Island Mentality

There's something about islands. Makes us move slowly. Enjoy the moment. Look up and smile at strangers as you pass them by.

I overheard a man at lunch today, complaining about the 25 mph speed limit we have all over the island. He said, "They should have ONE street that moves 45, so you can get across these little five miles in a reasonable amount of time!"

I thought, "Hmmm... like an island expressway! That might be cool!" And then I thought, "No. It wouldn't fit in with the island mentality."

There really is no reason to have such a low speed limit on some of these wide streets. But it seems to really slow people down. To make them resist the urge to hurry. It affects the entire community. I like it.

So I've already fallen in love with my little island.

I come home from lunch and pick up watching "In Her Shoes." I love the movie. But I was watching Cameron Diaz. She is someone I admire. She is just so... HER. I once read a quote where she said, in effect, that a woman shouldn't worry about whether or not she weighs too much or too little. She should just be strong. That is what makes a woman beautiful.

Now I know that she's acting in this movie. But you can't pull that off without having something. And at the end of the movie, as I watched Cameron dance away in the final scene, I realized, she is slow and sure and strong and free. Just like my little island.

What we women need to do, instead of worrying about what we don't have, is just love what we do have. ~ Cameron Diaz

The Wild Woman Archetype

I found this in an old post, while looking for something else. It is from Clarissa Pinkola Estes' book, Women Who Run With The Wolves. To explain the Wild Woman:

The archetype of Wild Woman resides in the guts, not in the head. She can track and run and summon and repel. She can sense, camouflage, and love deeply. She is intuitive, typical, and normative. She is utterly essential to women's mental and soul health.
She is the female soul. Yet she is more; she is the source of the feminine. She is all that is of instinct, of the worlds both seen and hidden -she is the basis.
She is intuition, she is far-seer, she is deep listener, she is loyal heart. She encourages humans to remain multilingual; fluent in the languages of dreams, passion, and poetry.
She is the voice that says, "This way, this way."
She is the one who thunders after injustice. She is the one we leave home to look for. She is the one we come home to. She is the things that keep us going when we think that we're done for.

To adjoin the instinctual nature does not mean to come undone, change everything from left to right, from black to white, to move the east to west, to act crazy or out of control. It does not mean to lose one's primary socializations, or to become less human. It means quite the opposite. The wild nature has a vast integrity to it.
It means to establish territory, to find one's pack, to be in one's body with certainty and pride regardless of the body's gifts and limitations, to speak and act in one's behalf, to be aware, alert, to draw on the innate feminine powers of intuition and sensing, to come into one's cycles, to find what one belongs to, to rise with dignity, to retain as much consciousness as we can.

Blog Ratings

Hmm... wonder what my blog is rated? Is this a great mystery? Purrty Jami has a rating of NC-17. When I sent my father to read my Father's Day Message, he said, "I had to cross off three fucks!" ~ Hee hee.

So without further adieu! My blog rating!

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

fucking (5x) sex (3x) hell (2x) fuck (1x)

(As if we didn't know.)

**KIDS, be sure and bring your parents when reading my blog!**

A Father Is As A Father Does

Quick note to all the single parents who have to be both mother and father. It’s a big and dirty job, and thank God you are doing it! Don’t faint. You know that your labor is of the noblest kind.

I have the father of all fathers. He never lets me down. Never. There have been many men in my life (and I mean MANY) who have professed their undying affection. Who went to great lengths to let me know that they want to know me deeply. They want to be my heart and soul and comfort and protection. Their great cry is, “I want to do things for you. You are so amazing and wonderful and beautiful and you’ve sacrificed so much for your family and friends. I want nothing more than to give you all the things you deserve that no one has ever given you!” Oh, and if I say something like, “Yeah right. I’ve heard THAT before!” They get all puffed up and say, “No, really! With me it’s true! I am not like the other men!”

I’m not fucking shittin’ you. As soon as I get sick or something, I get, “Oh, I don’t really feel like going out and getting you some medicine. There’s all that traffic and I just got off work and I’m tired and … blah blah blah blah fucking blah!” In the name of all that is holy, why oh why did you say you’d be my one and only? These are the men who, like my ex husband, said, “No one will ever love you like I do!” To which I say, “God, I hope not! That almost killed me!”

ANYWAY, my father has always been there for me. After the loser won’t go to the store to get my medicine, my father will. After the fucking asshole is too busy to pick me up when my car breaks down, my father will. (And so will my mother and sisters and friends.)

Please don’t misunderstand me. I’ve known many good men. (In fact I’m dating one!) But they are not the ones who make these great oh-me-is-so-wonderful announcements. They are just humble men who say, “Here’s me… I’ll be there when I can… after all, I’m only human.”

So there’s my dad. He’s done all the things a man can do to be a man. And I know that I don’t tell him I love him anywhere near enough. One father’s day, I sent him Dan Fogelberg’s song, Leader of the Band. These are the words that say it so well:

A quiet man of music
Denied a simpler fate
He tried to be a soldier once
But his music wouldn’t wait
He earned his love
Through discipline
A thundering, velvet hand
His gentle means of sculpting souls
Took me years to understand.

The leader of the band is tired
And his eyes are growing old
But his blood runs through
My instrument,
And his song is in my soul --
My life has been a poor attempt
To imitate the man.
I’m just a living legacy
To the leader of the band.

I thank you for the music
And your stories of the road.
I thank you for the freedom
When it came my time to go.
I thank you for the kindness
And the times when you got tough
And, papa, I don’t think I’ve said
I love you near enough –

I love you Daddy.

From Your Sweetheart #3