take the road less traveled

I am on the road less traveled… this is for sure… will it be easy… no, I have no doubt it will be one of the hardest things I have ever done… I have never been clearer on the right path… Let the journey begin…

I often think that perhaps I am just taking the road less travelled and that it is a good thing but perhaps taking a road MORE travelled is a better thing to do. I look at my situation and find that I am to blame for the situation I am in however how did I get here unless I took a detour and fell off the beaten path. Sometimes I should go to the light instead of accept the darkness.

If I travel down a road less travelled but do not know that the path is not often taken then will that make a big difference? I think that only if I know that the road is less travelled that it would make a real difference.

I think that I have done this backwards I have not taken any road sometimes I just stand and wait for someone to tell me which road I should take or not take and then I go. I think I need to find the roads and then make some decisions and if others take it then so be it. I believe that what will make all the difference is the simple act of making a decision which is what I believe I need to work on. Never look back in wish for something other then what has happened look forward to see what you make your universe and change the things that you are able to.

In many Native American cultures, this story is told to young adults before they leave for their vision quests. Between the ages of 13 and 22, young men and women of the tribe decide that they are ready to become adults. They go on a vision quest for three days and three nights, fasting from food and drink and sleep, and wait for a vision. They are given a vision and a gift—what they are to be for the community in the future. And often, when they return they are given a name as well. They are now adult members of the tribe, they belong, and they know that they are called to live on behalf of the community, using all that the Great Spirit has given them for others. This is the story many of them hear just before they set off:

Once upon a time, there was an eagle. She soared and hunted and built her nest high on a mountain fastness and then settled down to sit on her three eggs until they hatched. But a storm approached and she was hungry. Off she went to find food and, while she was gone, the storm hit, her nest was thrown off the side of the mountain, and two of her eggs destroyed. But by some miracle, one fell unharmed to the ground, safely landing in tumbleweed but unseen by the mother eagle. She returned, mourning her children.

On the ground a prairie chicken was returning from hunting. The storm had overturned her nest, too, scattering her eggs everywhere. She rolled them all back in, stumbling over a very large egg. Being rather dim, she figured it was also hers and rolled the eagle egg into her nest. She returned to sitting on the nest and, one by one, the prairie chickens hatched, except for the big egg. She sat and sat and finally the biggest, ugliest prairie chicken she’d ever seen came forth. It was ungainly, with huge wings that dragged on the ground. And it was incredibly hungry all the time.

The other prairie chickens pecked about in the dirt, found seeds and insects, and flew around about three feet off the ground. This one, however, couldn’t fly, couldn’t talk, and couldn’t do anything like the others. It was pecked at and pushed around, and it was sickly and felt awful all the time. It took to going off by itself and being miserable alone, dragging its wings along behind it.

One day, out in the canyon, it saw a great shadow on the ground and, as it looked up, it saw the most magnificent bird flying above. It swooped and soared, great and graceful. Then it swooped down and grabbed one of the prairie chicken brothers, breaking its neck and eating it as it flew off. The eagle that thought it was a prairie chicken watched all this in fascination. It wanted to fly like that, hunt like that and eat like that! But then it remembered that it had been told always to eat only bugs and seeds—that was the way of prairie chickens.

Immediately, it went to tell everyone about this. Most of the chickens ignored it, accusing the eagle of making up the story. One of the grandfather prairie chickens said, “No, listen to the strange one—it has seen an eagle, a great bird of the sky, one closest to the Great Spirit. Whenever you see that great shadow on the ground, run for your lives, for the eagle likes to eat prairie chickens.” But the eagle that thought it was a prairie chicken did not obey. It went back often to the canyon and waited for the eagle to come. It watched it fly and wanted to imitate it. It dreamed of such gracefulness and freedom and power.

Then, one day, it climbed to the highest part of the mesa, dragging its heavy wings slowly behind, in pain. It stood on the edge of the cliff and thought, “If I just fall off into the air, I’ll fly. Even if I fall to the canyon floor and die, at least for a while I will know what it’s like to be free and fly gracefully.” It was just about to fall over the edge when it remembered all the things its parents and family and older ones had spoken.

“You’re just a prairie chicken and that’s all you’ll ever be. Don’t try to be something you’re not. Just be the best prairie chicken you can be”.

He hesitated, then slowly came down from the mesa. But sometimes he’d climb back up, think about flying, and then remember that prairie chickens couldn’t fly. As days and weeks passed, it became more and more painful for the eagle to even think about flying. Growing weaker and weaker, one day the eagle that thought it was a prairie chicken died.

It died, an earth-bound unhappy prairie chicken because it listened to and followed the wrong wisdom.

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;

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 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.

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.

I believe I have done this threw out my life. I have never stayed in a situation for anyone else than myself. Which may not be the best of decisions. I have realized in life that I always look back and am greatful for not staying in situations that I am not happy with. And allowing myself to grow in my life. But in the beginning there are always those moments of dread, when your thinking “what in the hell did I just do?”. And maybe I would learn more about perservering if I had stayed and tried to enjoy and learn from those things I walked away from. But all in all, there is only one life. And I would rather spend it creating my own path, than walking in the path of others.

I guess I could probably make this a finished goal, but I’d like to keep doing it if possible. Why could it be a finished goal? I’m from Michigan, and I go to Ohio State! Plus, to make matters worse, until going to OSU I was the biggest UM fan ever. But then I took the road I never thought I’d even look at, and went to OSU. It’s been one of the best experiences of my life.

Robert frosts poem usually comes to mind when Deciding which path to take:

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;

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 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.

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.