The Art of Living Well

He was a strange little man.  At least by the world's standard, that is what Henry David Thoreau came across as. I struggle with the self-appointed task of introducing a friend that I have never met.  Why is it possible that I feel like I know him though he died a hundred years before I was born?  Perhaps this gives us a glimpse of the power of journal keeping, of writing, of recording one's thoughts and observations.  One can become immortal in the sense that generations to come can grow to feel as strong a connection as friendship and even kinship.

All I have with which to know Henry by are his own writings, and the observations of those that knew him well.  I have an obituary; I have a comprehensive eulogy written by the gracious Ralph Waldo Emerson, a long-time friend; I have the expert and irrefutable resource of our own modern-day Wikipedia.

Here is what Henry could have been:  He could have followed his father into the family business of making pencils. Indeed he did apply himself for a time to the craft of manufacturing lead pencils with all the energy and focus that he gave toward everything he did.  Always up for a challenge, rather than content himself with merely learning the craft, he determined that he could make a better pencil! "After completing his experiments, he exhibited his work to chemists and artists in Boston, and having obtained their certificates to its excellence and to its equality with the best London manufacture, he returned home contented." (RWE, Eulogy, 1862)

That was enough.  The challenge having been met, he commented to friends that he should never make another pencil.  "Why should I? I would not do again what I have done once."  That was obviously not the life that Henry had imagined for himself and he knew that the easy way would be to assume a role and a life that was expected.  "...it required rare decision to refuse all the accustomed paths and keep his solitary freedom at the cost of disappointing the natural expectations of his family and friends." (RWE)

He was not slothful.  He never expected to live off of the generosity of others that he might spend his life tromping around in the woods.  He took seriously the task of living independently and held every man to the same duty.  He simply chose to be rich by making his wants few.  What followed was a life of a handyman, doing odd jobs long enough to buy himself the time to do what he really wanted.  He was an expert surveyor, and thus found that he could earn what little he needed by tromping around in the woods that he loved.

As Emerson eloquently describes:  "He declined to give up his large ambition of knowledge and action for any narrow craft or profession, aiming at a much more comprehensive calling, the art of living well."

It was a gamble, but Henry believed in himself and in his dreams and left us with the timeless challenge:

"...if one advances confidently in the direction of one's dreams, and endeavors to live the life he has imagined, he will meet with success unexpect."

He knew there would be sacrifices in following his dreams, but he also knew that it could surely bring glorious rewards. He stepped to the beat of the music that he heard, and he didn't expect others to join his parade; he wanted them to make their own kind of music too.

Henry David Thoreau found that by passing the invisible boundary between the expected and the unexpected he was able to "live with the license of a higher order of beings". 

We should all be so courageous and so blessed.

The Man Who Goes Alone Can Start Today

My tendency is toward perfection. Well, at least my own narrow, naive perception of perfection.  I like to have things "just so" before I venture forth to put them before the world and its scrutiny.  When this happens, however, dreams are delayed, plans are put on hold, and sadly, many projects never get off the ground.

I have been mulling over an idea for the past little while of beginning a blog devoted thoroughly to Thoreau; thoroughly to the man, his genius, his pithy satire, and mostly, his humble heart. As I have taken an interest in Henry David Thoreau, I have had a desire to share what I have learned.  I have become so excited to discover much more than the perfunctory facts necessary to get a passing grade on a literature assignment.

I'm way past learning for the sake of passing a class. I no longer read from any assigned reading list.  I study for the love of learning and growing and expanding and discovering.

So even though my blog is still wet behind the ears, lacking any finesse, suffering for want of many posts, I have decided to jump in with both feet.

As Henry reminds me:  "The man who goes alone can start today; but he who travels with another must wait till that other is ready, and it may be a long time before they get off."

Not going to happen. I am going to start today. Alone. Apprehensive. Ill-prepared.

But also full of vigor and enthusiasm and up for the challenge. I am not afraid to come across as a neophyte scholar. I have my books. I have my computer. I have a love and respect for a man that doesn't get the attention he deserves.

And I am going to do something about that.

I Left the Woods for as Good a Reason as I Went There

Why do we let ourselves forget?  Why do we become so focussed on distractions that sidetrack us from our ultimate goals?  We have so much potential to think and to do and to explore and to find and to wonder.  Why do get muddled down in the quagmires of mediocrity?

Life is not meant to be static, nor stagnant.  And yet, once again, I often find myself wearing footpaths into the soft and impressible earth that used to seem fresh and new.  Some daily habits are good; many are tired and exhausting and worn out, and their repetition puts us on a treadmill that goes nowhere.

"I left the woods for as good a reason as I went there." 

I return to Thoreau.  I find refuge in Thoreau's thinking outside the box.  I identify with his impatience with the status quo and his desire for freshness and new challenges.

"Perhaps it seemed to me that I had several more lives to live, and could not spare any more time for that one."

"...how deep the ruts of tradition and conformity."

"...if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpect in common hours."

The common hours.  The expected.  The ordinary; the run of the mill; the unremarkable.  THAT is not good enough.  I want more.  I believe the seed was planted in me to expect more.  And hopefully to achieve more.

"He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary."

What am I ready to leave behind?  What lies beyond that self-imposed invisible boundary? What is preventing me from expanding my capacities?

"He will live with the license of a higher order...."

I think I am ready to move out of the "little shack in the woods".  It has been an important place.  I have learned much and reconnected with my past.  I have felt validated and cared about.  But it has become stifling and monotonous. It threatens to be consuming and common and commercial.  I cannot spare any more time for that.

I am reclaiming my time and my dream.

Castles in the Air

One of my favorite quotes from Henry David Thoreau talks about castles in the air.  I love it.  I can identify with it.  It seems to describe my life.  Part of it is as follows:
     "If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be.  Now put the foundations under them."

I have spent my life as a dreamer.  As a child I always imagined what I could do; as a youth I spent more time within the safety of my imagination than in the starkness of reality.  As an adult, I think I woke up to the demands of real life; well, kind of.  I have taken my responsibilities seriously and tried to accomplish the things that were asked of me.  But I have always held onto dreams.  I have always imagined what could be.  I fear, though, it has often been without setting the goals necessary to achieve them.

I used to envision myself in cap and gown, surrounded by my family overflowing with pride in their mother.  I never graduated from college.  I chose to work full time to enable my husband to complete his degree.  I don't regret that decision.  It gave us full health insurance benefits to start a family, and the security of beginning our lives without student loans.

Several years back I decided to chase this castle in the air and I went back to school.  I loved it.  I have always loved learning.  That is the real joy of school for me.  I took several classes for a couple of semesters.  When it came time to register for the upcoming semester, I somehow didn't feel like it was the right choice.  I didn't know why.  I just didn't. I received my answer a short time later.  I received a phone call from the Stake President.  He asked what I had going on in my life.  I explained that my days were mostly free as my children were all in school then.  What was I thinking?!  He then extended a request for me to teach full time seminary at one of the local high schools.

It took me years to return to the goal of a college degree.  When I did, I found that my credits were too "old" to account for anything, and that I would have to start from scratch.  Somehow that didn't appeal to me.  So I decided to become as self-educated as I could.  I love to travel, so I have accompanied travel with learning as much as I can about the places I wish to go.  I have begun watching lectures by college professors on DVD.  I have not been afraid to try my hand at new skills.  All of these things are putting the foundation underneath the dream of being well-educated.  The dream may have received a little tweaking, but it is becoming a reality.