It happened again….so
good, so long, so nice, it lasted all the way home to Wisconsin and beyond. It
was a journey just getting there but it was worth it.
When we are totally
exhausted, that is when we are most open to new frontiers: physical, emotional,
spiritual and more.
The object of
torture is to wear down the victim to the point where he will believe anything. It
is an Oriental art that the Argentines have perfected.
Tango workshops
often border on that fine line between art and torture.
When a tango instructor
takes us on a painstaking analysis of a maddeningly simple and fundamental
concept, it is a struggle to keep up. If we do, we are usually rewarded with an
unexpected pleasure that I am calling the Tango Workshop Orgasm.
It occurs halfway
through the first class of the second day of the seminar. We are given one
further piece of the puzzle and, instead of the same two songs that have been
playing over and over, we are exposed to a new one, an unfamiliar piece of
music that the instructor, our interrogator, finds personally appealing.
That’s when it
happens.
The music resonates
with a chord being struck somewhere deep inside us, in our subconscious, or on
a cosmic level or who knows where, but it is profound and moving. Fatigue
leaves us and we submit to the arcane-ness of the lesson, that we will be
exploring this simple movement forever.
The Tango Workshop
Orgasm is not a few moments of spasm followed by a messy release of body
fluids. It is a soul-searing, slow-motion explosion that lasts for several days,
past the point where you leave the classroom and begin, once again, to interact
with ordinary humans.
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