If You Want to Love Humanity More, Step Away From It
Exploring Walden Pond with JoAnn
“Thoreau Knows” (The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.) by Ken Craft
“Making sense of things, Trying to track
Nine pebbles of sadness To their source.
Sly crows Stole them a mile back,
But Thoreau knows I should walk anyway
Under sun-coined trees Thick with wood-thrush song
Till I reach undergrowth Dense and itchy with the past
Till the air cools and I am near Enough to con crow talk
Mouth fulls, stories dark.”
Perhaps it was a day of juxtapositions: forging a human connection in the natural setting of Walden Pond; photographing austere history with iPhones. In any case, it was a good day, and I’ve always appreciated incongruity.
This week, I found myself in the fortunate position of being able to meet our beloved and talented founder and editor, JoAnn Ryan, who was suddenly and temporarily within driving distance of my very own home. As we are both writers and I hoped to do something “Massachusettsy,” I thought to pick her up and take her to Walden Pond. Joyfully, she agreed to my scheme.
Thoreau famously came to this place because he, “wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach…”— JoAnn and I might have gone for similar reasons. Thoreau’s desires are central to many writers, though we each approach them in our own unique ways. Stepping out of my own hermetic comfort zone to meet an esteemed internet-colleague was a way of living deliberately from my perspective.
In his situation, Thoreau had a need to retreat and pare down, to look inward and reflect— personally, I do this most days. In any case, it was from this sovereign position— anchored in freedom, solitude, and deep meaning— that he and his Transcendentalist contemporaries shared both idealistic and pragmatic support for critical humanitarian causes.
We walked and talked, occasionally pausing at a break in the wire fence that flanked the trail, where rocks led down to the water. We snapped photos of scenes that we couldn’t help but discuss, preserving them both digitally and verbally— “the water is so clear…” “what a beautiful, mild day for January.”
I took this photo of JoAnn without her knowing, which I think means she can sue me now. Is it civil disobedience or something else? Someone, please publish the journal entries that I write from my jail cell.
Several times on our journey around the pond, we remarked on how similar we were to Anne Bonfert, traversing the rugged and beautiful wilderness! In fact, we mentioned many Medium writers as we went, sharing in our favorites. In this way, I hope you all know that your words have now seeped into the woods and the waters here.
I’m traveling backwards now, which befits our experience looking back in time. When I first met JoAnn at the curb outside her residence, I asked whether Walden and Thoreau are well-known outside of Massachusetts (it might just be a lackluster pond otherwise). She confirmed that she’d read at least some of the book in school. Whew.
Our first stop on arrival was to the small, modern visitor’s center nestled among the parking areas. It struck me as well-designed for children on field trips, with interactive displays, interesting artifacts, maps, timelines, and coloring pages. One that I noticed had this little blurb, which says:
“Walden has been published in numerous formats. Many American households keep a copy on their bookshelves. Students read portions of it in school. This small, lightweight version of Walden was designed to be carried easily by heavily-laden soldiers during World War II. All of these examples demonstrate the far-reaching impact of the book.”
This called to mind my own copy of Walden, which I purchased from a bookstore in Cambridge many years ago. The next day, I pulled it down from the shelf in my living room.
A confession: I never really read it. It’s dense and cerebral and the language is (rightfully) old fashioned. Maybe today I’ll try to take another look.
But I wonder, how might I best be able to understand Thoreau: by retracing his words or his footsteps? I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately. I found a symphony of moments, past and present, woven together on the wooded trail. I shared these with a friend. In short, I lived.