We get to start in the middle and that’s fine. The middle is when things get interesting. It’s after Hansel and Gretel have wandered through the woods, and the little bread crumbs that are the stories that made us who we are have all been eaten, preventing our return to the person we used to be. We tune in after the elixir has been drank, in the forest of wonderland, when the Cheshire Cat misdirects us toward exactly where we ask to go; to when Bilbo uses his precious ring to fight the spiders of Mirkwood; to when the BigBad Wolf arrives at the brick house; to when Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher are lost in the cave; to when Odysseus is tied to the mast of his ship so he can listen to the Siren’s song without perishing. Yeah, we missed some stuff that went on before, but that was just backstory. The middle is when the going gets good and the good get going.

But where to go? We don’t have the luxury of knowing that some thoughtful author has agonized for years to develop our plot, that we are predestined to overcome some illustrious challenge. Maybe this wild wood is the biggest challenge we will face in our story, or maybe this is the story of the wild wood, and we are just imagining our importance.

I don’t want to promise anything about this blog. It is about my journey and the uncharted waters in which I find myself without a pilot. I won’t promise you’ll enjoy it, or that it will mean anything to anyone, including myself. But I have to do something, and introspection is getting me nowhere. For now, the sole purpose of this blog is to serve as an outlet for my angst, frustration, helplessness, sorrow, and hope. It is an anonymous plea to leave me the hell alone! It is the dichotomy of my existence personified in electrons. It is my Cheshire Cat, in its agnostic, mischievous divinity, pointing me back to myself.

I hope someone reads this, and I also don’t care. I also hope it helps someone to know that others are lost in the woods. Perhaps we can keep each other company while the spiders make their plans, and the author of our salvation pens our escape. Enjoy your breadcrumbs. I can’t eat them alone anymore.