Flummoxed

This whole thing has me flummoxed. It's been years since I've felt this noticeably alone. I used to babble on about the willowy, ethereal Buddhist woman and Stevie Nicks and so on, but those were mostly idle wanderings of the mind.

Now, it's as if I almost desperately want someone to be with me, to touch me, to let me put my arms around her, to feel her head on my shoulder.

And there's nothing sweet or charming or touching about some lumpy sack of potatoes like me feeling this way. This is the stuff pretty people do, and it feels wildly inappropriate for me to have these same desires.

Speaking of Alan Watts, he had a great suggestion for meditation. He said one should observe one's own thoughts as if they are sounds coming from the street outside. What a perfect way of describing that process of seeing one's own thinking.

And that's what I've tried to do today. I've tried to see this crazy longing as if it were something coming in from outside. What's it about?

Well, it's harder to deal with than some other things because part of it is tied to basic biological wiring. I was born with it, as we all are.

There is no fundamental right or wrong here. Things are just as they are. But I am swimming against the tide of conventional wisdom and cultural sentiment, and I don't see how this can end well.