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Duende


And then I asked myself...

Have I lived my life in self-truth?

Like a thick, solid, meaty fist to the gutt, I knew the answer.

No.

In that moment of complete and utter desperation, came clarity. I was finally able to look my life-long abuser dead in the face, and I told her to take a back seat. I told my-sad-self, to get gone.

By telling "this" self she no longer had value, meant that I had to have a serious look at how I got there to begin with.

Turns out I was hiding behind my hopes and dreams.

Instead of turning them into realities, I was using them as excuses.

My dream to be a writer, became the mask in which I hid. So disappointed with who I turned out to be, I needed something to comfort myself. To make the time pass. Like an addict who self medicates with substance, I took to the keyboard.

As the reality set in, I fell to the couch, completely numb. At the age of 35, I've actually managed to accomplish nothing of any great importance. I think it might be impossible as an outsider to not call me a spoiled brat; for when looking in, it would seem I have everything. It's just that I've had the greatest of expectations, followed by a whole lot 'a' nothing.

With the remote loosely in my hand, I felt whatever caring I had spill out my finger tips. As I succumbed to that self-deprecating feeling of disappointment, I happened to come across a show about Flamenco dancing.

At first it drove me further in to the yuckness that I was, gross and piled on the couch. I will never see Spain, a dream I've had since I was four. I will never walk where men play their guitars, and women dance with fury and passion... Spain, where the ancestry, myth and lore of a people lay in the fingers of Gypsy guitar masters, and the shuffle of the fire footed Flamenco dancers heat up the night. In the plaintif cry, the ferocity of strumming, and the intensity with which feet connect to Mother Earth... there is a bond, and the connection is clear. They cry for all that is lost.

They invoke Duende, so that we may never forget.

Duende. I had never heard of duende before. Fortunately, I was not yet completely lost to "The Nothing". Spirit was there, and I was present.

Duende.

Duende is to live with passion. Duende is to know strength in loss. Duende is to see beauty in failure. Duende is to hear silence in the midst of chaos.

Duende is freedom in simplicity. A simplicity that can only be felt when you've lost more than you were willing to give.

Duende is servitude. The gift of being able to serve when you have nothing left to give.

If my tomorrow never came, the life I've lived most definitely does not deserve a seat at the table of legacy. I have chosen complexity over simplicity. I expect to receive, rather than serve.

It fills my heart and shames me too, to know that Universe continues to laden me with gifts... choosing to take nothing of me that I am unwilling to give.

I am aware that my price will be high if I do not respect all that I have been chosen to receive. But I am ready.

I am ready to give.

I am ready to share.

I am ready to participate.

I am ready to live with Duende... one project at a time.

Let's dance,

Shall we?

Amanda

#duende

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