Pasionately Passionate

Hi, Boomers,

I spent the weekend dancing tango in Portland. I love the city of Portland. And I love dancing in that city. The combination is unusually pleasing. Portland is an old and new city. Even as it gentrifies it has an older charm. And it was raining over the weekend. It was a sweet and even rain, bordering on romantic. I felt warm and cherished by its consistency. In my tango world, the city favors the young. And Portland is crazy about tango. It is one of the best cities to dance in within the United States.

When I go away for the weekend to dance tango in other cities, I always meet up with my old friends and often meet new people. It has been interesting to me that most people who dance tango are very bright individuals. Conversation isn't always about tango, although it dominates the interest scale. I'm fascinated by what people do in the professional world. There are ER doctors, lawyers, ex-state troopers, engineers, dentists, environmental consultants, CFO's, accountants, astro physicists, musicians, computer scientists, web designers, massage therapists, nurses, and every other profession you can imagine.

There are not many yoga teachers, but dancing tango is a moving meditation and so it fits well with my profession. Tango is about breathing through the music and the movements and staying absolutely present - in the moment full of consciousness. And it's somewhat addictive emitting adrenalin and serotonin and dopamine into the body's system often causing exhaustion at the end of the evening.

Dancing tango often overtakes a person's brain functions as it promotes the repetition of its musical rhythms and familiar dance movements. It is often good to sit back and take breaks because a milonga can last all night - at the minimum four hours.

What did I get myself in to sixteen years ago? I've been all over the western world dancing tango, to Buenos Aires about thirteen times, to Denver, and New York, and Santa Fe, and San Diego, San Francisco, Albuquerque, and there are plans for more places to visit and dance. I understand that the dancing and music are my passions and I understand that tango is also part of my social life. And I also realize that I am one fortunate lady who just happened to wander in to a tango show in 1987 and found myself enchanted.

It's good to have a passion. And, yes, the passion has to be in balance with life. Not easy sometimes, but it's mentally and emotionally healthy to let all the light into our souls and live as richly as possible.

Namaste

Joan

I Took A Trip To The Moon

Hi, Boomers,

I've been busy it seems. I started a new writing project. Not a book but a monologue on a theme that is to be part of the Jewish Women's Theater group salon readings for this coming year. This particular theme is: "Jewish Women Do Men." I've got plenty of material, but I have been wrestling with the format. I'm used to writing in a book format. I have to think "monologue." I'm under a seven to ten minute time limit - mostly like five minutes but I'm trying to stretch it. The fun part is that I will be doing it as a reading. But for some reason I'm stalling now. It's not that I have writer's block because I can yenta with the best of them. I think I keep getting interrupted by the clatter in my brain. I need to go away and write.

And I will tomorrow. I'm going to Las Vegas to be with my family over the Jewish new year. L'Shana Tova. Happy New Year to all my Jewish peeps. I think I've really been excited about being together with my family, having dinner and seeing the grandkids run around and play and take care of the new babies - Jude and Penelope. Bliss for me.

And last weekend over Labor Day I attended the Denver Tango Festival. There are two in Denver - Memorial Day and Labor Day. I'm still breathless about it all. The dancing was sublime. I had a wonderful experience. And yes, I was selling some copies of my book, Sixty, Sex, & Tango, Confessions of a Beatnik Boomer, and every last one was sold by the second day. I also brought a bunch of advertising 4x6 cards and they were quickly gone. What really astounded me was that most of the people who bought my book were men, even men much younger than 60! I'm wondering if I got the demographic wrong. Men scooped the book up and asked lots of questions and laughed out loud at my chapter headings and were full of enthusiasm about the project. Husbands were trying to entice their wives to look at the book but they weren't exactly that interested. Although I must say that the young girls who are my friends gave the book to their mothers and those women loved it. Anyway, it was all so much fun and exciting and I'm still a little on the moon about it.

Speaking of being on the moon, my beloved Jungian therapist retired at the end of August. I put a call in to him a week ago and wished him well. Mike, my therapist, changed my life. He had a profound influence on my psyche and on my spiritual journey. He's all over my book. In fact, he gave me the courage to write it, but he didn't know that because I didn't even know it until I began to write my memoir and Mike came pouring out.

Mike called me today to officially say good-bye even though I hadn't seen him in 2 years. We were kindred spirits - the same age, the same sensibilities, the same humor and wit and love for all kinds of things we found in common.

"What's in store for your retirement?" I asked Mike.

"I'm going to explore my two million year old man inside of me and then maybe go to the moon," he responded with a lilt in his voice. "Then I might get a place in Washington in the middle of nowhere and contemplate."

I knew Mike was deadly serious about his plan. There really is a two million year old man inside of Mike. I wish I could stick around to get to know him better.

"I want to find a place, too, to go to contemplate," I said.

"It can be inside or it can be outside, Joan."

"I know that, Mike, because you taught me that I would always carried my sense of Self with me wherever I decided to venture."

"That's right, Joan. You carry yourself and that inner pony that sometimes acts up. Don't ever lose that pony."

I promised Mike I wouldn't perfectly tame my inner pony because then life wouldn't have as much joy and be as much fun.

Maybe I'll get to go to the moon some day, too. And maybe Mike will be a fellow traveler.

Namaste

Joan

My Secret Life

Hi, Boomers,

I decided on the way home from the Denver tango festival that I was leading a secret life. This was not a double life, mind you, but a really secret life that almost no one in my family was privy to on an intimate, personal level. And those who know about my secret life as a tango dancer only know me as a tango dancer. I mean, for the most part, when tango dancers get together at the festivals, there isn't a lot of time to discuss our personal lives, albeit briefly. We know little bits and pieces about others but it takes years and persistence to discover that what makes us tango dancers tick outside of a milonga.

For almost sixteen years, I have slipped out in the dark of night to dance tango at various venues in Los Angeles. In the early years, I danced four or five times a week. I practiced at least twice a week. I went to Buenos Aires for thirteen years every March and hung out at the milongas (place where tango was danced) nightly. Most of the time I danced in the afternoons, also. Sometimes, I attended the annual tango festival put on by the most famous local maestros in the world. And sometimes I just took classes or a week seminar. Sometimes I just walked the boulevards looking for the perfect tango shoes. It felt like no one in my family would know me in this life; and indeed, they still don't know me in this life. They never will. And it's not important.

On one trip, my youngest son, Aaron, was living and working in Santiago, Chile. He came to Buenos Aires to visit me and hung out with a best friend, but he still didn't go to the milongas with me. Then I visited him in Santiago and he finally took me to a milonga on the outskirts of town. It was dark and seedy and the club was kind of mysterious. Aaron was slightly awed when the teacher asked me to dance and I felt special. I was still new to the art of following the man in tango, but I think I held my own.

I have had hundreds of little experiences that have shaped the woman I am today. A large part of the joy in my 60th decade has been informed by tango, the tango community, its music, and its beautiful aesthetic. When certain tango or vals or milongas are played in a milonga, my body and mind energize and it feels like I am in the fifth dimension. How lucky I am to have found such passion.

And it's all mine. Of course, I share the dance with men, some I know very well and some I don't know at all, but when it comes to describing how I feel about dancing tango to my family, I am silent, secretive. It's my life. It's my secret life.

Namaste

Joan

Down and Dirty

Hi, Boomers,

I had a busy week and no time to blog. It made me cranky because from time to time I have things to blog about and can't find the time to do so.

However, I find myself in Denver, CO, at this moment at a tango festival with some free time, lying in bed with my sore right foot propped up on a pillow. I come to Denver twice a year (Memorial Day and Labor Day) to dance tango like a maniac and to visit with old friends who are dear to me. One of the most interesting aspects of these festivals (I go to Portland , Oregon, also twice a year) is the opportunity to talk to my favorite people and get down an dirty with what's on our minds. It is curious to me, however, that all my friends are male in the tango community, except for my one long-time female friend who sells her tango clothes collection. In Los Angeles, I have three close female friends and one very best male friend and I feel lucky to have them for support and love. As I get older, I am more particular about who my friends are in my life.

Inevitably, conversations run to male/female relationships. It doesn't matter if the man is 63 or 46, emotional adolescent outpourings, yearnings, longings, hopes, lost and found loves pour out of us like a faucet without a turn off value. This seems to be the human condition: the search for fulling relationships. My friend, Philip, can attest to this because his psychology practice is all about finding happiness in mid-life relationships. Sometimes I think it's rotten luck that people have to endlessly search and sometimes flounder to find love. It's hit and miss. It's sad and happy. It's right and it's wrong. We can't get there from here. Where is the love? as the song lyrics ask.

I heard an outrageous story from my 63 year old friend who fell for a woman in the baby boomer category. From the moment he met her a year ago, he knew he shouldn't get involved with her. The bells and whistles were out there for the viewing and the signs indicated that this was not going to be the nurturing, supportive relationship he was seeking. But he fell for her anyway and it was a hard fall because he put in a huge amount of time and effort. And all the while, something in the back of his mind knew intuitively the chase was wrong. In this case, the object of my friend's affection wasn't well-educated; she had been divorced a long time, had no children, was not responsive to his professional or artistic pursuits. In short, she was a woman who was into trying out men but not necessarily wanting to commit to long and loving relationship. So what did this woman want from my friend?

This woman was after was the perfect penis! No kidding! It turns out after four months of dating, she told my friend that his penis shape wasn't quite right for her. She was looking for something a little different, something a little thinner, something a little shorter, something that would give her an orgasm because it seemed that she had had only two orgasms in her life and she was on the search to find that perfect penis again. She told him she wasn't in to my friend in a sexual way. On the next penis!

My mouth is still open in wonderment about this story because (a) I know his penis (he is a former lover and a man who is a lost to me in love due to our inability to sustain a long distance relationship), and (b) a man of 63 who is still active sexually is a real find. In boomer speak, hang on to the sexually active and sexually interested.

This situation hits me in the face with everything that is wrong about looking for love in all the wrong places. Of course, I did it, too. Not with a penis, mind you, but with wanting a loving commitment from a man that was never going to happen even if I spent four years trying to make him my partner in life.

We're in our 60's, for God sake, and our intention is to find a relationship that not only possess an intimate component (and hey, girls, a penis is a penis is a penis and if it works it's an even better penis), but the couple has a spiritual connection that inherently contains caring, support, fun, way loads of fun. I don't want to drag around a sad-sack for the rest of my life. I need energy to match mine and we both have to be going in the same direction. At the age of 60 or more, we should know the nuances of what makes a good relationship. On the other hand, this relationship business can be a mystery of huge porportions.

You wouldn't think at a tango festival that you could learn so much about men. But I've learned a lot about the state of the male mind as it relates to females. My 46 year old friend and I were discussing how to spot a "crazy" woman quickly and then how he astutely avoids these kinds of women. My friend is so very intelligent and sane and knows exactly what he wants in a female. He is very conscious about certain psycho signs in a female as she approaches him to dance or to talk. He's got his male relationship check-list in his head and he quickly makes an assessment about the woman who is coming on to him. It probably takes him about thirty minutes to gather information from her to see if she is a prospective date. This guy saves an awful lot of time in his life. He doesn't get too attached at the beginning. And for sure, he isn't thinking with his dick.

More from Denver later. I'm going to dance this afternoon.

Namaste

Joan

The Tango Festival

Hi Boomers,

I don't usually go on and on about Argentine tango not because I'm not passionate about dancing tango but because I'm often private about how I feel about the dance. It's something I have done for about 15 years and my relationship to tango and its long history is emotional, complicated and passionate.

Fro those of you who don't know, Argentine tango is a social dance and not a competition. American tango is part of the ballroom scene and its unending competition and is not so similar to the tango danced in the tango salons around the world.

Tango dancing has taken me to some of the coolest places on earth. Mecca, of course, is Buenos Aires - the most authentic place to dance tango. I've been thirteen times. Is that sick or addictive or just plain fanciful? I don't know but the city kept calling me back for all those year - and it's charm and authenticity still does - but I'm running out of years to see other parts of the world and so I'm taking a break for awhile and trying out Costa Rica, Southern Spain, Morocco, Bali this year and maybe Africa next year. I'll bet back to Buenos Aires, but for now, I can dance really wonderful tango in many cities in America. I used to go to Amsterdam to dance in the Christmas/NewYear's festival, and I have been to Berlin and Paris to dance, but Europe is, well....Europe is in deep trouble. And besides, airline flights are unpredictable. Someone once asked me to rate the best tango cities outside of Buenos Aires: Berlin and Amsterdam are tops - in fact, all cities in Holland and most of Germany are outstanding. And then there is the new kid on the block: Istanbul.

Which brings me back to Los Angeles and our tango festival that is just finishing up today, Sunday, May 9. Many years ago, there was a festival that ran for two years in Redondo Beach, but this tango festival was in my own backyard of Santa Monica. To undertake a tango festival takes incredible planning and organization and tenacity, usually ending in exhaustion and utter happiness. And I just wanted to recognize and applaud the organizers in my tango community for their incredible efforts.

The joy of a tango festival is to reacquaint with old friends, make new friends and dance with familiar partners. The tango atmosphere generate a generosity of spirit and an esprit de corp that distinguish tango dancers with an unusual set of dance skills and a genuine love for the history of the dance and its deep appreciation of its music. And this morning, I feel the pain of my swollen feet, view with horror the dark circles under my eyes from the late nights, and wonder if I have the energy to attend tonight's last milonga (or dance), knowing that I will probably drag myself back to Santa Monica high school and see who is left from the 200 or so attendees.

I know I'm probably the oldest tango dancer in any festival I attend. And I keep it a very closed secret, although once in awhile to my very close friends I tell them about how joyful I am about my grandsons and how thrilled I am to be awaiting the birth of my first granddaughter. They've got to guess my age, but if my guy friends know - or if they ask what the title of my book is (Sixty, Sex & Tango) they surely know - but they are happy to share a little piece of my life and then we dance another tanda.

I'm anticipating going to Denver for Memorial Day, which is my favorite tango festival in the US. It will be fun to see who shows up, exciting to anticipate dancing with more old friends, and terrific to spend time with one of my closest friends from Santa Fe who designs and sells tango clothes. If she brings her pugs, it will be a special treat.

Dancing tango has brought me more joy in life than I could ever hoped for, more comfort and passions than I could have ever dreamed of, and more excitement and travel than I could have ever dreamed of.

Thanks for letting me share my experience.

Namaste

Joan