Sri Aurobindo poetically called our psychic being


The traveler between birth and death.


As the Swetaswatara Upanishad affirmed,


The soul of man, a traveler, wanders in this huge cycle of Brahman,

a totality of lives, a totality of states, thinking itself different

from the Source of his Journey.


Accepted by him, it attains its goal of Immortality.


Tagore pointed out that:


The traveler has to knock at every alien door to come to his own,

and one has to wander through all outer worlds to reach

the innermost shrine at the end.


On how many doors have you knocked on so far?

Which ones?

The way that Stewart Bitkoff put it isTraveler:


There is only One God, or theLight,

yet there are many paths and religions, why is this so?



Each traveler finds God/Light in a different way.

One traveler may seek salvation as a loving spouse and parent

and another may find God’s Face on a distant shore.

Each traveler is a universe and in this vast expanse

it is easy to go astray.
Only the Light’s Grace leads the travelerhome.

Iqbal spoke from his own experience:


I wandered in the pursuit of my own self; I was the traveler,

and the destination as well.


What about you?

In his Divine Book he affirmed that:


You are the traveler,you are the path

and you are the destination.


And then added this warning:


Be careful never to lose the way
to your Self.



1) This poem of Machado


Traveller, the road is only
your footprint, and no more;

traveller, there’s no road,

the road is your traveling.

Going becomes the road
and if you look back

you will see a path

none can tread again.

Traveller, every track
leaves its wake on the sea

Once in this place
where bushes now have thorns

the sound of a poet’s cry was heard

Traveller there’s no road
the road is your traveling…


2) These verses from Sri Aurobindo’s epic Savitri:


A traveller through the magic centuries

And being’s labour in Matter’s universe,

Its search for the mystic meaning of its birth


And joy of high spiritual response,

Its throb of satisfaction and content

In all the sweetness of the gifts of life,

Its large breath and pulse and thrill of hope and fear,

Its taste of pangs and tears and ecstasy,

Its rapture’s poignant beat of sudden bliss,

The sob of its passion and unending pain.

The murmur and whisper of the unheard sounds

Which crowd around our hearts but find no window

To enter, swelled into a canticle

Of all that suffers to be still unknown


In his world-adventure’s crude initial start

Behold him ignorant of his godhead’s force,

Timid initiate of its vast design.

An expert captain of a fragile craft,

A trafficker in small impermanent wares,

At first he hugs the shore and shuns the breadths,

Dares not to affront the far-off perilous main.


A sailor on the Inconscient’s fathomless sea,

He voyages through a starry world of thought

On Matter’s deck to a spiritual sun.

Across the noise and multitudinous cry,

Across the rapt unknowable silences,

Through a strange mid-world under supernal skies,

Beyond earth’s longitudes and latitudes,

His goal is fixed outside all present maps.


In a vast of Truth and Consciousness and Light

The soul looked out from its felicity.

It felt the Spirit’s interminable bliss,

It knew itself deathless, timeless, spaceless, one,

It saw the Eternal, lived in the Infinite.


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