my own drum

In this post I think I shall cheat a bit, and quote from one of our historic literary personages, Henry David Thoreau, from his book, Walden. I've been re-reading this book of late, and there on page 12 I seem to have found, once again, a pattern or a template for living, for my own life. I could only wish that all men would adopt the same sort of self-critical introspection of their lives.

Walden is one of those books that is designed, in my belief, to teach us about ourselves more than about the actual subject matter. Mr. Thoreau did not retreat to to Walden pond to write about the trees, the birds, the insects, the weather or even the pond itself. He was frustrated with what he saw as a failure of modern man to grasp the simple realities of this thing which we call life. He knew, deep within his soul, that man was reaching much farther than was necessary and was becoming more mired in the results.

In my own life, I have made the decision to withdraw from so many of the luxuries that make our current existence that which it is. To be certain, I still avail myself of those luxuries - the fact that I am writing in a blog that is posted instantaneously around the globe via the internet, and that whilst I write said blog I can avail myself of the instantaneous spell checker is proof enough that I have not retreated to the caveman existence of my humble ancestry. Yet I try. In my abode there is no television, no radio, no telephone, no bathroom! Imagine! Yet I survive, and have done so for some time now, with little more than minor inconvenience. It has been my discovery that there is no need for a car, or any of those other items I've already mentioned. Living life on life's terms is just not that difficult. And, it is sometimes made easier by the kind generosity of those curious folks around me. They can sense something is different here, and I can sense their fear of the unknown, and of the unwilling. Life is, indeed, good.

And so, without further ado, let me get back to Mr. Thoreau and his book, Walden. Please do yourself a favor and read this book at the first opportunity.

The greater part of what my neighbors call good I believe in my soul to be bad, and if I repent of any thing, it is very likely to be my good behavior. What demon possessed me that I behaved so well? You may say the wisest thing you can old man, -- you who have lived seventy years, not without honor of a kind, -- I hear an irrestible voice which invites me away from all that. One generation abandons the enterprises of another like stranded vessels.

I think that we may safely trust a good deal more than we do. We may waive just so much care of ourselves as we honestly bestow elsewhere. Nature is well adapted to our weakness as to our strength. The incessant anxiety and strain of some is a well nigh incurable form of disease. We are made to exaggerate the importance of what work we do; and yet how much is not done by us! or, what if we had taken sick? How vigilant we are! determined not to live by faith if we can avoid it; all the day long on the alert, at night we unwillingly say our prayers and commit ourselves to uncertainties. So thoroughly and sincerely are we compelled to live, reverencing our life, and denying the possibility of change. This is the only way, we say; but there are as many ways as there can be drawn radii from one centre. All change is a miracle to contemplate; but it is a miracle which is taking place in every instant. Confucius said, "To know that we know what we know, and that we do not know what we do not know, that is true knowledge." When a man has reduced a fact of the imagination to be a fact to his understanding, I forsee that all men will at length establish their lives on that basis.

Thoreau, Henry David. Walden
Edited with an Introduction and Notes by Stephen Fender
Oxford University Press, 1997.
(pg 12)