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去跳舞是我的天性。所以我每天都跳舞。

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

每天早上，當(dāng)我穿過房間準備走去煮咖啡時，我都會播放音樂，并摁下“隨機”鍵。跳舞的時間到了！不管放的是什么曲子，我都會隨著音樂獨自起舞。這是一種表現(xiàn)存在的有氧運動，一種移動的冥想。

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，并花三個晚上出去跳舞。我還打算去布宜諾斯艾利斯待三個月，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，一場鄉(xiāng)村婚禮之后舞會開始了，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?！?/p>

一位比我年長的女士看出了我的心思，她從舞場中退出來坐在我旁邊說道：“進來一起跳，你會覺得很傻。不進來跳，你一樣會覺得傻。既然這樣，干嘛不跳呢？”然后，她說要告訴我一個秘密。她低聲說道：“如果你不跳，我們就會知道你是個傻瓜?？墒侨绻闾?，我們就會因為你敢于嘗試而覺得你很棒?！?/p>

想起她那番充滿智慧的話，我接受了探戈的挑戰(zhàn)。一個朋友問我，我對探戈的狂熱是不是太狂野了?！疤礁?？你這個年紀？你一定是瘋了！”

恰恰相反：這是我深思熟慮之后的決定。我對探戈的熱情掩蓋了一種恐懼。我害怕生命隨著年齡的增長而畏縮。我害怕因為不再學(xué)習(xí)和不再把握機會而產(chǎn)生的無聊。我害怕退出生命競賽只待最后大限這過程中的內(nèi)心凋萎。

我追尋那種隨著新事物出現(xiàn)而產(chǎn)生的強烈驚喜——這就要求我全身心投入，對我的心智、身體和勇氣同時進行挑戰(zhàn)。

我現(xiàn)在的目標就是：跳完所有我能跳的舞蹈，然后，在某個美好的夜晚，跳完最后一支優(yōu)雅的探戈后，滿意地坐下來，離開世界——因為我再也沒有一支未曾跳過的舞了。

所以，當(dāng)人們說：“探戈？你這個年紀？瘋了吧？”我會回答說：“沒有啊，我才不要瘋呢?！?/p>