The trail traveled

29 August 2020 after a long mental struggle at McDonald’s, I stuck to the plan I made the night before.

Thinking that some solitude into the countryside could soothe my soul and clear my vision, I headed up the hill through a run-down village whose people did not like the passing by of hikers who seldom respected villagers had their own life too.

The tide of hikers had long gone at 10:15am and the path was quiet but the heat was building up fast. Deep into the village, I froze at the hearing of the distant barking of a dog that was echoed by another one from the left. Damn! I made the wrong decision to start late and missed the crowd!

A big brown dog without a collar dashed out from a shack as I came close to a makeshift fence door that stood ajar. It barked and snarled at me by the door as I dragged my feet forward and pretended that I was not intimated. My legs were melting underneath me and my heart was pounding like a hammer in the chest. The scene of being marginally gnawed by an excited canine a few years ago flashed back. Do dogs smell those who are scared of them? I believe so. Or, do they just bark and snarl whenever their territories are invaded? I survived the test and wobbled past the fence.

I caught up the crowds at the dam of a reservoir. I hesitated for a while and decided to leave them and take a dirt path into the wood, hoping to find some solace away from people. It was quiet, even on Saturday and I had not taken this path before.

It was not an easy path with lots of bumps and potholes, and interlayered rocks and tree roots. I soon realized that the path was also a mountain biking trail. No wonder it was so battered and twisted. As I ventured along, I started to like it because of the different view at every turn of the trail and its resemblance to the natural world.

Twenty minutes into the wood, at the junction of two paths a blue sign caught my attention. Right there, it reminded me of my recent ruminations, mocked me of my indecisiveness and derided me of prolonged procrastination. 

Part of the The Road Not Taken popped up from nowhere in my mind: 

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 traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

I felt a shiver running down my spine and realized that I had been searching for the road less traveled for a long time - so long that the search became the end and a decision was needed no more. And, I was actually yearning for a clear goal or purpose of my life so that I could commit everything I had just to achieve it. But, it never showed itself up. How about there wasn’t such a goal or purpose prepared for you? A voice challenged me. How about it was just a self-fulfilling definition of one’s existence?  Or, could it be a melodramatic conviction of an otherwise long and mundane narrative of your life?  I was taken aback by such revelation. How much time was wasted? How much was left? I felt cheated, cheated by myself.

Yes, I had been fooling my mind that if I could find that unique less traveled road, it would take me home – the purpose of my existence. Unfortunately, that less traveled road never revealed itself and again it might not even exist. It was you who did not see them. The voice interrupted again and it suddenly became clear that I had wasted half of a century standing at different junctions of roads, ruminating which was the one to bet on.  I did choose a few but none took me to anywhere because I always turned back.

Ignoring the need to find the less traveled road may be the only way to find it. As I strode along the dusty trail, I suddenly understood that no roads were the same and there could never be enough roads for everyone if a unique one was asked for each of us. The only thing we could do was to make an unregretful decision at any junction of roads and stay on it until the next intersection or the destination. Now, under the August sun I began to appreciate the uniqueness and beauty of different sections of the trail, whether they were worn or less traveled. They all led to different places until the journey ended. 

Now I guess I am just a common person who does not need a noble and magnificent goal of life. I should be grateful to have feet to walk different roads and terrains, eyes to see all shades of colors, a mind to muddle up everything and to make choices, only if I decide to stay on a road. The journey is on the roads, less traveled or not.

If you are careful and mindful, you can see all stones have different shapes and colors and all leaves have their own pattern of veins. You can smell more fragrances than you do in a perfume store and hear more sounds of the moving air than an orchestra, and you can keep yourself from trampling on ants and caterpillars that have been roaming the trail for ages. So, why not just cherish every moment and treasure every mile ahead. 

I would.....but I have little faith on myself.