On hot evenings in Calistoga, when I can no longer sleep, I slip away to the Blue Milonga, a ballroom, where I dance the tango into the early hours. There are many regulars. We change partners with frequency. As if in a dream, we sway and pause like pendulums; dancing onward towards the dawn and the cooling fog of the morning.
The Milonga is a place of meeting for the felines of Calistoga. Canines have their dog parks, but for the refined feline it is the ballroom where love and passion are stoked. Here is where interpersonal differences are worked out. And for those few of us who are extraordinarily self-aware, the is the place to examine the mind while engaging the body. The dancing is extraordinary. Couples in all combinations, ages and sexes, glide, tip, tilt and embrace their way around the floor. Improvisation is the norm; a particularly talented couple may receive recognition for their dancing when other dancers step back, stop and watch.
The Blue Milonga is situated in a simple building, indistinguishable from the outside. Inside the walls are lined with mirrors, wooden chairs, and tables. A simple wooden bar extends the length of one end. The central floor is empty. Here is where the dancing takes place.
On this particular evening, one of my usual partners rests against the wall. Nelle is regal and elderly tortiseshell queen; she is still supple in her movements. She holds her paws out and I take her in my arms and we dance to La Cumparsita, the classic work for the tango. The orchestra composed of a guitar, accordion, comb and paper, flute, harp and violin drives our dancing as we turn around the room pausing and then floating forward as if the floor is a stream filled with rocks; the rocks slowing us momentarily, and then we rush onward. Nelle's smell is divine. I lose myself in the dance. My mind fully engaged, one pointed and watching my own physicality. My mind becomes completely concentrated as we dance.
When my mind rests this way, I can contemplate its nature as The Great Cat teaches. What is the
nature of the mind? It creates my reality. What ever I think is so. It is the overall atmosphere of my life. If I concentrate my mind while dancing on one thought, one physical process (breathing in and out) one individual (The Great Cat), my mind, which is restlessly moving here and there, calms, relaxes and once this happens over a long period of time; I attain a perspective that allows any suffering or joy I feel to leave me. I am steady and calm no matter what is happening in my outer world. My mind is arrested.
When one takes on the tango in this way, it is much like adventure vacationing. You are zipped into a protective vest. You put your helmet on and clip into the zip line. Off you go on a trip across the canopy of the rain forest. Hours can pass and you blip along at such a blinding speed your mind has no time to process what is happening to it. Parrots flap and scream in your face as they scatter in front of you. You who are hang gliding through their roosts, where hours before you were driving your stationwagon to the grocery for milk with no parrots in sight. As a consequence of the fast and inconceivable, your mind slows and your thoughts diminish. Gradually they go away.
In the space of this peace, I lose the orientation of my childhood. There is no up or down, there is only the dance. As Nelle and I slide across the floor the evening expands. I lose my quest for the presidency. I leave my clone behind. I lose my campaign manager. I lose my conflicted parentage. I lose my racial identity. I lose my addiction to catnip. I do not itch. I lose my obsessive-compulsive disorder. I am free from the constraints of my own thoughts. I am liberated from myself. I am no longer feline. I am at peace. Hours pass as I rest in this state.
All too quickly the evening comes to an end. I find myself once again in Nelle's arms as she yawns and says the light is coming it is time to go home before the dogs come out. We walk into the cool night air and say our goodbyes. I am refreshed, tired, and yet clear. Every thought I have, I can examine easily and discard if it has not of value. My limbs are fatigued, but they feel well used. Nelle's scent is still on my shirt where she rested her head. I walk into the cold dawn of liberation and head home.
The Blue Milonga is located on Lincoln Ave., next to the Calistoga Roastery off an unmarked hallway. Hours of operation are 10 pm to 5 am. Dress is formal. Cost to dance is $40. The description of the mental process while dancing come from the Yoga Philosphy of Patanjali, Book 1, On Concentration.
As great as that all sounds, $40 is too much for me!
Posted by: The Crew | August 28, 2007 at 09:56 AM