A review by lookhome
Wandering by Hermann Hesse

5.0

'I have built a house, measured wall and roof, laid out paths in the garden, and hung my own walls with my own pictures. Every person is driven to do the same-I am happy that I once lived this way. Many of my desires in life have been fulfilled. I wanted to be a poet, and became a poet. I wanted to have a house, and built one. I wanted to have a wife and children, and had them. I wanted to speak to people and impress them, and I did so. And every fulfilment quickly became satiety. But to be satisfied was the very thing I could not bear. Poetry became suspect to me. The house became narrow to me. No goal that I reached was a goal, every path was a detour, every rest gave birth to new longing.
Many detours I will still follow, many fulfillments will still disillusion me. One day, everything will reveal its meaning.
There, where contradictions die, is Nirvana.'

I sincerely believe there's no more efficient way to explain that undefinable nugget of want in daily life than in the paragraph above. Yes, what Hesse describes is arguably that of a 'first world' problem, he's not writing about lack of food or lack of home, lack of comfort or lack freedom, he's writing about something very human, something odd and at odds with nature, he's writing and trying to explain how so many human beings, even human beings with a fully satisfied pyramid of needs, can and do feel unfulfilled. Can and do still feel something lacking in that deep well of being.
This is an honest take on poetry and wandering, on living and living well, on taking the time to take the time.
This is a quick read but it begs re-reading. It feels like it a sort of 'modern' prayer book or confessional for those disillusioned or alienated by modern life.

'Sheer misery makes one profound.-But here there are no problems, mere existence needs no justification, thinking becomes a game. A person discovers: the world is beautiful and life is brief. Some longings remain unsatisfied; I would like to have another pair of eyes, another lung. I stretch out my legs in the grass, and I wish they could be longer'

There are paragraphs here that most definitely inspired Hesse's later Siddhartha and Strange News From Another Star.
This is not only a personal favourite of Hesse's, it's now part of my favourite books...