The Dark Truth about Valentine and Tango

               Valentine’s Day is a happy day born out of a dark circumstance. Somewhere in antiquity, a man gave his life for a woman. It was a noble act but not a singular one. Many men, all around the world, have done the same. This day is a celebration of the intense, driving passion of those men.
               It is a day when every woman wishes to be the object of desire of such a man.

               There is a dark side to our hearts that some people fear. In the sunlight, we tend to have a genial opinion of ourselves. When the sun goes down, however, something stirs in our id. It grows inside of us when we sleep and is an integral theme woven into our dreams. We become aware of it when the lights dim and we feel it trying to take of control our bodies.

               We don’t generally think of this thing favorably, yet it is a part of our psyche that has to be freed from its confines in our minds. It does not ask permission. It’s as big as the stars in the sky and it is hot and cold at the same time. It’s mysterious and volatile, like a swift current in the river or a strong undertow in the tide.

                Some of us try to hide it but it is an expert in revealing itself to the world. 

                Once it's awake, it will head for an exit unless we lock that door. Each time it finds an outlet blocked, it gets faster at finding the next one. Maniacally, it always goes back to the other gates, hoping to find a weak spot.

               If a person succeeds in containing this beast, he/she becomes agitated. This anxious state is caused by the ethereal creature racing around inside them at increasingly faster speeds, continually probing defenses and looking for new ways to escape.

               This is what hell is: a person determined to harness this inner-voice that one day becomes a monster. Stubbornly, because of a flaw in their DNA, they try to suppress it, regardless of the physical toll it extracts until it becomes an indescribable torment.

               Eventually, it metastasizes into a cancer that cannot be let out as it darts around the host’s body, wearing holes in the paths it makes through the stomach, the groin, the nervous system and the brain.

               This unrelenting dog has a name and it is called Passion. Like a dog, it needs to be exercised regularly or it will chew up the furniture when you are not home.

               It needs acknowledgement, proof that it is alive. It wants to be seen, heard, felt, experienced, by another being. It is not satisfied with an existence as an unexpressed idea, it has to make love, it has to move to the music....it has to dance!

               When we dance tango, we give this creature a chance to run free. It is not our enemy, it is a part of us and it helps us to be better dancers, to move not just to the rhythm but to the melody, as well.

               If we keep dancing, we eventually find a balance between the light and the dark sides of ourselves. When we achieve equilibrium, then we finally know peace.

               Happy Valentine’s Day, baby, now go find yourself some peace:-)



For more of the Kayak Hombre, read my book Fear of Intimacy and the Tango Cure or River Tango. Available on Amazon.com in paperback or Kindle.

Herodotus and Tango

                I often wonder what the first historian, Herodotus, would have thought about the Tango. His chronicles of ancient cultures often describe customs that we would consider bizarre today. Whatever our perception, these rituals were social mechanisms that helped people cope with the realities of being human while living and working together in a community. 

                These traditions offered each society a different way to deal with things like sexuality, puberty, old age, marriage, etc.

                He tells us about the Lydian girls who earn their own dowry through prostitution, how elderly Scythians commit suicide at a feast and are then eaten by the rest of the tribe, how Egyptian wives shopped while their husbands stayed at home weaving baskets.

               Herodotus is the person responsible for letting us know that the Persians invented democracy.

               If he had gone to Buenos Aires, I’m certain he would have written about this dance of the Argentineans known to us as Tango.

               In today’s fast-paced cyber-world, two people touching can be an awkward situation. Tango is popular today because it satiates a hunger in modern societies, an urge to socialize in a way that is both recreational and provides an opportunity to make physical contact with another person in a way that is meaningful. 

               One might argue that other dances also fill the same void but I would say that is not so. 

               The tango connection is crucial to this dance, as is spontaneous choreography. In other dances: salsa, swing, etc., partners frequently disengage from the embrace. These other dances are also heavily reliant on patterns which, I believe, stifles creativity, a necessary nutrient for mental health.

               For some of us, there comes a time in our lives when we are so scarred from life’s battles that we need a place to retreat and to heal. Tango is such a refuge.

               In a world where medicine tries to cure every ill with a pill, our bodies seek out another, more natural remedy. Instinctively, we seem to know that a myriad of prescriptions is not the answers to what ails us.

                I have to wonder if this is not the first revival of tango in the annals of history. 

                Maybe one day, we will find a clay vase filled with descriptions of people who danced to the rhythm and the melody as one body; people who needed to escape the monumental demands of a culture building a pyramid or a Great Wall or whatever; people who found healing by sharing their passion with another, through a dance called the Tango.

Tango and Cowgirls

        

               So far, the Carrie Field/Mike Malixi tango workshop in Durango has been a success! With over forty people in attendance for the first night, this high-desert, Rocky Mountain community proves once more the independent nature of the people of the American West.

               Tango grows in multicultural communities. Durango, apparently, is rich soil with a population comprised of large numbers of Asian and European immigrants.

               It is not just our demographics, however, that provides a fertile environment for this Argentine cultural import; it is the presence of our cowgirls. That’s right, I said ‘COWGIRLS’.

               Durango is populated by a breed of incredibly independent women who are the new pioneers of the American West.

               They are accomplished professionals who can argue the merits of riding a BMW as opposed to a Harley-Davidson, just as well as discussing the finer points of homeopathic orthodontics. These ladies are as likely to be fly-fishing river guides on the San Juan River as they are to be Air Rescue EMTs and flight mechanics.

               Durango is a hard place to make a living but those that do are a rare breed. They are the world’s most interesting women and we are glad to have them here, in Durango, the place where the West was won!

               

Join us on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/353689751341313/

check out our webpage: http://www.tangodurango.com/

Be a Happy Girl and get your ass to Durango:

Polar Vortex Spirit Animal Orgies

               I met my spirit animal last night in a dream. I guess that is what I am doing here in Wisconsin, coming far enough north to meet the polar vortex so I can feel its spirit when I sleep.

               It was a strange dream, as most are, but it was also a dream within a dream.

               The surface dream had me outdoors running with a crowd of people through woods and open fields in the hills. I came to realize that some of the people were agitated and getting worked up to do violence.

               Then I fell into my sub-surface dream where I was in a small village of wooden cabins. Staring out the window, I saw a large polar bear come into the tiny cluster of shacks. I remember feeling afraid because the animal was very large and it could easily eat me.

               It walked away but I was now aware that being outdoors was not safe as long as this animal was around. I walked outside anyway and it returned.

               I was very fearful because I was certain I could not make it back to the safety of the cabin once the bear attacked me. I sensed that it was aware of my presence but it chose to ignore me, or maybe it just decided to coexist with me.

               It was gone and a grey haired woman with a bowl-shaped hair cut stood on the unpainted porch of an adjacent building. It was a souvenir shop.

               I told her about the bear and she said it was The Spirit Bear and it was everywhere, all the time.

               A young woman, whom I somehow knew was the old woman, took my ethereal form into another room and showed me my spiritual chart on a green chalkboard. She said there was a spike in my chart.

               The diagram looked like petals of a flower drawn by a child. From the right side of a crude circle were two lines arcing to the right. There was a dotted line in the middle like it was a highway.

               She took a reading and determined the length of my life. I can remember feeling relieved to find it would not be short as she led me back to the other room where the old lady was giving instructions to my physical form. She was inviting me to a gathering later in the evening.

               Then I was back in the fields with the crowd. I came to realize it was a religious retreat. Half of us were mesmerized by the gaze of a man passing by on a train. A horn sounded and those of us who were hypnotized raised our arms straight up in the air.

               We started walking towards the other half of our group, the people who had become agitated. As we interspersed with the others, we put our arms around them.

               I was excited to see who I was chosen to hug. It was a woman in her thirties with short brown hair. She was talking nonstop about the history of the Indians in this area. I was delighted because history is my favorite subject.

               I was certain I knew more than she but I enjoyed hearing her talk as I began leading her by the hand to a special spot in the woods, down by a creek. It was a place I knew she would love because Indians had camped there and there were many artifacts to be found.

               Along the way, we met my girlfriend. I gave her a hug and we kissed. She had another woman with her and had instructions for more rituals to be completed before we went to tonight’s event.

               We each swallowed two pills and washed them down with water from tiny bottles. Then we took out our wallets to have our credit cards blessed but I couldn’t find mine.

               The brown-haired woman with me was now a young girl with wild jet-black hair and she was asking if I knew anything about Africa. She became a young man and he asked me if I knew where Gaanz was and then if I knew the Swahili word for instant mashed potatoes.

               Then I was walking up a hill with my girlfriend towards a large building that was some sort of resort hotel. Inside was a multiracial gathering of about forty couples. The hosts alluded to a surprise that was coming but first we all had to watch an instructional video on a large screen TV.

               The video began with porn and then morphed into commercials for soda and soap products. A Facebook post popped into my mind and I found myself agreeing with it. It was posted by a tango instructor and it cautioned young people about porn, likening it to unrealistic expectations as to when the plumber will arrive.

               I went and sat down, bored by the presentation and wise to the true intent of the meeting: using sex to sell us time-sharing or some other ruse to get our money.

               My girlfriend and I got in our car and drove away. She was driving. I told her we could join the swingers if she wanted but she just grumbled something that I took for, “maybe if I was younger.”

               I tried to get a clarification on what she said but that just darkened her mood. I tried to change the subject but accidently chose a related topic and dug the hole deeper. It was going to be a long ride so I woke up.

For more of the Kayak Hombre, read my book Fear of Intimacy and the Tango Cure or River Tango. Available on Amazon.com in paperback or Kindle.

                

The Tango Question

               What am I doing here in Wisconsin? Why am I here? Sometimes it seems like no coincidence that I ended up here. It is funny that I seem compelled to ask these questions.

               Once, at the Saturday morning Dance Manhattan practica in NYC, the hostess, Mariela Franganillo, told us that there is a question in tango music and that we must dance to it. I didn’t have a clue as to what she was talking about but her statement stuck in my brain.

               In life, we are always asking questions. This seems to be the dominant function of our brain. 

               I often feel an inquisition from my dance partner. If I dance well, I am rewarded with a genuine smile at the end of the dance. Somehow, I must have provided the answer to her question.

               This is what I am looking for when I dance tango. I am not looking to dance with the best dancer or to be greatest leader in the room. I am looking for that person who is looking for me and together we complete the equation. The result is a little bit of satisfaction, a good feeling that is often expressed with a smile.

               If we don’t ask questions, we are not happy. When we are not happy, we don’t move. Inquiry inspires movement. There is no way we can find answers if we are sitting still. When we find an answer, happiness is the result. This is the secret of living, the reason for our existence.

               I am fascinated by how scientists receive answers to their theories. Their search is often maddening, compelling them to seek a greater understanding of fundamental processes in order to make a discovery.

               One day, if they are lucky, the answer is given to them. It is not something they could have come up with on their own; it is provided by the Universe, by God or whatever we want to call the force that generates the response. It comes to them while they are making a cake, driving to work or in their sleep. It is planted in their brain like a gift and it makes them extremely happy.

               This should be a common occurrence in everyday life. If it is not, then there are problems and these problems don’t necessarily have to be solved. They can sit there and fester, making life unbearable for those who choose not to move, who choose not to ponder their situation.

               Laughter is the best medicine. This is widely known but for some this is a recent revelation and they are broadcasting it in the news a lot lately.

               This concept is the crux of the book I’ve been reading, The Molecules of Emotion, by Candace B. Pert, a scientist who discovered the opiate receptor. She concluded that, after years of scientific analysis at the National Institutes of Health, the emotion known as happiness compels our cells to create the conditions by which our body heals itself.

               We dance for pleasure. The ballerina spreads joy through her performance. She is driven to excel in her movements because the Universe compels her. She does not ask why, only how.  She finds contentment when she comes closer to perfection.

               This is what I am looking for when I am at a milonga, the place where tango is danced. I am searching for that person for whom I can be the answer to their question. I will be delighted if I can generate a smile.

               In tango music there is a question. Two people in a crowd find each other and become the answer. Happiness is the result. Repeat as often as is necessary.

Note: I initially started blogging to promote my book, River Tango, and now, a second, Fear of Intimacy and the Tango Cure. Since that time, I have found writing an extremely therapeutic endeavor and just as rewarding as the discoveries I made that inspired me to write my books. 

              I encourage you to read them. 

             The first is not just an action adventure novel, it is a vehicle by which I hope to show the reader a man totally in tune with the river and how he discovers dancing is an equally rewarding relationship with nature.

             The second is about the epiphany I experienced through dancing tango. I was sick and this dance cured me. I didn't know I was ill until after I had found the remedy. Hopefully, others will be led to the same conclusion, inspired by my writing.

             

peace, love, tango

perri

For more of the Kayak Hombre, read my book Fear of Intimacy and the Tango Cure or River Tango. Available on Amazon.com in paperback or Kindle.

              

               

The Tango House of Madison

               I finally made it to a bona fide milonga in Wisconsin. This past night was a blur of great food, delicious wine, interesting conversation and, most importantly, some excellent tango dancing to the classics spun by DJ Childs. 

               It all went so fast that I hardly had a chance to get the names of all the truly terrific milongueros that I met. The tandas ended way too soon and the night was over before I knew it.  

               I went to a place called The House of Tango. It was super cool. The house is not so big but there are plenty of rooms adjoining a nice-sized dance floor that easily accommodates 12-15 couples.

                A woman remarked to me as we were dancing that the narrowness of the space forced dancers to obey the line of dance.

               The crowd was young; most people were in their thirties and forties. Upon arrival, they all partook of the many different wines and the absolutely delicious entrées available in the small kitchen.

               Everyone was very friendly. I was introduced by the hosts to most of the crowd almost immediately. The hostess even recognized my name and associated it with my blog, which I found very flattering.

               If you get a chance to tango in Madison, this event is an absolute must! The venue is a challenging space for Americans, as it is small but not too small. The size of the dance floor and the lighting reminds me of a few private residences I danced at in Austin, TX.

               This place also reminded me of Sangha Space in Media, PA, just outside Philadelphia, in the days before they moved down the street to their current locale.

               It doesn’t get any better than this for a stranger in a strange land, dancing tango. These wonderful people took me in and made me feel more than welcome, they made me feel like family. Thank you all so much and I can’t wait to come back again next month!

Why Some Girls Have Beards

               I bought a pair of cross-country skis at the Thrift Store for $10. I told a friend at work and he asked my shoe size. He said he had a pair of shoes that might fit me. They were his brother’s. He said his sibling had ‘checked out’ prematurely. Those were his words. I won’t use the one we commonly use because I don’t like the word. I think it is inadequate.

               Life is hard. It’s not hard because it’s an uphill climb in both directions; it’s hard because, while we’re making the climb, we have this urge to do something that has no place in our plans to climb the hill. As crazy as that urge is, we must listen to it or let it drive us crazy.  

               One of my many sisters initiated divorce proceedings, moved out of her house and got a boyfriend. She never finalized the divorce, still sees her husband and is having a good time with her new beau. That may sound illogical but it was what she needed to do to continue on with her life.

               Once, when she was making dinner for her three children, homemade pasta with meatballs and excellent spaghetti sauce, she confided in me that she was worried about her ‘crazy Irish’ side. This was before she moved out and her life was still seemingly normal to all but unbearable for her. She worried that our family had a history of ‘early retirements’, although there were none that I could recall.

               Last night, I had a dream about a friend of mine who is a member of our tango community in Durango. She’s taking hormone treatments and is growing a beard. She wants to be more masculine. I tell you what, a beard will do the trick!

               A persistent theme in this dream was my need to tell her about a man’s fear of rejection and what a difficult emotion it was for us to deal with. When I couldn’t bring the dream around to a scenario where I could tell her this, I woke up and felt the need to write it down.

               I don’t think it is weird that she wants to be a man. At fifty-three, I am quite comfortable with what people have to do to satisfy their particular urges. My ‘urge’ came when I was eighteen. I quit college and joined the Air Force. Later, I became a whitewater river guide and began an incredible relationship with the river and nature that pervades my life until this very day.

               From an outsider’s perspective, I’ve had a lot of disappointing setbacks: divorce, layoff, loss of my 401K, etc. None of that bothers me because my kids are healthy and they are nearly finished with college. It also helps that I took up dancing and writing.

               Dancing the tango provides me with some sort of communal nourishment that apparently was lacking in my life. Writing helps me understand the people I meet while dancing, my weird dreams and other peculiar things in life.

               Growing old isn’t easy. We shouldn’t expect it to be. All the events leading up to the present - birth, puberty, parenting - are all indicators that the future will be more of the same but in a way you never expected. Don’t fight it and don’t try to make sense of what life is telling you to do, just do it as long as nobody gets physically hurt.

               You are not insignificant. The Universe is absolutely aware of your existence. Often times, we get so caught up in climbing the hill that we can’t imagine that taking a sled and sliding down the hill for once would make us feel good. It’s medicine for the soul prescribed by the omnipresent force that is constantly looking out for us.

               I look forward to old age but I have to admit it is a little daunting. 

               I imagine leaving the womb was tough for the embryo but, after the vaginal dismount, there was breath; puberty was extremely difficult but it did lead to sex and having kids, which was the scariest thing I ever did yet I found it to be the most rewarding aspect of my life, so far.

               I don’t know what lies ahead but I can say for certain that it will be hard and, in the end, I’m reasonably sure that I will find happiness along the way.

              


For more of the Kayak Hombre, read my book Fear of Intimacy and the Tango Cure or River Tango. Available on Amazon.com in paperback or Kindle.