"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference." Thus ends Robert Frost's iconic poem "The Road Not Taken." Students across the globe are faced with the predicament of making the right choice, of choosing the correct path that will lead them to a fulfilled and successful life (and I am no exception). Like many members of Dickinson College I have made the decision to study abroad, taking me to England. Despite the thrill of being in another country ripe with the promise of opportunity and happenstance adventure, the rhythm of academic life quickly became monotonous. Thus the best possible remedy aside from the weekend adventure is to become lost. I am fortunate enough to have a large park on the edge of campus, and after walking back from a particularly draining class I came to the realization thatI have never explored it, and without reservation decided now was the time to be swallowed up by its wilderness. A few hours spent along the muddied paths padded with trampled leaves and glittering bits of aluminum litter, I found a quietness illuminated through the misty autumn air.
What is our obsession with choosing the correct path, and is Frost correct in thinking that the path not taken as often yields the greatest reward, even if we end up at the same place in time? Perhaps he puts too much faith in the Fates, or maybe, just maybe, he is right. Nature provides the ultimate hermitage, even if it is only for a few hours. To be lost among foliage and earth, alone with your thoughts, is an ideal isolation. It is the perfect moment of self-reflection without becoming too lost. The little things: the unfortunately attractive and shimmering litter, the trampled footprints of countless others remind us of the presence of the world of humans, acting as a silent guide through the wilderness of our minds back to the reality we must return to. We are nature, but also separate from it. True nature exists in world we can only, if for a brief moment, sift through. This forest, like the world of the Fey (as it is known in celtic and other ancient Anglo-Saxon traditions), possesses a path we cannot take and at the same time are walking. Nature is a world we both belong to and are distinguished from. Unlike other animals, we have become a estranged from this "other" world in our insistence to lustfully find and forge paths that suit our dreams and desires. Entering into the older and sacred places of this world we must forgo the conditioned instinct to constantly seek the correct path, and accept (if just for a moment) that the path nature has wrought for us is the true means of navigating our future. The road taken is within our sights, but to find it we must become lost. In that union with nature, for just one shining moment, we are free.
What is our obsession with choosing the correct path, and is Frost correct in thinking that the path not taken as often yields the greatest reward, even if we end up at the same place in time? Perhaps he puts too much faith in the Fates, or maybe, just maybe, he is right. Nature provides the ultimate hermitage, even if it is only for a few hours. To be lost among foliage and earth, alone with your thoughts, is an ideal isolation. It is the perfect moment of self-reflection without becoming too lost. The little things: the unfortunately attractive and shimmering litter, the trampled footprints of countless others remind us of the presence of the world of humans, acting as a silent guide through the wilderness of our minds back to the reality we must return to. We are nature, but also separate from it. True nature exists in world we can only, if for a brief moment, sift through. This forest, like the world of the Fey (as it is known in celtic and other ancient Anglo-Saxon traditions), possesses a path we cannot take and at the same time are walking. Nature is a world we both belong to and are distinguished from. Unlike other animals, we have become a estranged from this "other" world in our insistence to lustfully find and forge paths that suit our dreams and desires. Entering into the older and sacred places of this world we must forgo the conditioned instinct to constantly seek the correct path, and accept (if just for a moment) that the path nature has wrought for us is the true means of navigating our future. The road taken is within our sights, but to find it we must become lost. In that union with nature, for just one shining moment, we are free.
