Two Errors That Block the Road to Truth
There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth... not going all the way, and not starting. — Buddha
A Road Defined by Movement
The quote frames truth not as a possession but as a journey—something approached through motion, effort, and direction. By calling it a “road,” the saying implies distance between our current understanding and clearer insight, and it treats progress as something earned through choices made over time. From that perspective, the warning feels practical rather than mystical: errors are less about holding the “wrong” idea and more about failing to engage the process that refines ideas. In other words, truth is portrayed as reachable, but only for the traveler who actually walks.
The First Mistake: Not Starting
Not starting is the most silent failure because nothing visibly “goes wrong”—life simply stays the same. In Buddhist teaching, the path (magga) requires deliberate practice; the Dhammapada (c. 3rd–1st century BC) repeatedly emphasizes effort and wakefulness over passivity. Without the first step, even the best maps remain theory. This mistake often hides behind preparation: endless reading, perfect planning, waiting for confidence, or insisting on ideal conditions. Yet the quote suggests that the beginning itself generates the clarity we think we must have beforehand.
The Second Mistake: Not Going All the Way
If not starting is inertia, not going all the way is retreat—beginning sincerely but stopping when discomfort arrives. Buddhism describes truth as something realized through sustained cultivation, not occasional inspiration; the Noble Eightfold Path in early texts such as the Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta presents a comprehensive practice rather than a partial hobby. This second mistake is especially tempting because it can feel like progress: a few insights, a few changes, then a return to old habits. The quote warns that incomplete commitment can leave us with fragments—enough to unsettle us, not enough to transform us.
Fear, Ego, and the Halfway Exit
Linking the two mistakes is fear: fear of failing before we start, and fear of losing comfort once we’ve begun. The ego can also prefer a controlled identity—“seeker,” “student,” “someone improving”—over the vulnerability of full surrender to what truth demands. In many Buddhist stories, such as the Buddha’s renunciation narrative found across early biographies, the decisive break from complacency is portrayed as the hinge between wishing and awakening. Consequently, the quote reads like a diagnostic tool: if truth feels distant, the problem may not be complexity but hesitation—either at the starting line or at the point where effort becomes costly.
Truth as Practice, Not a Claim
Another implication follows naturally: truth is verified by lived experience, not merely asserted. In the Kalama Sutta (Anguttara Nikaya), listeners are encouraged to test teachings through direct knowing rather than relying solely on tradition or authority. That aligns with the road metaphor—truth emerges through walking, observing, correcting, and walking again. Seen this way, the quote discourages both cynicism and dogmatism. It favors a disciplined openness: begin with humility, continue with perseverance, and let understanding be shaped by practice.
A Simple Ethic of Courage and Continuity
Taken together, the two mistakes form a surprisingly hopeful message: the obstacles to truth are not innumerable, and they are within our control. Start—however imperfectly—and then continue—however slowly. A student who meditates for five minutes a day and gradually extends the habit embodies the antidote to both errors: initiation and endurance. Thus the quote functions as a compact ethic of spiritual and intellectual courage. The road to truth may be long, but it is straightforward in its demand: step onto it, and keep going.