When I first started to dance, I heard of Gavito.. But when I saw his dance, I did not understand it. At the time, it did not inspire me. It did not move me. I was too raw, too obvious, too predictable with my instincts. He was old, he was wise, he was patient...
When you are new, you do not have time for patience. You have all the time for drama and passion and lust, all on the surface, swimming like a thick layer of oil on water.The sad thing is I did not even know the true meaning of passion, of love, of lust then. They were all mixed together, underexplored, misunderstood, and I was constantly trying to live a caricature of them, over and over again. Like a broken record...And I thought that's what life was.. love, lust, loss, all dancing in a circle, spinning spinning... out of control...
But tango taught me otherwise. Now, after having danced many years, I know, more.. I also know that I do not know it all. And that is ok, that is comforting, that is human. That means there is more to learn, to figure out. That means there is more life to live... That means I am vulnerable, and I know it, and it makes me a better dancer.
Now I watch Gavito, and I know, he was right. He was right, all along...
Carlos Gavito: When you dance with a partner you are close and the dance is very suggestive, but it is not personal... Close is what the music inspires you to become. The embrace looks personal, but what we are actually embracing is the music.
Carlos Gavito: A good dancer is one who listens to the music... We dance the music not the steps. Anyone who aspires to dance never thinks about what he is going to do. What he cares about is that he follows the music. You see, we are painters. We paint the music with our feet.
Carlos Gavito: I think those who say that you can’t tango if you are not Argentine are mistaken. Tango was an immigrant music... so it does not have a nationality. It’s only passport is feeling.
Carlos Gavito: The secret of tango is in this moment of improvisation that happens between step and step. It is to make the impossible thing possible: to dance silence. This is essential to learn in tango dance, the real dance, that of the silence, of following the melody.
It seems that everything there is to say about Tango have already been said. Every move has been created and copied in multitude.. Every thought has been processed, shared, and consumed... Every dance experience has been had. Every song has been heard, every beat has been stepped. Have accepted too many dances, turned down too many cabeceos, Have been to countless milongas, many festivals, stayed up all too many nights dancing all night. Have taken many post-tango Advils, suffered many tango injuries, have been stepped on, bumped against, pushed around, pulled away... I have worn all the fashionable tango clothes, paid too much money for shoes and accessories.
So... Am I done?
In words of a famous poet: The most beautiful sea hasn't been crossed yet. The most beautiful child hasn't grown up yet. Our most beautiful days we haven't seen yet. And the most beautiful words I wanted to tell you...
and I add:
the most beautiful tanda hasn't been danced yet The most beautiful tango hasn't been written The most fun entry in this blog I have yet to write The best pair of tango shoes I am yet to find
I have yet to dance in Paris, Beijing, or Sidney I have yet to sing a tango out side of my shower I have yet to capture that great feeling that connection that palpitation I have yet to put it in a jar like a summer time firefly And keep it for cold winter days...
This is when time is beginning every day setting it self to zero recharging This is when, finally, beginning is fun..
So this is the beginning.. Never the end...
Or if you wish... there is no beginning.. and no end...
It has been a long time that my blog has remained stagnant. It stayed a loyal friend that I could return to at times of despair, loneliness, confusion, inspiration, and joy... And yet so many times I turned my back on it, ignored it, thought of canceling it.. Especially within the last two years, I have even become more obscure, less visible, more abstract, less connected, more puzzling... I think I need to reset my relationship with it.
I felt the need tonight to give it a new look. It will not be a new blog. I probably will be as capricious towards it as ever. I will still at times ignore it, sometimes overwhelm it, other times pay no attention... But it will remain. It will be here. Waiting for me to spill my guts, to tell my story, to write my poems, to paint my life and to share it with you.
I honestly do not even know if anyone is still reading this blog. If you are, I hope this blog is something interesting, a wild perspective that you did not expect, or a familiar one that you yearn to find.
This new look almost offended me first. It is so funny.. We are such creatures of habit...The old simple layout became such a usual habit for me that when I changed it I felt a little sad. When I looked at this new layout, I realized there is much to like about it. And yet I need time to get used to it. To move my fingertips around its face, to recognize, to familiarize, to memorize its features... I need time with it, but I am willing to dance this tanda with it. I will not say thank you after the first song, I will dance the next few tangos with it, and see how it goes.
The birds started singing again. Again, it is way passed my bed time. The stars are beginning to disappear, the day light is once again about to touch my toes. Once again, I am awake when most of you are asleep conjuring up an imaginary friend for my self, who might or might not read this post..
Last night, I danced a milonga tanda, and I had that wonderful feeling again. The feeling of moving as one. The flutters of anticipation took over. The subtlest movements were met by understanding, the surprise of moving so well together overjoyed both of us and we both knew it.
A perfect few minutes of understanding each other, having patience and willingness to be together... A perfect few songs of mischievousness and trickery, a perfect few moments that are so difficult to replicate...
It does not always happen, this magical thing. Sometimes you think it is lost forever. Other times you find yourself having forgotten that you are looking for it. But it finds you. It finds you like the wind finds sails, like the sun finds the horizon, like the waves find the shore...
and then I find my self wondering, how I could even wonder whether it is lost forever, or doubt it is coming back...Because it will always find you, give you a kiss, make the corners of your mouth curl up, and inevitably will leave... again...
The image is "Fishing Boats Leaving the Port of Le Havre" 1874, Cloude Monet...
