Doing vs Being/ Hacer o Ser

Chan Park
Jan 2
5 min read

Tango Zen Journal – January 2, 2026

"Doing vs Being – A Closer Look"

"Hacer o Ser – Una mirada más cercana" Leer en Español

Doing vs Being – A Closer Look

After I shared my December 19 journal about Functional Tango vs. Transmitted Tango, many friends reached out asking me to explain the difference more clearly.

It’s not easy. What I described isn’t a theory — it’s something I’ve lived, something I feel. It happens in the moment. It’s not always visible. And yes, it’s subjective.

But after years of immersion and calibration — watching, dancing, absorbing — I’ve developed a certain kind of perception. A way of seeing. And when I see transmitted tango, I recognize it immediately. Not because it looks impressive. But because it feels unmistakably real.

Today, I’d like to share a video I captured during a milonga in Buenos Aires this past November. The story behind it matters.

It was a Monday night — Milonga de Lucy — usually held at Gricel. But that day, the venue lost electricity. In a last-minute scramble, Lucy moved the event to La Nacional. I hadn’t been there in years. In fact, some of my most cherished tango memories in Buenos Aires took place in that very room. And now, unexpectedly, we were back.

The setting was smaller, more intimate. Cozy. Charged with emotion. And then, something happened. The energy in the room shifted.

Suddenly, many dancers began to merge into the music — not following it, but becoming it. As if the space itself invited something deeper to emerge.

I instinctively reached for my phone and recorded what I saw.

Some dancers were simply doing tango.

Others — quite clearly — were being tango.

The difference wasn’t in the figures or the technique.

It was in the intention, connection, and presence.

Here’s what I noticed:

– Some couples talked while dancing, even laughing mid‑song.

– Some couples appeared to have practiced in order to perform, as if preparing for an audience.

– With them, the movement seemed to say: Look at me. I can do this. I’m a good dancer.

– With others, you could tell from their eye gaze that they were outward‑oriented — not really there, reaching toward something outside themselves.

– Their bodies felt out of tune with the music, as if executing movement rather than being carried by it.

I’ve seen this kind of dancing in many places — especially outside Buenos Aires.

It’s not “wrong.” But it lacks something. To me, it feels… disconnected.

And then — in the same room, the same tanda — I saw others.

Dancers whose bodies softened into the rhythm.

Whose eyes turned inward.

Whose embrace dissolved into the music.

They weren’t dancing the music.

They became the music.

That, for me, is Transmitted Tango.

It cannot be taught.

It must be absorbed — over time, through proximity, repetition, and tradition.

I’m not sharing this to provoke. I’m not naming names.

In fact, I don’t even know most of the dancers in the video.

I’m simply sharing what I saw — and what I felt — in that fleeting moment.

Not everyone will agree with me. That’s okay.

But if this reflection stirs something in you — not intellectually, but energetically — I invite you to observe with your own eyes.

Watch the room.

Notice where the energy flows — and where it doesn’t.

Look at the eyes.

Are they outward? Or inward?

Are they executing? Or surrendering?

As for me, I’m still listening to the silence between the movements.

If what I’m sharing through this journal resonates with you, you’re welcome to write to me.

Not to comment or debate — but to respond from your own experience.

In time, I may open a quiet online space for those who feel called to explore tango beyond form, style, or technique.

Until then —

Abrazo,

Chan

Hacer o Ser – Una mirada más cercana

Después de publicar mi diario del 19 de diciembre sobre el Tango Funcional y el Tango Transmitido, muchos amigos me escribieron pidiéndome que explicara mejor la diferencia.

No es fácil. Lo que describí no es una teoría. Es algo que viví, algo que siento. Sucede en el momento. No siempre es visible. Y sí, es subjetivo.

Pero después de años de vivir, observar, bailar y absorber, desarrollé una cierta forma de ver. Y cuando veo el tango transmitido, lo reconozco de inmediato. No porque se vea impresionante. Sino porque se siente real. Inconfundiblemente real.

Hoy quiero compartir un video que grabé durante una milonga en Buenos Aires, en noviembre pasado. La historia detrás es importante.

Era lunes por la noche — la Milonga de Lucy — que normalmente se hace en Gricel. Pero ese día, el lugar se quedó sin electricidad. A último momento, Lucy tuvo que mudarla a La Nacional. Hacía años que no iba a ese lugar. De hecho, algunos de mis recuerdos más lindos bailando in Buenos Aires ocurrieron en esa misma sala. Y ahora, de repente, estábamos ahí otra vez.

El lugar era más pequeño, más íntimo. Acogedor. Lleno de emoción. Y entonces, algo pasó. La energía en la sala cambió.

De pronto, muchos bailarines empezaron a fundirse con la música — no a seguirla, sino a convertirse en ella. Como si el espacio invitara a que apareciera algo más profundo.

Instintivamente, saqué mi celular y grabé lo que vi.

Algunos simplemente hacían tango.

Otros — claramente — eran tango.

La diferencia no estaba en las figuras ni en la técnica.

Estaba en la intención, en la conexión y en la presencia.

Esto fue lo que observé:

– Algunas parejas hablaban mientras bailaban, incluso se reían a mitad de la canción.

– Algunas parecían haber practicado para presentarse, como si se prepararan para un público.

– En esos casos, el movimiento decía: Mírame. Puedo hacer esto. Soy un buen bailarín.

– En otras parejas, se notaba en la mirada que estaban hacia afuera — no realmente presentes, buscando algo fuera de sí mismos.

– Sus cuerpos no estaban en sintonía con la música, como si ejecutaran movimientos en vez de dejarse llevar por ella.

He visto este tipo de baile en muchos lugares — especialmente fuera de Buenos Aires.