Letter from my terrace in Palma 5 Paths

Paths

         

Alice, lost in Wonderland, asked the Cheshire Cat.

 “Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'
'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.
'I don't much care where,' said Alice.
'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.
 

But whichever way we go, we need some path.  Today it seems that there are more options in life than ever before, and it seems harder than ever to decide which one is best.

Robert Frost chose the less trodden path.

‘Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.’

The path, well-trodden or not, is usually forwards, not the back and forth path that we use every day, for example going to work and then coming home.  But although we end up in the evening where we started in the morning, we are moving forwards all the time.  It is like walking up and down in the same railway carriage.  The train is always taking us on.

Many people walk for pleasure, to clear the head and tire the body, and to escape from the confines of the house. A house can be a prison, which is why we go out and walk in the rain.  Some walkers aim at a certain landmark.  They go as far as the old oak on the hill perhaps, where they turn round and walk back again.  Other walkers prefer a circular route and so never retrace their steps. The circle fools us into thinking we are going from A to B rather than back to A again.  

The thing is never to look back.  Always go onwards.

Sometimes there is no need to find a path at all because people come to you.

‘Build a better mousetrap, and the world will beat a path to your door.’

Following a path is a way through the world and is often not the easy option.  Jesus said, ‘Narrow is the way that leads to life’.  

For Ophelia the straight and narrow path became ‘the steep and thorny way to heaven’, and she warned her brother against ‘the primrose path to dalliance’.  What a pity that primroses should lead us astray!  But beauty perhaps cannot always be trusted.  How many people have been led down the garden path!

  

Whenever we follow a path, we follow all those who have walked along it. But it is still the first time for each of us, however well-travelled the path may be.  Ask young lovers!  

The final word is from the Andalusian poet, Antonio Machado, who found great love and great sorrow in the cold town of Soria.  

Caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar.

Traveller, there is no path,

You make your path as you walk.