This pandemic has allowed me to review my home library. A few weeks ago, I rediscovered an old
battered paperback copy of Walden. This
time, instead of speed reading out of sense of duty, I have been taking my time
and listening to what he says. Turns out
to be somewhat different than the memories and mythology I had about a young
man who rejected everything to live humbly in the woods.
Thoreau was, of course, well educated, and the events
related took place in a sedate and settled community, not in raw
wilderness. Finally, I realize he did
not so much reject the consensus of his civilization as stand a bit outside of
it _ for a while_ to see how it related to what he wanted to do with his
life. All of us have been there, but many
of us fail to act on our meditations. He
did so, but only for a while, and only moderately, and with an eye to writing
about it.
What I had missed in an earlier rushed read, was that he was
not really advising anybody to do anything different. Walden is not a polemic against
civilization. Thoreau appreciates a lot
of modern comforts. He is not against
using iron nails, precut boards, shirts, or even occasional meals from friends.
He simply wonders how much he really needs to be happy, and what he should be
willing to pay for it in hours of his short time on the planet. But he constantly reminds himself, and us,
that he hardly believes that his conclusions have much if any relevance to
anyone else’s life.
That is a standard problem.
Almost all of us work out our own approach to life in a more or less
satisfactory manner. We think we have
done about what we could have and should have.
As we grow older, most of us become more proud of our life
accomplishments, and more content in the paths we have taken. But then, rather than stop there, we try to
tell others that such is what they should also do, or should have done, or compare their (poor) choices and actions
to our (correct) legacy. Even if we end
up bitterly hating our lives, we try to tell everyone else how to avoid our
mistakes, or at least how to fight those who we think made our life a
disaster.
Thoreau brazenly states that he has never met a sixty year
old who had anything of value to tell him at thirty. More uncommonly, as he discovers his inner
peace, he makes no pretense that his conclusions will apply to you or me. He just lays them out and challenges us to
challenge ourselves in a similar manner.
Compared to fanatic diatribes of current philosophers, that is a
refreshing approach.
Contemplation of the right way to live automatically drifts
to definitions of utopia. How do I live
the best life for me, how does society provide the best life for everyone? Thoreau is the proper starting point, not
with solutions glibly offered but with profound questions. More interestingly, in these times when
everyone is admonished to “be all that you can be,” he questions just how much “all” in socially
defined terms is really important.