Two months ago, I stood dead still in the middle of my first Salsa Night.
Looking for an adventure, I found myself in a random ballroom with basically zero dance experience. This wasn’t my typical night out. When my friend first invited me to this dance, I got that flush of dread everyone feels when told to try something new. But after some hesitation, I bit the bullet and drove over to the event.
Standing on the dance floor, I looked around. There were pairs of dancers moving stylishly across the room.
Yet all I could do was stand there trembling looking toward the exit and think to myself, “What am I doing here?”
Just as I was getting ready to cut my losses and rethink the whole night, a random girl walked over and asked to practice some bachata footwork. I suppose she caught me planning my escape and decided to interfere. Offering her hand, we walked out onto the dance floor and began to move our feet.
Nothing was clicking. We stood face to face holding each other’s hands. I tried moving my arms gently, but every time I stepped forward, it felt more like I was openly swinging at my partner. Losing her hands at every turn, I kept coming dangerously close to knocking her out.
The whole thing was looking a little less like “Dancing Queen” and a little more like “Rocky II.” Tripping over myself, I grew frustrated.
But then, something happened. I stopped trying to fight the song and listened to the rhythm instead.
That’s when things got interesting.
I noticed our feet began to match the pace. As the room filled with simple counts of trumpets and bongos, I started to find a beat. The disco lights reflecting off the walls synchronized with the music. The song began to move through our bodies. Each step, swing, kick and spin followed a note. I started laughing, unable to resist smiling at the energy of the moment.
Right in the middle of taking one of these steps, it hit me: Two days ago, this situation couldn’t be further from reality.
I wasn’t a dancer. I barely knew how to spell bachata this morning. In fact, until 24 hours ago, my weekend plans consisted of little more than playing the new “Call of Duty” game. But there I was, finding a passion in the intricate styles of Latin dance.
“How did this happen,” I wondered. “Can anyone find themselves on adventures similar to the one from that night? Was this all luck?”
No. I just listened.
Just like my body had to listen to enter the dance, I would never have entered that ballroom if I hadn’t listened to my friend Jackie talk about Salsa Nights.
Overhearing a conversation at work about her salsa club, I decided to take an interest in her passion and ask about it. And as she excitedly shared her dancing hobby, I was handed a new adventure: salsa dancing.
On this quest, I drove across Bryan exploring new ballrooms and dance studios I didn’t know existed, found conversations with dancers I would have never met and spent a semester interacting with music on a whole different level.
What a surprise! And all it took was some curiosity and listening.
It turns out the best adventures stare us in the face every day, but we don’t bother looking twice. To see them, it only takes some good listening.
The problem is that in our busy world, listening is seen as irrelevant. Many conversations today devolve into people talking at each other, rather than to one another. It’s a lot of “me! me! me!” back-and-forth without care for the other person’s interests or ideas.
So embrace listening.
Next time you find yourself in a conversation, ask yourself, “Am I truly listening? What adventure is hiding on the other side of this conversation?”
Because all great adventures start with some good listening.
It took listening to Obi-Wan Kenobi for Luke to finally explore the “Star Wars” galaxy. Listening to Hagrid was the only way Harry Potter became a wizard. Without listening to Doc, Marty McFly would have never time traveled.
When people talk about their interests, they are handing out adventures. So just listen.
Juan Lleras is a psychology junior and guest contributor to The Battalion.
