The Wanderer may travel by whatever method, but walking is the key to the Wanderer’s worldview. The Wanderer knows that many roads cannot be reached by car, bus, train, plane, rocket, bicycle, bookstore, library, internet. There is no replacement for one foot in front of the other, for the slow trudge of step-by-step progress to some unknown destination.
Not everyone is or wants to be a Wanderer. A true Wanderer knows this — why would a Wanderer want everyone to be the same? The Wanderer does not like clogged roads, after all, but seeks out less-traveled paths just to show they can be trod. The Wanderer cuts through byways, seeks out back alleys, hams the gutters, hoofs it cross-country. In a day defined by sets of hypothetical limits and pre-opposed “options,” the Wanderer is living, walking proof that such polarities are few, far between, and rarely all that binding.
To wander is not easy. To wander means running counter to the bulk of humanity. It means making enemies of friends and treating the momentary strangers one meets along the way as best companions. A welcome-home greeting, Warmth, or a full belly are scarcely enjoyed but doubly appreciated. The Wanderer seeks, finds, and leaves to seek some more.
It is the seeking itself that drives the Wanderer. To seek is to admit incompletion. All questions are asked, all answers given, none are taken up by the Wanderer except the few that can be carried along on one’s back. The Wanderer embraces incompletion, wears it like a blanket under open skies that can only ever be a mystery.
The Wanderer is a walker of multiplicitous destination.
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