The road not taken.

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 travelled by,

And that has made all the difference.

By Robert Frost

I read this poem again this evening. It was given to us by John at last Wednesday’s Useful Men.

What struck me on this revisiting was not the language or the familiarity of the lines. It was the weight of choice beneath it. The quiet truth that most of what gives life depth comes from decisions that felt uncertain when they were made.

As I sat with it, I found myself reflecting on where my life is right now, here in Dubai, thousands of miles away from anything that would once have been considered normal. Not perfect. Not without effort. But definitely rich. The people around me. The conversations. The shared time that feels earned rather than forced. There is a sense that many of us have taken real chances to be here. To move countries. To change direction. To pull close those we love and uproot them with us, at the risk of chaos, in the hope of a fuller way of living over what was predictable or safe.

When John gifted the group this passage after training, it landed quietly and with intent. It was not a performance or an interpretation. It was a mirror. Different men, different routes, gathered together by effort and consistency. Roads that looked separate on a map, somehow intersecting.

Look up its meaning on Google and you’ll find the poem is often framed as a celebration of individuality. I see it more as a reflection on commitment. Once you choose a road, you live with it. You carry it into your body, your relationships, your habits. Over time, it shapes not just who you become, but who you walk alongside.

So here I am, surrounded by new friends, and it is clear that none of us arrived without taking chances. And yet we share space, stories, laughter, and support. Humour eases the strain. Connection reminds us we are far from alone. The work continues, but it feels lighter when it is shared.

As the new week begins, I feel energised and grateful. Ready for what comes next. Not because the path is clear, but because the direction is mine. And because the people beside me make the walking worthwhile.