My favorite poem has always been The Road Not Taken (see below) by Robert Frost. I always thought it meant that taking the more challenging path, the less traveled path, is what distinguished the traveler. And, being that I have always taken the less traveled path in life, I identified with this. I was the black sheep of my family. I was a rebel carving my own way in life. I even used the words Yellow Wood as part of my company name, out of respect for this poem.
Recently I did a little research and it appears that my previous interpretation of Robert Frost’s chef-d’ouvre is not correct. The point of the poem is in the line Though as for that the passing there had worn them really about the same which basically means it was no different than the other path. They were both equally worn. So it was only in my perception, and the perception of the traveler in Robert Frost’s poem, that the road was grassy and wanted wear.
I find myself again in life at a divergent path, staring long down one road and then the other, and back again down the first. I am stuck. Maybe I will always be stuck. Maybe I will always live my life at a crossroads and never make a choice. It seems that every time I have been at a crossroads, I have chosen the path that I felt is the one less traveled by, and judging by my lack of successes and plethora of failures in life, perhaps this time I should choose the one that does not look like its in need of wear. I could choose the easy way out. But, it’s really debatable which way is easier. Depending on the day, the angle of the sunlight, so many things, sometimes one path looks better when it actually isn’t. You really don’t know till it’s too late. Maybe I’m stuck in a Talking Heads song… We’re on a road to nowhere. I think the point of Frost’s poem is somewhat existentialist. Whatever road you take, it’s all the same in the end when you look back. Maybe our script is written and we’re just little mice running in a labyrinth.
Forget the Talking Heads. Forget the roads diverging in a yellow wood. Why can’t I just travel down the yellow brick road, meet the Wizard of Oz, and have him figure it all out for me. Then again, the Wizard was really just this small sniveling man behind a curtain pretending to have all the answers. I guess I am destinSave & Closeed to repeat my own history and choose what I think is the right path. Maybe this time it actually will be. Maybe I just need to click my heels three times and say “There’s no place like Paris, there’s no place like Paris”, because seriously, if you have magic shoes are you really gonna waste them on a trip to Kansas?