The Middle of Somewhere

This is the Middle of Somewhere.

It isn’t Nowhere

it isn’t the Beginning 

and it isn’t the End.  

I take step after step, working my way across this vast expanse of thought, dream, fear and hope. There are some areas that are arid, cracked and crusty, seemingly lacking in every form of life, and yet there are other areas that are lush and green, flourishing with vibrant color and hope.  Much of this journey takes me through seasons of change.  Change in scenery, conditions, emotions, people. . .

I ponder choices.  I wonder about creating.  

How do I experience life?  How do I go about the business of living, exploring, learning?  

I would like to think that I have importance.  That I matter, that maybe I can make a difference, somehow?  But, because I don’t get out and live - outside my walls - do I lack anything worth saying?  I lack experiences, knowledge, activity. . .  If I don’t have any of those things, what do I have to draw from, to write about?  

Should I be writing, drawing, painting, making?  

Do I need to rethink this?  Do I need to find a purpose - a REAL purpose - for doing this “art” thing?  What is my prayer?  Do I have a prayer?  Should I have a prayer?  Why don’t I have a prayer?   

I project ideas onto people around me, thinking of things they can do to make a difference.  

But

What about me?  Why shouldn't I be the one looking to make a difference?  Why do I feel like I cannot make a difference?  What should I be doing?