The Great Wanderer

“Go on then Great Wanderer,” the voice whispers. “Jump.”


I stare at the cliff below me. I’m scared of heights. Always have been. But somehow I know I can’t look back. I can’t look to the past to define the future anymore. 

“You got hurt the last time you jumped,” the voice whispers.

I nod. Remembering it. Reliving it. If I had known that that would come to pass, I never would have jumped. 

“You fear you will get hurt again,” the voice whispers. 

I nod.

“It is wise for you to fear that,” the voice says. “But fortune favours the brave – even if they are foolish. A person who has courage is always protected.”


I inhale deeply. The last time I jumped, I woke up one night with my head on the ground with no idea how I got there. 

“If I remember correctly,” the voice says. “You did not jump willingly the last time. You were pushed.”

Ah yes, of course. I remember that, too. Circumstances are what pushed me to the edge. Circumstances are what forced me to jump off that cliff. Circumstances were what made me decide that nothing was worse than that. That’s how I found myself with my face flat on the ground.

“It will be different this time,” the voice says. “You are jumping not because you have to. But because you choose to.”

“What will happen this time?” I ask.

The voice laughs.

“Que sera sera,” the voice says. “What will be will be. The future’s not ours to see. Que sera sera.”

I take a deep breath. I dangle a foot by the cliff. I’m scared of heights. Always have been. I can feel the heat rise in my body. It feels warm and tender. Excitement all mixed up with wanderlust. I need to do this. I must do this. It is time. 

I smile. I take the plunge.

And so it begins again. 

Another cycle. Another journey. Another life.

Que sera sera. What will be, will be. Que sera sera.