The so-called “road taken” was a highly imaginary one. It was an exhausting trip with many hardships, ups and downs, and in the end — worthless. Time wasted as it were.
I’ve learned nothing about or from “the road.” Yet, I’ve learned a lot about myself, foremost that I was not able to solve “the riddle.”
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It took me a life to come to understand that all I’d pursued had been fruitless — all I’d read, learned, studied, analyzed, all philosophies, concepts, ideals, utopias, all the Gurus, all I’d hoped for and dreamed of.
The road taken led to an abyss with me finally staring down in this deep dark impossible ravine. Yet, at some point, abiding in darkness and hopelessness, and with no apparent reason at all, all went straight through the drain. Was flushed out of my system.
I understand now that nothing can make that happen. No-thing. No causality there. No road, no sideways, no paths, signposts, or highways. All efforts lead to fantasies only, and at length to utter exhaustion and desperation, which is then perhaps “the best” that can come about.
One can take any possible road, and most probably one should do that, and go for it. Because we only learn from our own efforts. From our own failures and helplessness.
Perhaps today, I’m a sort of “entitled” to claim that the road taken, my road, was entirely fruitless. A pointless enterprise. Completely unnecessary. I surely could have spared me the effort.
Still, as paradoxical as it is — this darn road taken brought me home. It finally brought me to this place I’d never left really. Only in imagination.
