One two three four
Cross
Six seven eight.

Balance, lean, follow,
Be aware,
Corazón y alma,
Relax, and keep the tension.

Open the door,
Walk, walk, walk,
It’s all coming back;
Two three four;
In a new way;
A new way;
Listen to the rhythm,
Sense the beauty,
Feel the strength,
Heart and soul,
Cross six seven.

Stop!
My world has changed:
It is a total secret,
That no one should know of.
It is awful private,
But far to heavy
To carry alone.

So I might just dream it,
And leave you the pictures
Frame by frame?
But then again:
I don’t want to re-
experience it all.

Two three four.
I still have to balance;
I still want to dance;
I still feel the tango.
Cross
Six seven eight.
I’ll bring the dark times to light;
I won’t fear them,
Although they know me,
And how to catch me,
And how to blind me.
I dare to touch them;
I dare to stay,
And reach for light.

I take off my shoes,
Walk past the curtains
(Like in a vision),
Open the window,
And breathe deeply.

I can feel a beginning,
It’s coming closer;
Almost like peace,
A vow transformed:
vision to matter.

Flexible body, flexible mind,
It derives from the soul,
Practice and effort,
Two three four.

I open my heart;
I drink the light;
I know it’s time
To leave soon.
Five six seven eight.

I move to the silence;
I count the beats;
It’s all in my soul;
It knows the direction;
It owns the music.
I sense the beginning,
It’s lifting me up
On wings of intention.
Cross
Six seven eight.

I watch the dawn behind the trees;
It’s glowing like trust.
The sky is burning
With light and answers
It’s time to leave.
The night is over
And time readjusted.

Two three four
Cross.
From an uncertain point
Between worlds
I touched the shadows,
Felt them in my eyes,
Felt them in my body,
Their density and cold
As I reached for the light.

Through a shimmering corner
Of my awareness
The light flows
Through chaos and joy,
Bones and soul,
Mind and muscles,
Heart and will,
And much more.
Six seven eight.
It flows through
From All that is.

Background:

I am a visual artist working with photography, based in Copenhagen DK and Norwich UK.

I was a dedicated dancer of Argentine tango for 13 years, when I was diagnosed with cancer.

In September 2016, I went through some tests at the hospital, just to make sure nothing was wrong. But, something was wrong.

Late one Monday afternoon, a surgeon called me. She explained that I was diagnosed with cancer located in my lower abdomen and that I was scheduled for surgery Wednesday morning 7.30. She gave me one day to get used to the thought. The operation would be performed by two surgeons, and it would take six hours. It was going to be a large operation. She advised me not to postpone the operation.

I was shocked.
I thought I would die.
Or at least be transformed.

I spent Tuesday trying to get used to the thought of leaving this planet.

The good thing was, when I thought of the people I loved – and still love – I had already told them they were in my heart. That was the most important thing for me.

Maybe it was the surprise of surviving the surgery that gave me tremendous energy and will power? Maybe it was just a miracle? Anyway, I tried to get out of bed the day after the surgery. I succeeded and felt that the healing process was in progress, and insisted on going home.

I soon discovered that my life had changed, and my perspectives too.

Not all of the changes were pleasant: four months after the surgery, I started to dance tango again. It was wonderful and easy and a total joy, with all the renewed energy. BUT, after one hour of dancing, my legs and lower abdomen looked like something that legally belonged to an elephant. They were swollen because of damages on my lymph system. It was terrible. I couldn’t stand the look of myself.

Even though tango is about heart and soul, it’s also an art form that is very much expressed through beauty, grace and elegance. I felt that these important aspects were out of reach.

I don’t want to bore you with long explanations about all the kind of therapeutic stuff I did every day (and still do) to dance again, and to prevent the lymphedema from becoming chronic (and the cancer from coming back); just tell you that I made this series for two reasons:

1. To express important matters through art. By transforming something private into something generally human, it hopefully becomes meaningful to other people – and it might even make them feel uplifted?
2. To convince myself that I don’t look like an elephant. Anymore.

To see more pictures by Titika Røtkjær, go to Instagram.

About Author

Titika Røtkjær

Latest stories

• StoriesJuly 17, 2018Prologue to an Explosion by Titika Røtkjær
• StoriesFebruary 10, 2018Concerning life and light, death and miracles
• StoriesDecember 8, 2017Newcastle Noir by Titika Røtkjær
• Black and WhiteAugust 18, 2017Tango