Last Monday, our teacher was in a brooding mood. Just a little.
She said: This studio is unique. I fix skirts for you. I fix shoes for you. I coach you. I provide psychological support. No-one else does it. All included in the price.
She was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the mirror wall, her legs crossed, her feet resting.
One of the students said: Yes, and this is why we are coming here, year after year.
The teacher said: Yes! I’m not complaining. I do it, because it is important.
I felt a little bit like she was complaining, though. For me, it felt she was ‘bursting the bubble, breaking the charm’ a little bit. Like in the Bjork’s song.
Because yes, she is right, she offers a lot more to us than dancing classes. But I love it when it is unsaid.
She doesn’t remember this, of course, but when I had a very challenging time, she offered me help.
She texted me a few years ago and asked, are you taking classes in the next term? I need to know.
I said, I cannot do it.
She asked me what happened.
I responded. I actually wrote to her the truth. That I had lost something. That I didn’t have the strength (’Jag orkar inte’).
But you must have the strength, she wrote back (‘Du måste orka’). Come to me. I will help you. You need to know the right way to recover (‘återställa dig’).
I don’t remember if I had replied. What could I say then? I had nothing to say. She offered me help I couldn’t accept then. I just wanted to be left alone, to creep into some cave, to disappear.
I had disappeared. I went to the very end of the tunnel and came back. Slowly, painfully, step by step. All light had to be extinguished. And then lit again, ray by ray.
But I always knew that I would return. To flamenco, and to my flamenco teacher.
Surrounding Cultures 