¡Duende, Coño!

The first time I felt duende I was in Granada watching a flamenco performance by a family of gypsies. I don’t think I had actually heard the word duende at the time.  But it didn’t matter, duende is something you can only experience

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 It is my favorite word for a number of reasons: it has no direct translation in English, it’s a feeling that has to be unlocked from within a person– like a secret that they have been waiting to tell their entire lives and they chose that moment with you there to let it come fighting its way out out of them; it’s the perfect metaphor for the way I want to lead my life– a tiny burst of passion demanding to be noticed in a pile of knee-deep manure pie. 

Duende is why I continue to study flamenco.  My mother always says that I remind her of an elephant– not because of anything to do with my physical stature (not yet, anyway), but because  when I come into her house the foundation shakes– I slam doors, I brake the car too hard in the driveway, I stomp up stairs, and yell at the dinner table.  I won’t let life not notice me.  Flamenco gives me a more productive outlet for my inner elephant.  I get to shout OLÉ, stomp my feet on the ground, and encourage others to do the same.  For one hour of every week, I can demand that life hear me, and no one gets upset with me for doing so.

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One Response to ¡Duende, Coño!

  1. Matt says:

    busy day at the office?

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