"Journeys, like artists, are born and not made. A thousand differing circumstances contribute to them, few of them willed or determined by the will-whatever we may think"

Journeys share a mysterious kinship with artists, both manifesting from something innate rather than assembled piece by piece. There is an organic, almost fateful quality to their origins. Just as the artist emerges due to an inner compulsion or inherent talent, existing prior to conscious cultivation, so a journey calls to us, not as an act of mere planning but as a response to a deeper, often unconscious summons.

Despite our modern faith in agency and decision-making, countless factors converge to set a journey in motion, most beyond our control or comprehension. The phrase “a thousand differing circumstances contribute” emphasizes the unpredictable, almost chaotic confluence of events, chance meetings, external pressures, and inner urgencies that shape both the moment of departure and the path one follows. Our rational intentions, wishes, and well-laid plans only make up a small fraction of the forces at play. The journey grows like the artist does, out of a certain environment and an arrangement of influences, time, place, mood, inspiration, perhaps even destiny.

Human will is often expected to be the architect of adventure, the driver of change, but Durrell points out the limitations of this ego-driven narrative. While we may believe ourselves to be in control, crafting our journeys or our creative output, the reality is that much of what ignites and fuels both is generated by accidents, strange attractions, cultural context, or even subconscious urgings. Journeys are thus not wholly acts of selection and direction, but of being responsive to what presents itself, what moves beneath the surface of intention.

This idea invites humility and wonder, a recognition that the most meaningful travels and genuine acts of creation arise not from calculation, but from a mysterious orchestration of phenomena outside our volition. What we call our journey, in the end, arrives not by our summoning, but by its own necessity.