The road taken, the trail traversed, the track experienced, this is my bliss. It plays into aspects of my life not walking related, the roads taken in reading, painting, gardening, meals, friendships, driving … There are friends along the way, sister tree, brother rock, birds, marsupials, fish, so much to enjoy and take in, and get to know in some way. The road taken might mean another or others not taken, but so be it, and as Frost says, this one “has made all the difference.” Though, clearly, he could have said the same had he walked the other one. But, and I agree, the road less travelled is somehow more inviting. Perhaps its the liminance of choice, the threshold that is truly delicious?
And, speaking of Robert Frost, one of the truly great poets in my estimation, wrote this wonderful poem, a poem which is ingrained in my psyche, a poem I have embodied, and which in part goes some to explaining my bliss of bush walking and love of nature. I tell it with a sigh, a sigh of longing, and a sigh of love.
The Road Not Taken (Robert Frost)
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.