While on a business trip to Spain I had a little time off to see the sights. One evening I went out for a night on the town with some colleagues.

It was a beautiful summer evening and there was a soft and warm gentleness to the air and the night. Around 9 pm we were walking around the city and I remarked that there were lots of clubs and cafes but not many people. A colleague who had been in the country for a while remarked that it was still early and that people would start coming out to enjoy the evening and the nightlife soon.

This struck me that the rhythms that we all know in our lives are not the rhythms of the world. There are many different rhythms that people follow in their lives.

But to it:

Later in the evening while we were sitting in a beautiful little indoor cafe; (the walls were a smooth stucco, the bar was a beautiful hewn wood and a flamenco guitar stood quietly in one corner ) A group of women and their teenage daughters came in. They quietly organized themselves then began dancing - mothers with daughters. Now my spanish has never been that good but I think I witnessed a bit of a ritual where the mothers take the daughters out and teach them the flamenco.
  I don't know for sure if it was a normal night out for them or if it was some kind of a special event that occurs once a year, or once a thousand years. But I do know that it was special. I can still see them all dancing the flamence and can still feel the joy of life, love, and family.
 There are things that you do in your life that you probably just consider every day kinds of things, but if you could step back and look at it from anothers eyes you would see that these things are special. Examine what you do and pick out these little things that are special and appreciate them because it is all a big mystery.
We dance around the circle and suppose, while the secret sits in the center and knows - Robert Frost
 Here is a bit of Spanish Guitar for you - It is a composite of different spanish pieces that I have put together for you.

I have an addendum to this story:

Thirty three years after this story I returned to Spain to walk a pilgrimage. Wow, where did those thirty three years go? Here is more about the pilgrimage