Part 3: The Mystery of the Quantum Tango Thefts

 If you’re new to my blog let me give you some of my background. I’m a divorced father of two grown daughters who had to learn how to dance in order to keep from becoming a monk. At forty-eight years of age, I got laid off with two girls in college, a mortgage and a tango addiction. I had begun learning how to dance three years earlier. I dropped a lot of money on ballroom lessons and was educated in the footcraft part of the social arts. I had been a whitewater river guide in my pre-parenting life and dancing was a total tangent from the circle of my life. A river still runs through my soul and what I learned from it pervades my thoughts. Or maybe, my life is a river and not a circle after all.

I’m not the greatest writer so I can’t quit my day job, but I find it relieves stress and stress kills. I’ve always been a writer since fifth grade, penning book reports for my friends and enemies for a dollar. I guess it’s kind of like journaling, a way to figure out what I believe of what I’ve seen/heard/felt in the course of raising children to fly the nest. I am the nest. I’ve always been a little bit cosmic and a little bit holistic, probably more of the former and less of the latter; I’d rather contemplate the probability that vegetables are conscious and the moral implications of consuming them than committing to becoming a vegetarian.

If you don’t know much about the world of dance you wouldn’t know that tango is a totally different animal than the other types of dancing: stripping, showbiz, ballroom, latin and the wedding dancer. I started a blog fifteen years ago to cope with the stress of becoming a tango dancer. Tango is like a martial art, it is tai chi for couples moving to music, it is the study of movement with another person. You can learn to cha-cha-cha in a month and be quite good at it. Five years into a tango education, you’ll realize that you’re only a beginner: it’s a humbling epiphany.

As I roamed the country in search of work as a telecommunications technician for cellular networks, I danced tango and wrote about my experiences; it was very therapeutic. I was always interested in science and it influenced my writing. I wrote about tango fantasies, wiccans, zombies, the Law of Attraction and quantum mechanics. Several times I received feedback from nasa.com email addresses.That inspired me to keep searching for the one theory of how the universe works. 

To me, tango and physics are endlessly fascinating and, recently, I learned that endless is much further than I thought. The nexus of science and tango is consciousness. The fundamental building block of all matter is a vibration in the quantum field, not a particle, as I was taught many moons ago. The tango connection is the joining of two bodies in a physical, emotional and spiritual way; it is the merging of two consciousnesses. Consciousness, in the quantum world, is responsible for the collapse of the wave function that allows science to measure all that can be measured. 

Heady stuff, I know, but don’t let it scare you. I’m going to reveal the secrets of the Universe. .

Two weeks ago, I discovered a way to slip into an altered state while at a milonga, the place where tango dancers gather to exercise their art, and hoped to make scientific observations. Since then, I have learned that Reality is a lot more ethereal than we all knew. The world we live in is a matter of probabilities and decisions, it makes science obsolete and puts religion in a whole new perspective. I used to be concerned with inches and millimeters, now I struggle to envision alternate theories of existence. Am I just a player in some sort of simulation, like a cosmic video game? Is all that I see a holographic projection on a two dimensional screen? Am I a star in my own reality show or am I just an NPC, a non-player character? One thing for certain is that the only tools I need to make further observations is my mind, tango and time. This is great because I’ve got access to a lot of those things now that I am retired. Scientific study requires resources that I don’t have: money, a degree and/or recognition that my efforts are justifiable. I sometimes read about past inquiries into the fundamental nature of reality. In the past, that was the role of religion, then alchemy and finally, science. It’s possible that past civilizations had a much clearer understanding of the true nature of our existence than we ever knew. Our minds are so much more complex, and, paradoxically, simple, than we have yet to comprehend.

I went to a milonga last weekend and met another person, a young woman, who also was able to enter the same altered state as I and she was present at the dance. We hooked up for a few tandas and she brought me up to speed on what she had learned. I should not have let her leave after our last dance. I was so caught up in the old man/young woman dynamic that I didn’t think to sit her down and grill her on what she knew. She was so young and healthy, as well as the fact that she could enter the quantum state with me, that I could barely keep my sex drive from kicking in and taking control of my words and my deeds. I’m old, not dead. If this shocks you, then you should probably stop reading.

Being able to dance tango well is the key to visiting this other dimension and it helped me to understand her better due to our age difference. When she spoke, her words were salted with so much slang that it was almost as if we spoke different languages. If I didn’t get the jist of her words here, I would when we were both on the other side where communication happens mentally, without the need for speech. Being familiar with her in the quantum world, where all thoughts and desires are on display, was extremely seductive. It was all I could do to tune out the song and focus on the firmness of her breast as it brushed against my chest, or think about the mechanics of the action of her hips as she rotated around me within my embrace. I don’t think I could have done it as a newbie, I would have led moves outside the context of the music, ignoring the rhythm and melody that is essential to a good tango performance, focusing instead on moving her body against mine.

I guess I did the right thing, letting her go. Being aroused as I was when she departed, I am sure the only words I could speak were those constructed by the little man in my pants and we all know where he wants to go: to bed, and not for rest and relaxation, he’d want to party if we got there. In my travels, I had the opportunity to enjoy a sexual tryst with a much younger woman than me and it was a lot of work. It was great but the memory is one of exhaustion and that is a little bit of a turnoff.

That was then and this is now and now I want to get back to the milonga in the worst way. Weekday dances are not as heavily attended as the weekend crowd and oftentimes there are entirely different people in attendance. I’m sure the infatuation aroused in me by the young woman was part of the reason for my anxiousness, but not the sole reason: I’d been to another dimension and experienced interdimensional beings. I was curious as hell and hungry like the wolf for answers. My parents need help more than ever now that I’ve moved in fulltime but I’m still finding a reason to go to a dance a hundred miles away, leaving them to fend for themselves at night. I tell myself it won’t be every night and I hope I’m right but you never can tell with tango: the heart wants what the heart wants and sometimes the heart makes choices for you.

The dance was in a smaller venue, no foyer or anteroom, everything was in one room. There was a small stage at the far end of a wooden floor the size of a basketball court, which is what it was, and on the stage was a DJ stand. There were benches lining the walls on either side instead of cocktail tables and chairs. A few round tables crowded the side by the entrance as well as a banquet table for registration and the obligatory compensation of twenty dollars to be deposited in a large bowl guarded by no one. That’s a peculiar amount of trust the event organizer is putting in the participation of complete strangers but that’s how some people are. I think they feel strongly that making compensation voluntary will help keep their karmatic path clear of debris. I have a strong feeling they may be right, especially after learning what I know now.

Many a priest/guru/shaman has claimed the ability of transcendence through prayer/meditation/incantation but none could prove it, at least, not by me ... .until now. Dancing, in particular, dancing tango is akin to prayer/meditation/incantation. What makes it easier for the milonguero, someone who seeks out milongas like a rebel to a cause, is the addition of movement and bodily contact, as well as the joining of two consciousnesses. The rhythm underneath the melody makes the perfect vibrations at the quantum level to allow a conscious mind to experience a dimension without time, a realm layered over the current reality where thoughts and desires are revealed for all to see/hear/feel. I think the second consciousness super-charges each dancer's mental state to allow them to ascend to the next level. I haven’t been able to make the transition by myself yet and I’m pretty sure it can’t happen so I an limited to the milonga as the place to conduct my studies.

I don’t know what my partner feels when I enter the quantum space alone or not alone. When I am there, time stops: I go in on the beat and exit before the next beat because time has not passed for me in the present. It always feels like something is missing when I alter states. That’s because something is missing: time. It’s an odd feeling when there is no time. It’s a background noise you don’t notice until it’s gone. It’s like an echo that never finds a surface to return from.

Forty minutes later, I was holding a woman more my age who, up close, looked to be a Frankenstein of cosmetic surgery: d-cup mammary inserts, skull-tuck facial lift, painted eyebrows and blond right out of the box. She had no training but she was absolutely delightful to dance with. Her connection was so complete that I found it enticing. I could tell right away, when I led ocho cortado, a common movement, and she stepped back instead of crossing, that was the big give away. Ability is clearly evident to those who have it and those without it are oblivious to the need for it, if their partner, as they should, adapts. The Dunning-Kruger Effect is what makes it possible for two tango dancers of disparate abilities to enjoy the same encounter with equal intensity. She was typical of the paradoxes one experiences at the milonga: totally plastic yet equal to Yoda in the mental/physical/emotional bond of the tango connection and embrace.

I was baffled and astounded in equal measure. I didn’t embrace her, I wore her like a coat. She melted onto my frame like a crayon on a hot radiator, oozing je ne sais quoi; that’s French for I don’t know what and I still don’t know what. She is like pineapple syrup on a banana split, sweet and sugary on top of sweet and sugary. She was so good to dance with that I assumed I could easily alter states but I could not. It was like she knew I wanted to but was not allowing me to enter the timeless dimension.

I didn’t know what to think. Ten seconds before the last song of the tanda ended, I absently fell into the next dimension. It was like I was leaning against a wall and unexpectedly found out it was a prop on wheels. Suddenly, I was aware of another presence very near to me. It was the thief. I couldn’t believe it, I was sure she was captured the other day but here she was, right in front of me, her aura floating in space. Just as suddenly, I was back in the arms of the blond with nine seconds left as a piano tinkled an ending. She waited the appropriate amount of time before releasing me from her embrace, two seconds after the last note, and withdrew her body from mine. Tilting her head, she seemed about to say something before seemingly deciding not to. She turned on the ball of her foot and walked off.

Too late I realized that she was the thief and that she had stolen something from someone at the milonga: my wallet.

Stay tuned for the next episode dropping soon. Don't forget to check out my latest book: . One more day of the free digital book give away, so don't be afraid to download it before the sale ends.

Tango and the Definition of Everything, (part 2 Quantum Tango series)

 Another weekend, another study of the quantum plane. The world as I knew it just two weeks ago is a distant memory, kind of like a Trump news cycle: new stuff happening all the time that make recent events seem like distant memories of an innocent and bygone era. Fourteen days ago, I believed that the smallest particles were particles and that there was no such thing as right and wrong, good and evil, that they were simply constructs for organizing civilizations, not immutable truths set in stone. 

I live in a brave, new world now, more like the Wild West and less like civilization. It used to be that physics ruled the physical realm but now I know that is not true, now Consciousness is Everything and Meaning is Reality, for real. Mind blown, shoes and socks blown off and gone with the wind. To tell you the truth, I don't really understand anything anymore, be it quantum mechanics or national elections. God is coming back into my worldview because its the only thing that helps make sense of it all.

The tangueras, women who dance tango, are warming up to me the more I frequent their dances. There are a lot of dancers here, which I’d guess to be over two hundred. I am finding good partners who make it easy for me to slip into the quantum plane and it gets easier the more I do it. Connection is key. I’ve sensed the purse snatcher a couple of times but have not caught her in the act. She comes in and out of focus like a lightbulb in a loose socket, flickering. It’s hard for me to nail down where she is and keep her in my sights.

Suddenly, there is a new actor on the stage. It is a woman and she radiates strength. Her energy is strong and clear. There is no doubt that she is here. She seems young in my mind— early twenties at most — but there’s something ageless in her thoughts, like time doesn’t stick to her.

She exudes a larger presence than mine, it’s like I’m a circle and she’s a much bigger circle. Her aura is faint and iridescent, like a ghost, but I definitely feel her in the room. At times, the image of a young lady with thick black, curly hair, flashes in my mind like a street crossing sign. She is telling me it is safe to cross. I am confused.

Her eyes are unsettling, their color shifting in hue and in depth. Sometimes they’re slate gray, sometimes frost-blue, sometimes reflective like polished chrome. When she focuses on me, it feels like she’s calculating probabilities in real time. Her locks are extremely thick, falling on her neck and shoulders like waves in an ocean of swirls or an obsidian Cowardly Lion. Her tresses jiggle and bounce as if it has a life of its own.

When I think of the Cowardly Lion, I feel her laugh and an image of a male lion with its mane shaved off completely appears in my mind.

It gets colder as I draw near to her. Not cold enough to notice consciously. Just enough.

When she turns her attention to the dance floor, the lights flicker violet for half a second but no one notices except her. The room is cloaked in darkness as she suspends time, enjoying the flicker a little longer before letting the moment go like it was nothing.

I say to myself, “that was cool.”

In my mind, the presence says, “I’m refrigerated,” chuckles softly and moves away from me swiftly.

Across the room her aura reappears just as a slender hand emerges from out of nowhere to snatch a purse but not before it is caught by the presence. The purse snatcher is revealed for a moment, a small sphere of aura attached by a tangent to a larger sphere, then both are gone.

I become aware of another aura nearby, it is nearly the same size as mine. Her signal is strong and she feels close.

“You should ask me to dance,” she says. “I’m the one in the t-shirt.”

I look across the room and see her. She is also young but not as young as the presence. I guess her age to be in her mid-thirties, far too young for me. She has short, honey-blond hair, adorable doe-y blue eyes and a nose that is large and lovely, a proboscis that could easily make me write bad checks, dressed in a white t-shirt torn at the left shoulder, barely concealing her bouncing bosoms.

I shoot her a cabeceo and she accepts with a nod and a big smile. 

I snapped out of the quantum state like someone had flipped a breaker. She was too young for me—objectively, undeniably—but that smile made objectivity irrelevant. In an instant I’d gone from observer to participant. The experiment was no longer under my control; I was inside it, subject to its variables, and I had no idea what the outcome would be. One part of me was wildly optimistic, charging ahead with predictable enthusiasm. The rest of me—the portion still pretending to be rational, still clinging to what I thought was reality—felt a tremor of trepidation.

She was the kind of woman a man adds to a private list of impossible wishes, but experience has taught me that “impossible” often comes bundled with complication. The unknowns have a way of introducing themselves at the worst possible moment, and usually with teeth. Tango women, in particular, are not for the faint of heart. I’ve reached for that flame before. I know exactly how hot the stove can get, and how deep the burn can go.

Walking over to her, I tried to muster a smile and failed as I struggled to appear calm, cool and collected, like dancing with gorgeous, young women was something I did all the time. She saw through me and exuded amusement. It’s a good thing I don’t let my insecurities get in the way of dancing some good tango. We joined and wrapped around each other in a warm, sensuous embrace. I led with a long, slow side-step as our bodies took time to sync with the other’s hips, backbone and heart. Our posture transformed into a singularity as we moved to my left in a super-slow-motion.

I led a change of weight and she let loose a sigh, expelling the air from her lungs to shrink her frame and wriggle ever more closely onto my torso. To my surprise, I was keeping it together well enough, receiving her body with confidence and an appropriate amount of delight. I took her to the cross, led some ochos into a swinging and dynamic full stop. 

We held each other passionately as she moved her head near to my right ear and whispered, “The large presence is Ma’at. She is the goddess of justice and she is here to apprehend a woman who has been stealing purses and jewelry from milongas in several dimensions.” She paused for a second, then began again, saying, “By the way, you got good coms. Your lead is fire, boomer, no joke.”

Her incongruent statements fogged my brain for a bit before I could recover my bearings. I told myself that I could handle the situation if I could just keep each thought in its own box. The presence’s name is Ma’at and it’s a goddess. That’s not something you come across everyday but I’ve learned to expect the unexpected at a milonga. Ma’at is a goddess: okay. Good coms? I’m not sure what that means exactly but I like the way she said it and, if it makes me feel good, then it is good.

We danced a couple of tandas. She made me feel good when she stood in front of me after the last song of the tanda ended, not indicating the slightest bit of discomfort with the age gap between us, or the fact that she was fit and I was lumpy. We were two people who could transcend our physical forms and join in a fashion that could compete with a sexual coupling. [Tango and sex are similar but not the same animals.] We talked while we danced, sometimes with words and sometimes in our minds,  drifting back and forth between the quantum state and the present, seemlessly. I felt honored to be allowed into her mind and tried to hide my primal side as best I could. She did a good job of ignoring the wolf in my id without giving a hint as to how she really felt about it. That was encouraging. Maybe not being automatically discounted as a love interest was a sign of respect. No matter. She made me feel good.

She could tell I was confused about the quantum state and tried her best to explain some of it while confessing to being a newbie herself. She was a professor of physics at a well-known leading university and she was from Spain, though I detected no hint of an accent. She called the quantum state ‘the other side’ and said it was a place where time didn’t exist; that communication happened telepathically, sometimes all at once, without words, just images and feelings instantly filling a mind with what it wished/needed to know. 

She said her name was Anya, that she was twenty-nine and had discovered the quantum state a year ago in Berlin. She admitted, with a little frustration, that she entered the unknown dimension often, but alone. When she did encounter another, they were always too faint to hear. That’s why she said I had good coms. That meant I was easy to read/see/feel. I was clear.

There was some structure to the other side, she said as we moved around the room to tango music, not bothering to disengage when the music ended, waiting within my embrace for the next song to begin and the crowd to start moving around the room in a counter-clockwise direction.

I told her what the presence, Ma’at, said to me, that she was refrigerated. 

Anya laughed and said, “Ma’at’s cool! She’s got a sense of humor and she’s fire, slaps hard and clean, dawg.”

Oftentimes, I had to wait until we slipped into the quantum realm together to get the jist of what Anya was saying, her words saturated with the slang of the younger generation. 

I asked her if it was safe on the other side. She looked at me with those beautiful doe eyes and tilted her head like I’d just asked whether the ocean was “wet.” 

“It’s okay,” she said, “but like… here’s the thing. When you’re jumping dimensions, you kinda have to figure out the weird little quirks of each ‘shell’ or however the other side refers to the operating instructions of these other realities. I’m getting cosmic software update vibes. Low-key, it helps if you know a bit about Egyptian mythology and actually have a solid moral compass, or some religion, maybe, yeah bruh, because there are consequences here. And when the Reaper shows up with that punishment energy? Yo! Dodging her is not exactly an option. Also, time gets super glitchy in this particular place. You’re either in the present or soft-launching into the future—never the past. The past is basically off-limits.”

“There was a purse snatcher but she was meh.” she said, continuing, “Fairly local crime, I’m sure. Petty. Amateur hour. She tried to slide but Ma'at slapped her down like a dawg, boomer. Crossing dimensional boundaries. That upgrades the charge. Balance must be restored. That is The Way.”

I replied, “That is The Way.”

She smiled and said again, “Good coms, dawg, good coms.”

At the end of our third tanda together, I was absolutely infatuated with my young partner. How could I help myself? She was smart, young and pretty and I didn’t care to feel ashamed of my passion on display. This was tango and I’d been here before. You can’t lie to tango and still dance it like it’s supposed to be danced. Intense emotions are the norm in good tango encounters. I was nearly off the rails in my attraction to her but I kept the train on the tracks. I could sense that she appreciated my feelings, it’s hard to hide them in the quantum realm, irresistible allure and the fight for control. She knew instinctively that I was at my breaking point and she liked it. That’s tango. She didn’t know that I was about to say something uncool, like “you’re so pretty,” but I managed to put a finger in the hole in the dike before it was too late.

When the last song of the last tanda ended, she withdrew from my embrace, which I could not have done on my own, gave me a strong, platonic(maybe?) hug and said, “Cool people make slang, we don’t just sling slang, it’s all about the coms, always good or mid, never bad. Stay frosty, my friend.”

Turning away from me, she walked off with my heart in tow. It took me a while to shake that feeling but it felt so nice and warm……and wonderful and so much more. I finally regained my sea legs on the Sea of Love and confronted the cold hard facts: I was old and poor, nothing was going to happen yet everything did happen. Two weeks ago, everything would have meant something totally different. Now that I had been to another dimension, watched the arrest of an interdimensional criminal and spent time on the other side with an attractive tanguera, everything had a new meaning. Yes, everything had a new meaning but I had no idea what the new definition was. My knowledge had increased incrementally while my ignorance expanded exponentially.

That’s all for today, until next time,

Peace, Love and Tango,

The Kayak Hombre

P.S. I’m running a free book promotion on Amazon until 2/19/2026. You can download all my books without charge. What a deal!

Here’s a link to my latest book: Kokapelli and the Wiccans’ Kitchen at the link below:

https://www.amazon.com/Kokapelli-Wiccans-Kitchen-Carmen-Cray-ebook/dp/B0G1GT4Z5K/ref=sr_1_1?crid=4K6FH6Y1MTYZ&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.vcoLl8iKJISHGwZu7YZirg.rKS9u_yRbRb6DnMtH4A4Cjn2GswryIzIl758rLd4_nU&dib_tag=se&keywords=kokopelli+in+the+wiccans%27+kitchen&qid=1771213263&sprefix=kokapelli+in+the+wiccans%27+kitcthen%2Caps%2C254&sr=8-1

Quantum Tango Porn

 If you’ve been reading lately, you’ll know I’ve been down the rabbit hole of Quantum Consciousness and I was wondering how I could use the milonga, a place where tango dancers gather to dance, to make some observations. I proposed that there are two facets of the Quantum Tango Consciousness state, the absence of time and the absence of the need for language. Armed with this criteria, I set out for a large milonga last night and I will never be the same again.

It was a large gathering of tango dancers in the usual setup: a foyer with a couple of long tables draped with white tablecloths where you are required to pay and provide an email address, followed by a grand ballroom with a high ceiling, a group of circular tables before a large dance floor lined with cocktail tables on either side, and a stage on the far end. It was well-lit the first hour I was there, then the lights dimmed for the rest of the evening. 

I didn’t know anybody so it took me a while to find a dancer I could connect with sufficiently in order to prepare for entry into Quantum Tango Consciousness. Once I had achieved the desired physical and mental condition, I hoped I could remain aware enough to carry back some information from my observations and not forget like we do with dreams. 

When I began my tango journey, I had a large hill to climb. I was a babe in the woods with no idea of what I was getting into. I needed to learn how to dance if I was ever going to have a social life after my divorce or I was going to die, literally, of loneliness. I was a racist, homophobe when I started, but in the end, I became a dancer with an open mind, or at least that’s what I tell myself now. It was a hundred miles to the nearest milonga and I went with low expectations. If I could get just one dance, I told myself, I would be happy. And that’s how I approached last night’s experiment: hoping to learn just one new thing that I didn’t know before. I learned a lot more than one thing, in fact, I learned much more than I could handle.

I was a stranger in a strange land so I was cautious with my first cabeceos, the Argentine method for making a dance invitation that is done with just the eyes and brows. I chose a lady who looked anxious. Very rarely does this lead to a successful encounter but, you never can tell. It’s not a good strategy for picking a partner but I wanted to get out on the floor quickly so I could get a feel for the crowd before I made some riskier partner choices. There needs to be risk in order to increase your chances of entering an altered state. Risk and anonymity are the key ingredients for making the most successful tango encounters, the ones that send you to the moon and beyond, the dances that wake you up at five a.m. and force you to write poetry before you can slip back to slumber.

It was nearing midnight when I finally found a woman who could take me where I wanted to go. She was plain-looking and quite fit. She was obviously a trained dancer because she pivoted with mechanical precision. It feels very good when a tanguera has mastered the fundamentals of this dance. I led a side step and she stepped to the side, not away from me at a slight angle the way a lot of women with no floorcraft do, she stepped directly to her side. An unskilled dancer is constantly moving away, inadvertently, and requires more vertical support, course corrections and confidence building. It is much less taxing to dance with a skilled partner.  I tried a second tanda with her. A tanda is a set of songs, usually three or four, that defines the length of a tango encounter. Usually I don’t ask for more than one but I had some serious science to conduct. I guess I was asking for too much because, even though she obliged me, she felt a lot different during the second set. I had to force myself to do a good job to the end. I’m sure she felt me losing enthusiasm. When we parted, I wanted to apologize but decided it was best to just leave that dance in the past and forget about it.

I waited a while before my next attempt. I wanted to study the crowd, trying to find the right subject who could take me there. It was getting late, nearly one a.m., before I made my decision. There was a plump woman in a white blouse and black, knee-length, business skirt, whom I had danced with earlier. She was not very skilled but my gut told me to give her a try.

She smelled of patchouli, which I like but her lack of skill turned me off. I like a woman who embellishes in a way that makes my job of leading the dance easier. She knew the basics but that was it. She had been nervous before so I toned down my offerings and she immediately calmed down. The patchouli had worn off and now she smelled of sweat and something else. I’m not sure what exactly was causing that aroma but I’ve noticed it before, especially when a woman is aroused. It kind of smells like milk, in a good way, warm and sweet but not too sweet. Its odor mixes with sweat in a good way and my body responds at a primal level. It must be musk.

I slowed down my dance and focused mostly on the connection, making sure I held her firmly so she would feel safe as I moved her backwards through the crowd. After the first song we danced a little bit closer. By the third song my penis began to get hard. Usually the third song is the end of the tanda, but sometimes, at the end of the night, the DJ will throw in a fourth. I was fully aroused by the end of the last song. I was too far gone by the time the tanda ended. I couldn’t move to separate from her without exposing myself to the crowd, so I waited for her to break contact first.

She didn’t and that’s when I knew I was in trouble. This is what makes tango so exciting. Here I was, in the arms of a beautiful woman, my dick sliding down the side of my thigh, thankfully trapped there and not erecting a full-blown boner tent for all the world to see. It is an awkward moment to say the least, but I find that, if I keep my mouth shut, she’ll pretend that she doesn’t notice and we can part ways, but we didn’t part ways. My mind was racing because I did not know what to do. The best decisions are the ones that come with high risk. My inner wolf was fighting to take control of my vocal chords, trying to get me to say what it would take to take this encounter to the mattress but I didn’t give in. 

Having sex was not, and hardly ever is, my goal when I dance. That’s why I can dance, because I shut down that little man in my pants always telling me that tonight’s the night. If you listen to him, you cannot hear the music and that’s important in tango. I have to hear the music and immediately turn that into choreography. I have to pick a direction to go and convey that information to my partner. I have to navigate and always pay attention to her balance. Besides that, I’m a single guy and I like being single. I live for moments like this but I always back down because I know that sex leads to relationships which will not work because I live a hundred miles away in a small town. Tango is the only thing I have in common with these city girls. However, it’s hard to say no to the little man telling me I got a chance to relieve the nut building inside my loins. Doing so is what makes me a tango dancer. I can go to the edge and remain in control. I don’t know how it is for my partner. It never seems to make a difference what I do. All I know is, at that moment, I have a choice to make and it is imperative I choose wisely or my life will get complicated.

I remained where I was, still waiting for her to break away, yet there was still no sign that was happening. To my absolute delight, and, paradoxically, consternation, she kept her body tightly pressed to mine with no hint of moving away. The primal feelings unleashed by the sexual dynamic in tango are powerful ingredients that amplify the strength of our bond. I am not just next to her, I am being drawn into her.

Her scent is overwhelming.

The cortina, the odd musical clip usually fifteen to thirty seconds long that separates tandas, ends and tango music begins again. We wrap our arms around each other and start moving. My penis is still trapped on the side of my leg. It’s annoying and I would like nothing more than to move it into the upright position but then I would be exposed. I will have made a choice. Adjusting my boner would put me in a position where I could rub myself onto her and climax. That could be a terrible mistake for many reasons. One, she may not be feeling the same thing I’m feeling. For her, this could be nothing more than a dance and I am alone in being aroused, even though she is giving off all the signs of a woman in heat: sweaty palms, melting in my embrace and the aroma of amore. Two, rubbing against her might be illegal. Who knows nowadays post-#metoo.

While I was struggling with this dilemma I unexpectedly slipped into the zone of Quantum Tango Consciousness. I made it! Now, all I had to do was keep it together and see if I could learn anything. It was a difficult position to be in: she was so far against me that she was almost on the other side of me. She was so soft, warm and creamy that I could hardly stand it. But I could stand it because I am not a novice tanguero. I led her with confidence around the room. I let her feel my hunger without losing control. She was safe in my grasp and I could sense that she knew it. I had made it: I was in her mind…..and I was not alone.

When I’m in the Quantum Tango Consciousness state and I find myself in someone else’s mind, I can’t necessarily read their thoughts like written words, it’s more like I see images and feel intentions and that’s what I was getting here. I could feel the presence of another woman. She was angry and her anger was making my partner happy. It turned her on even more. Yes, she was in full bloom but I wasn’t the source of her arousal. She was complex, like all people are.

I was a little disappointed, as guys usually are when they are expecting pie and only get coffee. I began walking down the backside of the proverbial orgasmic cliff, instead of jumping off like my penis was telling me all along. I was not surprised that there might be another woman. I was somewhat let down that it wasn’t me, but also somewhat relieved, mentally and physically, my turgid member softening and retreating towards my nutsack. I was still in a quantum state and began to roam about the room out-of-body, with just my consciousness. Mostly, I sensed dancers in search of their next partners but there was an unusual presence in the room with us. It was feminine and it was watching us. I couldn’t get an image of who it was, only that she was looking for something. It was a purse, a Coach Purse. I saw the purse, it was the size of a bread loaf with an eye-catching floral pattern. It was sitting on a cocktail table next to a beautiful woman in a sequined dress. She was in the process of accepting an invitation to dance, rising to meet her new partner. She rose from her chair and, as she did so, a woman’s slender hand appeared out of thin air and snatched the purse, disappearing with it into the ether. I felt a wave of exhilaration move through the throng and then it was gone.

My boner receded and the blood flowed back to my brain, allowing me to think logically, bringing me all the way back from Quantum Tango Consciousness. I could see the woman in the sequined gown was still sitting, her purse still next to her on the cocktail table. I was kind of confused until I remembered that there is no time in the dimension where good tango takes us. The music had just ended and the cortina began to play when my partner finally released me from her pleasant, fleshy prison. She walked off without a word, her gaze on the floor, avoiding eye contact with me. She looked guilty; of what, I don’t know, but she had that look.

I had eyes on the woman with the purse when, ten seconds into the cortina music, I could see she was accepting a cabeceo from a man on the floor. She waited for him to come closer before extending her hand and rising from her chair. Her partner was too busy concentrating on her, setting the stage for an anonymous encounter of the sensual kind, to notice the hand appearing out of thin air, grabbing her Coach Purse and disappearing. I felt a wave of emotion flow back and forth across the room, the same feeling of exhilaration as before, when I was in a Quantum Tango Consciousness state. I must have been seeing the event in the future and reviewed it when I exited that dimension.

If I hadn’t seen it twice in less than a minute I would not have believed my eyes. I did see it; a hand appeared out of nowhere and took that woman’s purse. I remained seated, taking care not to inadvertently make eye contact, lest I find myself obligated to another dance engagement. Staring at the table cloth as intently as I could, I couldn’t stop thinking about the purse. It really happened. 

I smelled milk and felt the soft crush of the plump woman’s bosom pressed into my shoulder. Turning to look up from the tablecloth, I caught the gaze of her partner, a middle-aged lady with a bob of blond hair jiggling as she nodded with a sly smile at me and then towards the door. My socks nearly came off my feet. I forgot all about the hand and the purse. This had never happened to me before and, normally, I wouldn’t be into this kind of thing but I heard somewhere that a man invited to a ménage à trois with two women is under no obligation to future commitments. I'm not sure where I heard that, probably when I was buying my fishing license. Well, last night was a night of firsts.

It was an awkward encounter to say the least. I was confused as to who I was supposed to please or what to expect. At one point, just before dawn, I woke to find myself in a pile of arms, breasts and legs. I untangled myself and made my way to the door, thinking once more about the hand and the purse. What was that all about?

That's all for now. I made a lot of progress and can't wait for the next time I can get to a milonga and explore a little further. The hand thing really has me wondering just what exactly had happened. Reality? Insanity? Who knows? The Shadow Do:)

Until next time,

Peace, Love, Tango

The Kayak Hombre

Don't forget to check out my book Kokapelli in the Wiccans' Kitchen. Get it here: 

https://www.amazon.com/Kokapelli-Wiccans-Kitchen-Carmen-Cray-ebook/dp/B0G1GT4Z5K/ref=sr_1_1?crid=BXZFMGLCB7NA&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.r5BlbIy2hMAJpId7dXkQ2KTaFLuhOpgPEeoq-lKD-n4.bMFjKaBmUri5dDd_nLmmrToBKD2iSS_H9w_hvbOmJbE&dib_tag=se&keywords=carmen+cray&qid=1770776549&s=books&sprefix=carmen+cray%2Cstripbooks%2C252&sr=1-1

Quantum Tango Consciousness Relieves Stress

 Quantum Tango Consciousness is a state of mind and body that results when we move in harmony and rhythm with a group of other dancers. It is a blissful state. It’s more noticeable when there are a lot of dancers, crowd size is not a qualifying factor but connection, movement and music are. Connection is the physical link between two bodies, the music and the crowd, it is not limited to the body within but also the part of us that exists outside of our bodies, the corporeal form and the ethereal; movement is also necessary but it would be irrelevant if it were not for the music. Music is the key ingredient that provides the vibrations at the quantum level to expose our Consciousness to the others in attendance and put us in a state of Quantum Tango Consciousness. Exposing our consciousness to others makes us feels good. It is where we are most vulnerable and it is this vulnerability that is the wonder drug that feeds our opiate receptors that make us smile.

Not everybody at the dance achieves Quantum Tango Consciousnesses but it is easy to feel it if you are on the verge, unable to cross over the threshold to Nirvana due to whatever walls are between it and you. For those that do, there is a sense of universal understanding, an awareness of the others and their intentions without language or communication of any sort. That is how you know you are where you want to be, when you are in the minds of others. It's not like you can read their minds but you do feel their intentions quite clearly.

The soul is the most sensitive part of our consciousness. To touch another’s soul is very gratifying and difficult to do. It has a subtle sensor but not as subtle as the Universe’s. To touch your consciousness to the Oneness of the cosmos is the most gratifying of all sensations and much more difficult to do.

Tango’s super power is that it allows us to connect to another consciousness, singular and plural. There are many aspects of our collective civilizations that give us this opportunity but tango is the only available avenue I know of that is within reach of those who can dedicate themselves to achieving proficiency. Spending twenty years sitting in a cross-legged position humming a single chord is the long way around to the quantum state and very boring. We connect in tango by dropping our psychological and emotional barriers, the self-defense mechanisms we’ve erected to protect our fragile id; we merge our bodies with respect to the other’s balance; we move to the music and somehow, the other’s consciousness is revealed. This is not easily learned but it is fun and quite doable.

The classical view of consciousness stresses distances, great and small, the macro and the micro. When you pull back the curtain, you see that it's an illusion, a creation of our senses recorded in our brains and added to the classical view of Reality. The fundamental building blocks of matter are vibrations in the fields that pervade all of space. This is called the Quantum Consciousness. Classical consciousness is the Reality that can be measured. Quantum Consciousness is all the realities that are possible and is immeasurable. Quantum Consciousness is all about the possibilities of things, of distances, temperatures, radiation, etc. It’s all about what May be. Quantum Tango Consciousness is all about the possibilities with your partner/crowd/universe. Classical Tango Consciousness is the dance you had; Quantum Tango Consciousness is all about the dances you May have.

The things your consciousness May experience are not set in stone but there are some paths you feel an inclination towards and some paths suggesting other directions. I think the key to understanding Quantum Consciousness is learning how to listen to the inclination and the suggestion. Failure to do this causes stress. That is why Quantum Tango Consciousness is so addictive: it helps relieve the stress caused by too many bad decisions or going in the opposite direction of the suggestion or inclination of the cosmic Quantum Consciousness. Quantum Tango Consciousness enables us to erase those bad decisions and get back on track with a clean record. Yes, that does sound like being Born Again and it is, kinda/sorta. All in all, this is a magical thing and salve for wounds suffered and unhealed. 

This is what makes tango great and why I am such an advocate: I have seen the light, been bathed in the waters and I have been healed. Praise Be! Can I get an Amen?

I think that the similarities in Quantum Tango Consciousness and Quantum Consciousness gives us quite a few clues on how to live our lives. In tango, it is imperative to respect your partners’ space and balance. The tanguero strives to present himself to the other in a manner that is pleasant and without distraction. The establishment of the connection should be smooth and the lead clear, unambiguous. Imagine doing that outside of tango and you have a guide for how humans should interact with each other. It can be a religion or a scientific process. Whatever you want to call it doesn’t matter, what matters is this kind of behavior makes the world a better place; I think it settles the argument on whether or not there are such things as right and wrong, and right is the preferred choice of the cosmic oneness because it reduces stress; it is anti-entropic and provides structure to our efforts in making things better. 

Stress is created when we do not follow the plan. We are born with preprogramming that we are meant to follow but, because of Free Will, we often don’t. This is where stress comes from. It starts as a simple decision, yes or no, and morphs into a speed demon eating us whole from the inside if we don’t address it.

In the quantum view of consciousness, our growth of awareness is of utmost concern. We strive to reveal our programming and soothe our inner compasses by traveling a line that is true, rhythmic and in harmony to the song being sung by the cosmic choir. Maybe here is where we find out what it means to be good.

I have to wonder if the goal of Life is to be a better person, that the clues to the answers to the questions we are programmed to ask are in the striving to do good. I know that the milonga is the place to find answers and to explore the consciousness of others. It is there that I am happiest and where I want to be most. I hope I see you there, too.

Peace, Love

The Kayak Hombre

My latest book, Kokapelli in the Wiccans’ Kitchen, is available on Amazon. Check it out, a link is provided below.

https://www.amazon.in/Kokapelli-Wiccans-Kitchen-Carmen-Cray-ebook/dp/B0G1GT4Z5K