Today’s inspiring quote

Caminante, no hay camino;
se hace camino al andar

Traveler, there is no road; you make the way by walking.

For many of us, this might be a first trip abroad; a first volunteer experience; a first use of a newly minted diploma (shout out to Hara, Jen and Julie).  We are not sure exactly how this journey unfolds…but it’s all part of the adventure!

Does this quote remind you of another famous poem?

Do you know which poem this comes from?

Leave an answer in the comments below.

Besitos, Shari


April 23, 2010. Tags: . Uncategorized.


  1. Jennifer Massie replied:

    Caminante, son tus huellas
    el camino nada mas;
    caminante no hay camino,
    se hace camino al andar.
    Al andar se hace camino,
    y al volver la vista atrás
    se ve la senda que nunca
    se ha de volver a pisar.
    Caminante no hay camino,
    sino estelas en la mar”.

    -Antonio Machado (Spanish poet, died 1939)

  2. childrenofmexico replied:

    ok, Jennifer, I owe you a beer for putting up the answer! I just read this poem for the first time this week, and I really love it.

    • Jennifer Massie replied:

      I’ve known the poem in some shape or form since senior year of high school when a classmate put it on her yearbook page. Then being a Latin American studies major in college solidified it. I’ll take a sangria instead of a beer. 🙂

      Traveler, your footsteps
      are the road, and nothing more;
      traveler, there is no road,
      you make the way by walking.
      By walking you make the road,
      and when you look back
      you see the path that
      you’ll never walk again.
      Traveler, there is no road,
      only the wakes in the sea.

  3. Jennifer Massie replied:

    Wait a sec – is this based on the “Road Not Taken” poem by Frost?

  4. childrenofmexico replied:

    That’s what I immediately thought of! I have no idea if either poet was influenced, or even aware of the other. I suppose I should look up the publication dates of the two poems…here is Road Not Taken:

    TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
    And sorry I could not travel both
    And be one traveler, 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 traveled by,
    And that has made all the difference.

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