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lonely_in_their_own_homes
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dafremen
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You watch them. Year after year, day after day, you watch them so very carefully. And you poke here to see why this is so, and you prod there to see if it must be.
And all the while, as you drift from forum to forum, in the back of your mind there is a known-ness to this scene that nags at you. Something about the way we post and wait, and come back and come back and come back...looking, hoping for some response. A smiley? A compliment? A raging flaming troll-a-thon? We don't care because we are lonely in our own homes, bored by the very safety that we swear is civilized, (though we nip at each others heels from sun-up til sundown from the sheer monotony of being so safely secured.)
And the scene of the poster and his wishful longing for some sort of contact, any contact at all, is familiar to us because it plays out in every neighborhood in every country in the world: The sound of a forlorn dog barking into the air..waiting for some reply-from-the-ethers to relieve his loneliness, his boredom and his misery.
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111031
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meta
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111207
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emmi
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it's sad when you put it like that. i think of wolves howling in the moonlit night.
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111207
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unhinged
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i guess i forgot how that feels til recently; to be lonely when you aren't really alone
*sigh*
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111208
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daf
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No one is alone here. Not me. Not you. Not any of these imaginaries called pronouns that we use to make conversation easier. But it doesn't seem that way. This seems a profoundly lonely experience at times, mostly I suppose because the spirit knows what the mind only catches a whiff of: that the beingness of the I is the only point of separation..that we are the purveyors of our own loneliness.
But intellectualizing and discussing the nature of it doesn't make the feeling go away, does it? No, it never does and it never will. It never can, because the intellect is the divider. The intellect is the destroyer. The intellect is a careless child on a sunny day, with a magnifying glass..examining ants.
Quote:
"Abuse makes children unable to recognize, discern and know real love. Real love usually does not manifest for us as we do not have the acquired engrams , taught through experiencing and seeing love during our formative years. Love for us is a wild imagining,a wish for life's only promise of comfort.The hope of one day finding a like minded soul who will adore us and be there to comfort us through our arduous lifetime covenant with the ALL and for us in turn to do the same for them."
For YOU are God's hands and heart tending to It's Children..when oh when..will those Children find the hands and heart of God in them too?
Lately I've taken to acting out my frustration again. It's been awhile. The ego in me missed the fake satisfaction it got from pushing back at the walls of this maze..the confused and sleeping people. There is no satisfaction in it. Just the equivalent of a small child in the bathtub playing with himself.
Still, I'll insist, through my own delusion of isolation, that we are NEVER alone and we are never unloved..even here in the coldness of modern human society.
(I sometimes imagine society as a room full of blind people who are trying to hug each other..but who accidentally smack each other when they throw their arms open wide. It's helpful imagery.)
In all of the years that I've flailed, floundered, sputtered and gasped through this messy spiritual journey..only ONE thing has ever truly alleviated that sense of loneliness: communion with God. Whether that is in the forest alone, or in conversation with the rare person who understands the need for connection, one thing we've all but agreed on here: God is Love.
There is love all around us at all times, plump, abundant and waiting to be picked like fruit from the branches of our daily experience.
There is the love of a mother to her child, in a hospital somewhere to touch us and makes us whole.
There is the love of a single mom, working her fingers to the bone to give her children a fond childhood memory or two.
There are the loves of lovers in the parks and paths and boroughs and malls and playgrounds around the globe.
There is a bird nuzzling up to its mate. There a dog looks lovingly and loyally at its human-partner. The bee shivers with joy and excitement at the touch of its tongue to the first drop of golden nectar in a flower put there by the movements of the Caretaker.
Here there is love aplenty. Everywhere there is God..everywhere there are signs that the ALL is with us, for us..and all around us. But not just out there. In here too. Here, in the heart of the heart of us.
What touched us about that bee or that bird and made us smile?
What moves us about that mother, her child and their situation? Fills us with such compassion?
What in a faithful hound's loving look, stirs us to such great devotion ourselves?
Is it that God is with us, in us..IS us, and these are our children that we see? Could it be that ours is the reaction of a parent watching their little ones playing at the playground?
These touch us, not because they remind us of us, but because, they are us..living out another facet of our multifaceted, universe-wide existence.
Good luck in the forest. I was raised there. It's a beautiful place to be..when you can see it through all of the trees.
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111208
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dafremen
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Look outside your window today just once, if not more. Go outside if you weren't planning to already. There is something out there, waiting for you..the lack of which has been killing our people..a sort of repository for all that is new and also all that is ancient. I posit to you today that we are sitting, many of us, in a box. A box with sides formed of ideas, ideas that are being rehashed ad nauseum as billions of independently moving minds are shoved into the funnel of modern forced education and spit out with, for the majority of them, about 16 different attitudes and one way of viewing the world and its fact set: the RIGHT way (whatever that is.)
We further gamble away the future of our creativity, innovation and thus our progress, by setting them down in front of screens that play out the world in a certain way, which describe certain value sets and make those ways of living seem desirable.
Parents blame the media, but don't throw our TVs out the window because we care about our kids so damned much, and the media blames the parents of course for spending billions of dollars pumping brain de-sanityzer into the minds of our world's future caretakers. By the way..supposedly both the media..and the parents are legally considered intelligent responsible adult parties who society trusts with a child's mind.
And now we have a new Scooby Doo movie because nobody could really think of much to write about, except some old cartoon they all saw as kids. And the A-Team and the Hulk and Spiderman and IRon man and etc etc. And we are remaking songs left and right as if the world REALLY needed to hear Justin Beiber singing "Sisters Are Doing it For Themselves."
They shoved our heads in a box and we did the same to ours and you'll do the same to yours if you're not careful. And ingenuity is in the crapper..innovation is dying quickly. It's not that we've run out of things to invent, its that we've run out of new input from the source of all TRUE inspiration: nature.
So I'm going to go outside and watch some birds and shit. I'm going to figure out where the fuck those ants are coming from next summer. Maybe. I'm going to mow the grass, but I'm going to lie down in it before I do. Maybe.
So, I'm gonna shovel some snow and examine a handful of snowflakes to see what they have in common today. I'm just not going to sit inside watching re-hashed ideas play out in front of me.
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111209
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past
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playing lonely notes in chords, watching the mix fade away.
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111210
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thy
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i had a similar thought, daf, to what you were talking about above on 111208, about society being like a room full of blind people trying to hug each other; it was about a week or so before you blathed that.
i was thinking about what it would be like to try to hug a room full of people all at once.
not easy. i'll say that.
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111221
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