Tuesday, September 4, 2007

I hope ...

I like to talk about all kinds of things on this blog -- but periodically and always I will return to the most important thing that can ever be said -- my life is blessed because of the presence of Women in it and I kneel in adoration before You every day of my life, in utter awe of the wonder that is You.

I hope that every Woman who wanders into this blog today will promise to look into Her mirror tomorrow and see Beauty looking back at Her -- that She will awaken from Her sleep in the morning excited to share Herself with the world -- Her incredible mind, Her urgently needed talents and the inspiring wonder of Her living presence.

13 comments:

...Kat said...

I HOPE

ECD I have not asked this of another blogger and you can take it as a compliment.... I hope you will grant me permission to copy a posting (not link it but copy it) of yours to my blog where I will save it to Draft so that it will always be in my possession should you ever toss it to the delete wastebasket where I will never be able to retrieve it....

as I said before, I have dipped into the archives of your paroled evil twin

eastcoastdweller said...

Kat: Now You've really got me scared! But since I don't ever intend to run for political office or lead some judgmental anti-this-or-that group, I guess You can do that if You want.

You do have me quite curious. Was it the Spaghetti-Os post? lol.

...Kat said...

no!


It was SECOND HAND SMOKE

eastcoastdweller said...

Kat: I figured it might be something like that. It's been a while since I mentioned that subject.

...Kat said...

a favorite author of mine is Ayn Rand

a wonderful quote I offer to you by her is this:

"I like to think of fire held in a man's hand. Fire, a dangerous force, tamed at his fingertips. I often wonder about the hours when a man sits alone, watching the smoke of a cigarette, thinking. I wonder what great things have come from such hours. When a man thinks, there is a spot of fire alive in his mind--and it is proper that he should have the burning point of a cigarette as his one expression."

eastcoastdweller said...

Ayn was a wise Woman, very wise, very unique.

The cigarette-in-hand is indeed the metaphor of a vanished era -- whether gripped in the grubby paw of some World War II soldier or balanced delicately in the fingers of a fashionable film noire Lady -- or, as You said, linked to the creative process.

I have seen many book jackets in which the author specifically chose to be portrayed with a cigarette in his or Her hand.

There You go, Kat, tempting me to write more about this subject again!

Anonymous said...

Your adoration towards women is very much appreciated.

Anonymous said...

you could link my blog.

Open Grove Claudia said...

One of the most interesting things about reading this blog is hearing from someone who loves women. My father didn't. I don't think my mother or sisters do. It's just interesting.

eastcoastdweller said...

Claudia:

So long as it is helpful, so long as it doesn't become tiresome to You and Your divine Sisters, I could expound on the almost indescribable splendor that is every Woman, until I wear the prints off my typing fingertips.

It is an impoverished man who doesn't realize that he walks daily in a world of Womanly beauty, a blind man, a sad man.

And so many Women, as You noted, also live without this enlightenment -- hating themselves, judging themselves and their Sisters, when They should walk with Their beautiful heads held high and unassailable confidence animating Their every thought, word and movement.

Everywhere I turn, the voices of Women are speaking; the words of Women flow across pages; and the sight and scent of Women join the rest of the splendors of universe to thrill me to the core of my being.

I breathe air that millions of Women have inhaled and exhaled over the eons; I walk upon ground that has known the delightful press of their footsteps; I drink water that at some point in history has probably passed a Woman's lips and nourished that ineffable cosmic wonder, Her body.

I come home at night to a delightful Goddess who is warm and intelligent and loving and patient with me.

This is my life and my joy.

LAYDEE D said...

Marry me!

Wanderlust Scarlett said...

Where did this ideal come from?
I am so unaccustomed to hearing men speak this way, or believe as you do.

I am curious about it's origin in your life. Please indulge me and post about it.

I wish more men saw women as equals, at the very least.

Scarlett & Viaggiatore

eastcoastdweller said...

Scarlette: Who can truly nail down when a love began?

-- at what moment they first realized that warm spring earth in their hands and green things growing would delight them for the rest of their lives;

that Italian food would forever launch them into gustatory ecstasy;

that a frightened animal could move them to tears; that the peak of a mountain was where they always wanted to be?

I can never remember a time in my life when I didn't enjoy Female company, not even in my pre-teen years.

I loved a sweet Girl named Laura in pre-school; an earthworm-stomping vixen named Emma in third grade and a sweetie pie named Ann sometime after that; a fifth grade artist named Dawn; and then, sometime around twelve, I truly awoke to the wonder of Woman and have never looked back.

I can remember looking at a magazine -- a church magazine, of all things, one particular day and suddenly being amazed by the beauty of the Female faces sprinkled through its pages, as if I had never seen such a thing before.

My feelings in those teen years were incredibly intense but I kept them to myself for the most part.

If You will not think me insane, I will note that I collected scraps of litter thrown away by my Female classmates' hands, stray strands of Their hair that drifted floor-wards after a good brushing -- even took note of the grassy spot where a lovely young Lady on my cross country team spit once during the exertion of a long run and -- well, perhaps I should restrain myself before I start to sound scary.

Ironically, I bottled up my feelings so tightly that a male friend of mine once asked, in all seriousness, if I was gay.