Walden – ponderings and ponds

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front 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; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms.”

I started reading Henry David Thoreau’s Walden simultaneously with an old friend, the idea being that we’d discuss it once we’d both finished. That discussion is still pending as it took me an unconscionably long time to finish this book. I was suffering from a sort of reader’s block which was definitely not helped by the fact this was the hardest book I’ve read in a while.

Published in 1854, in the days when books were the preserve of the educated (see rich) and reading wasn’t something to be stuffed in on your train journey to work, Walden is probably the exact sort of book that turns some people off English literature when they encounter it at school. It’s easy to mock (the man devotes whole chapters to the quality of his local pond) and it percolates slowly through your brain. Expect to re-read whole pages, and forget about trying to read the odd bit here and there in the bath. This is a book that requires mental commitment.

Walden is Henry David Thoreau’s treatise on life in the woods in Massachusetts, where he retreated to live a simple life beyond money, beyond the rat race, raising his own crops and building his own home. The book is wonderful both for its look into a different age (it’s a lot more difficult to do what Thoreau did in New England these days, I’ll bet!) and for its timeless truths, beautifully expressed.

Thoreau weighs in on everything from fashion to eating meat and is fascinatingly relevant even in 2013. He discusses the slavery of money and work, the concept of progress, education, ant battles (seriously), friendship, death and just about every other human preoccupation in a fresh and thought-provoking way. In the middle of a Robinson Crusoe-esque ode to pond geography he will come out with something totally profound, something that catches you off your guard.

So if you’re looking for a refreshing read that strips away modern superficiality and examines the truth of the human condition and you have the patience to get through (or have a fondness for) lots of praise for ponds you could do a lot worse than reading Walden.

On that note, I’ll leave you with some of my favourite quotes from the book – Thoreau says it better than I could.

“Cultivate poverty like a garden herb, like sage. Do not trouble yourself much to get new things, whether clothes or friends. Turn the old; return to them. Things do not change; we change. Sell your clothes and keep your thoughts.”

“If a man does not keep pace with his companion, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.”

“The better part of the man is soon ploughed into the soil for compost. By a seeming fate, commonly called necessity, they are employed, as it says in an old book, laying up treasures which moth and rust will corrupt and thieves break through and steal. It is a fool’s life, as they will find when they get to the end of it, if not before.”

“And I am sure that I never read any memorable news in a newspaper. If we read of one man robbed, or murdered, or killed by accident, or one house burned, or one vessel wrecked, or one steamboat blown up, or one cow run over on the Western Railroad, or one mad dog killed, or one lot of grasshoppers in the winter – we need never read of another. One is enough. If you are acquainted with the principle, what do you care for a myriad instances and applications?”

“The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poor-house. The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the alms-house as brightly as from the rich man’s abode; the snow melts before its door as early in the spring. I do not see but a quiet mind may live as contentedly there, and have as cheering thoughts, as in a palace.”

“I mean that they (students) should not play life, or study it merely, while the community supports them at this expensive game, but earnestly live it from beginning to end. How could youths better learn to live than by at once trying the experiment of living? Methinks this would exercise their minds as much as mathematics.”

“As long as possible live free and uncommitted. It makes but little difference whether you are committed to a farm or the county jail.”

“But man’s capacities have never been measured; nor are we to judge of what he can do by any precedents, so little have been tried.”

“A man is rich in proportion to the number of things which he can afford to let alone.”

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