Musings about the black screen of death

The other night my cell phone checked out permanently and without warning.  It was as though it suffered sudden and major cardiac arrest, leaving me abandoned - alone - isolated...
One moment I was using it and, the next...

the black screen of death.

I was in a store and, in an instant, I  was unconnected.

no phone
no laptop

no one with me.

solo

unaccompanied

unreachable.

I was alone, no one could contact me, and I couldn't contact anyone.

Why did I feel so weird - so strange - so almost... insecure?  A*L*O*N*E.  Maybe because in this day and age of techno-connection, I am NEVER alone?  Am I that used to having instant availability of someone with me - someone I can reach - and who can reach me - anytime - anyplace - anywhere?  Yes.  I am.  My mind grasped for - someone.  There weren't even any pay phones anywhere because...

...no one needs them anymore!  We're ALL techno-connected.
Except for me - I had been techno-abandoned.

I thought quickly: What if someone wants me?  Is looking for me?  Needs me?  What if I want or need someone?  I have no way to reach out and touch, because technology just became the victim of

 - the black screen of death.

I grieved temporarily over the loss, yet felt a twinge of sweet liberty - release - deliverance.  There was a sense of freedom in being alone, a peace in being unconnected.  There's a depth to my soul that doesn't get tapped through the noise of the everyday, which I felt opening.  I wasn't alone.  I wasn't abandoned.  For a change, I could embrance a connection with my own inner-self and enjoy the solitude of no techno-encumbrances.

Unconnected was good for a change.
For a brief time, I enjoyed the blackness.