One of my favorite words in the English language is “meander”. That says a lot, because as a writer, I love words in general. This one hits me on many levels. I love the sound of it. I love the history behind it, and I love the memories it evokes in me.
The word meander makes me happy. It gives off the feeling of being carefree. You can’t feel stress when you truly meander.
According to Oxford English Dictionary, it is defined as follows:
meander
/mɪˈandə/
verb
1. (of a river or road) follow a winding course.
2. wander at random.
3. (of language, thought, etc.) proceed aimlessly or with little
purpose.
noun
1. a winding curve or bend of a river or road.
2. an indirect or aimless journey.
3. an ornamental pattern of winding or interlocking lines.
I tend to disagree that when you are meandering you have little purpose or aim. The purpose of a good meander, as I see it, is to indulge in the very luxury of having the time and the curiosity to linger, or not, without having any stress-induced pressures or end goal. I suppose that does seem aimless, but I would argue that even being aimless is an aim in and of itself.
To meander is to give oneself over to fate. It is to relinquish control. When meandering, it’s hard to avoid thinking, “Let’s see what happens.”
Isn’t that exciting? And how often can you be simultaneously excited and relaxed? That is the magic of meandering. I find such low-key adventures extremely satisfying. It is hard to regret a day spent meandering. If you’ve never done so, you should.
I also feel that meandering is linked closely with traveling somewhere you have never been. That, in a nutshell, is my favorite pastime. I love experiencing new sights, new sounds, new smells, and new places. Those journeys are much richer when you don’t rush through them at a breakneck speed.
I can think of nothing more decadent than having all the time in the world to explore someplace far from my home and culture. I love the thought of the wind in my figurative sails, taking me wherever it may. It’s quite fulfilling to do God-only-knows-what.
I can remember the first time I heard the word meander. I was with my oldest sister, and for once she was relaxed and not attempting to control things. She was smiling. Her claws were completely retracted. She suggested that we meander, and I had to ask what that meant. And once she told me, meander we did. It’s a nice memory.
I don’t recall if my sister knew the etymology of the word, but it turns out that people have been meandering since at least the 1570’s. It comes from the Greek Maiandros, the name of a winding river that still flows in western Turkey. That river is now called the Menderes by the Turks, and we English speakers call it the Meander. And it certainly lives up to its name.
I know this firsthand, because I have traveled to Turkey, and during my many wanderings, I had the opportunity to sit on a hilltop and gaze down on the Meander Valley. It was on a day when we were visiting Priene and Miletus, two ancient Greek cities, and Didyma, a Greek sanctuary that was home to a famous oracle. All three locations are now amazing archeological ruins. In fact, Priene had a deep-water port on the banks of the Meander for about 200 years, until, alas, the Meander meandered away, and the residents of Priene soon followed. These sites are located just south of Ephesus, the city oft mentioned in the Bible, which we had visited the day before.
If you never get to see the Meander River in person, dear reader, my wish for you is that, at the very least, you have many opportunities to meander and make memories all your own. There is no greater gift that you can give yourself.
Travel vicariously through this blog. And while you’re at it, check out my book! http://amzn.to/2mlPVh5
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