... from Nowhere

Sometimes I feel as if I am nowhere: remote from all things, insignificant in this great universe.

Who am I? What is my purpose? Where should I be? Where am I going to? Questions roll around my mind as I walk my dog across fields that smell of cows and damp air, where crocuses push through, fooled by the embrace of a surprisingly warm winter.

I lean against a tree, bare and gnarled, stark against a grey sky. Kicking my feet in sodden mud, I wonder: what makes a person happy in life?

Is it enough to wake up each day and focus on finding something beautiful: golden sunrises, childish smiles, green fields, warm bread. 

Is it enough to swing your legs out of bed and be thankful that you have the strength to walk, dance, speak, hold someone?

Oh to dance and hold someone each and every day…

Or is happiness more than that?

Sometimes I wonder if it comes with acknowledging that really we are just a finite object entwined entirely with the rest of the world, nothing more than a creation of nature, no different to a blade of grass, a patch of sky, an ant or a bird. To understand that this world we construct for ourselves, with all its complex needs, desires, wants and dreams, is not our core, but simply how we are fooled.

But then I ponder that to accept this is surely to accept that all our desires and dreams are ultimately nothing of any great substance and if that is so, why do they feel so all-consuming and real?

Perhaps it is simply the destination of nowhere in particular that brings me peace…