The Tango Doctor: chapter one, page one

           Like the women I’d met dancing the tango, I came to it wounded and in it I found healing and redemption. The road to the cure, however, was a winding, unmarked highway with no speed limits through forbidden territory in the dark of night. That highway had brought me here, parked in the driveway of another man’s home, alone with his wife in my van, a situation that was setting off alarm bells and warning lights in my mind.

Ruth’s hand was halfway to the door handle when the laser light pierced the darkness. A small red dot shone like a poisoned jewel on the married woman's forehead. The spot of light jittered on her skin like a tiny monster invading the shadows of my ride.  

            I should have pushed her out, hit the gas and given up on this foolish quest forever…but I didn’t. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I couldn’t tell if this was caused by the incredibly thick air of sensuality surrounding us or the thought of a possible confrontation with her spouse.

            So far, no sins had been committed though I sensed that we were on the verge. Innocent as we both were, I’m certain we looked guilty as hell. We suffered from an affection deficit disorder and the remedy, a delicate berry protected by a very thorny bush, was near. But it was not for me to pick; it was for her. She needed to decide if she would reach for it, or for me, or do nothing and continue her life of suffering. I feared she would choose the path of pain; it was a monkey on her back but it was a familiar one that she could bear because she could not yet imagine a life without it.

            Getting mixed up with me would only have added to her burden and I would have rebuffed her even if she did succumb to temptation. Two years into my love affair with tango, I was well acquainted with sexual tension and I knew it was my responsibility to be the one who could say, “No.”

            It was 1 a.m. Her split level house was located in a well-kept subdivision of a small college town. I cut the lights and everything was quiet except for the smooth hum of the engine.  Somehow I knew this was not a real threat and resisted the notion to grab her and throw her to the floor like James Bond would have done in the movies.     

            Instead, I asked, struggling to sound cool, calm and collected, “Ruth, do you know there’s a red light shining onto your forehead?”

            “Yes,” she replied with a weary resignation, “it’s my husband. I can see him in the window. He thinks he’s being funny.” She drew a breath and continued in a wistful, far-off voice, “You’re not really the man driving me to tango…he is.”

            Braving the thorns, she had reached in and picked the tiny but succulent fruit. She needed to put words to her reality instead of living in denial that there was a problem; there was definitely a problem. That’s why she was here with me, that’s why we had just driven sixty miles and back to find a place where tango was danced on a weeknight. The monkey was gone and she breathed a heavy sigh filled with relief and trepidation.

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The Cosmic Tango Orchestra

                Some people find it hard to believe that we live in a universe where chaos is the natural order but it is true. The universe is expanding at an ever-increasing rate, something we call entropy, and one day it’s all going to come apart at the seams.

               The world is a confusing place and there are many things we’d like to believe are true that probably aren’t, like people are not inherently good or that men and women can never be just friends. The child in us wants to believe these things but that child also believes in the Easter Bunny.

               This is not a reason for despair. Through restraint of our primal inclinations we discover real pleasure and true love. Men and women are capable of platonic relationships as long as one of them ignores the urge to merge. Unrequited love can be the saddest of stories or the noblest. Admitting to ourselves that we are part of the general cacophony increases the impact of our actions: our sins become that much more evil but our kindnesses shine as bright as stars.    

               Realizing that peace is not the absence of agitation but, rather, the organization of entropy as it proceeds towards its inevitable conclusion, gives us a purpose: we are here to establish rhythm and harmony among the hectic forces playing in the cosmic orchestra.

               Here is the final truth I’d like to impart: you are never going to be a great tango dancer. Tango is not a performance to be graded; it is a state of mind, body and synchronicity to be achieved with your partner.  Dancing tango is beautiful to watch but what is really happening is only revealed to the participants. This is not a spectator sport. It is art for artists and, until you get out on the dance floor, you are never going to know what it is.

                

For more writings by the Kayak Hombre, check out my books available on Amazon and Kindle:

Tango Think

                Once upon a time I asked a woman how she thought. I told her that I pictured words and sentences in my mind. She replied that she thought in spaces. This sounds strange but it made sense to me; she is an artist and is constantly talking about how light falls on an object or what her perspective should be.

               A big problem for me in learning how to tango was thought management during the dance. I was an absolutely formless piece of clay when I started dancing. Two years of ballroom instruction helped introduce me to the difficulties of being a leader but I was still a long way from performing that role as a tango dancer. I found the tango connection emotionally overwhelming and completely different from the sterile embrace of the ballroom routines.

               Nine years later I notice that my thinking has evolved into something I call tango-think. It used to happen only during the tango embrace but lately it has been creeping into my non-tango life, specifically at work. This week, during what should have been an intensely stressful situation, a guitarist’s rendition of the song Vieni Sul Mar began playing in my head and I felt incredibly peaceful during the entire episode.

               A great frustration of the artist Jackson Pollock was the elimination of the interference between his idea and the canvas. To dance tango leaders and followers must do the same thing: remove the barriers between the melody and the movement. When I am on the dance floor music comes into my ears and is automatically translated into choreography and navigation. It is automatic dancing and I bet Pollock would have benefitted greatly if he’d acquired a vice for tango instead of one of his other addictions.

               Tango-think is a state of mind that resembles meditation except for the fact that you are moving through a crowded room with a partner. Do you see my point? It is like meditation except that it is not. Tango-think is a paradox. I feel compelled to describe tango-think more clearly but I am going to resist that temptation. This is something you must figure out on your own. Make it your frustration. 

              Good luck with this task, young padawan, and tango on.

Sincerely, 

the Kayak Hombre

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