Loneliness is a strange phenomenon. It is like looking outside of ourselves for ourselves, as if we'll find some permanent, reassuring artifact, a memento, an avatar of our worldly presence to secure us. It is precisely because we have adapted to survive through social cooperation within the tribal enclaves of our families and social circles that in the foreboding chasm where we cannot mirror our existence through the immediate presence of others, that we experience the doom of loneliness. It is an odd phenomenon, like searching everywhere for one's tracks in the sand, without simply realizing that every step we take is an imprint of our primordial footprint in time/space.
And so we cling, like terrified survivors, to the flotsam and jetsam of experiential debris, calling out in the dark for other lost souls. It seems hopeless. It is so; direly and utterly hopeless. And that is where optimism prevails like a beam of light, channeling us to abandon the transient and hypnotic illusion of Self, to be present with pure awareness of that which we are with each breath--a simple, beautiful, pulsing heart.