It was a question at work—I mean it’s not important now, although it all seemed colossal at the time. Unfortunately the boss was involved and things almost got out of hand. Of course I had a choice—and I made it, a good one I thought, and still do.
Thinking back over it all I again realize with some force the importance of every little thing, each action and omission, every word, glance, silence, and gesture. The decisions to enact these small details are made every moment, although we seldom realize we’ve made them; at least I don’t, until later on when I’m enjoying a kind of success or sweeping up the pieces of some small disaster.
At times such as these I often reflect upon Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken.” When I was young, I haughtily assumed that the poet had gone his own way and consequently everything had worked out for the best. The Moral: March to the beat of your own drummer and all that sort of thing. Now, however, when I read that poem over, I see that Frost said no such thing. Nowhere in the poem does he say or even suggest that everything worked out for the best because he did not follow the well-worn path of the majority of mankind. The poem concludes: “I took the one less traveled by, / And that has made all the difference.”
Yes, that has made all the difference. A seemingly small thing, the divergence of two roads in a yellow wood, has made all the difference. So much depends on the choice we make at the divergence. Which reminds me: “so much depends / upon // a red wheel / barrow // glazed with rain / water // beside the white / chickens.”
You can drive yourself crazy thinking this way, I tell myself. After all, we cannot intensely examine every moment of our lives, whatever Socrates may have said. If you consider every move, every choice, every possibility, along with all of the possible ramifications of each—you’ll never move. You will be bogged in an endless logical quagmire. However, one must also remember that not to act is also a choice, so in the end it becomes apparent that no matter what, you have chosen what you’ve got.
Which makes no sense. I know—we have limited opportunities for choice. That’s it. We can’t change the weather, but we can dress for it. We have the choice to stay indoors or to go out. And if we go out we have the choice to wear a shirt or a sweater or a jacket. Or to go topless, another choice. But others might not agree with our choices.
It all becomes terribly confusing. I’m not sure if I am looking for advice or trying to give it. Drink, muddle the brain, life will be easier. You’ll act more on impulse, bypassing the intellect. Release the id? Is this a good idea? I guess when you are walking in a yellow wood, keep your eyes wide. Remain alert. I continually tell myself this. Pick whichever path seems best, and then enjoy the journey. Don’t regret your choice. I keep choosing to remind myself to take a deep breath and to enjoy the journey, enjoy the journey, enjoy the journey…
