The Road Not Taken

Robert Frost (1874–1963). Mountain Interval. 1920.

1. The Road Not Taken


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;
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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,
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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.
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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.
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The Race is Long

The older I get the more I appreciate silence, or should I say, the more I appreciate my ability to hold my tongue. Abraham Lincoln was credited with making this quote from scripture memorable,"It is better to remain silent and thought a fool than to speak up and remove all doubt." Certainly with two labradors I seldom experience quiet - as they are always up and around running, barking, digging and otherwise not remaining silent.

What is the beauty of silence? Probably that in those pregnant pauses something more profound than words can be present - something more meaningful. Example: Steve and I rode 20 miles at the Apple Cider Century Bicycle Ride in beautiful Three Oaks, MI today. We said little to each other, but kept peddling down roads together, sometimes he was in front, sometimes I was, but mostly we were side by side. There was something familiar and comforting in that.

While riding I was reminded of a song lyric that goes something like, "Don't spend time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind: the race is long. And in the end, it's only with yourself."

As the autumn leaves fell gently to the country roads and everywhere around me people were quietly peddling forward, forward, forward - families, couples, small, large, every race imaginatble, hundreds at times - a hundred breaths keeping time with the peddles, I understood. The race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself.