Oh, my ways are strange ways and new ways and old ways, And deep

The words of Henry Lawson, when he wrote, “Oh, my ways are strange ways and new ways and old ways, And deep ways and steep ways and high ways and low, I’m at home and at ease on a track that I know not, And restless and lost on a road that I know,” echo with the voice of the eternal wanderer — a soul caught between familiarity and freedom, between the comfort of the known and the thrill of the unknown. In these lines, Lawson gives voice to a spirit that belongs to no single road, to no single home, but to the vast, untamed landscape of discovery itself. It is the cry of the seeker, who feels most alive when treading unfamiliar ground, and most confined when trapped within the predictable walls of habit.

Lawson was a child of the Australian bush, a poet whose heart was shaped by wide horizons and lonely roads. In his time, the world was still wild, and his verses often spoke for the wanderers and dreamers of the outback — men who found beauty not in stability, but in movement, in struggle, and in the open sky. His “strange ways and new ways and old ways” reflect not only the paths of earth but the journeys of the human soul — those endless roads we walk in search of meaning, purpose, and self. Through the rhythm of his words, he teaches that the greatest comfort often comes not from knowing where we are going, but from embracing the mystery of not knowing at all.

The heart of the quote lies in its paradox: to be at home on the road unknown, and restless on the path familiar. This is the truth of all who carry the spirit of the explorer within them. For the curious, life loses its color when reduced to routine. The known road becomes a prison; the unknown, a promise. In this way, Lawson speaks not only for the traveler, but for the thinker, the artist, the reformer — all who refuse to live within the narrow boundaries of certainty. He reminds us that it is not comfort, but curiosity, that nourishes the soul.

There is a tale told of Ulysses, the great wanderer of Greek legend, who after years of war and hardship finally returned home to Ithaca — to his wife, his throne, and his peace. Yet even there, among familiar shores, his heart grew restless. He longed again for the sea, for the endless horizon, for the ache of adventure. “To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield,” Tennyson wrote of him — words that echo the same spirit Lawson captured. For some, home is not a place, but a pursuit; not a rest, but a quest.

Yet Lawson’s words are not merely a song of adventure — they are a meditation on the human condition. Every soul, in its way, walks between the known and the unknown. The roads we know give us safety, but they also bind us. The roads we do not know call us to growth, to transformation. His poetry reminds us that life’s meaning is not found in the destination, but in the journey itself. The comfort of the known road may soothe us, but it is the rough, uncertain track — “deep, steep, and high” — that awakens the spirit and teaches us who we are.

So the lesson of Lawson’s wisdom is this: do not fear the unfamiliar. When life leads you down a path you do not recognize, do not curse the strangeness — welcome it. For it is there, in the wilderness of uncertainty, that the soul expands. When the familiar grows too small, when routine numbs the heart, step again into the unknown. Let the wind of new experience strip away what no longer serves you, and walk boldly where your heart feels both fear and wonder.

For the wise know that to live fully is to keep moving between worlds — between old ways and new ways, between safety and discovery, between what we know and what we are still becoming. The restless heart, the seeking spirit, is not a flaw but a flame — the mark of those who were born to wander, to dream, and to grow. And so, as Henry Lawson teaches, be not afraid to lose your way; for it is often on the road unknown that you truly find yourself.