I travel without barely any luggage. Just a second set of

Hear, O wanderers of the earth and seekers of simplicity, the words of Werner Herzog, who declared with stark clarity: “I travel without barely any luggage. Just a second set of underwear and binoculars and a map and a toothbrush.” Though spoken plainly, these words are no less than a philosophy, a creed of the traveler who values essence over excess, who understands that to move lightly through the world is to live more deeply within it.

The luggage we carry is not only cloth and leather but burden and attachment. Most men and women, when they journey, weigh themselves down with possessions, as though security lay in bringing pieces of home to every foreign shore. But Herzog reveals another way: cast off what is not necessary, bring only what sustains body and soul. The underwear for decency, the toothbrush for health, the map for direction, and the binoculars for wonder. All else is distraction.

For true travel is not the moving of trunks and trunks of belongings; it is the moving of the spirit. To walk through a forest or across a desert unburdened by weight is to allow the land to speak to you more clearly. To live with less is to see with more. The traveler who carries everything may miss the voice of the wind, the shape of the mountain, the scent of the market, for his arms are too full. But the traveler who carries little is open, attentive, alive.

Consider, O listener, the story of Diogenes the Cynic, who carried almost nothing and lived in a barrel, declaring that the fewer possessions a man has, the freer he is. When he once saw a boy drink from his hands, Diogenes threw away his own cup, realizing he had carried what he did not need. So too with Herzog’s creed: to carry only what is essential is to free the spirit for what truly matters—the experience of the journey itself.

The meaning of these words is thus profound: life is not enriched by accumulation, but by experience. The map is not only parchment but a symbol of direction, reminding us to seek paths yet unknown. The binoculars are not only glass but a symbol of vision, urging us to look closely at the world and its wonders. The toothbrush is not only tool but symbol of care, that even in simplicity one must not abandon dignity. And the underwear, humble though it is, reminds us that practicality has its place even in philosophy.

The lesson, O child of tomorrow, is this: live lightly. Carry less, both in your journeys and in your heart. Do not weigh yourself down with possessions, with grudges, with endless desires. Bring only what you need to remain whole, and let the rest fall away. For the one who travels light in body learns to travel light in spirit, unchained, unburdened, and free to encounter the raw essence of life.

Practical action follows: when next you pack, ask yourself: do I need this, or do I bring it only out of fear? Strip down your bags until they carry only what is vital. And beyond travel, practice this in life: shed the clutter of unnecessary things, of commitments that sap your spirit, of thoughts that weigh down your soul. Keep only what serves you: direction, vision, health, and dignity. With these, you are prepared for any journey.

Therefore, remember Herzog’s wisdom: “I travel without barely any luggage.” The true adventurer is not he who carries much, but he who carries little and yet sees much. Walk this way, and the world will open itself to you, vast and unhidden. For the one who learns to live with little finds that he, in truth, possesses everything.