Middle of nowhere

I once listened to a person talking who shared about an older person he once knew. This older person always made mention of the fact that he grew up in the middle of nowhere. Until recently, often when catching myself in a frenzy in the fast-paced rat race in which I frequent, the thought of taking a trip to the middle of nowhere was appealing.

To be, for a short-term sabbatical at least, a nowhere man living in the middle of nowhere. I’ve also been curious about the nowhere man, after listening to the Beatles sing one of their classic songs having that as its title.

Lately, though, with all this shelter in place stuff keeping me more homebound, it’s given me a greater awareness of what life might be like in the middle of nowhere.

Wherever I go, there I am!

Nonetheless, it’s still an attraction, to visit and spend some time in the “real” middle of nowhere.

Would I like it? 

Would I want to relocate and live there permanently?

Would I be able to go back if I didn’t like it?

These are just some of the questions dancing in my mind simultaneously while imagining what this middle of nowhere is like.

Is it at the end of a rainbow?

I remember years ago during a trip to Maui in Hawaii, taking a drive to Hana, a beautiful area of the island.  When we arrived, I remember driving until I approached a dead in.  I got out of my car and took a look at the scenery and remember thinking that where I was and what I was experiencing seemed like I was at the end of the world, similar to what I imagine what is the middle of nowhere.

Yet, current feelings and urges after being chicken cooped up more than I ever have is that perhaps I’d now prefer to be middle of everywhere rather than in the middle of nowhere. 

Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum