The Third Presence
In 1933 Spanish poet and theater director Federico Garcia Lorca gave a lecture in Buenos Aires titled “Play and Theory of the Duende” in which he addressed the fiery spirit behind what makes great performance stir the emotions:
“The duende, then, is a power, not a work. It is a struggle, not a thought. I have heard an old maestro of the guitar say, ”The duende is not in the throat; the duende climbs up inside you, from the soles of the feet.’ Meaning this: it is not a question of ability, but of true, living style, of blood, of the most ancient culture, of spontaneous creation … everything that has black sounds in it, has duende.”
“Each life is formed by its unique image, an image that is the essence of that life and calls it to a destiny. As the force of fate, this image acts as a personal daimon, an accompanying guide who remembers your calling.
The daimon motivates. It protects. It invents and persists with stubborn fidelity. It resists compromising reasonableness and often forces deviance and oddity upon its keeper, especially when neglected or opposed. It offers comfort and can pull you into its shell, but it cannot abide innocence. It can make the body ill. It is out of step with time, finding all sorts of faults, gaps, and knots in the flow of life - and it prefers them. It has affinities with myth, since it is itself a mythical being and thinks in mythical patterns.
She asked me how it feels to dance tango.
Art forms that include the duende cannot be translated., and so it is difficult to describe the feelings, because they cannot be accurately described.
Sometimes, the duende decides to become part of my dance. Something is created anew in that I never felt before. It might be like having sex a new way and finding out there is not just a "G" spot, but a "T" spot, and a "K" spot. And it may be that it happens that one time and never more.
Feelings with no names are born inside of me when I dance tango with an excellent partner. These feelings are similar to the words divine and ecstasy and creative play, but those words don't describe it. Dancing tango ignites life inside of me that then becomes part of a dream world; an inner garden that grows wantonly during the dance, showering metaphoric petals and leaves and light around us.
“It has much to do with feelings of uniqueness, of grandeur and with the restlessness of the heart, its impatience, its dissatisfaction, its yearning. It needs its share of beauty. It wants to be seen, witnessed, accorded recognition, particularly by the person who is its caretaker. Metaphoric images are its first unlearned language, which provides the poetic basis of mind, making possible communication between all people and all things by means of metaphors”
The Genie/Daimon
She asked me how it feels to dance tango.
Art forms that include the duende cannot be translated., and so it is difficult to describe the feelings, because they cannot be accurately described.
Sometimes, the duende decides to become part of my dance. Something is created anew in that I never felt before. It might be like having sex a new way and finding out there is not just a "G" spot, but a "T" spot, and a "K" spot. And it may be that it happens that one time and never more.
Feelings with no names are born inside of me when I dance tango with an excellent partner. These feelings are similar to the words divine and ecstasy and creative play, but those words don't describe it. Dancing tango ignites life inside of me that then becomes part of a dream world; an inner garden that grows wantonly during the dance, showering metaphoric petals and leaves and light around us.
It feels like being the small child nestled in front of her father enjoying a horseback ride. Since daddy is holding the reins. she can rock along, stare at clouds, and open or close her eyes because everything is safe and the horse is a nice horse. The horse is so huge, but she is held firmly next to the trusted body of a person who is keeping her safe.
In tango, the leader is responsible for the follower's safety. The follower can create her own embellishments, and can be as free as she dares, because she knows her partner will contain her and she will not lose herself.
The way I dance depends on the composition and the orchestra. Some are pieces are weighty and dangerous, others are desperate, and milongas are frisky and light hearted. Dancing tango feels like I am reincarnating as a rare and precious jewel. I am unique, I am radiant,and my healing rays sparkle and glow. Sometimes I feel like a ship's figurehead boldly breaking waves on a raging sea, or an ecstatic mother snuggling her tender newborn, or as if I am standing on a train platform filled with dread and sadness, clinging to my departing lover.
When tango milongas play, I feel rushed and relaxed all at once. My feet must move very fast, but I must disregard my thinking mind and let my body respond to the lead as a second skin. Milonga is like being a guest at a surprise birthday party trying to hide and suppress a giggle before the door flies open and everyone yells happy birthday!
When tango vals is on, I unwrap my body slowly until long rivers of colored silk feel like they are flying from my feet, fingers, hair. I feel free, I soar, it feels like reaching the top of the roller coaster ride, and beginning the downhill plummet, but then I am saved by the kinetic whirl of my partner.
Dancing authentic tango is similar to the call and response in church. The music makes an artistic statement, the leader creates a response and the follower embellishes the response or says "Amen." When the duende is present during my dance, then a tidal pull of creation begins at an unknown source within my body. This pull is greater than me and far more powerful than traditional gravity. I am finally squeezing drops of the Sun from my own, holy body.
“ Keep squeezing drops of the Sun
From the sacred hands and glance of your Beloved
And, my dear,
From the most insignificant movements
Of your own holy body."
—Hafiz, 13th century devotional poet.
