What's The Point?

A point in every direction is the same as no point at all. - The Pointed Man
My wife asked me if I had been to Inspiration Point. I was initially taken aback, since by my reckoning, there was an Inspiration Point in just about any and every municipality from Oahu to Roanoke. In the same way that every town has a Main Street, there is some local site of mild interest with a view of something that provides stimulation to the core senses and thus inspiration. Also, I was primarily familiar with this geographical convention through episodes of Happy Days. It was the place where Richie and his pals went in search of their thrills, to put it only slightly euphemistically. Once I had cleared up any confusion about my wife's intentions in this matter, it became clear that she wanted to show me the spot in Berkeley that bore the title.
She said she wanted to see if I would get inspired there. Artistically.
I gave her three points: at the bottom of a swimming pool in Key West, at the top of Longs Peak, and the middle of our couch in the living room. These have been inspiration points for me. I might have gone ahead and named another half dozen or so, with an eye toward the mundane just to make the point clear. I tend to get my inspiration from wherever my path takes me.
This is not to say, by the way, that I would not be inspired by any sweeping landscape or grand vista. Quite the contrary. I grew up with those. For thirty some years I had the good fortune to stare up at the very first line of mountains in the chain called the Rockies. I lived in those mountains and walked through the pines, breathing their scent and listening to the wind rush through their branches. This wilderness experience was foundation for me. Decades later, I got some of the same level of influence, with a piquant of irony via the view of the Matterhorn from Disneyland's Main Street. I was inspired by my eventual trip to Yosemite National Park. I was also moved to create after walking for miles through the streets of Oakland. And that spot on our couch. Watching or listening or just sitting quietly, I have been moved to write, draw and even burst into song on occasion.
Still, does this mean there is no inspiration to be found for me at that lofty perch in Berkeley? It could be argued that it has already brought me to that point without ever making the trip, as witnessed by the last few paragraphs.
I don't know if you could stand it if I actually went and took it all in.