Snufkin from the fabulous Moomin books by Tove Jansson is an idler extraordinaire, a wanderer, a poet, a musician.
Some words of wisdom from Snufkin;
Today we must do something very special, for it will be a glorious day.
One can never be truly free if one admires others too much.
Walking was easy because his rucksack was almost empty and he didn’t have to worry about anything. Snufkin was pleased with the forest, the weather and himself. Tomorrow and yesterday were equally distant from him now, for just at that moment the bright red sun was shining down from between the birch trees, and the air was cool and mild.
“I’ll come when it suits me” said Snufkin, “perhaps I shan’t come at all. I just may set off in another direction entirely.”
“I live all over the place” answered Snufkin, and put the coffee pot on the fire. “Today I happen to be here. Tomorrow I will be somewhere else. I wander about as I please. When I find a place I like, I pitch my tent and play my harmonica.”
No one spoke. Then Snufkin said slowly “it would be awful if the world exploded. It is so wonderfully splendid.
“You can believe what you want” said Snufkin, blithely.
Snufkin wandered about southwards, stopping to pitch his tent from time to time and to let the time pass. He travelled without a plan, looking about him without much thought, remembering nothing and sleeping a great deal.
I know. Everything gets so difficult if you want to own things. You have to carry them around and watch over them. I just look at them- and then when I continue on my way I can remember them in my head. I prefer that to dragging a suitcase.
I own everything I see and everything that please me. I own the entire world.
Snufkin picked up the hut made of spruce branches and threw it into the juniper bushes. “That’s what you should do with a house after you’ve lived in it” he said.
And some words of wisdom from brother Moomintroll;
“I think I’m beginning to understand now” said Moomintroll slowly. “You aren’t a collector any longer, are you? Now you’re just an owner, that’s nowhere near as much fun.”
“No” said Hemulen, thoroughly dejected. “It is decidedly nowhere near as much fun.”
“How horrid” said Moomintroll picking his way through the snow.
“Mamma wake up” Moomintroll cried. “Something altogether dreadful is happening. They call it Christmas.”
“Christmas?” repeated Moomintroll in wonder. “Does he eat?”
“What an exciting life we lead,” thought Moomintroll. “Everything could be turned upside down in a moment- for no reason whatsoever.”