Where ever do I look, when the infinite self which I have suddenly become ponders the loneliness, even though days and weeks and years have passed since I knew my personal life was over. Through the books, the mantras, the prayers, the grand words and searing beauty of images and stories and rhythms that are all about that and where to find it, a fierce longing endures. Infinite being that I am, I still need that act of longing, even if it is only a gesture, a nod of the head, a movement in the eye from that being that knows, that personhood that peers out of the infinite as someone that is not the impersonal, cold absolute. There cannot be unbounded life without it! I cannot crawl out of the ocean onto land without that something that will make infinity plausible as a landscape for living. Where to go without that? Who to be?