A crossroads for Kerouac.

We all come to a crossroads sooner or later – that place in the middle of nowhere, where we sink to our knees and wait for the devil to come offer us something for our immortal souls. Like bluesman Robert Johnson, whose talent led to the myth (?) that he sold his soul to the devil to be able to play the guitar. (Thanks to the Museum of Culture and Environment at CWU for a great blues jam following the lecture on Mr. Johnson yesterday.)

A crossroads can be geographical or spiritual; it can be a place where two paths meet or a lonely room; the devil can be a spirit, a person, or a substance. It’s not the where or the who that matters; it’s what we do when we find ourselves there, in the middle of nowhere, sinking to our knees.

Here’s a haiku inspired by the crossroads myth, and this week’s Project Create:

At your own crossroads

You decide to walk and you

Dare the devil: “come.”