Hi, all you English Muse readers. This is Dizzy Lizzie from Whims and Fancies, an uber serious blog about cutting edge research in the arena of nanotechnology and the radioactive properties of Arginine. Yessir, that’s my blog! And I’m here now to talk to you about an equally serious matter. But before that, I would like to thank Tina for sharing her space with so many of us and giving us this fabulous chance to speak to all of you. Tina, you are kind and sweet and witty and pretty. You deserve many, many cupcakes. (If you knew me, you would also know that this is the highest honour that I bestow on people.) Now let’s get on back to our aforementioned serious matter, shall we?
Wanderlust! The word alone can cause many a heart to flutter and take off on a flight of fancy. Wanderlust is as strong an urge as any, and it leaves you yearning to tread paths, hitherto beaten and unbeaten. Wanderlust is insatiable; succumbing to it with a sojourn here and a voyage there always leaves you wanting for more. Wanderlust is a curse in those moments that you don’t have the means to indulge in it, but if you let those moments pass, it is a blessing like none other because it opens up a world of possibility that is waiting for you to take a step in. Jack Kerouac’s maxim was pretty simple. “Live, travel, adventure, bless, and don’t be sorry,” he declared. And truly, life is really as simple as that.
Someday, I hope to say that I have travelled far and wide, near and far. I hope to say that I have seen the world. I hope to have gone to all seven continents and to a hundred countries. I hope to have seen the length and breadth of my beautiful country;I hope to take a glimpse of her ephemeral soul.
Someday, I hope to have a house that reflects my meanderings to every nook and corner of this earth. And when I am old and grey and too creaky to skip, I hope that I’ll be able to sit on my rocking chair, look at my map walls and map doors, and feel blessed.
I leave you for now with words by Mary Oliver from her work “The Journey.”
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do —
determined to save
the only life you could save.
I guess this is the best kind of journey that you could hope to have—one that helps you find yourself. Everything else becomes secondary in light of this.