“The true harvest of my daily life is as intangible and indescribable as the tints of morning or evening. It is a little star-dust caught, a segment of the rainbow that I have clutched.”
Aren’t those lovely words? I have frequently said that Henry David Thoreau, the author of Walden, surely was one of the finest wordsmiths whom America has ever produced — right up there with Mark Twain who was the absolute best of the best.
Thoreau decided to try an experiment in living by existing as frugally, simply and as close to nature as possible. He spent three years in a little shack that he built on the banks of Walden Pond which is a short distance from Concord, Massachusetts. He was acquainted with Ralph Waldo Emerson and Louisa May Alcott’s family.
He wrote, I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to confront only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear . . . I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.
As I’ve become more and more out of the social and organizational loop, writing these essays adds depth to my existence. One of the deepest pleasures of my life is when readers respond to what I write. Different columns resonate with different people. Their responses make me feel in touch with “kindred spirits” as Anne of Green Gables described those who have rapport with each other. Some are people whom I’ve known for a long time. Others are strangers, and our only connection is the words that we write to one another.
Jerry Hager grew up in little Knightstown, my home town. I didn’t really know him, but I recognized his name when he sent an e-mail. He lives in the Chicago area, subscribes to “The Knightstown Banner” and occasionally sends an e-mail. Most recently, he wrote that he, too, appreciates Thoreau’s writing that he first encountered when he took a lit class at Ball State while working at Chrysler. He is dismayed that so few people have read Thoreau.
Jerry wrote, Little did I know at the time how that class would be a factor in my entire life. It would change my religion eventually, it would stop me from littering ever again on Mother Earth, as well as make me more aware of the sounds of gurgling rivers and falling leaves. To say that Thoreau influenced my life is an understatement. Rose Mary. I have been writing a journal for over 40 years and you are so correct about one memory leading to another . . . memory and everyday life combine to make this thing called life sweet.
I think that perhaps Jerry has profited from Thoreau’s insight: To him whose elastic and vigorous thought keeps pace with the sun, the day is a perpetual morning . . . Morning is when I am awake and there is a dawn in me . . . To be awake is to be alive. . . We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake . . .
People leapfrog on each other’s thoughts. Jerry’s comments made me reexamine Walden, my own existence and my reactions to the transformations that have come with age. Thoreau wrote, However mean your life is, meet it and live it: do not shun it and call it hard names. It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life . . .
Instead of mourning what I’ve lost, I must celebrate the riches that I have left and live deeply and consciously as possible and such up all the marrow of my life. In modern parlance, Thoreau would say, “Get a life!” wclarke@comcast.net