One of my favorite pieces of literature is the poem “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost. The literal meaning of this poem seems obvious; a traveler comes to a fork in the road and needs to decide which way to go. After some mental debate the traveler makes the tough decision to go the way of the road “less traveled by.” This has always been my interpretation until a recent conversation with some close friends of mine.
As I’ve reconsidered the meaning of this poem I think less emphasis should be placed on the last stanza of the poem and more attention given to the second and third stanza's. Of the two roads the speaker says “the passing there / Had worn them really about the same.” In fact, both roads “that morning equally lay / In leaves no step had trodden black.” Meaning: Neither of the roads is less traveled by. Maybe, just maybe, Robert Frost point is that whichever road the traveler went, they would be sorry that they didn’t take the other. In other words, maybe it really doesn’t matter which path you take.
Yogi Berra said, “When you arrive at a fork in the road, take it.” Far too much weight is placed on the decision of which path to take. We often stand still for weeks, months, and even years contemplating these choices. Our thinking is that the path we choose will have some defining impact on who we are or what we’re to become. And while the externals may look different depending on our choice we are the same regardless of the road we travel. My point being that these external things do not define us. As the writer of Ecclesiastes says, “It is all so meaningless . . . like a chasing after the wind.” Why is it then that we put so much emphasis on our career choices, spouses, places of residence, etc? What would it look like for us to take on the attitude of the teacher of Ecclesiastes who realized that life remains unfulfilled when it’s centered on earthly things?
The existential crisis we all face is in determining whether or not our life has any meaning, purpose or value. I want to argue that the paths you take in life, which have profound affects on external circumstances, really have no relevance for who you are. To exist is to always be confronted with the question of meaning and the objective uncertainty of which path to take. However, what we need to understand is that this is not about being anything – this life is about knowing who I am. I can truly become what I nominally already am regardless of which road I take. The truths that matter to who one is cannot be something attained by choosing the right path. These truths are discovered only through the acknowledgement that we are children of God apart from making the right choice. My advice to those of you standing at a fork in the road is to take whichever path you like because you are who you are regardless of the road you do not choose.
I agree with you that external things do not define us. I like this new interpretation of "Road Not Taken". I read it again and it does seem to point more to him wanting to take both paths and being on one and wishing he was possibly on the other. a little bit of, "it's always grassier on the other side". at the end of the poem he says he chose the one less traveled by and that has made all the difference. He didn't choose the right or wrong path as we often think. we do spend too much worry time in decision thinking about how cataclysmic this decision may be. Frost is just looking back saying that he chose a path and that has made the difference. we can't ignore the externals and say they don't affect us but we can't allow things to define us. if we are trying to follow the voice than this anxious fork in the road decision shouldn't be such a big deal. maybe their are no paths. Maybe Yogi Berra is right.
ReplyDeleteFrost claimed to have wrote this poem for his friend Edward Thomas. He said that regardless of the decision, Thomas would always fret wondering what he might have missed by not taking the other path.
ReplyDeleteRobert Frost on his own poetry:
"One stanza of 'The Road Not Taken' was written while I was sitting on a sofa in the middle of England: Was found three or four years later, and I couldn't bear not to finish it. I wasn't thinking about myself there, but about a friend who had gone off to war, a person who, whichever road he went, would be sorry he didn't go the other. He was hard on himself that way." (Bread Loaf Writers' Conference, 23 Aug. 1953)