The Road Not Taken

Today I saw a poem by Robert Frost that I had sent to a friend 13 month ago.

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.

Now that I look back at it, those days I was tormenting myself with the question whether I was taking the right road. Although I was trying to push the question to be about coming to Stockholm or going to Canada, deep down it was still more about to go or not to go. Almost everybody I knew had disapproved of my decision in a way or another, but I had dragged myself through it all, and as the time grew nearer, I was more in doubt about everything. The last week before my departure, all my muscles were tense, I didn't like to talk to people about the fact that I'm leaving, and I had postponed packing to the very last minute. As a result of all the tension, I missed doing a lot of things. I didn't properly say good bye to some friends and relatives and I didn't finish some of the work I had to do before leaving, like re-setting my parent's computer and lots of other things. Now that I think of it, I should have really invited my friends out and properly thanked them and say good bye, but I was so reluctant to bring up the matter, so everything went messy. The funny thing is I'm still afraid, afraid to death of how I'm proceeding with my life.

But I have come to realize that this fear and tension doesn't have much to do with the road I'm in, I would have it no matter which road I had taken. Why all this tension and fear? I really don't know… perhaps it is the restlessness of my soul or because of my agonizing self-disdain.

Anyway, if nothing, coming here gave me the chance to realize (in practice, I might have known this, but experience is something else) that the real question is not where I am or where I go, it is who I am and how I am. I hope yet another move reveals more of this mystery to me.

When I told my father about my decision to go to Zurich (which he was partially advising me against), he said "Yeah, that is my Maryam, you've been like this since you started walking, you couldn't stay put, or where everybody else was. If we were at a picnic, after some time, you would have gone 10 meters away, and if we joined you, you would have departed after a while again."

So I guess I just need to make peace with myself.