Steeped in sadness

[KillerMuffin]

There's nothing quite like the solitary silence given off by the still depths of soul-steeped sadness. It hurts to be alive. It's a bittersweet pain, joy in the evenness of each breath swallowing the gentle hurt of breathing. Life tastes like a rainbow of richness, a full measure of emotional wealth sprinkled with precious jewels of rubied blood that litters each breath with so much rawness.

No one is immune, no one can hide, no one can be without the coppery residue of pain in the back of the throat. The clawed touch of love is such a strong need that when we don't have it we bleed. The delicate claws so sharp we don't even know we bleed until it splatters on the floor.

And so we live steeped in a sadness inherent in our very humanity. Celebrate or shun, live despite pain or live in it.

 

[sunstruck]

Eloquent. Beautiful. Touching.

 

[Monazwx]

You've been reading Sufisaint's thread haven't you?
The depression is spreading . . .

 

[Lancecastor]

All in a hot and copper sky the bloody sun at noon....

 

[Cheyenne]

I'ts November. Something about November causes sadness.

 

[Aquila]

I'ts November. Something but November causes sadness.

The Devil was born in november.

 

[Kitte]

Can we make november go away.

 

[Olivianna]

Can we make november go away.

Yes - you just keep living.

 

[Kitte]

Yes - you just keep living.

That is that whole breath in breath out thing Im doing right?

 

[SpiceCake]

The past year had been one of constant change for me. I am consumed in sadness and devastated by loss. I need a refill, please. The tears come at will and need to be held is great.

 

[KillerMuffin]

Mirage

The hope I dreamed of was a dream,
   Was but a dream; and now I wake,
Exceeding comfortless, and worn, and old,
   For a dream's sake.

I hang my harp upon a tree,
   A weeping willow in a lake;
I hang my silenced harp there, wrung and snapt
   For a dream's sake.

Lie still, lie still, my breaking heart;
   My silent heart, lie still and break:
Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed
   For a dream's sake.

            - Christina Rossetti

 

[lavender]

 

[70/30]

Maybe it's resulting from the unadulterated support that you gave to the Southern Zealot dominated Republican party. May as well have Texan pick the 3 supreme justices. At least sisters are and he has suspicions about his, maybe it'd make him choose a little more reasonably than GWB, Hatch, and Lott.

 

[Rhys]

My dislike of November is fueled by the single most devistating event in my life. My parents were killed in an auto accident later this month 15 years ago. Half of my life has now been spent without their council and guidance. Half of my life has been spent trying to grow up and be the sane stable son they wanted me to be. Half of my life has been spent wondering if they would be proud of me, and the things that I have done. Half of my life has elapsed and I wonder if they would be appalled at some of the things I have done. I sit outside in the evenings and watch another spectacular neon sunset and the smoke curls from my cigarette and I think about how fragile life really is. Life is a precious thing, never to be taken for granted, although I do it everyday. I can let myself become maudlin if I let myself. I was cursed at birth. I was cursed with the ability to empathise with others. I was cursed with the ability to think and to reason. I sometimes wish I was like the animal in the field that thinks of nothing beyond its next meal. The pain of self realisation is sometimes too great to bear. I have no family save the family I have created for myself. I have members of this family that wander in and out of my life like wraiths on the wind, but they are no less members of my family. Sometimes I realise that some of those members really did not want to be adopted by me, yet they were anyway, because there was something about them that led me to want to adopt them. Some curious quality that made me want to be there for them, though they could not and would not appreciate that from me. I had this discussion earlier with another adopted member of my family. Sometimes I wonder if its my fantastic egotism that makes me think and feel this was, and sometimes I just wonder if I let myself empathise and dream too much. I don't like November. I dislike Thanksgiving. To me, its a silly holiday, the middle of the road to the real overblown celebration of Christmas and while these are family holidays, they hold no particular meaning for me, except that which lives in my memory. I don't celebrate Christmas, I can't remember the last time I had a Christmas tree, although I own a ratty one that I found at a yard sale when I was making a stab at celebrating. I have carted that stupid tree all over. It really is a piece of shit and its falling apart and would take a major feat of engineering just to get it to stand upright and not have all the wire limbs fall off. Each year I swear to myself that I will put it up, that I will decorate it and I will try. Each year I drag it out of the box, shake the dust off of it, and look at it. Then, I put it back in the box and back into storage. I suppose I have no use for things like that. I try but I just don't. I have no reason too. I will probably do what I did last year, go somewhere warm and lay on the beach. But, part of me will be somewhere else, dreaming of snow and laughing in the deep pine forest on a bitterly cold evening as the snowflakes fall as big as silver dollars and my mother and I string popping corn on thread with needles to decorate a scrawny tree. I hate November because it makes me think of these things and I don't like to relive them because I end up blurting myself to the presence of strangers and invited the ridicule of the callous and the deranged. But, all this serves to tell is that I understand November and what it means and that I commiserate with those who also wish that November was dead and that the singular anguish of reflection that November brings would go away, die like the sun and let us all dream of June again.

 

[phrodeau]

No!

No sun--no moon!
No morn--no noon!
No dawn--no dusk--no proper time of day--
No sky--no earthly view--
No distance looking blue--
No road--no street--no "t'other side this way"--
No end to any Row--
No indications where the Crescents go--
No top to any steeple--
No recognitions of familiar people--
No courtesies for showing 'em--
No knowing 'em!
No traveling at all--no locomotion--
No inkling of the way--no notion--
"No go" by land or ocean--
No mail--no post--
No news from any foreign coast--
No Park, no Ring, no afternoon gentility--
No company--no nobility--
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member--
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds--
November!

-- Thomas Hood

 

[Lost Cause]

"Happiness is the temporary remission of pain."

 

[kotori]

the ineffable sadness of being

Mono no Aware
by kotori ©

Strangely bright near midnight
a blanket of clouds reflects the
city-lights even way out here.
The dog chases some phantom
scent across the field as a warm
winter mist hovers, not quite falling.

I learned a new phrase in Japanese,
mono no aware, which was translated
as “the ineffable sadness of being.”
In a few minutes it will be February.
I wish I had a cigarette, and whistle
for the bounding dog’s return.

Thinking of you, sleeping perhaps, the
rhythmic rise and fall of your breasts,
the wisp of hair across your face.
My lips remember the feel of your
skin across so many miles, so many years.
Silently, softly, the mist rolls down.

 

[Guest]

The Old Blue Sofa

 

[lavender]

 

[QuickDuck]

I guess it has something do to with the comming of winter.

the memories of warm days in the sun, being replaced by the cold, wet and misserable days of winter.

On the other hand, for me, it is the comming of summer, the end of the darkness and the arrival of the summer light.

Sadness will always be replaced by light.

Even if it is the grey... the light that stands between the candle and the star, it will win over the darkness.

 

[Ishmael]

Timing.

Each event in our lives hinges on another. The little decision, to talk or not. In these decisions we cast our fates. As others make their decisions as well based on our actions or inactions. We find our mate, only to find that they have chosen another and that that decision was in part based on our own decision, Like the paradox of time I've found that I've been to my past to kill my father only to find that in so doing I've killed myself as well. These things cannot be undone, and it's unrealistic for one to expect that another will see the mistakes made and reset the clock. On such fragile and seemingless tivial events do great changes in the heart rest.

Our souls fly free, searching for the part that completes in a soup of perceptions and beliefs. Wondering in the meeting of another soul if the missing parts match, and never knowing if in the time taken to decide that the other soul may drift on. Or holding so tightly to the soul that you first encounter you are denying both the chance at completeness.

When souls fly free, they fly alone.

Ishmael

 

[Cheyenne]

I hate November because it makes me think of these things and I don't like to relive them because I end up blurting myself to the presence of strangers and invited the ridicule of the callous and the deranged. But, all this serves to tell is that I understand November and what it means and that I commiserate with those who also wish that November was dead and that the singular anguish of reflection that November brings would go away, die like the sun and let us all dream of June again.

This I understand. November is a bad anniversary for me, too, although nothing of the scale of losing my parents.

Thanksgiving is the ultimate family holiday, even more so than Christmas, I think. More people celebrate it- the whole country, not just Christians. But it is a hard holiday for those without "real" family. Part of the darkness of November is due to remembering and then realizing what is missing in our lives. When that answer is "people" it can be a horrible month.

This is the first November in a very long time that I think I will enjoy the whole month. Circumstances have changed in my life so that the hole isn't there anymore, it is filled by hope instead. And that makes all the difference in the world. I think November has finally lost its power over me. At least for this year.

 

[thumbs2_ca]

Glad to hear that Cheyenne. You deserve to be happy, you are a special lady.

 

[bluespoke]

Glad to hear that Cheyenne. You deserve to be happy, you are a special lady.

Can't resist.................I'll second that.

 

[Shiner]

There's nothing quite like the solitary silence given off by the still depths of soul-steeped sadness. It hurts to be alive. It's a bittersweet pain, joy in the evenness of each breath swallowing the gentle hurt of breathing. Life tastes like a rainbow of richness, a full measure of emotional wealth sprinkled with precious jewels of rubied blood that litters each breath with so much rawness.

No one is immune, no one can hide, no one can be without the coppery residue of pain in the back of the throat. The clawed touch of love is such a strong need that when we don't have it we bleed. The delicate claws so sharp we don't even know we bleed until it splatters on the floor.

And so we live steeped in a sadness inherent in our very humanity. Celebrate or shun, live despite pain or live in it.

Gawd you sound like my nephew who's going throuh his teenage goth downer phase.......go to the site below and have a laugh

http://www.beta-recordings.co.uk/americangirls/