Coucoumellisms

From Juana la Cubana 's desert isle: This is the last post I will be posting here. I have moved to my own blog: http://juanitacubanita.blogspot.com/ This should make Coucoumellisms a lot simpler to navigate, and make it easier to express myself without the confusion of there being two personalities.

From the desert Isle of Juana la Cubana: He doesn't pay attention. His eyes go blank when I talk to him of things that he finds boring. He wants to do things his way. I am glad I do not live with him or I think I would go nuts. However as he passes by and drops in from time to time, I must still put up with chairs being placed just so, convenient for him, but in my way, or other such things. He does not want to listen to my arguments for something different, so I put up with him until he leaves again. Then Gollum will suddenly appear, with some project he has been working on and asks my opinion. I am not sure why he wants it, as most times he is not interested in what I think. Perhaps he is just excited about what he is doing, and in spite of him he needs to share that excitement with another. Perhaps my opinion still does not count, and this is just one way to get some kind of approval or compliment. Perhaps it makes him feel generous to let me voice an opinion on some s...

From Juana la Cubana Thoughts from a desert isle... I used to think it was a given that if you cared for a person, you would go out of your way to make that person feel special in little ways. I thought everyone thought like this. With the exception of course of crappy, criminal-type people. I was wrong. It just doesn't occur to some people to do that sort of thing. Either they were not brought up in families that made a big deal about each other, or else they are actually oblivious to the fact that people around them have gone out of their way to do something to please them and do not think to do the same in return. Oh they love you, they don't want to see you hurt or poor or sick or in dire straits. They'll help you out if you ask for it. But if you're far away and lonely, they won't think to send photos or keep you up to date as if you were close. They don't care if you do anything for their birthday or not, and expect you not to care either. Birthday and C...

Truth hides in the little things. Truth burrows itself into the details. Light still escapes between the shades of a window. Fossils long buried eventually come to the surface. What's left unsaid, what's left undone speaks volumes about who you really are. Pieces of the puzzle come together, a clue here, a hint there, a sudden revelation. Sometimes fate has a reason, some things were never meant to be. You might never lie, but you hide behind the blinds. You take advantage of distance, you only show what is convenient to you, but you can't hide forever. You will be found out. Truth oozes out of the wounds you leave behind. It trickles out in the tears cried, it pours out from behind the dam broken.

On the road of life, there are Ups and Downs and every once in awhile, a sudden intersection. I haven't hit one of those in awhile. The last time I hit one, I think I took the wrong road. I was in the Highlands for awhile, but then I hit gullies. A lot of them. My road has gone through quicksand and badlands. Found some fossils there. Which way should I have gone? Where are the mountains? I just want to soar like the eagles and be free for awhile. From the road I am on I sometimes glimpse those peaks, but the road does not take me there. It bends and twists, and sometimes I think I am coming back to gullies I have visited before. I am so tired of the prairies. With all this open space you would think I'd be free as the antelope, but I am a prisoner of the road. I am the river obliged to flow always in the same bed. There are days when the sun shines bright, and things seem better, except for the dust this creates on the road. Sometimes when other people go past, ...

I believe that if I had a scale on my island, it would tell me that I have lost weight again this Christmas season, in spite of the fact that Gypsy Queen brought goodies with her. Nothing like a little seasonal depression to make one lose interest in food. It's the rainy season, and besides, Christmas with no family does tend to make one feel a bit lonely, and who wants to go fishing in a downpour?

I do not understand a world which makes such a fuss over fleeting things. We are spiritual as well as physical beings but we have forgotten the spiritual. That emptiness, that void inside us, it cannot be filled with physical things. On one hand, I am a physical being. I take pleasure in simple things, coffee that tastes just right, raindrops on my nose, the sound of waves crashing on the beach, the feel of sand between my toes. On the other hand I am a spiritual being. I need spirit to spirit contact. Long talks with close friends, philosophy, a song whose lyrics mean something, a poem, a conversation with God. There is balance to be had. A life filled with carnal pleasure alone is a very lonely, empty life indeed. On the other hand, a life empty of carnal pleasure is a very sad, boring life. One cannot replace the other. In the same way, a mariage based on only one or the other of these two poles is an incomplete mariage. I wonder sometimes, just how does prayer work? How ca...

It has been three years now since that boating accident that took the life of my husband and stuck me on this island. I still miss him, in spite of enjoying the solitude. One does not care for a person and forget them so easily. It was on New Years Day three years ago that I ended up here, the result of a carribean holiday gone wrong. It is funny how a person can be lonely, yet not alone and then turn around and be alone but not lonely. Perhaps it is because in my solitude I feel the presence of God even more and I am never alone. When life is reduced to the basics, gathering food, making shelter, getting fire, it puts life into perspective. Everyting else is superfluous. I have become more effective in gather food in the past years and now I have time to dedicate to such things as weaving. I have tried weaving different grasses, and I have gotten so good that I have invented different patterns of weaving. The floor of my hut is full of grass mats. It is art, it is creative, b...

Juana is back... after a few storms and such. I have managed to power up once again and the wind is just right out here in the Bermuda triangle. (Sometimes I think my own mind is a Bermuda Triangle.) Ahhh, Bon Jovi, one of my favourites. Yes, I could go down that endless highway, and gladly too. Gollum has been acting up again, I try to explain why I feel the way I do about things, but his eyes cloud over and I know he is tuning me out. "My precious" he mutters and no longer hears me. Thankfully I do not have to put up with him too much, as he does not come to visit too often. The Gypsy Queen was here around Christmas time and although we do not always agree on everything, it is always nice to have someone around who understands you, in spite of your differences. A new person has come to visit me on my island, a certain Mr. Tumnus. A very likable fellow, in spite of his having hooves and horns. I invited him for tea, forgot that I didn't have tea leaves, but he had...

It's not that the satellite phone hasn't been up and running, the real reason why I haven't posted here in awhile is that basically things have been going well, and nothing extraordinary has happened. It's like they say, no news is good news. Or like Tolstoy said about all happy families being the same and unhappy families having the ineresting stories... or something like that. Unless you count that I have moved my hut halfway up the volcano. I found a level spot on higher ground that would accomodate a hut and moved there instead. The monkeys don't hang around there so much and there is a waterfall nearby. It is just above the abandonned monastery. I still come to the beach. I have to fish for food sometimes. But the wind doesn't blow so hard in the new hut, and the rain doesn't get in like before.

Christmas is coming. I am waiting for it. Advent is a time of waiting, of hoping, of dreaming, like the people of Israel, long before the promised Messiah came. I too, walk in darkness, I dream, I imagine things different from what they are, I even dare to hope a little. Christmas is a time for rejoicing, a time of fulfillment. Christmas is light banishing the darkness, happiness banishing sorrow, a promise kept. I wait patiently for Christmas to come on my island. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light, Upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shone. Isaiah 9:1

I dreamt I was back on the boat last night, as it was starting to sink. My husband was helping me into the rowboat, when he slipped and fell overboard. I dove in to try to find him, but it was dark and windy and raining, and I kept swimming around in circles and swimming around in circles, calling his name... My husband and I had rented a sailboat so we could go sailing for a month in the gulf of Mexico, visit some of the small uninhabited islands (my dream) and go fishing (his dream). It was supposed to be a second honeymoon, (although technically, we never really went on a first honeymoon) but also it was supposed to be a fun adventure, rest and relaxation after the long illness and death of our daughter. It was supposed to bring us together, not separate us. My husband was trying to get the rowboat untied when he fell overboard. In the dark and cold, with adrenaline rushing through him, he fumbled at the knots and instead of coming esily untied, they became hopelessly knotted. I had...

Some days I think I'd like to go back to civilization. And then suddenly, I am reminded of the brainless chittering that goes on in our consumerist society. Instead of going for what lasts, society prefers disposable. Disposable diapers, disposable "swiffers", disposable relationships, disposable sex. And then, suddenly I prefer the quiet of my island. I have no desire to even have a romantic relationship. I think I no longer believe in love. Or at least, I think very few men out there prefer the non-disposable kind of love. I am dis-enchanted. I prefer to be single than to even try having some kind of relationship. I believe I am better off alone. I had a husband once. He didn't make it to the island, he couldn't swim very well. He's gone on to a better place. I hope. Yes, I had a husband once. There is a time for everything, and for everything a place. I do not believe I am called to go back to that. I do not desire to sacrifice myself for someone who misun...

It has been a long time since I have had anything to say. Sometimes, when things are going well, there just isn't anything to say. Didn't Tolstoy say something about all happy families being the same but all unhappy families being different? As in when you're happy, there is no story to tell, when you are unhappy, THEN there is a story to tell. Life can be stormy sometimes, but there is something magic about a storm, something powerful. Huge storms hit my island, but that is what shapes it, makes it so rugged, so beautiful. There have been no major storms here recently, however, and I have been walking around my island quite a bit. Imagine my surprise when I came across an old stone building. It had stone arches, and tiny narrow windows. It was surrounded by a courtyard, which, in turn, was surrounded by a stone wall. In the courtyard were what I presume were once vegetable gardens, and in one corner was an orchard. It has mostly gone to weed now. However many of the trees ...

Gypsy Queen, where do you come up with these guys anyway? Poor Gypsy Queen came visiting recently and told me of her most recent encounter with the species known as hominus malus. Gypsy Queen has been renting a villa, which she no longer desires to rent. So it was up for lease by the owner. A couple came calling the other day, to visit the villa, and have decided to rent it. The husband came back a few days later for some technical reason, and Gypsy Queen and he got to talking. They were apparently having a good conversation, when the husband started complaining about the mentality in this place, how friends couldn't "love" each other and whatnot. Gypsy Queen could see where this was going, and wasn't very surprised when the husband proposed. His proposition was that since Gypsy Queen and he were now friends, she should sacrifice herself so they could have sex together. Gypsy Queen had a different proposition. He could open the door and leave. That woman he was with? ...

I am a prisonner. I do not always feel it, I often forget it, but the fact remains, no matter how beautiful it is, no matter how content I feel on certain days, no matter how accustumed I become to the situation, I live in a prison. Lived in a prison. Perhaps I still do. One would think this desert island to be more of a prison than living in society, but liberty is a relative concept. Society is a prison. It is those who are different who realize it. I am more free here on the small island where space is limited than many places I have been before. Repression, I have felt. I have been the target of attacks. Here, on my island, there is neither.

Four Jobs 1. Cook 2. Head-lice inspector 3. Webmaster 4. Ship's mate Four Movies I Would Watch Over and Over: 1. Swiss Robinson Family 2. Veggie Tales Jonah 3. Star Wars 4. Castaway Four Places I Have Lived: 1. Luque, Paraguay 2. House boat 3. Canada 4. This deserted island Four TV Shows I Love to Watch: 1. Don't get much TV out here... 2. 3. 4. Websites I visit daily: (err, not daily, but whenever the wind is right and my satelite phone gets charged...) 1. Coucoumellisms 2. Two Sleepy Mothers (but I let Coucoumelle, AKA Jeanne, do all the commenting) 3. 4. Fav Four Foods 1. lobster 2. macaroni salad 3. pina colada 4. fresh mango Four Places I Would Rather Be: 1. back home in Canada 2. on the summit of a high mountain 3. Heaven 4. back on a boat Four People I Am Tagging: 1. You 2. You 3. You 4. You

I have created a partial map of what I have explored so far on this island. I have not gone much farther than this, so I do not know what the other side of the island looks like, just enough to know that it is an island.

I went past the monkeys the other day and decided to explore a bit up above where the cliffs start to form again. I was walking through the trees, and suddenly came to where there was a circle of bare earth under the trees. It must have been a meter and a half in diameter or so, and no vegetation grew in it at all. I thought that was a little strange and walked around the circle a bit and then stepped into it. I looked up through the tops of the trees at the blue sky overhead. Birds sang, insects hummed, a butterfly fluttered past. I stepped out of the circle and suddenly, I was no longer on my island. Like a ghost stepping through a wall, in an instant I found myself in the presence of a black and white, two-dimensional stick man. Stick-Paul comes from a two-dimensional universe and has been visiting our three-dimensional universe. Stick-Paul is a poet who has a way with words I can only envy and not hope to emulate. His manager is somewhat aloof, but actually quite sympathetic. I rea...

I have built a tiny chapel in the woods. A quiet place to meditate. I face the east and pray. Noone interupts me. I sit and meditate. Noone cares because their plans are interupted by my insistance on spending time with God. At some point in my life I became blind to consequences. I chose to ignore obvious outcomes of my decisions. I suffered for it later. Here I purge that suffering. I have built my chapel on the side of the sleeping volcano, but only a few paces up. I have yet to explore the top of this mountain. Perhaps some day I will fly with the birds up there? A few minutes restores me, refreshes me. I must go more often.