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The Beauty of Wandering
Finding purpose in having no purpose at all
I’m writing this during one of the late winter storms that are common to Colorado. By tomorrow morning, there will be a half foot of new snow on the ground. It’s a comfort to know the world can completely change while I’m safe and warm in my bed.
The morning will also bring a slew of snowshoers and cross country skiers to the trails behind my house. I’ve noticed something about them. The snow will bury an evidence of the trails, but people will seek them out anyway. They could go anywhere, but they won’t. They’ll walk and ski along the paths they think are there. The snow is a blank sheet of paper, a map waiting to be drawn. Instead of seeking out new places, though, we look for the comfort of the familiar.
I’m guilty of this myself. My only excuse is that I’m not early riser, and by the time I head out, others have already marked the trails I follow. Who am I to ruin a perfect expanse of pristine new snow? But I wonder what would happen if I did. If I set out alone across an empty field, would anyone else follow?
I somehow doubt it. People would see my footprints and think I had a reason to go where I did. Not having any such reason themselves, they wouldn’t follow. For me, the urge to wander is reason enough to go anywhere. To see something new for the first time, or to see the…
