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"If there's a fork in the road, take it." Nine years old and probably, if not certainly, this was one of the strangest, most peculiar phrases I heard. A fork in the road? And what about a spoon? Dirty napkins? Why not, as the man said…pick it up!<br />

The Fork & The Road

Camron Karsten
2007-04-27 22:18:57

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"I will do this." You tell yourself. You tell others. There's a response from all: Yes you will, or possibly the contrary. And the word spreads round as you convince yourself of its necessity, its permanence within you. A bond is created.

In a way, we're married to our choices. Most of us take the exchange of rings and that single, fleeting kiss a little too far when indubitably (‘til death do us part) the marriage is tied and knotted to a mere thought. Equally fleeting. Equally fleeting. A thought, into speech, turned action.

However, a choice remains as its origin as that plain thought, and then its gone. But here lies the trouble: you can't let go. You're stuck on it because you took it so seriously, so whole-mindedly that there was nothing else ever to get in the way.

Yes, oh Lord, it would last forever! You can't let go as
more thoughts arrive, in streams, coming in torrents, possibly in the age's mightiest of tempests. It's raining forks (this is when you cry Hallelujah!).

And Now Stabbed…With Peace

A thought is a thought, as a fork is a fork, and a donkey's fart is a donkey's fart—an expulsion of some form or another. Leave it at that and move on in your flow. And although I made a thought about Paris from the beginning, shared it, and created it as my reality, five months was whose commitment? Mine? The stone of life and its magical impossibility of revolving and evolving? (Even stones get the blues when they erode).

Apparently my five months is two months too long. And so, as the forks shower just passed month three out of the decided five, my French-swollen head, like a Paris in a Saturday's Eric Kayser boulangerie, freezes. I stop, take in a breath, and feel the current circumstances I am fighting against. I stop again, yes, and I let go. A perceived commitment, which never existed, vanishes for good as my current becomes unblocked. I let go and I flow, far from Paris.

No, I’m not married to any one single thought. I never was, and I never made a commitment. There never was one in any of the forks I came upon because indubitably, as my road revolves and evolves, more forks arrive and new choices in life are made regarding the current circumstances.

No, I’m free and my forks are in my hands as these forks spread out in a panoply upon the traveling road. I don't stop and allow someone or something else to begin collecting my forks for me. They’re mine—it’s my life.

In other words, it all comes down to this: Bundled in a ball, simple enough for a nine year old to play with, Pat Riley also said, “Don't let other people tell you what you want." Whether it’s a fork, a spoon, or those sumptuous lessons folded within a dirty napkin, Mother Earth is revolving and evolving—and your life is among it all. Deliberately take it upon you and live your life: If there's a fork in the road, it's yours. Take it!

This article was originally written for and posted on Brave New Traveler