A Few of my Flamenco Secrets

Hot-Damn Flamenco. Whoever in this life, watches flamenco. The answer is "No one."

Having said the above, I should just sign off, but hard head, me, I'll persist. Flamenco has been my life long passion. I learned to dance Flamenco from the gypsies on the beaches outside Algeceris, Spain during the Korean War. (The war during the early '50's ..... not this thing they are going through now). I still consider myself a purist, although there's always a modern movement in every art form.

My new header is a Flamenco guitar that cries in the closet. I don't play the sacred little instrument. To achieve that would require constant practice and I chose dancing as long as the old bode allows. The picture to the left was taken last year.

Traditionally, the guitar accompanies dancers and has only been around a little over a hundred years. Pre-guitar, there was keeping rhythm of hands (clapping) or a cane (stick) striking the ground. A few dances still use the pounding of an anvil for it's rhythm as the gypsies were usually traveling smithies.

Male dancers used to beat out a rhythm with their heavy footwork and the grace of the upper body was left to the women. Carmen Amaya was one of the first female gypsy dancers to put on trousers and dance the frenzied footwork. Even when I started Flamenco, 60 years ago, women still concentrated on body movement and left the heavy footwork to the men.

There's very little interest in Flamenco in Montana..... land of cowboys and honky-tonks. For one thing, the learning takes time and dedication and it's just damn hard work in the beginning. I carry on my art for myself with a few faithful followers. I'm starting a kid's program this summer. Kids just do it, without all the hangups.

There. I've opened the door and shared my passion with you, dear bloggy friends. Now you can share your passion with me and others. We all have them, if they are for real or only wannabes. Let's share!!!!

I'm Thinking of Gratitude This Morning

Howdy Bloggy Friends,

I'm sitting at my new monitor with my overly-generous green drink. (Got a little carried away this morning with the green leafy stuff). I am extremely grateful for my life. I have everything I want or need. That means, my wants are fairly simple. I surround myself with furniture and objects that add only to my comfort. I've never been one for style, design or "what's in."

I turned my garage into a studio with a floating maple dance floor that I designed myself. This was not a "want," but a need. I have always needed to dance. I tell my students to put the music inside of them and the result will come out in the form of dance. It's absolutely amazing what music will do in your life. I am so grateful for good knees, a strong body and hips that still move in any direction!!!!!! Dancing may not be your passion but be grateful for whatever it is. Grab hold of your passion and embrace it. In the end, it's what really matters.

My daughter found the following video on YT. This woman is 107 and still follows her passion.

P.S. During the day hours, when many people are online, this has some pauses. When I watched the video in the evening, it was perfect and it really is worth watching. :)

What's The Word?

For some time now, I've been trying to find the word that means adulation or the feeling of love you would feel for a person who is accomplished in your field of passion.

I have run across the word a couple of times but dismissed it from my mind and poof, it was gone. It's so gone, that I wouldn't even recognize it if you said it. I'd have to look it up.

The word refers to having this extreme admiration for someone of the opposite sex which would account for the feeling of love.

And I'm not referring to the groupie gals who wait outside a rock star's dressing room to offer him sexual favors. The kind of love feeling I'm referring to is almost on an etherial plane. It's as if you want to touch them but wouldn't dare because their talent is so far above you, so all you could ever do is worship them from afar.

The Greeks had names for four kinds of love: agape, philia, eros, storge. What I'm talking about is kind of a mixture of agape, philia and eros. I think of the Mexican artist, Frida Kahlo and her life-time attraction and love for Diego Rivera. With them I've always felt it was mutual.

Does this sound crazy, or have others experienced this?

Marilyn has played flamenco guitar for as long as I've danced and she has experienced this with guitarists. Especially one. I'm in awe of Juan Serrano, greatest living guitarist. We had a Flamenco Juerga and had one of his students and a student of his student. I was in that strange mixture of love and awe over them because they got to actually sit with him and watch him play. Then I could watch the student's fingers move on the guitar just as Juan had taught them.

OK, you've probably guessed it. I have that love feeling for Robert Doisneau, the photographer whose black/white photos I use for headers. He is pictured above in his self-portrait. Of course, he's dead but it doesn't matter. I've had this feeling for years. It's like Heathcliff yearned for Cathy until he could join her in death.

During my last posts when we were talking about photography, Kj of 12 Paws and Frogs, looked up Robert Doisneau and wrote that she's in love. See, Kj.... you know what I mean.

Come on, all you astute people with brilliant minds. What's the word I'm looking for???? I'm going cukoo trying to find it.

Life is a Series of Love Affairs

When I say life is a series of love affairs, I don't mean the kind that Tiger Woods or Jesse James find entertaining. That's tawdry. Select your partner, celebrate life together, find your passions, honor all that's living, and be grateful for your daily bread. Spread love throughout.

I think of my next door neighbors as a life of love. I like to sit on their porch with them on a summer day and I ask them to retell me the story of how they met. It was during WWll that they met on a crowded train. He bribed the sailor sitting next to "the prettiest girl" on the train to give him his seat. They talked, exchanged addresses, wrote and were married a month later. Not that I recommend such a hasty engagement but those were times of uncertainty and love was grabbed when it approached.

After the war, they settled into a community, raised a family, performed civic duties, compiled a great following of friends. Together, they turned their yard into a magical garden of unusual flowers and planted a vegetable garden. In the winter they made exceptional quilts and the most exquisite gnome-size santa clauses. This is truly, a life of love affairs.