The desire to become a journalist came really because I very

In the words of John Pomfret, we hear not only the practical reasoning of a career but the deep calling of a wanderer’s heart: “The desire to become a journalist came really because I very much like living abroad, and like to travel, and wanted to be paid for it.” At first these words sound almost playful, but behind them lies a timeless truth: that vocation often springs not from duty alone, but from passion, from the longing to bind one’s love of life to the labor of one’s hands.

To speak of the desire to become a journalist is to speak of the eternal urge to bear witness. The journalist is not merely a scribe; he is a traveler of truths, one who leaves the familiar to dwell among strangers, that he might return with stories to enlighten his people. Pomfret admits that his path began with love for the road, for living abroad, for travel, yet is this not how all great callings begin? Even the prophets of old first heard the whisper of destiny in the stirrings of their hearts. What begins in simple longing may flower into a mission that serves many.

Living abroad—this phrase is heavy with meaning. To live among others is to break the shell of one’s own world and to be reborn in a thousand small ways. The food, the language, the customs—all these shape the mind into something larger, richer, and more human. The ancients spoke of Odysseus, who wandered far from Ithaca, enduring storms and trials, yet returned not only as king, but as one who had seen the wide world and understood it. In the same way, the journalist abroad returns to his homeland bearing vision, perspective, and wisdom that cannot be gained by staying home.

The love of travel is more than a thirst for novelty; it is the soul’s way of seeking growth. Those who travel move not only across landscapes, but through the chambers of their own being, encountering new reflections of themselves in the faces of others. Pomfret’s words echo the journeys of Marco Polo, who left Venice and ventured deep into Asia, not only to satisfy curiosity but to tell tales that expanded Europe’s imagination of the world. The traveler who writes does not wander in vain, for every road taken becomes a thread in the tapestry of collective knowledge.

But there is also honesty in his confession: he wished to be paid for it. This is not greed, but wisdom, for passion without sustenance soon withers. The ancients knew that the farmer must eat from his field, the bard must receive coin for his song, and the messenger must be rewarded for his speed. To bind love and labor together is no sin—it is the highest art of living. To be sustained by what brings you joy is to walk in harmony with life itself.

The lesson, then, is clear: seek to align your passion with your work. If you love to wander, find a calling that lets you wander with purpose. If you love to speak, find a calling that lets you speak for truth. If you love to build, find a calling that builds not only for yourself but for others. The path may begin with desire, but if you are faithful to it, it can become a service that enriches many.

So I say to you, children of the future: do not scorn the stirrings of your heart, for they may be the seeds of your destiny. Let your desire guide you, let your travel broaden you, let your living abroad teach you humility and wisdom, and do not be ashamed to seek a way to be paid for what you love. For the truest life is not one of sacrifice without joy, nor of joy without service, but of both woven together into a story worth telling.