Once again, Tango and The Golden Age

The tango is a man and woman in search of each other. It is the search for an embrace, a way to be together, when the man feels that he is a male and the woman feels that she is a female, without machismo.She likes to be led; he likes to lead. Disagreements may occur later or they may not. When that moment comes, it is important to have a positive and productive dialogue, fifty-fifty.The music arouses and torments, the dance is the coupling of two people, defenseless against the world and powerless to change things. This is the best definition of the tango as a dance, I think. Juan Carlos Copes, in: Tango The Dance, The Song, The Story, by Collier, Simon. 

I still look for definitions of what tango means to me. Tango as dance has certainly acquired a multidimensional  meaning after I started dancing back in 2008. It was only when I re-started in 2009/2010 that it grew to be what it is today. That is going to certainly change in a few years, I am sure. I hope I can write about it from time to time to remember what it was like in the past. To analyze the changes, to give my dancing the texture of the written word. I achieved a level that I can afford to look at the details and work on them intensively. That to me is the difference between a conscious tango dancer and someone who only wants to socialize on the dance floor. But dancing tango is an exercise of the heart and the heart, as we know, has its contradictions and whims.
I get very emotional when I dance to a great song. To hear all of those instruments and to feel the soul of each one of them. I want to write more about the meaning of tango. The meaning of the Golden Era of Tango. I also want to write about the dancing itself, that state of full redemption you can experience while dancing to a tango song. That is the tango I want to help grow and stay alive. The tango of the big orchestras, the elegance of the long, flawless dresses. The tango that tells the story of lost love, lost home, longing for the ones that have departed. The tango that makes you cry inside. The tango that pictures the prime times of a great Buenos Aires. The tango I learned how to listen to when my mom used to sing it as well as my aunts. The sound of the piano I loved every single time my uncle touched it. 
Somehow they live within me. My aunt, Blanca, beautiful and elegant who had a beautiful voice and could make you cry by using her voice and singing El Ultimo Cafe. My aunt, Teresa, who had the most beautiful ocean green eyes and was tall and felt Buenos Aires when Buenos Aires was still the European capital of South America. And finally, my mom, Lola, who was petite compared to my aunts, but loved tango and used to talk to me about Libertad Lamarque. My mom who used to sing Nostalgias while she was doing laundry in the cold winter of my hometown and her hands used to get purple from the cold water. I always hated all the chores she had to do in the cold weather. My mom, who died without seeing me one last time and who now I miss tremendously. My mom, who had the courage to bring me into this crazy world. 
Every time I dance a tango, I pay homage to those women, who suffered and lived as if they were part of a tango song. It's for them that I dance, but it's also for me. For the small hope that I have to carry on the feeling of living with the heart. Even if that sometimes doesn't bring you money, fame or anything else but nostalgia of a time that seems to be gone forever.