Unmoored and Floating

Sitting here in an Internet cafe in the Mission District of San Francisco, I'm feeling lonely. It's not that I do not have plenty of human contact -- my email inbox is full; I've received several phone messages and texts; and I have plans for tonight.

This loneliness is something else, something that companionship cannot shake.

Considering the devastation this week in Haiti, I became acutely conscious again how vulnerable we are in this city to earthquake damage.

Yet, nothing like the loss of life in Haiti will occur here, no matter how great the quake, because there is no such thing as a natural disaster in this man-made world of ours.

Hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, earthquakes, fires, and volcanoes will devastate parts of earth on a regular basis, but the poor always suffer disproportionately. There is nothing remotely "natural" about this.

The poor are pushed onto marginal lands, below sea-level, on landfill, in flimsy structures close to harm's way. Haiti is a desperately poor country -- that is why so many are dead.

It has nothing to do with "Nature," or "God."

This kind of thinking is not the cause of my loneliness, of course. Clear thinking is one of my best friends. I know what I know, after forty years as a journalist, about how the world works, and I am confident in my analysis.

But, as a person, even one with a rich family life and with caring friends. observing the world has its limits; unless I am engaged with those I love on an almost continuous basis I seem to drift away, like an unmoored boat.

Even when surrounded by those I love, and who love me, this can occur. There seems to be a deep abyss inside me, a place no one can reach, and it summons me at will. Today is one of those times; I'm lost both within and beyond myself.

I've tried but I cannot write the things I need to write today. I've tried to go where I should go but failed. So I sit alone here, keying in words that may or may not resonate with anyone else.

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