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

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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: 

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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

Tango Takes Us to New Dimensions

 In the beginning, according to Tolkien, there was nothing except the sound, a tone, steady yet silent, for in the nether, there was nothing to hear in the nothingness. The vapid void begat new chords and became the song from which the Universe sprung. A consequence of the cosmic choir, Time, gave rise to Harmony and Rhythm and they are the basis of all things.

In the present day, quantum physicists have discovered, after rigorous inquiry into the fundamental components of all matter, that there is nothing but frequency and vibration at the subatomic level; which frequencies are present and how they vibrate are dependent on what is experienced by a sentient observer. It is difficult to peer into the machinations of the quantum realm without expensive scientific equipment but I’ve found another way: Tango, it is the Way.

The more Tango I dance, the more I dream about dancing Tango. While I was dancing tango around the desert in New Mexico and Colorado, I began taking melatonin, a common sleep-aid supplement. It gave me the most incredible nightmares, only they weren’t really scary, just very vivid to the point I had a hard time convincing myself they were not merely illusions. I think they’re real. Something that happens in the subconscious shouldn’t be automatically discounted as worthy of further investigation, we might be experiencing an aspect of another dimension and not a cerebral fantasy. 

Kudos out there to all you dream research scientists, your work is more important than you realize.

In trying to understand String Theory, a phenomenon of quantum physics that proposes the existence of up to nine more dimensions, I find it difficult to conceive what such a dimension would even be like. Height, Width, Length and Time are the four known dimensions. If more exist, surely we must be able to perceive them. They’re probably sitting right in front of our noses and we can’t convince ourselves that they are unique facets of the Universe in need of further study because of our biases. I have to wonder if other species experience an awareness of these dimensions that are unknown to humans, like cats, they are able to do things we find impossible to comprehend. For example, cats always land on their feet, even when there is not enough space or time to fall. Could it be that they can access a realm without time, a facet of Reality where they are able to manipulate their bodies so they arrive on the ground with all four paws hitting first. 

It is well-known that our brains are able to deceive us, making us believe we are somewhere we are not. That’s what PTSD is. I experienced it once after a dangerous ocean crossing on a forty foot sloop that I crewed on a trip from Rhode Island to the Virgin Islands via Bermuda. For a month afterwards I woke up on the ship and, even though I knew I was not on the boat anymore, I couldn’t see anything of where I actually was, all I saw/smelled/heard/felt was the ship and an angry ocean.

I like to imagine that the Dreamworld is another dimension of Reality. When we die and our consciousness leaves our fleshy vessels, we continue on without them into the world we thought was just our imaginations. I wonder if Time doesn’t exist in the Dreamworld because events there are not experienced in chronological order yet seem so logical. In the nighttime theater of my mind I understand many things even though no words are spoken. Maybe it is better to say that language is not necessary here because meaning is conveyed in a manner we cannot yet fathom. I find it funny that recollections of Close Encounters with Aliens say much the same thing about how the Aliens communicated with their human captives. Sometimes I wonder that speech may be an impediment to the efficient exchange of ideas between sentient beings.

I don’t see a way we can gather any concrete evidence to prove or disprove what I am postulating about this mysterious realm. If we open our minds to the possibility that it is real, we can at least think a lot about it and try to make headway with the few clues we have been given.

Tango’s superpower is that it allows us to easily connect to the Universe. By joining with another in the company of others and moving in Harmony to the Rhythm of tango music, we can reach a place of subconscious awareness—a state where we perceive the minds of others and their intentions/desires without relying on physical communication, such as facial expressions, vocalizations, or body language. This is the Melody of Life and it does not care about Time for it can exist by Itself. In the space between the tandas, if we are lucky, we sometimes find ourselves in the quantum realm somewhere near the Dreamworld, for here is a place where language is of little use. When the music ends we send out our souls to find another to share our space. Perhaps, in opening our minds to new possibilities we will find the person of our dreams is not just a figment of our imaginations after all.

P.S. If you are curious about other ideas of mine, check out my new Book: Kokapelli in the Wiccans' Kitchen.

 

 

Tango, to Infinity and Beyond!

,I continue with my exploration of the physical world that I am learning is nothing more than a wave or vibration at the quantum level and veer off down the rabbit hole of Reality. Taking care of my parents in their waning years makes me think about what is on the other side of Living when our corporeal shell ceases growth and begins a permanent decay without our consciousness in it. Buddha tells us that Life is an illusion and that we are nothing; that, in being nothing, we are everything…or words to that effect.

In my previous posts of late I have been postulating that tango allows us to join in the collective consciousness and become one with the Universe via a combination of physical contact, psychological/spiritual/emotional connection all while moving in harmony with other couples to the vibrations and rhythms of tango music. In my mind, I am conducting scientific study through my obsession with this seductive, South American martial art: tango dancing.

When brain activity ceases, what awaits us on the other side? Of late, I have been entertaining the theory that the ‘Other Side’ is the same world that we live in in our dreams; what we do in the so-called ‘Real World’ is somehow important to what is happening to us in the dreamworld and vice versa. 

Maybe our time spent in fleshy containers is an opportunity of some sort to help us in the afterlife. If I follow that tangent I find myself abandoning scientific inquiry and pursuing a religious explanation for what is and why I am here. If our actions cause us to have violent nightmares, the byproduct of a guilty conscience, maybe we need to think about what we are doing with our time here on Earth. Maybe there is a reward of sorts for living a good life.

Dancing tango a lot makes me dream about dancing. I cannot say what lies beyond but I like the idea of walking a moral path in the hope of spending eternity in bliss, dancing at a never-ending milonga.

Peace, Love, Tango,

The Kayak Hombre

Don't forget to buy my latest book: Kokapelli in the Wiccans' Kitcthen. Click the pic for a link to it on Amazon: