Sometimes our deepest thoughts reside only and only in the 'middle of nowhere'. It is a stupid question that a person like me asks when he knows the world is not offering answers to other, more real questions. So where is nowhere?
I guess, it is that ethereal space that lies hidden in the empties between the physical world of neurons and synapses, chemicals and electrical sparks -- somewhere, between all this matter. And sometimes, just sometimes, one of our elusive neurons forays beyond its natural territory; or perhaps the normally ordained gray matter disrupts its normal spatial arrangement and viola: we are in the middle of nowhere. We discover a new idea, a new thought, a new phrase, or story. Only that it isn't new. It always existed within us, a child of our experiences and life. We just had to make contact.
I have felt that these connections are not just chance occurrences. They happen, and they happen more when we allow our minds to roam free; our thoughts to wander. The more freedom we give ourselves in the abstract, the more likelihood we have of violating the sacrosanct physical territory of matter.
How I love to transgress this domain. It happens sometimes. But not often enough. But as I focus more and more on my writing, the frequency is on the up.
As I prepare myself for tomorrow; I love being alone tonight in Lahore, which is not the middle of nowhere; but right now I am.
PS; I am not doing drugs right now. Though that is also a shortcut to that middle of nowhere. Hashish anyone?