There is a line from a famous poem that remains stuck in my mind. Penned by William Wordsworth, the poem’s title is “Daffodils”, or as more of us might know, “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud”. Out of a number of short and long poems introduced to us during English literature, Wordsworth’s line “I wandered lonely as a cloud” somehow remained in my consciousness. I find myself murmuring the line during my solitude as if it is some sort of mantra. The poem evokes finding bliss amid nature’s beauty yet what I feel when I recall the line is the literal meaning of drifting to nothingness. This line aptly describes my state when I am in deep thought, not knowing to which direction my mind will go, and to some degree, my life.
A few years back, I just felt I was a wanderer in my own terms. There was an attempt to give the term the same meaning that the word explorer has, but somehow it seemed farfetched. The meandering became too familiar that eventually I picked up the word ‘wandering’ and adapted it to become my pseudonym.
Lately though, I feel the name has gotten old, unreflective of what I am now and of what I want to become. I do not wish to be walking aimlessly for the rest of my life. I want more focus, I want more discipline. I need direction and being a wanderer is a situation I do not want to get stuck in for the rest of my life. I have stepped into the growth zone and I am continuously enjoying the lessons coming my way. I want more certainties. And I can only get them if I have a clearer vision of what I want to become, of where I want to go to.
Slowly, I am learning my path. I am no longer drifting aimlessly like driftwood, or a cloud, for that matter.