Too Many Lives within... the Longest Sigh

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood... I love the poem. I recite it many times to myself. I had a teacher who told us that the point of the poem is not that the road was better, but that it was the one he chose. It was simply “different.” But wait, I hear him say that he took the one that “wanted wear” and was “less traveled,” and the title, after all, is the road “not taken.” This resonates with me very strongly. I would take the one less traveled, in fact I have consistently done so.

The Road Not Taken

by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, 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 back.

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.

For me, the sigh at the end is responding to the notion of the beginning "Sorry I could not travel both and be one traveler." I once said I have so many lives in me and there isn't time to live them all. I read memoirs partly to connect with other lives that could have been. I see it all so personally.

I have often felt that I see too much. But to write that down sounds egotistical, which I have never been. Quite horribly the opposite-- a shy over-sized geek who never seems comfortable. I think one reason I hide is that I feel what people are thinking about me. Really this means I project my insecurities into the responses of fellow humans. I feel they find me too weird and easily dismiss me.

Like most people, I suppose, I struggle to find acceptance. But weird stuff happens to me, like unnecessary repetitive weird stuff and people close to me independently say that this stuff happens only to me. Of course it's not totally true, but it feels genuine if you observe me for a little while.

At any rate, I have been living lives within me as well as the one that you all see. Actually, as I write that, I realize most people won't see my life at all. And I won't see yours. But I want to be there for you. Did you ever feel you really saw someone and felt something of their experience? Isn't that what kindred spirits are? I can think of quite a few off the top of my head; some of whom I only met once.

I still see you. I still think of you, so many of you.

I feel that sigh every time.

Just some of the roads I have taken...

One leg of a trip, I decided just to turn left. So I did. I turned left and left again. Not all at once in a circle of course, but here and there. It was great.

Over and over again, I turn off highways and take country roads. I go in general directions with no itinerary and no schedule. No deadline. I love it more than any other type of travel.

I've driven much of route 66 and favor the deserted parts. I have driven many parts on the old 66, right along the new bypass highway. In other areas, I've driven through towns that were bypassed in the 1960s, long before I was born. But still they have a nostalgic feel. They are magical. The abandoned towns and scruffy dirt roads. Those are life.

I drove around Iceland. I took gravel paths when I could, and lots of switchback roads where I was the lone traveler.

One summer, I drove through all 48 contiguous states. Alone. I wish I could do it again right now. There are so many towns I've seen that I will never see again, and so many that I'll never see.