The Road Not Taken

A few 'experiences' on a relatively, balanced out Monday, trigger me to pause a moment and reflect. My eidetic memory of circumstances, choices, decisions, a confetti of emotions, manage to catch me at the least unexpected of times. It has always been, well, amusing, undescribable, gut-wrenching, complex. I do not know whether I shall ever manage to tell it as it is.. tell it the way it is, for me..

Here's a poem that resonates..

And somewhere, just as it is, in the last stanza.. I would hope to find solace in the fact that it shall be told, heard and understood.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, 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

-Robert Frost

If, for once

If, for once.
You would admonish your own pain,
You’d put it aside, to see how it is an attempt in vain
To take notice of the small precious moments it refrains
The anguish it caused and causes all – in disdain

If, for once,
You would recognize that your child has been harmed
Would have come to you when confused and unarmed
Who’d have looked up to you for guidance & care
Nurturance, support and comfort to be there

If, for once,
This could happen, then we might understand
That what we seek is a protective loving hand
That all suffering has a reason
And sometimes a season

If, for once,
You might see how we all are affected
How life paths are all interconnected
And to ensure that karmic energy is absolved
Not carried forward, empathetically resolved

If, for once,
To reflect how conflict takes from life,
Our natural life force that is all encompassing
To operate from our inherent goodness
To forgive and redeem ourselves

Maybe, then
Relief in the aftermath of severe tribulation
A moment of connection, a sign of compassion,
From the natural joys and highs that flow
Like a babbling brook or an afterglow

Maybe, then
This beautiful life would seem light
Our hopes and aspiration might seem right
Our dreams would be ones to look forward to
To know that this life journey was worth it all the while


Everyone mistakes the limits of their vision for the limits of the world.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer~* - The Invitation

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, 'Yes.'

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.


http://www.oriahmountaindreamer.com