Lonely Loneliness

back to the mountain top…

Question:

oh Carey….. I have so missed you…. (((((((Carey))))))) please don’t be gone for too long…. though I am taking break….  can we meet sometime on line? sera. this….      well…….   pretty much described my feelings. – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Hello AAR It is me, Carey I have been absent awhile… and will be again, just a visit…a walk on the beach and then back to the mountain top. There is in certain living souls A quality of loneliness unspeakable, So great if must be shared As company is shared by others. Such a loneliness is mine…. …then he hit on the idea of the bottles.  He got all the bottles he could and wrote on papers which he corked into the bottles.  He’d tramp miles up and down the beaches and throw bottles as far as he could.  He knew that if the right person found one, it would give that person the only thing in the world that would help.  Those bottles have kept him going for months. Everyone’s got to have a secret little something he does. …at last the time comes when it is no use any more.  You can go on trying to be heard…trying to hear.  But storm winds and broken glass speak their own truths…and soon you cannot pretend anymore.  And that’s it.  The end. Your truth may not look like mine, but that is not what matters. What matters is this:  You can look at a scar and see hurt, or you can look at a scar and see healing.  Try to understand… …ultimately it is only through understanding that the loneliness is lifted. …with apologies to T. Sturgeon and Sherri Reynolds Carey — For more information about this posting service, contact: If you want an anonymous account, visit our sign-up page: http://asarian-host.org/emailform.html

Response:

Hi.   MoonDancer here. Hello AAR It is me, Carey I have been absent awhile…

Me, too. and will be again, just a visit…a walk on the beach and then back to the mountain top.

I wish I had a mountain top to go to.  These days, I am drowning in the refuse of the past with no clear idea of what the future will be like. There is in certain living souls A quality of loneliness unspeakable, So great if must be shared As company is shared by others. Such a loneliness is mine….

I hope there are people in RL that you can touch….I can understand why you need to be involved in some other effort than this one, …then he hit on the idea of the bottles.  He got all the bottles he could and wrote on papers which he corked into the bottles.  He’d tramp miles up and down the beaches and throw bottles as far as he could.  He knew that if the right person found one, it would give that person the only thing in the world that would help.  Those bottles have kept him going for months. Everyone’s got to have a secret little something he does.

I have searched carefully for the beautiful bottles you’ve thrown, looking for the ones meant for me.  Sometimes I see myself in reflections in the sides of amber and saphire and emerald bottles you’ve sent to others.  I bask in the red glow of your ruby ones, the pieces of mirror you cemented on them and seeing a reflection of myself, albeit fractured and broken.   …at last the time comes when it is no use any more.  You can go on trying to be heard…trying to hear.  But storm winds and broken glass speak their own truths…and soon you cannot pretend anymore.  And that’s it.  The end.

Carey, you may not remember me.  You may never know how your "baking bread" post touched me, strengthened me.  Know this, though—When you need someone to talk to, drop me an e-mail.  I don’t read here as much as I did.  It hurts sometimes.  But I do care. Perhaps you need to open the carved wooden box I am leaving for you by the beachwall.  I leave a dream inside, one just for you, one you may have treasured, but forgotten.  Think on it for a while, though.  Holding the box may just bring other dreams to you without opening this one.  Whatever you choose, may it be a part of the peace you are creating for yourself. MoonDancer <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< The most precious gift is the gift of love…but it cannot be given till it is accepted within.      Audrey Wade <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -Your truth may not look like mine, but that is not what matters. What matters is this:  You can look at a scar and see hurt, or you can look at a scar and see healing.  Try to understand… …ultimately it is only through understanding that the loneliness is lifted. …with apologies to T. Sturgeon and Sherri Reynolds Carey

Response:

p&e – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Hello AAR It is me, Carey I have been absent awhile… and will be again, just a visit…a walk on the beach and then back to the mountain top. There is in certain living souls A quality of loneliness unspeakable, So great if must be shared As company is shared by others. Such a loneliness is mine…. …then he hit on the idea of the bottles.  He got all the bottles he could and wrote on papers which he corked into the bottles.  He’d tramp miles up and down the beaches and throw bottles as far as he could.  He knew that if the right person found one, it would give that person the only thing in the world that would help.  Those bottles have kept him going for months. Everyone’s got to have a secret little something he does.

you know, i never said anything, but i always envisioned you putting letters/writings in those bottles, before you cast them into the sea! well, also envisioned pretty colored glass …at last the time comes when it is no use any more.  You can go on trying to be heard…trying to hear.  But storm winds and broken glass speak their own truths…and soon you cannot pretend anymore.  And that’s it.  The end. Your truth may not look like mine, but that is not what matters. What matters is this:  You can look at a scar and see hurt, or you can look at a scar and see healing.  Try to understand… …ultimately it is only through understanding that the loneliness is lifted. …with apologies to T. Sturgeon and Sherri Reynolds Carey

Carey … i hear you. peace, karmagrrl

Response:

Sorry Carey the first post was cast into the storm.  I’ve deleted so I could address what was originally said.  No  disrespect to the poster because what he says I most certainly have found to be true.  So many times.  No.  On second thought I have left it here. Hello AAR It is me, Carey I have been absent awhile… and will be again, just a visit…a walk on the beach and then back to the mountain top.

We always need to return to the moutain tops Carey.  So many times.  It’s where we are refreshed and replenish outselves.  Granted, once there, we often don’t want to leave, but eventually we do.  And return because that is us. There is in certain living souls A quality of loneliness unspeakable, So great if must be shared As company is shared by others. Such a loneliness is mine….

The loneliness does not mean alone Carey.  It is a much different space.  We didn’t have much time to speak of that but it comes and goes.  In time it is both lonely and refreshing.  Trust the process.  And yup, I’m tired too, not tired enough just yet but will be.. It’s your time to rest.  It’s a combination of plateau after resting and a bit of transformation.  Trust and you will be surprised at what you see on the next horizon.  :-). …then he hit on the idea of the bottles.  He got all the bottles he could and wrote on papers which he corked into the bottles.  He’d tramp miles up and down the beaches and throw bottles as far as he could.  He knew that if the right person found one, it would give that person the only thing in the world that would help.  Those bottles have kept him going for months. Everyone’s got to have a secret little something he does.

Remember those bottles do not always reach who we suspected.  Just voice your truth quietly and you did, sweet Carey.  They go where they are meant to go.  Ah, yes, and as to the Warrior,!    it comes out at the most unexpected times, times that we trust they shouldn’t have.  That all is part of the process too. …at last the time comes when it is no use any more.  You can go on trying to be heard…trying to hear.  But storm winds and broken glass speak their own truths…and soon you cannot pretend anymore.  And that’s it.  The end.

No, never the end.  It is the beginning.  An illusion of the end.  Perhaps the end of what we "thought" we would accomplish but we never really do know, you know ???<G  Perhaps it is time that the bottles have not meaning to you as a metaphor but I suspect that the process will go on.  What dear man, is your next metaphor?  We do not know until after we have rested on the plateau.  :-) Your truth may not look like mine, but that is not what matters. What matters is this:  You can look at a scar and see hurt, or you can look at a scar and see healing.  Try to understand… …ultimately it is only through understanding that the loneliness is lifted.

And another metaphor will come to you Carey, just like the bottles but you will be on a different level.  But Carey, it always amazes me that you do not appear to recognize the level within yourself – only  in others. ah yes.  We’ll have to work on that, won’t we???? <gentle smile Panther – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – …with apologies to T. Sturgeon and Sherri Reynolds Carey Storms pass.  This one will too. — Checkmate

Response:

Did I tell you lately how much I loved you, friend jeeco????? And such a friend you are! Panther – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Hello AAR Hello Friend, It is me, Carey and I, jeeco I have been absent awhile… and will be again, just a visit…a walk on the beach and then back to the mountain top. The beach is a good place to be at this time of the year.  The winter and Spring gales and storms have brought much up onto the beach. There is in certain living souls A quality of loneliness unspeakable, So great if must be shared As company is shared by others. Such a loneliness is mine…. A loneliness shared by others, I think. …then he hit on the idea of the bottles.  He got all the bottles he could and wrote on papers which he corked into the bottles. Early attempt at recycling? He’d tramp miles up and down the beaches and throw bottles as far as he could.  He knew that if the right person found one, it would give that person the only thing in the world that would help.  Those bottles have kept him going for months. Everyone’s got to have a secret little something he does. Some have more secrets than others and to see another’s secrets laid out to wither and die in the bright of light can be very liberating and empowering. …at last the time comes when it is no use any more.  You can go on trying to be heard…trying to hear.  But storm winds and broken glass speak their own truths…and soon you cannot pretend anymore.  And that’s it.  The end. Ah but it is not the end.  Bottles of wisdom, compassion, raw truth, anger and love are still out there borne by the great elemental currents of the ocean.  Some are held in the web of life in the Sargasso Seas, waiting for the right circumstance of wind, wave and current to set them on their way. Indeed some have been shattered on the rock of cold distant headlands.  Most have found their way to those long gentle strands where the saw grass grows atop the dunes and they lay waiting in the bright reflection of sand and sea, a dark blue of hope.  A message of hope and life in a bottle. Your truth may not look like mine, but that is not what matters. What matters is this:  You can look at a scar and see hurt, or you can look at a scar and see healing.  Try to understand… …ultimately it is only through understanding that the loneliness is lifted. …with apologies to T. Sturgeon and Sherri Reynolds Carey There is a view from the edge of the cave mouth, just to the right, at a place where the slope to the cave is indeed a rock cliff with sharp scree at the base far below.  From there, if you lean just a bit outward over the edge, you can see in the haze a sharp line of white and dark blue black.  It is bounded by the light green of the marshes and dark black green of the forest on the near side.  On the far side it is endless blue meeting blue of sea and sky.   There in that middle ground, one can, if they are lucky, catch a glimpse of the bottle thrower.  A speaker of truths. jeeco [snip] — For more information about this posting service, contact: If you want an anonymous account, visit our sign-up page: http://asarian-host.org/emailform.html

Response:

Thank you Moon Dancer, I think he will find your box Ah! And what hidden treasures I’m sure are there! Panther – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Hi.   MoonDancer here. Hello AAR It is me, Carey I have been absent awhile… Me, too. and will be again, just a visit…a walk on the beach and then back to the mountain top. I wish I had a mountain top to go to.  These days, I am drowning in the refuse of the past with no clear idea of what the future will be like. There is in certain living souls A quality of loneliness unspeakable, So great if must be shared As company is shared by others. Such a loneliness is mine…. I hope there are people in RL that you can touch….I can understand why you need to be involved in some other effort than this one, …then he hit on the idea of the bottles.  He got all the bottles he could and wrote on papers which he corked into the bottles.  He’d tramp miles up and down the beaches and throw bottles as far as he could.  He knew that if the right person found one, it would give that person the only thing in the world that would help.  Those bottles have kept him going for months. Everyone’s got to have a secret little something he does. I have searched carefully for the beautiful bottles you’ve thrown, looking for the ones meant for me.  Sometimes I see myself in reflections in the sides of amber and saphire and emerald bottles you’ve sent to others.  I bask in the red glow of your ruby ones, the pieces of mirror you cemented on them and seeing a reflection of myself, albeit fractured and broken. …at last the time comes when it is no use any more.  You can go on trying to be heard…trying to hear.  But storm winds and broken glass speak their own truths…and soon you cannot pretend anymore.  And that’s it.  The end. Carey, you may not remember me.  You may never know how your "baking bread" post touched me, strengthened me.  Know this, though—When you need someone to talk to, drop me an e-mail.  I don’t read here as much as I did.  It hurts sometimes.  But I do care. Perhaps you need to open the carved wooden box I am leaving for you by the beachwall.  I leave a dream inside, one just for you, one you may have treasured, but forgotten.  Think on it for a while, though.  Holding the box may just bring other dreams to you without opening this one.  Whatever you choose, may it be a part of the peace you are creating for yourself. MoonDancer <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< The most precious gift is the gift of love…but it cannot be given till it is accepted within.      Audrey Wade <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< Your truth may not look like mine, but that is not what matters. What matters is this:  You can look at a scar and see hurt, or you can look at a scar and see healing.  Try to understand… …ultimately it is only through understanding that the loneliness is lifted. …with apologies to T. Sturgeon and Sherri Reynolds Carey

Response:

Thank you Moon Dancer, I think he will find your box Ah! And what hidden treasures I’m sure are there! Panther

I hope so.  I am learning that our dearest treasures are the ones we’ve hidden from ourselves. Pleasant dreams, Lady Panther.  I hope you are enjoying the moonlight over your slab.  I think I will go out and enjoy the cool silver showers myself…. Good Night, MoonDancer <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< The most precious gift is the gift of love…but it cannot be given till it is accepted within.      Audrey Wade <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Hi.   MoonDancer here. Hello AAR It is me, Carey I have been absent awhile… Me, too. and will be again, just a visit…a walk on the beach and then back to the mountain top. I wish I had a mountain top to go to.  These days, I am drowning in the refuse of the past with no clear idea of what the future will be like. There is in certain living souls A quality of loneliness unspeakable, So great if must be shared As company is shared by others. Such a loneliness is mine…. I hope there are people in RL that you can touch….I can understand why you need to be involved in some other effort than this one, …then he hit on the idea of the bottles.  He got all the bottles he could and wrote on papers which he corked into the bottles.  He’d tramp miles up and down the beaches and throw bottles as far as he could.  He knew that if the right person found one, it would give that person the only thing in the world that would help.  Those bottles have kept him going for months. Everyone’s got to have a secret little something he does. I have searched carefully for the beautiful bottles you’ve thrown, looking for the ones meant for me.  Sometimes I see myself in reflections in the sides of amber and saphire and emerald bottles you’ve sent to others.  I bask in the red glow of your ruby ones, the pieces of mirror you cemented on them and seeing a reflection of myself, albeit fractured and broken. …at last the time comes when it is no use any more.  You can go on trying to be heard…trying to hear.  But storm winds and broken glass speak their own truths…and soon you cannot pretend anymore.  And that’s it.  The end. Carey, you may not remember me.  You may never know how your "baking bread" post touched me, strengthened me.  Know this, though—When you need someone to talk to, drop me an e-mail.  I don’t read here as much as I did.  It hurts sometimes.  But I do care. Perhaps you need to open the carved wooden box I am leaving for you by the beachwall.  I leave a dream inside, one just for you, one you may have treasured, but forgotten.  Think on it for a while, though.  Holding the box may just bring other dreams to you without opening this one.  Whatever you choose, may it be a part of the peace you are creating for yourself. MoonDancer <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< The most precious gift is the gift of love…but it cannot be given till it is accepted within.      Audrey Wade <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< Your truth may not look like mine, but that is not what matters. What matters is this:  You can look at a scar and see hurt, or you can look at a scar and see healing.  Try to understand… …ultimately it is only through understanding that the loneliness is lifted. …with apologies to T. Sturgeon and Sherri Reynolds Carey

Response:

Sorry to hitch on to your post sera but I never got the original Hi Carey You are heard, loud and clear. I value your words, and you are right to frame things in a healing light. Once a scar has formed healing has begun. The wound is no longer open. You have put out a lot of salve for the wounds which are hard of healing, maybe you were not given any healing in return. I think we are selfish in our pain and I am sorry for that. sorry you are feeling this way. I miss you. Be good to yourself ((((({{{{{Carey}}}}}))))) if that is okay Ruth — Today, is the tomorrow, you worried about yesterday. Anonymous

| oh Carey….. | | I have so missed you…. | (((((((Carey))))))) | | please don’t be gone for too long…. though I am taking break…. can we | meet sometime on line? | | sera. | | this….      well…….   pretty much described my feelings. | | |

| Hello AAR | | It is me, Carey | | I have been absent awhile… | and will be again, just a visit…a walk on the beach | and then back to the mountain top. | | There is in certain living souls | A quality of loneliness unspeakable, | So great if must be shared | As company is shared by others. | Such a loneliness is mine…. | | …then he hit on the idea of the bottles.  He got all the bottles he | could | and wrote on papers which he corked into the bottles.  He’d tramp miles up | and down the beaches and throw bottles as far as he could.  He knew that if | the right person found one, it would give that person the only thing in the | world that would help.  Those bottles have kept him going for months. | Everyone’s got to have a secret little something he does. | | …at last the time comes when it is no use any more.  You can go on | trying | to be heard…trying to hear.  But storm winds and broken glass speak their | own truths…and soon you cannot pretend anymore.  And that’s it. The end. | | Your truth may not look like mine, but that is not what matters. What | matters is this:  You can look at a scar and see hurt, or you can look at a | scar and see healing.  Try to understand… | | …ultimately it is only through understanding that the loneliness is | lifted. | | …with apologies to T. Sturgeon and Sherri Reynolds | | Carey | | | | | | — | For more information about this posting service, contact: | | | If you want an anonymous account, visit our sign-up page: | | http://asarian-host.org/emailform.html | |

Response:

Carey, Just as when you love, it’s effects do not need to be witnessed or even exist, love remains love simply because it is.  Love because you do, expect nothing in return and you shall receive the world, it just may not look as you imagined or come from who you expected.  Do this for your self, for without your self, what have you? Take care and love with you as you journey. James – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -Hello AAR It is me, Carey I have been absent awhile… and will be again, just a visit…a walk on the beach and then back to the mountain top. There is in certain living souls A quality of loneliness unspeakable, So great if must be shared As company is shared by others. Such a loneliness is mine…. …then he hit on the idea of the bottles.  He got all the bottles he could and wrote on papers which he corked into the bottles.  He’d tramp miles up and down the beaches and throw bottles as far as he could.  He knew that if the right person found one, it would give that person the only thing in the world that would help.  Those bottles have kept him going for months. Everyone’s got to have a secret little something he does. …at last the time comes when it is no use any more.  You can go on trying to be heard…trying to hear.  But storm winds and broken glass speak their own truths…and soon you cannot pretend anymore.  And that’s it.  The end. Your truth may not look like mine, but that is not what matters. What matters is this:  You can look at a scar and see hurt, or you can look at a scar and see healing.  Try to understand… …ultimately it is only through understanding that the loneliness is lifted. …with apologies to T. Sturgeon and Sherri Reynolds Carey

Response:

Yes I suspect so too Lis Panther – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Sometimes, as I gaze upon the dawn or the sunset, I’ll see one of those bottles floating by, intended for another.  I’ll pick up the bottle, reflect upon the message, and place it back into the bottle, to journey toward its next recipient. And Carey?  I’ve noticed often the message papers are a bit tattered and crumpled even before I find them.  So I suspect I am not alone in doing so…. JustLis Hello AAR It is me, Carey I have been absent awhile… and will be again, just a visit…a walk on the beach and then back to the mountain top. There is in certain living souls A quality of loneliness unspeakable, So great if must be shared As company is shared by others. Such a loneliness is mine…. …then he hit on the idea of the bottles.  He got all the bottles he could and wrote on papers which he corked into the bottles.  He’d tramp miles up and down the beaches and throw bottles as far as he could.  He knew that if the right person found one, it would give that person the only thing in the world that would help.  Those bottles have kept him going for months. Everyone’s got to have a secret little something he does. …at last the time comes when it is no use any more.  You can go on trying to be heard…trying to hear.  But storm winds and broken glass speak their own truths…and soon you cannot pretend anymore.  And that’s it.  The end. Your truth may not look like mine, but that is not what matters. What matters is this:  You can look at a scar and see hurt, or you can look at a scar and see healing.  Try to understand… …ultimately it is only through understanding that the loneliness is lifted. …with apologies to T. Sturgeon and Sherri Reynolds Carey [snip [snip]

Response:

Filed under: Loneliness Lonely

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