Written by hand, when I could not sleep. 2.55am.
I approached a fork in the road. ‘Two paths diverged’ ahead, though not in opposite directions: neither path veered away, but only gradually did they drift apart. Entirely unremarkably, one road seemingly paid the other no attention. Nonchalant. Indifferent. Faced with this junction, I analyzed both choices. Neither looked particularly worse or better. They were all but indistinguishable; everything I knew about what lay ahead on each path I had learned from the past. They would inevitably lead to further junctions, bends, twists, hills and other geographical oddities that ornament the days of all our lives with trials and decisions, problems and solutions.
I cannot remember the first fork in the road that I passed, but it would have marked the moment where my mind became self aware, and understood the intangible concept of choice (and its logical consequence “WHAT IF?”). I would have chosen the left or the right, depending on some conditions or factors that hindsight would have later rendered unimportant. Trivial. Irrelevant. What matters is that the choice had been made. One foot in front of the other, I would have strode forth, cautiously optimistic and yet with one eye on the adjacent and meandering path that was not chosen. No doubt my mind would have been keen to remember that choice, and as the unchosen path meandered alongside, I would see it begin to drift away, aiming for the horizon. But before that path would have reached its goal and drifted out of sight (or was it I that had drifted?), I would have seen it fork, then fork again. Simultaneously, the path I would have been traveling on would split as well, and I would be forced to make another choice before moving forward. At that moment, I would look behind me to the previous fork, trying to reiterate and recapture my reasoning and motives that had ultimately made me choose this path. Consistency would be key in reaching any goal. Contradiction would lead me in circles.
Then I would have glanced to the path not chosen and its various forks, bends, weaves. Each fork had two arrows, essentially road signs presenting the two options. I would not have been able to read the arrows: my path had drifted too far from the other; it was now shrouded in the deceptive fog of the unknown. Knowing I should not be concerned with the unknown paths, I walk forward choosing, say, the path to the right (or was it that path to the wrong? To the left?) At the consistent rate at which time passes, I would have made these decisions, each choice adding to the myriad of possibilities that could have been chosen. I assume this is how the story of my first choices went, because I do not remember.
At night, I would stop and sleep, and I know that the dreams in my head was simply my spirit skipping across the yellow fields to other paths, seemingly at random. Had I made different decisions, those dreams might have been a reality, for better or for worse, and I would be dreaming of my current situation. Not in the ‘there’ of my dreams. Those paths could have been chosen, but they were not.
Where might I have ended up if I had chosen the other path when making my very first decision, that ignition of the Primary Choice? Those paths have long disappeared over my horizon. Or have they? Perhaps at some point the other paths have joined to the one I am presently on. I have noticed other roads merge with mine in the past. Surely there must be multiple ways, varying methods of reaching the same end? If they all end up at the same point, then fate has a firm clutch on my mind and soul, and stopping to ponder each direction could be viewed as a waste of precious moments of life. I would just be a rat in a maze and it’s only a matter of time until I find the one way out. And as I ponder the value of pondering...it strikes me that every path essentially does lead to the same destination: they all lead to the unknown -it actually doesn’t matter which one you take, they DO all have that consistent destination. Hence, fate might as well exist. I do not know whether this is tragic or cause for celebration. Another path to choose, I suppose. My mind wanders...
Here I stand at this present dilemma, seeing two seemingly identical paths only slightly deviating from each other. One to the left, one to the right. Of course, I seem them as virtually identical now, but in time I will look back and I will not be able to imagine a starker and more fundamentally contrasted set of options as the ones I am faced with presently.
Now suddenly, I begin to question the rules to this game. Say I choose the left path, and as I wander along it, I keep my eye on the unchosen alternatives. I imagine I frown as I realize I might have been happier on the right path. Can I turn around, trace back my steps to the junction of importance and select a new route? Is there a way that I can I return to the point I was at? I might not necessarily regret the path I chose, as it would have given me its own share of life experiences, and the wisdom and knowledge to know I would not make that choice again. Can I change directions in mid-swing, drop everything and run?
I would suppose that if I tried to turn around and run back, the result would be similar to those dreams, nightmares where no matter how hard I try to run backwards to the junction of concern, I gain not one inch of ground. I glance ahead again. It’s impossible to tell if my current path will meet up with the desired goal. Curse the fog of the unknown! It feels unwise to continue this direction when I have no passion for it.
Uncertainty might seem to slow me down, but then I think of the hunter tracking the herd. He saw the deer herd bolt out of sight when alerted to his presence. They headed west, but the hunter does not simply set his compass west in pursuit of the goal. Instead he stares at the ground, cautiously tracing the tracks. He knows that if he runs west, eyes on the empty horizon, he will never catch his prize. Only by following the footprints one at a time will he have any chance of reaching his wandering, elusive goal. It would take patience, to be sure. But the only way to not lose grasp of the goal is to not lose sight of the plan. One step at a time.
Presently, I still stand at this fork. I know I will not be able to turn back once I choose, but that each final decision leads to more final decisions. Only by keeping my eyes on the trail directly in front of me, and only by keeping my mind on the goal, will I have any hope of finding satisfaction. With that, I need to pause to determine the goal, and then the plan.
Because even though all roads lead to the unknown, we still have the freedom to decide what we want to learn, know, understand along the way...and it’s ultimately wanting to make these choices and taking the initiative to imagine our own opportunities that gives rise to each divide in the road. Carry on.
Photo by Samantha Ramsay
