LONELY

The other day, for the first time in a while, I was feeling lonely. I live alone and most of the time I don't think about it, don't say, I'm alone - it's just the way I live and doesn't mean much either way. So feeling lonely the other day was out of the ordinary. There were friends I could call, meetings to go to, any number of things to keep me busy. But none of it felt right. I was restless but again none of things I thought about doing, seemed like they'd satisfy. Still, I moved though the day and gradually, I realized what I was lonely for - myself. I was lonely for myself, for the me whose mind is engaged, following an interesting train of thought, trying to understand something about the world, the me who wants to learn something new, make something new. The me who wants to focus. I was missing the kind of focus that in a way obliterates me; it's a focus in which to lose myself. In the best of times, it's what writing gives me - the joy of forgetting my self-consciousness, of disappearing into the idea. Discovering self by forgetting self. Becoming completely absorbed, engaged, so free I can let myself be led in that state where choices are made but I have no sense of making them. 
     When I'm connected to myself in that way I'm fully connected to a limitless energy. It's impossible to be lonely or pull down any other possible label. I'm fully myself. Full.