicks I was getting was too miniscule compared to the amount of time spent thinking or dancing salsa.

(Before y’all bang me over what is starting to seem like lead bashing, let me assure you this has nothing whatsoever to do with the partnerwork.)

And so my on again, off again relationship with salsa began. I would get fed up trying to figure why there’s such a void and quit. Then a few days, weeks or months later, something pulls be back into the scene and I’m all over it like a fawning fan. The whole scenario plays out again. And so on and on.

In Cherating, the atmosphere was different. There were many new faces, so most people had a more open approach, with the understanding it’ll be a fresh new experience. Likewise, I entered into a dance, completely at ease in the knowledge that this guy don’t know who I am so it wouldn’t matter if I f****ed up.

And under this relaxed environment, my body began to move freely. I became uncharacteristically unrestrained. I went crazy on the dance floor, jived liked my body was about to come loose and did outrageous stunts that’ll never come up in any dance manual. When the lead takes me back into his containing arms for another nifty step, I gamely play out the steps together, while cheekily inserting shimis here and there that are so typical of my hidden, insane alter ego.

On rare occasions, I dance like this in the clubs. But at Cherating, I danced like this all night long. Back in KL, I hesitate to do shines because I can never remember the dozens of steps I learned. At Cherating, I was glad to leave only one hand with the lead or be left completely on my own to do my own thang.

When the music was cute, I was being cute on the dance floor. When it was upbeat, I reacted strongly. When it was jazzy, I was float-y.

And I was one with the music.

That was when I had my revelation.

All this while, I had been missing out on… me.

I had bolted myself inside so I can dance like somebody else. I had put my zany, dramatist, quirky, dreamy, passionate personality in a straightjacket for a more reserved image. I couldn’t ‘come out’ of my shell because I had this invisible mask acting like a glass barrier between me and the music. This glass barrier around me stopped the music from seeping into me, and blocked who I am from coming out.

I couldn’t move like the Latinos because I was so busy trying to think how to do it. I couldn’t shine because I was so busy searching through my memories for a particular shine to perform. In the madness of the moment, I had put myself – my soul – in the backseat to accommodate all these excruciating nonsense thoughts.

I’m not saying I grooved so well Susanna Montero would be wowed. Heck I might have looked downright silly, I don’t know. More importantly I don’t care and in not caring, I have never felt so liberated.

As I rested my feet during the latter part of the night, I realized that while other people were getting to know other salseros/ras, I was getting to know myself.

It was a pleasant experience.

I’m no longer hungrily waiting to zap that ‘high’ on the dance floor. Because I realized this is just the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship with myself.

(Any offending statements unintentional. Writer's Disclaimer: Blogging style is not reflective of proper writing technique)