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This day went like so.

Our friends visited us in the South of France and I wanted to show them a bit of the French Riviera. As I've spent most of my free time there for the past tens years or so, I was taken for a guide.

Mistake.

We tried to find a town called San Juan les Pins. The Navigator claimed that there we were. I, however, didn't recognize anything, and promptly packed everybody back to the car, continuing the search.

Until we reached a familiar looking town... But a little nagging voice in my mind told me to still visit the tourism office and pose the rather classic question, well represented on my travels:

"Could you please tell me which town I'm in?".

It wouldn't have been quite that embarrassing, if we hadn't actually ended up in Antibes - one of the best known, most touristic sites of the South of France. Which I've visited countless times.

To add insult to injury, we of course had originally been at our destination of San Juan les Pins, when I ordered everybody back to the car for further search.

Luckily, my travel companions ae most relaxed and lovely people, and in total holiday mode... They just decided to make the best of where ever we ended up. So we had the best seafood lunch at a picturesque little restaurant, followed by even more picturesque tour of Old Antibes.

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And when we continued for our next destination Nice, my buddies turned on Matti The Navigator and wisely didn't listen to a beep I made from the back seat :).

But just between you and me... I'm quite fond of my talent of getting lost anywhere and anytime.  

Oftentimes, a place you accidentally discover turns out to be much more... delicious... than a trip meticulously planned.

 

~As if I'd ever meticulously plan my journeys~

~*♥*~

If you want to change the world love a man; really love him Choose the one whose soul calls to yours clearly who sees you; who is brave enough to be afraid Accept his hand and guide him gently to your hearts blood Where he can feel your warmth upon him and rest there And burn his heavy load in your fires Look into his eyes look deep within and see what lies dormant or awake or shy or expectant there Look into his eyes and see there his fathers and grandfathers and all the wars and madness their spirits fought in some distant land, some distant time

Look upon their pains and struggles and torments and guilt; without judgment And let it all go Feel into his ancestral burden And know that what he seeks is safe refuge in you Let him melt in your steady gaze And know that you need not mirror that rage Because you have a womb, a sweet, deep gateway to wash and renew old wounds

If you want to change the world love a man, really love him Sit before him, in the full majesty of your woman in the breath of your vulnerability In the play of your child innocence in the depths of your death Flowering invitation, softly yielding, allowing his power as a man To step forward towards you…and swim in the Earth’s womb, in silent knowing, together And when he retreats…because he will…flees in fear to his cave… Gather your grandmothers around you…envelope in their wisdoms Hear their gentle shusshhhed whispers, calm your frightened girls’ heart Urging you to be still…and wait patiently for his return Sit and sing by his door, a song of remembrance, that he may be soothed, once more

If you want to change the world, love a man, really love him Do not coax out his little boy With guiles and wiles and seduction and trickery Only to lure him…to a web of destruction To a place of chaos and hatred More terrible than any war fought by his brothers This is not feminine this is revenge This is the poison of the twisted lines Of the abuse of the ages, the rape of our world And this gives no power to woman it reduces her as she cuts off his balls And it kills us all And whether his mother held him or could not Show him the true mother now Hold him and guide him in your grace and your depth Smoldering in the center of the Earth’s core Do not punish him for his wounds that you think don’t meet your needs or criteria Cry for him sweet rivers Bleed it all back home

If you want to change the world love a man, really love him Love him enough to be naked and free Love him enough to open your body and soul to the cycle of birth and of death And thank him for the opportunity As you dance together through the raging winds and silent woods Be brave enough to be fragile and let him drink in the soft, heady petals of your being Let him know he can hold you stand up and protect you Fall back into his arms and trust him to catch you Even if you’ve been dropped a thousand times before Teach him how to surrender by surrendering yourself And merge into the sweet nothing, of this worlds’ heart

If you want to change the world, love a man, really love him Encourage him, feed him, allow him, hear him, hold him, heal him And you, in turn, will be nourished and supported and protected By strong arms and clear thoughts and focused arrows Because he can, if you let him, be all that you dream

If you want to love a man, love yourself, love your father Love your brother, your son, your ex-partner; from the first boy you kissed, To the last one you wept over Give thanks for the gifts; of your unraveling to this meeting Of the one who stands before you now And find in him the seed to all that’s new and solar A seed that you can feed to help direct the planting To grow a new world, together

~Thank you Grâce Dembovsky, for making my soul smile today.

Thank you also for the tears that come along, with crying sweet rivers.~

~*♥*~

Last night, we had two gentlemen overnight guests. My kids' cousins. Same age. Same - impressive - energy. In the evening, we put mats on the kids' room floor and there they all went to sleep, in one sweet mess. But they're still little so they wanted me to stay with them, in the middle of that sweet mess. There we were all five, my oldest son hugging the smallest. I know a tiny little bit of shiatsu and often massage the soles of my sons' feet when they go to bed - it's so relaxing that it knocks them straight out. So last night the guys were (very exceptionally!) absolutely exhausted by bedtime. They only had the energy to lift a little foot by little foot under the covers, to my direction. After eight feet (and one complimentary Indian head massage) I remember nothing more... They all claim that once again, I was the first to doze off... But luckily, this time nobody had the nocturnal artistic inspiration to make drawings on our walls. Now if that ain't everyday poetry I don't know what is ♥. ~*♥*~

During our French summer we once visited a Michelin star restaurant - a first one for me. Although the restaurant was absolutely beautiful and everything we ate and drank  couldn't have been yummyer... I still must say that most of all I enjoyed the wild flower garden surrounding the 18th century building. Breathtaking. And to my heart's content, the memory of this place is one of charm. Instead of tasteless soulless luxury.   I love this photo by Albert Mäkelä. It nails my little private experience  to the point, with such poignant perfection. ~*♥*~

I don't want to ruin the magic of this Minna Kulmala photoshoot with mere words... A few more pictures, however, you can find at Portrait of a Woman ♥. ~*♥*~