What tango dancers and babies have in common?

5/8/20259 min read

Today is a little anniversary - my tenth year of dancing tango.

There’s a tango joke: the first ten years are the hardest. That feels true to me.

At the same time, some people dance for years without much improvement or joy, while others learn quickly and begin teaching early. There’s something essential that helps us improve—or at least fail better.

When I reflect on any dramatic improvements that I made (in tango and life), it wasn't so much from practicing the same patterns over and over. The 10,000-hour rule—that you need to repeat something for 10,000 hours to master it—feels overrated to me. Obsession with perfection, technique, monthly private classes, and more events—none of that really helped how I felt. It didn’t improve my enjoyment or even my dancing level.

Despite occasional sparks of amazing dances, I wasn’t happy. I couldn’t feel content with my experience. I looked outside for better partners, chased a better level, and better marathons. What helped was working on myself - therapy, learning about my body patterns, doing free somatic movement, accepting that people are how they are, and I'm the one who is responsible for my feelings and experiences. It did include dance and practice, but it wasn’t about repeating the same moves or the same attitudes.

Last month, I co-facilitated three online somatic tango workshops with another embodiment specialist and tango teacher. One woman’s feedback really summed it up.

She said,

“I had a secret request to regain interest in tango. To get back its magic, its breath, its charm, which I had lost over time in my body.

To be honest, I had already despaired of getting it back, I just resigned myself to the fact that – so I go on, to other things.

But after today's workshop! I know exactly what to do if I suddenly lose it again. I know for sure that all this magic is only in my body, that everything depends only on me, that I don't need a super-partner, or a super-atmosphere, or something special outside of me.”

What’s the magic pill?

Well, we practiced yielding. Relaxing into our own body, trusting the ground, the weight of gravity, softening into the touch of the partner. And then we practiced pushing from that, then reaching into space, grabbing, pulling, and yielding again. In somatics, they call it the Cycle of Satisfaction.

Six Movements of Life

Strangely enough, the key to enjoying tango again had less to do with complex technique and more with something I’d already practiced during the first year of my life. Tango isn’t just a dance of passion—it’s a dance of relationship. Relationship that lasts a tanda, a year, or even a lifetime.

And just like in early life, the body learns and relates through repeated ways of movement. The six movements of life are a concept of six patterns that make up the cycle of cognitive and active engagement.

In the first year of life, a baby signals to adults through vocalisation and movement: gestures, breathing. This is how the baby communicates its needs to another. The way the adult and baby interact becomes their style of communication. All of these patterns are present in our bodies from birth. In infancy, we repeat them over and over again, learning to do simple things in our environment, with our parents, with toys, learning to crawl and finally to walk. In tango, we often find that we must practically relearn these basic things, and the presence of another body makes it even more complex.

These patterns shape not just movement, but also how we think, relate, and form habits. That’s why we talk not only about movement patterns but also about behavioral ones. The whole cycle includes five basic neurocellular patterns that underlie the movement of all living beings on Earth. They were developed by B.B. Cohen and called the “Cycle of Satisfaction.” Ruella Frank, a Gestalt therapist who studied with Bonnie, also added two more patterns.

“If you look at each person, you’ll see different ways of moving and gesturing, which reflect their early history. I have six fundamental movements, initially inspired by Bonnie Bainbridge Cohen, as well as other somatic educators and developmental theorists like Esther Thelen," wrote Ruella. "Bonnie had four patterns: yield, push, reach, and pull. That was what I learned from her, part of a broader developmental system. I expanded these patterns: yield, push, reach, grasp, pull, and release, because I felt they better explained how experience is lived in a specific moment, in a specific interaction. All six of these patterns intertwine and support our contactful experience.”

(Yield) In tango, we might observe this pattern in the sinking into the floor before a step, the release of weight into the ground, shifting weight for oneself or one’s partner, the beginning of a step, or what we call “grounding.”

Yielding can also be seen in our touch with a partner, in the embrace, a close embrace with chest contact, or an open embrace with contact through the arms. There is a moment of first meeting the other, allowing oneself to be touched by them, which can feel like merging or dissolving. Then we can feel the ground through the partner’s body and find the sensation of that ground, without losing our own.

Ruella writes, “Yielding allows us to fully and consciously receive support from others, from ourselves, or the environment. Disruptions in early development may lead to difficulty fully relaxing in adulthood. We may hold a lot of stress and tension in the muscles that interfere with our ability to yield. It’s important to note that yielding is not the same as collapsing. Yielding is a state of relaxed alertness, not one where we feel sleepy, empty, numb, unconscious, or distracted. Whether our inability to yield is linked to early trauma or today’s world condition, many of us could benefit from practicing how to yield.”

(Push) In tango, we observe this pattern when we push the floor with the supporting leg to take a step, create resistance in the embrace, or create density inside the body for larger steps and slower movements.

Often, when tango teachers say “push” the floor, they mean is "yield into the floor, feel the energy rise back up into the foot, and create a sense of pushing into something.” Yet we often push off the floor as if rejecting it, creating a bouncy, tense movement throughout the body. This means the previous pattern of yielding is absent, and so the pushing becomes unsupported and rough.

When teachers say “create resistance” in the embrace or through touch, they mean: fully enter the contact, meet the other with your body, hands, and energy, and then use this boundary to create a sensation of pushing into it.

We often push the partner away or push them into movement instead of leading, which can feel like defense or manipulation. Pushing is necessary to set boundaries, but without the initial yielding, it can push us away from a relationship into solo dance—even while we hold the other, we dance alone.

Ruella says, “Pushing allows us to find momentum, mobility, and movement toward our goals. It helps us separate from caregivers and seek something beyond ourselves. Pushing is foundational for establishing boundaries and the ability to say ‘no.’ If our caregivers didn’t support our independence, we might need to practice this a little.”

(Reach) In tango, we can find this pattern when the foot reaches toward the floor in a step, or toward the partner with the body or hands, even when advancing in the ronda to take up space, or when we create elasticity in the embrace and reach into space, when we stretch upward through our axis while remaining grounded, when we embrace a taller partner. Even when we use cabeceo to reach someone with our gaze and invite them.

Ruella writes, “Reaching is our way of seeking what we want in greater quantity. Reaching is also our way of connecting with others—for comfort, to meet needs, or to draw them closer. If our yielding or pushing is underdeveloped, reaching may feel scary, hesitant, or overly strained. Poorly developed reaching can also be linked to low motivation, sluggishness, or a sense of disconnection from the world and others.”

(Grasp) In tango, we use this pattern when the arms hold in an open embrace, forearms locked, hands clasp behind the partner’s back in quick, dynamic or off-axis movement, or just while holding the leader's or follower’s back in a way that the whole hand and fingers are alive, not limp. Feet may grasp the floor to find balance. In a more subtle sense, it might appear when we focus all our attention on the partner.

Ruella says, “Grasping involves using our hands and fingers to take hold of what we most desire. Our ability to grasp something tangible reflects our ability to seize opportunities, people, and dreams. When this developmental pattern is underdeveloped, we may reach but not follow through, or even push away what we want.”

(Pull) In tango, we use this pattern when we pull a partner in by the back or arm in an embrace, when inviting them into a step to create elasticity, in any dynamic movements, or in giros where one side initiates and creates pull for the other, in colgadas, and many more. It also includes pulling ourselves towards the partner.

Ruella writes, “Pulling implies bringing the object of our desire closer to our body, heart, or mouth. It’s the opposite of pushing, where we mobilize outward. In pulling, we decrease the space between ourselves and what we most want. Well-developed pulling allows us to fully receive, appreciate what we have, and digest it in a way that makes us feel full, complete, and satisfied. When our ability to pull is underdeveloped, we may pull in haste, with greed, trying to fill ourselves quickly. This can lead to chronic dissatisfaction and desire for more, and can be the root of addiction, eating disorders, and other unhealthy patterns.”

(Release) In tango, this may be the opening of the embrace, the transition from close to open embrace with ease and elasticity, fully letting go and dancing without touching, or in turns where the partners separate to come back, the release of the follower into her own improvisation or decorations without leading, or the leader’s release into his own separate movements. In a subtler sense, this is the expression of gratitude and the closing of a tanda, or the release of a cabeceo that didn’t result in a dance.

Ruella says, “Releasing is the effortless letting go that comes after satisfaction. When a baby is full from breastmilk, they completely yield into the mother’s body and release the nipple at a certain moment, ending the cycle. Healthy releasing allows us to fall asleep easily, separate from others with relative ease, and return to ourselves. When this movement isn’t realized in development, we may rush goodbyes, panic at separation, or crave more. We may expect the other to let go first, and so we cling, afraid to lose what is dear. This may show up in friendships, breakups, or even how we end our text messages!”

These patterns—yielding, pushing, reaching, grasping, pulling, and releasing—aren’t just concepts. They’re in our muscles, memories, and movements. They shape how we touch, how we connect, and how we let go. Whether you’re a new dancer or several decades in, revisiting these fundamental human experiences can be a path to more than better technique; it can be a path to more presence, more connection, and more joy, including with yourself.

Sometimes, all we need is to return to what we already know—to what our body has always known.

(Here's a video where Ruella explains those movements. The quotes are taken from "The Bodily Roots of Experience in Psychotherapy" by Ruella Frank, Ph.D published by Routledge in 2022.)

If this resonates with you, I offer personal sessions on somatic movement for tango, where we explore these patterns in your body and dance.