The middle of nowhere

Caminante, son tus huellas el camino y nada más

Walking man, the road is your footprints, nothing else

--Joan Manuel Serrat, Cantares

Greetings, reader!

Today, as I scratched my belly, I found myself thinking about the long and winding road that's brought me to where I am. Where is that?

Well, apparently, I've become a neighbor of Courage the Cowardly Dog, who, as fame would have it, lives in the mythical Middle of Nowhere.

Perhaps it's just nostalgia of things lost: those which I dismissed and those that left me behind. However, only recently I started to notice that my ages-old advice is also true for myself: we are surrounded by love.

For some, perhaps, it is the love of and for God. For some others, it might be just the joyful touch of a set of whiskers and maybe a comforting purr in a cold night. And even for some others, it might be some odd fellows who go unnoticed until the most trivial moment reveals them to be as amazing as unexpected.

Tempted as I was to give in to sorrow and such, I am thankful for being lost in this road, as now I can see the medieval Ubi Sunt in a new, and different own way. It's no longer sadness about the things long lost. It's about realizing that everything is transient, and every single second, every single gift and kindness, are the accents in the work of God. I feel fortunate and thankful for them all, as well as for their opposites: they all made me what I am today.

So, I'm no longer sad, nor do I feel abandoned anymore. If anything, I'm dazzled by the infinite posibilities, and perhaps a bit intrigued by the future. I'm finally standing here, with no roads to follow and nothing to make me stay. It seems that, after all, it's a beautiful day.

Fu-Manchu
The Seven Forests of Vancouver, WA
Wednesday, December the 6th, 2013, 18:42 PST