Two Roads Diverged

I
My first thought was, he lied in every word,
   That hoary cripple, with malicious eye
   Askance to watch the working of his lie
On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford
Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored
   Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.
II
What else should he be set for, with his staff?
   What, save to waylay with his lies, ensnare
   All travellers who might find him posted there, 
And ask the road? I guessed what skull-like laugh
Would break, what crutch 'gin write my epitaph
   For pastime in the dusty thoroughfare,
III
If at his counsel I should turn aside
   Into that ominous tract which, all agree
   Hides the Dark Tower.  Yet acquiescingly
I did turn as he pointed: neither pride
Nor hope rekindling at the end descried
   So much as gladness that some end might be.
(from Browning, "Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came," 1855)

It seems that there are two paths that lie before me--each this morning equally lie in the muggy shade. On the one hand is the path of the persona that has served me so well and kept me out of trouble. On the other hand is the path of openness and vulnerability that could crack me open; indeed, my experience has been that brokenness is the only outcome. If one might look at the past 18 months as a process of learning which path to take, I have to say that I've progressed exactly zero--except that now I know what each path costs. Either way, it's grievous.

You want solutions? You want resolution? You want perspective?

Good luck, god bless.