I have been to this tango festival many times before but I feared this would be different since it was the first time we all gathered after covid. A mask mandate was in effect for all public places in the entire state and it really sucked but tango dancers are tough and we all adhered to the rules. In the end it didn’t matter, I got what I came for: incredible encounters with strange women, the memories of which will stay with me for a long time, quite possibly forever.
When I say I am hoping for incredible encounters with strange women, I am not talking about sex. Tango dancers are true dancers, students in the art of movement. We are not here to hook up but it does happen. Tango enthusiasts are dedicated to the study of balance: our own and that of our partners. Balance is not just a word to us, it is a metaphor for everything we do. When we gather to dance, we do so with the knowledge that our goal is a shared goal, a communal goal. I dance with constant awareness that I am one person, half of one couple in a crowd of couples and what I do affects the experience of everyone dancing. If I am rude or angry or just a jerk in general, I will poison the stew. A gathering of tango dancers is an incredibly powerful force of nature. If we all strive for harmony, then harmony will be achieved and something more: healing.
Yes, healing.
It is my belief that many of us come to tango wounded in some way. I am not talking about physical injuries, I am talking about hurts of the heart and soul, the kinds of blows dealt by a world that beats us down if we are too proud, that pulls us below the surface if we refuse to swim. In order to live we must learn how to navigate the proverbial River of Life and, in completion of that lesson, we find our mind, body and soul did not make it through the schooling unscathed. By dancing tango we find healing and this is what draws us here to the festival.
Tango is not a simple dance like rumba or cha-cha; it is a South American martial art. It is tai-chi for couples. It is a refuge for the soul, a feast for the mind and therapy for the body. It is the pathway that leads to understanding the greatest mysteries of the universe and answers questions we never thought to ask.
At the festival there are many milongas, the place where tango, and only tango, is danced. At the festival there are many beautiful women but I know from experience that what I seek is not necessarily visible on the outside, it is the inner beauty that I hunger for, the salve for what ails me. I do not know how to find her so I listen to the wind, I let The Universe guide me to Her. I found old friends and made new ones before I saw Her. She was packed in tight with a gaggle of girls seated in chairs just off the dance floor. Though she was actively searching the crowd to make eye contact and receive an unspoken invitation to dance in what is known in tango circles as a ‘cabeceo’, it took her a while to turn her gaze in my direction.
Tilting my head slightly while lifting my eyebrows, I made my intentions clear, she accepted in a likewise manner, nonplussed. Immediately, I walked over to her, reached for her hand and brought her to the corner of the dance floor. As the couples moved about the room in a counterclockwise direction, I waited for recognition from an approaching leader who indicated with a nod that he would allow us to enter the line of dance. This is called tango etiquette and it is one of the many ways in which total group harmony is acheived.
We entered the crowd and became one with it and with each other as we embraced. Her body felt good against mine as we began to move about the room to the music.
It is said by some that tango is a three minute love affair but it is actually much longer than that. The length of a tango engagement is called a tanda and it can comprise three or four songs, each about three minutes long, so the love affair can last up to fourteen minutes if you are lucky. Actually, luck has less to do with success than chemistry. If you were meant to be together then sparks will fly no matter the odds or the skill level.
When a man dances tango with a woman, he must be aware that there is a storm within his arms; if he is not careful, it may rage out of control and become a hurricane. Though she may appear calm, that can be a deception, one of the many things she is doing in trying not to succumb to all the forces whirling around her and inside of her: she is being held by a stranger, music is playing, she is moving backwards...in high heels and through a crowd; she worries that something may go wrong, that I may crash her into another couple or the edge of a table or off the edge of the dance floor; she worries that I might disapprove of her in some way. With all her senses she searches for answers; she sees the other couples and wonders if they are aware of her and this man, are they indicating anything? Breathing me in she listens to the music and feels my body giving her clues in how I would like her to move, she answers with grace and charm, she moves on her own balance and embellishes my requests with a little flare, a swirl of her foot before moving backwards into the throng.
I am not a beginner, I have been at this dance for thirteen years and I do all that I can to allay her fears. We don’t just move to the music, we dance to each phrase. It doesn't take her long to realize that she is in good hands and slowly the storm subsides, replaced by a calm so gentle it is intoxicating. By the end of the first song we have become acquainted in ways that never could have happened through verbal conversation. I tell her my name and where I am from, she responds likewise as another song begins. We chat for a few seconds more, as is customary in tango, before I take her back into my arms. She comes into my embrace much closer than before and with greater ease: I am a safe harbor for her ship to sail: the spinnaker unfurls.
I can’t remember if it was the second or third song when she began to melt onto me like hot cheese on a sandwich, wrapping herself around me like a warm blanket; it felt so good. She felt safe, we had established a bond of trust and we were in love. I was no longer a lonely man alone in this world, I now had someone. Our hearts joined and our palms began to sweat as we both feared the tanda would end with the third song but we were delightfully mistaken.
It is in love that we find healing. It is in healing that we find our reward. To be the one that heals, to be the traiteur is to know why it is that we are put upon this Earth, to know the answer to the question that everyone asks of Life: Why? My good feeling rushes around my body and into her. As the fourth song plays, our souls share it together and it is a glorious achievement. She is the reason I am here. I came for Her.
We danced several more times before the festival ended. Monday came and I put myself on a plane back home thinking of a poem I had written a long time ago when I first started dancing tango:
Argentine Tango is a very sensual dance.
Sometimes,
it is the contact between two souls.
The soul is the most difficult part of ourselves to reach
and the most sensitive part of ourselves.
When we dance tango,
sometimes,
not all the time,
but often enough to repeat in hopes of it happening again,
sometimes,
wisps of smoke
from the ethereal fire of our souls
intermingle
with wisps of smoke
from the ethereal fire of the soul of our dance partner,
then the song ends,
the dance stops
and the smoke dissipates.
We walk away,
affected deeply by the experience
no longer the same person,
trailing a few particles of smoke
from the soul of our dance partner.
I am home now. I have returned with the memories I sought when I began this adventure to the tango festival.
P.S. Many thanks to DB, you are a star that shines above your beautiful city. Thank you for lighting the way:)
