How way leads on to way

On bellydancing and the road less travelled

It may be the first poem I was exposed to in grade school, Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken.”

 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 travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.

When we studied it in Grade 10 lit class, the consensus was that Frost believed it was a good choice to take the road less travelled. I’ve only recently heard the suggestion that he’s telling this “with a sigh” because he regrets not taking the more popular path.

I’m happy to be living an unordinary life, but it doesn’t preclude me from the odd sigh.

I spent a fair share of time today shovelling snow—it was the kind of stint where you’re almost done when a city snow clearing vehicle goes past and shoves it back in your face. I can complain about St. John’s winters until the ploughs come home, but right now my body is coursing with endorphins and my Fitbit just put on a fireworks show in my honour.

I wonder if Frost chose his less-travelled road on the same day he stopped by those woods on the snowy evening. I wonder if he’s sighing ages hence because he got stuck shovelling himself and his horse out of there.

This time of year, my body and soul shrivel up for lack of sun and a good, brisk, ice-free walk—today’s driveway workout was a semi-reasonable facsimile. Did I ever tell you about the time I took bellydancing classes to combat the St. John’s winter blues?