Walking without a destination
In preparation for a hiking trail next spring, I read the following quote: “A good traveler doesn’t know where he’s going, a perfect traveler doesn’t know where he comes from.” The quote sounded familiar to me. Not because I had ever seen it before, but because I had experienced it very strongly during a previous hike. I was on my way from Nijmegen to Istanbul on foot and had to answer the same questions over and over again. “Where are you going?” and “Where are you from?”
The longer I was walking, the more I noticed that it didn’t really matter where I was going. Istanbul was the goal, but whether I got there didn’t really matter at that moment. I was just on my way and would see where I would pitch my tent or roll out my mat that evening. Answering this first question became more difficult after only two or three weeks. But I’ll never forget the moment I didn’t know how to answer the second question.
I had just had lunch at a Gasthof. After 4 days of not eating properly, I ended up there starving and the only guest. Actually, the kitchen wasn’t open yet, but they could make something for a tired and hungry hiker. After eating the fried egg and the cheese board with relish, I replenished my water supply and hung the backpack on my back. I walked out of the yard and turned right onto a steep path up into the woods. Just as I was walking there in the shade, an older man walked down. “Woher kommst du?” he asked in a strong Bavarian accent. “From there,” I said, pointing my thumb over my shoulder. “Wohin gehst du denn?” he asked. “That way,” I replied, pointing forward. He looked at me a little confused. Was I kidding him? Of course, he saw that I was coming from downstairs and walking upstairs. But he wanted to know where I really came from, where I had started walking. I didn’t know at that moment either where I was going or where I was coming from. It didn’t matter. I was standing here on this road and going that way. That’s all there was to it. That man kept asking weird questions…
In a way, it was annoying that he asked me these things. When I left, I had of course told him that I was from the Netherlands, had been on the road for four weeks and would walk to Istanbul. I was back in the frame. But he also made me realize that I had reached a point where I wasn’t on the road at all. I just walked, from here to there, listening to the birds, talking to the trees. That’s all there was and there didn’t need to be more.
A circular walk like the Walk of Wisdom makes thinking about the final destination of your walk even more superfluous. It is the same as the starting point. It doesn’t matter where you come from or where you’re going. In that simplicity, a walk becomes even more beautiful. You learn to see that there is no such thing as coming and going. They are only movements in the space of limitation while your mind blows with the wind and knows neither beginning nor end.
