跳著舞老去

I believe in dancing. I believe it is in my nature to dance 1)by virtue of the beat of my heart， the pulse of my blood and the music in my mind. So I dance daily.

The seldom-used dining room of my house is now an often-used ballroom—an open space with a hardwood floor， stereo， and a disco ball. The CD-2)changer has six discs at the ready: waltz， swing， country， 3)rock-and-roll， 4)salsa， and 5)tango.

Each morning when I walk through the house on the way to make coffee， I turn on the music， hit the “6)shuffle” button， and it’s Dance Time! And I dance alone to whatever is playing. It’s a form of existential 7)aerobics， a moving meditation.

Tango is a recent enthusiasm. It’s a complex and difficult dance， so I’m up to three lessons a week， three nights out dancing， and I’m off to 8)Buenos Aires for three months of immersion in tango culture.

The first time I went tango dancing I was too intimidated to get out on the floor. I remembered another time I had stayed 9)on the sidelines， when the dancing began after a village wedding on the Greek island of 10)Crete. The fancy footwork confused me. “Don’t 11)make a fool of yourself，” I thought. “Just watch.”

Reading my mind， an older woman dropped out of the dance， sat down beside me， and said， “If you join the dancing， you will feel foolish. If you do not， you will also feel foolish. So， why not dance?” And， she said she had a secret for me. She whispered， “If you do not dance， we will know you are a fool. But if you dance， we will think well of you for trying.”

Recalling her wise words， I took up the challenge of tango. A friend asked me if my tango-12)mania wasn’t a little ambitious. “Tango? At your age? You must 13)be out of your mind!”

On the contrary: It’s a deeply pondered decision. My passion for tango disguises a fearfulness. I fear the shrinking of life that goes with aging. I fear the boredom that comes with not learning and not taking chances. I fear the dying that goes on inside you when you leave the game of life to wait in the final checkout line.

I seek the sharp， scary pleasure that comes from beginning something new—that calls on all my resources and challenges my mind， my body， and my spirit， all at once.

My goal now is to dance all the dances as long as I can， and then to sit down contented after the last elegant tango some sweet night and pass on because there wasn’t another dance left in me.

So， when people say， “Tango? At your age? Have lost your mind?” I answer， “No， and I don’t intend to.”

我崇尚舞蹈。我相信，隨著我的心跳、脈搏以及心中的音樂(lè)去跳舞是我的天性。所以我每天都跳舞。

我家里那個(gè)很少用的飯廳，現(xiàn)在經(jīng)常被用作“舞廳”——這個(gè)寬敞的空間鋪了硬木地板，配有立體音響裝置，還吊著個(gè)舞廳閃球。我的自動(dòng)換碟機(jī)里備好了6張唱片：華爾茲舞曲、搖擺樂(lè)、鄉(xiāng)村音樂(lè)、搖滾樂(lè)、薩爾薩舞曲和探戈舞曲。

每天早上，當(dāng)我穿過(guò)房間準(zhǔn)備走去煮咖啡時(shí)，我都會(huì)播放音樂(lè)，并摁下“隨機(jī)”鍵。跳舞的時(shí)間到了！不管放的是什么曲子，我都會(huì)隨著音樂(lè)獨(dú)自起舞。這是一種表現(xiàn)存在的有氧運(yùn)動(dòng)，一種移動(dòng)的冥想。

我最近很迷戀探戈。這是一種復(fù)雜而難跳的舞蹈，所以我一周要去上三次課，并花三個(gè)晚上出去跳舞。我還打算去布宜諾斯艾利斯待三個(gè)月，在那里完全地沉浸于探戈文化中。

第一次去上探戈舞蹈課的時(shí)候，我非常害怕，都不敢踏足舞池。我還記得，有一次在希臘克里特島上，一場(chǎng)鄉(xiāng)村婚禮之后舞會(huì)開(kāi)始了，而我卻一直待在旁邊不敢跳。那多變的步法讓我眼花繚亂?！皠e讓自己出丑了，”我心想，“就在一旁看看吧。”

一位比我年長(zhǎng)的女士看出了我的心思，她從舞場(chǎng)中退出來(lái)坐在我旁邊說(shuō)道：“進(jìn)來(lái)一起跳，你會(huì)覺(jué)得很傻。不進(jìn)來(lái)跳，你一樣會(huì)覺(jué)得傻。既然這樣，干嘛不跳呢？”然后，她說(shuō)要告訴我一個(gè)秘密。她低聲說(shuō)道：“如果你不跳，我們就會(huì)知道你是個(gè)傻瓜。可是如果你跳了，我們就會(huì)因?yàn)槟愀矣趪L試而覺(jué)得你很棒。”

想起她那番充滿智慧的話，我接受了探戈的挑戰(zhàn)?！?br>