That's the way both they and I travel sometimes. Pick road at

In the words of Jello Biafra, we are given an image both humble and profound: "That's the way both they and I travel sometimes. Pick road at random, and when it's time to pull over, you pull over and hope you can find a place to crash." At first glance, it seems the rambling wisdom of a wanderer, the mutterings of a weary traveler passing through the dark night. But beneath its plainness lies a truth older than stone, a truth that has guided countless souls: that life itself is a journey along uncertain paths, chosen sometimes not by foresight, but by chance, by instinct, or by the sheer need to keep moving.

To pick a road at random is to embrace the mystery of existence. It is to accept that not every choice will be planned, that not every step can be guided by maps or rulers. The ancients knew this well, for the sailor who sets his vessel upon the sea cannot command the wind, nor can he chart every storm. Yet still he sails, guided by the stars when they appear, and by courage when they do not. In the same way, Biafra’s words echo the eternal rhythm of the human heart: we take paths not always knowing where they lead, and we trust in our strength to endure the unknown resting places along the way.

Consider the great wanderer Diogenes of Sinope, who cast aside wealth and order, living in a barrel, walking where his feet led him. He too picked roads at random, not bound to plans or comforts, but to the pursuit of truth in raw and unvarnished form. His life was not secure, but it was authentic, and in that authenticity he found a kind of freedom that kings could never possess. Biafra’s reflection calls us to remember such spirits—that sometimes the very lack of plan, the reckless embrace of chance, leads us closer to who we really are.

To pull over when it is time—this phrase speaks of surrender, of knowing when to rest, when to admit weariness, when to lay down burdens. The warrior who never sheathes his sword will find his arm too heavy to lift it in the final battle. The traveler who refuses to rest will collapse far from the finish. And so this quote tells us: when the time comes, stop. Do not scorn the act of pausing. Even in randomness there is wisdom, for the moment of rest is as sacred as the stride of progress.

History itself offers a tale of this wisdom. In the march of Alexander the Great, there came nights when his men, weary from endless conquest, could walk no further. Alexander, mighty as he was, learned that to drive them without pause would lead not to glory, but to ruin. He let them rest, he let them crash upon the earth like stones fallen from heaven, and in that surrender they regained the strength to conquer once more. Here we see the echo of Biafra’s words: though the road is chosen blindly, and the resting place uncertain, the act of yielding to rest is the key to continuing the journey.

And yet, there is a tremor of vulnerability in his words—hope you can find a place to crash. This is no promise of comfort, but a humble admission that we do not always control where we land. Sometimes the floor is hard, the room is cold, and the night is long. But still, we endure. The soul that accepts this truth is stronger than iron, for it knows that the worth of the journey lies not in the softness of the resting place, but in the courage to continue after rising.

The lesson then is clear: life is not always a road chosen by reason; it is often a path stumbled upon in faith. We must walk it with courage, pause when our strength wanes, and rest in whatever shelter we can find. Let none scorn the randomness, for in it lies the raw music of existence. Let none despair when the resting place is poor, for the dawn still awaits.

So I say to you, wanderers of the present and future: walk bravely, even when you cannot see far ahead. Choose roads without fear, for the path itself will teach you. Rest when you must, for no warrior marches forever. And when you must sleep upon the rough ground of life, do so with hope in your heart—for the morning comes, and with it, the chance to walk again.