Solstice Walk

Happy Solstice! 

I no longer celebrate Christmas. It never was one of my favorite holidays anyway. The stress of buying presents for someone you really barely know. Fighting crowds of people, cutting trees, buying decorations only to find at the last moment one light is burned out, so you have to head out into the insanity to purchase, of possible, a whole new strand. How does this relate to Christ's birth?

My sister loved this holiday. Last Christmas she passed just days before the holiday. I participated in it for her. She loved the shopping and craziness. I loved the joy it brought her. Shopping with her was an experience all in itself. She loved it. She would shop all day, only to go back after dinner to the stores that remained open all night. Not sure what the joy in that was, but she loved it. She accepted my idiosyncrasies, so I'll accept hers. And, also, I loved being with her. With her gone what little meaning it had no longer remains. It had no meaning before she passed, and I told her so. So, I always found it interesting, ironic I guess that she passed away on the year I decided I had had enough. 

I decided last year I would start celebrating the solstice. With her death and all the other craziness it never happened. Today was my first true solstice celebration. I woke up with a terrible headache, a bit depressed, sad, and a general feeling of blah. I wanted to just pull the covers over my head and pass the day wallowing in self-pity, but the voices in my head kept telling me to get up and out. So I showered and dressed, grabbed my camera and headed out. On the way out of the condo door I met a neighbor; a very nice man. Chatting with a happy person changed my mood and state of mind. I sometimes wonder if I should go back and tell someone how they changed my thinking and mood, my day in general. I stepped outside and the blue sky and brisk air made me feel a bit more alive. I headed to the pond.

My favorite place in the world is Walden Pond. Perhaps it has so much meaning because I studied Thoreau before ever setting foot on the shores of Walden Pond and looking into the exquisite colors of the pond waters. I was in love with the place instantly. I still remember the first time, like it was yesterday. Now, for me, it has magical powers, a draw, a feeling of comfort and awe. My daughter-in-law calls it my pond. Whenever I am in a funk it makes me feel better. My spirits are lifted. A man who works at the pond says it's the center of the universe. I love that description. 

I arrived at the pond about mid-day. There is a solstice walk planned, but I decided to do my own walk instead. My original plan was to meet up and do the walk, but once there I felt I wanted to be alone and do my own thing. I stopped by the replica and listened to the ranger talk about Thoreau, and then headed to the pond. I never walk the pond path much anymore. I always head to the other trails. There I rarely see other human visitors and I like it that way. I walked up to Ridge Path and along Weyman Meadow being the first to disturb the snow on those paths. I stopped by the ruins for a moment, said hello to Henry, and headed up to Bean Field Road. I walked out to Route 2 to get a shot of the reservation sign covered in snow then headed back to Old County Road. I came to fork in the road and decided to send someone I was thinking about an email, yes I know an odd thing to do out in nature, but I did it anyway. When I turned around I was staring into the huge eyes of a doe. I think we were in awe of one another, neither of us moved. We just marveled at one another. Neither of us quite sure what to do. 

I remembered that eye contact with an animal is confrontational, so I looked away. She headed into the trees. I found her with another doe they both looked at me curiously, although her friend decided to take off right quickly, but she stood there again looking at me as I popped off a few frames. She seemed very curious. She began to walk toward me, but I told her "no-no sweetie don't get too close to humans they aren't all as innocent as me." She began to head toward me so I left not wanting her to befriend a human. As much as I would love that. Not a healthy occupation for her. I turned back to absorb that moment one more time and saw her standing in the path watching me. How unusual. How sweet. And very touching. Like we had this communication of sorts. Like she knew I needed a friend at that moment.

I continued along the path eventually coming back to the pond path where I encountered the ranger giving an interpretive walk so I joined in. We walked along the path discussing Thoreau, the pond and nature. Visiting the site of the cabin he lived in for two years, two months and two days beginning in 1845. When we reached Thoreau Cove we stopped to enjoy the sun warming the bridge and Weyman's meadow. We had a quiet moment that I dedicated to Virginia. It was a beautiful moment. We continued to the beach where we parted ways. I thanked her and told her how much I appreciated the walk and discussion. It was a perfect solstice! 

When I returned to my car a feather was stuck in my windshield wiper. Not sure how it managed to get there. Did some one put it there? How did it come to land on my car right in front of me as I sat in the drivers seat? However it arrived there it seemed to be another sign. Now if I could only figure out what that sign means….

Virginia

One year ago you left the earth. You were my best friend, my sister, and so much like a mother. I've never gotten over this heartache, and at times wonder if I ever will. The past few weeks I've been banging into you, as I often do, just more often lately. I wake in the middle of the night hearing you call my name. When full consciousness returns it is then I realize you are not here.  I remember the last time I saw you. You said "I love you" with more eloquence than usual. I think of that day endlessly. Thanksgiving, 2009 when we parted promising to talk soon. 

I walk in the woods in an attempt to heal. I hear your laugh. That non laugh, sweet exhalations I guess you'd call it.  That no longer are. I sit by the pond and feel you there. That comforting presence. 

I still don't believe you are gone from my life. Most of the time I feel in a fog, a dreamlike state, this surreal space. And think when I wake up you'll be there. I'll tell you "I had this crazy dream," and you'll laugh, and say "I'll always be here for you" and laugh..that sweet laugh I miss so dearly. 

I'll remember you

When the wind blows through the piney wood

It was you who understood

Though I'd never say

That I done it the way

That you'd have like me to

In the end

I'll remember you

Virginia Frances Riggins Spitler 

August 26, 1948 ~ December 19, 2009

December Sixteenth

One of those amazingly beautiful days at Walden. The colors, the reflections, stunning, beautiful, serene!!

Stieglitz and nature

"Lake George was for him both a sacred and personal sanctum, and he sought to capture it's natural possibilities. At Lake George he could view nature as part for an underlying spiritual condition. The images become visual meditations...the eye looks into, instead of at the images as part of a mysterious otherness."
Graham Clarke on Alfred Stieglitz and his passion for Lake George.

My sentiments toward Walden are exactly this.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Leonard Rd,Boxborough,United States

Flamingos and Such

Having a chai at Starbucks this guy was watching me. He was the only color on a gray dreary day. It made me smile. I'm not much into flamingos, however my friend Danny had a collection of various flamingos from what I understand. So I immediately thought of my good friend. They seem to be a popular yard item in Acton and West Acton... Maybe this too is an omen.

He posted a picture shortly before he passed on called "The Last of the Firebirds"--I love that title. Very cool image.  I really dig it. So much in fact it's the wallpaper on my phone. And memorial to a very special man who touched my life.

As he used to say: GO HERE ->
Danny's Dozen or here>> Smart Girls

Walden in December

Walden Pond the first week of December beginning to freeze. Weyman's Meadow was beginning to freeze in late November, but not the pond. Thanksgiving Day a swimmer was enjoying the cold waters midday.

Rainy days, Coltrane and people past

Coltrane and the rain..

Listening to Coltrane while the rain pelts the ac unit outside my basement level window.  I thought of my friend Danny. It's a dreary gray day the kind of day he never liked. I miss the music he would post to his blog. I miss his wisdom and insight and his art. And his conversations. Every time I hear Coltrane I think of him, or Thelonious Monk. He posted a video of The Monk and Coltrane one day that has always stuck with me. Two very talented men. Great music. 

I've been listening to Keith Richard's audio version of "Life." He talks about banging into those he has lost in his life. I've adopted the saying because I find it fitting. There are days my sister is around and that is just how it feels, like a "banging." She seems to be right there.  When I'm sleeping, or I believe I am sleeping I feel her presence, her touch and hear her laugh. 

When I wake up in the morning, in that place before you're really awake, I feel her there. Then reality moves in and I realize she isn't here anymore. 

A walk in the woods.

I walked down to Goose Pond for the first time today. There is a thin layer of ice on the pond that gives it a cold desolate feel. The radio announced it was 23* but the temperature felt much cooler than that to me. Made me wonder how Thoreau walked four hours a day, as I recently read, without modern comforts like my favorite...smartwool. There was an interesting sound in the cove on the right side of Goose Pond that sounded much like a bullfrog, but I figured they were long buried deep in the mud by now, especially in these temperatures.

Walked around Walden Pond today. A somewhat cold, gray and bitter day. I still love it. I had the pond all to myself, for a while anyway. Eventually a few other brave souls began to arrive.

The edges of the pond are beginning to freeze. In Thoreau's Cove the water lapping under the newly formed ice made a singing vibration. There is no sound like the sounds of nature. The pond was completely quiet other than the sounds from under the ice and the ducks calling out when I passed, or they passed me. At times they appeared to be laughing.

Panorama of the pond on a winter day. 

On omens and walking

I met this guy on the trail,

walking in the walden woods.

He swooped in front of me without a sound.

Very handsome, attentive, compassionate, understanding,

wise, a deep thinker, so so he appeared, 

and a good listener - when I needed one.

We promised  to meet again.

I went one way, he soared the other.

A beautiful omen. 

A few days later...

Then Thanksgiving came. It was the first Thanksgiving I spent alone. For most of the day I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I woke up and thought about what to do with the day. I drove the pond. A friend of mine calls it the center of the universe, and it's true it really does feeling as though it is the center when I'm there. I stood at the edge of the land locked pond and breathed in the air. It was cold and gray, a bit damp. I walked along the paths that surround the pond. I stopped at Thoreau's Cove and looked at the reflections, at that moment the sun made a brief appearance. That appears to me as Henry. Whenever I visit the pond on days that are gray and dreary seems there is always a ray of light at some point. When that happens I always say: "Hello, Henry." 

That happened just as a group of people came across the bridge. We all greeted each other. One man stopped and chatted with me. He told me he was an artist and often painted the pond. He asked me to have a look at his work sometime that is displayed at the pond gallery. He also invited me to have Thanksgiving dinner with them. I thanked him, and thought how gracious that was. Now that is what Thanksgiving is to me. Extending yourself to others. I declined, feeling I was beginning to enjoy the solitude. 

I walked up around the ruins of Thoreau's cabin. Stood among the ruins and looked for the rock I left there in January in memory of our cat Oliver. I walked up to the Bean Field path. I stood at the crossroad of two paths trying to decide which way to go. I turned onto the Bean Field path and this massive creature swooped down in front of me, so quick and silent I didn't know what it was when it swopped in front of me. It reminded me of being in Minnesota on the Mississippi experiencing the eagles flying overhead. 

I located the creature who awakened my senses to the natural world sitting high in a tree on a branch making quiet hooting noises at me. Other than the sound of small mammals scurrying in the woods it was just the two of us chatting about how beautiful he was. I'm sure the animals scurrying about were grateful I was keeping him occupied as the ran for cover. 

Sebastian is here!!

I haven't written in twenty days. Not that I haven't thought of writing. Thanksgiving was in there and the birth of my first grandson, Sebastian.

I was driving through the farmland of Pennsylvania when I heard he made his way into the world. Sebastian! November 22, 2010 at 3:19 am. Five pounds 12 oz and nineteen inches.

I thought of my sister and how she would have been thrilled to hear that news. She loved babies like no other person I have known.

I drove up to see him in Portland Maine. It was a drizzly, foggy day, but still a nice drive. It's always a surreal feeling driving into Maine. I was never content or happy when I lived there. Every time I cross the border I feel like I have returned home. It never felt like home when I was there. Perhaps because I lived there for so long, so many memories are there.

Danny Dries August 28, 1941 ~ November 7, 2010

Danny was a very special friend I met through the web. Unfortunately, I never met him in person, but always felt I knew him through our postings and emails.  I heard he passed on yesterday and my heart sank, I cried. I knew he was fighting with health issues and always wondered if anything happened to him, would anyone contact me. I was so honored when his family did so. He was a very special friend to me. I will miss him dearly. I wrote this letter to him shortly after I heard he finished his earthly journey. 

Dear Danny,

I heard today that you passed away. When I read the words I cried. You'd think that was silly. I know. Probably ask me why? You lingered in and out of my mind this weekend. Was that you saying goodbye? 

We never met in person. Yet still, I felt I knew you all my life. I found you surfing the web awaiting my granddaughter's arrival. I read your blog and emailed you and found a sincere, loving friend. You asked me once how we knew each other, because it seemed we always did. You were surprised when I said no, just through the web. 

Time went by, wrapped up in life. I'd visit your blog to see how your life was. I'd email and you, and surprisingly you always remembered who I was.  We exchanged emails and shared our lives. You turned me into a mac user, and for that I am eternally grateful! You tried to be a curmudgeon, but I knew better. I shared my road trips with you, and you promised to join me sometime. I guess that is out of the question? But you were always with me and always will be. Friends would ask who you were, and I'd always say 'my dearest friend.' 

I loved your street scenes, I loved your full moons over the Brooklyn Bridge. I loved that your family was so important to you. I loved the pride you had in all of them. I loved your old photographs. I loved your spirit. 

Time passed on again.

I found you on Facebook and we reconnected. I tired of Facebook, as I often do. I still went to your blog to read and muse. I loved the music you posted. I loved your rambles and insight. Your political views, and your art.  What you were eating seemed so important. The photographs of your family. And your comments about American life. I was amused when you blogged about me disappearing. You made me laugh without even trying.

I ached when you were ill, and they couldn't find a answer for you. I felt the joy you felt when your daughters graduated from high school and were accepted into universities. And then became successful women, who you were so proud of. You wrote to me once: "I'm amazed at the unique talented children I've managed to produce from two failed marriages. " I always felt it was because you were such an amazing father and friend to them. 

You are an amazing friend, an amazing father, an amazing artist, blogger, human and curmudgeon. You are missed. I know you're in a better place, more than likely looking down shaking your head at all the insanity. It's lonely not having your physical being here, or just knowing it is here. But I know you're here in spirit. 

Rest now my friend and know how deeply you are loved and missed. 

Deb

Great Meadows

Taking in nature in Concord.

Backroads

The interstate was closed in New York yesterday, at least for a small section as drivers passed into New York from Pennsylvania. Traffic was backed up for miles, mostly tractor trailers and those caught in their shadows.  Cars piled off looking for new routes or easy detours. Driving off onto back roads in hopes of finding their way to unknown destinations. Following the traffic winding through the countryside of New York until they faded away seeking their destinations the road less taken stretched out revealing small towns, farmland and once thriving businesses fallen to the wayside.

And long forgotten relatives resting along side the road in a lone cemetery. Sitting at the crossroads of a small highway and a side road. Stopping in an effort to take some shots of this long forgotten intriguing cemetery, camera out, admiring the old stone work reminding us of those long past. Looking through the lens the flashing low battery light, never a good sign, two frames clicked off....

Long forgotten, no parking other than the space created on the side of the road by other pulling off to visit.  A dilapidated iron fence lying on the ground not far from the Stone gate intended as an entrance. It appeared to still be under the care of someone, albeit not frequented by many, if anyone at all. Most stones were old, and tipping over if they had already fallen. A few had begun a descent into the earth like the one it memorialized. 

Traveling back on the highway this cemetery isn't far from civilization. So close, but still forgotten. Back on the highway the cars zoom off to their destinations. How many people even noticed the small cemetery on the side of the road? Traveling the back roads reveals so much of life, or how life was at one time, yet no one takes the time to notice in their busy lives. 

The coming of winter

"Nature now, like an athlete, begins to strip herself in earnest for her contest with her great antagonist, Winter. In the bare trees and twigs what a display of muscle!" HDT

This quote comes from the "Blog of Henry David Thoreau" this morning. What a beautiful illustration of nature at this moment in time. Thoreau observes nature in the most passionate, artistic way. Walking through the Walden woods so many times, observing the trees, a wonder arises as to what he saw and thought as he sauntered on his daily walks. There is a connection and a feeling of being alive walking those trails. Comfort in the season of comfort.

Autumn is much like a dance or ball, a formal when the trees are dressed up and beautiful, saying "look at me." It is a time when nature is at its best, in its glory. And when the sun reflects on the leaves there is that glistening that makes you smile, because it is so beautiful. Like sequins, or jewels sparkling under the lights as the wind blows, and there is that glimmer that awakens your senses. It reaches down inside you and you feel alive. Autumn is so alive.  The spirit of nature dancing with your spirit. That is the most extraordinary sensation. Then nature slowly disrobes revealing all of her self to you; inviting you to breathe in her energy, to become alive and whole. It's beautiful how Thoreau sees muscle and beauty and not imperfection. 

Hindoo Wisdom

"That which makes the eye see but cannot be Seen by the eye, that is the Self indeed. This Self is not someone other than you."

- Kena Upanishad

Fall Leaves In Sleepy Hollow

Channing's Walden

It is not far beyond the Village church, 

After we pass the wood that skirts the road, 

A Lake,-the blue-eyed Walden, that doth smile 

Most tenderly upon its neighbor Pines, 

And they as if to recompense this love, 

In double beauty spread their branches forth. 

This Lake had tranquil loveliness and breadth, 

And of late years has added to its charms, 

For one attracted to its pleasant edge, 

Has built himself a little Hermitage, 

Where with much piety he passes life. 

William Ellery Channing on Walden

Woke up this morning craving nature...

We can NEVER have enough of nature!
HDT

"A lake is the landscapes most beautiful and expressive feature. It is the earth's eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature." Henry David Thoreau

Postcrossing

I've been exchanging cards with people around the world through the website Postcrossing. I have receieved some interesting cards from all over the world. It's like taking a trip around the world without leaving my house. It can become quite an addiction at times too. What is amazing about this is some days I will receive a card that is so uplifting, so appropriate, so meaningful to my life, it just makes you wonder how does that happen. How does someone who doesn't know you at all send you a postcard with so much meaning? That touches you and brings an amazing sense of peace?

Life has been topsy turvy for the past year. I have been having an exhausting emotional time with life. We always seem to be at odds. I received this postcard yesterday...

"Just Relax"

The sender wrote on the back this means "Just Relax!" 

Perfect!!

A walk through Walden

Walked through the woods at Walden. It was the most amazing hike. Venturing from the usual pond path that surrounds Walden Pond I walked some of the other paths in the woodland surrounding the pond. Along the Bean Field path the animals were scurrying about in the leaves, rustling and foraging. Autumn has arrived in New England. I love walking in the woods listening to the crunching of the fallen leaves. It reminds me of being a child exploring the woods around my house in Maryland, for which I invariably was grounded for when I returned home with hitch hikers on my pants.

Pond Path at Walden

This isn't usually something I encounter walking along the pond path, the most widely used path at the pond. Out to Ice Fort Cove path down to the pond for some shots of the pond, which is now surrounded by beautiful autumn colors, still not quite at their peak.

The path intersects with  Fire Road, both north and south. A steep down grade I walked along Heywood's meadow. Walking along this path I heard what sounded like the plucking of a harp string, which made me think of Thoreau describing a similar incident in his journal. I always find those things intriguing when they happen, something he has written about happens, or I see. I gives a whole new dimension to the experience. Walden is such a spiritual place. I always feel at peace there. On a trip there in January Jim told me I completely changed when I saw the pond. It does have a strange effect on me. Not sure how to describe it. I suppose, to pilfer one of Emerson's favorite words, it's sublime, ethereal perhaps? I always feel like I have come home when I visit here. This trip when I pulled into Concord center I sat in my car looking around feeling very at peace and whole. I sat and took in the smell and sounds of Heywood meadow for a few minutes then walked up the path imagining camping there, which is not allowed, but I can still imagine how peaceful it would be. The past few times I have been to Walden I have looked for Emerson's cliff, but never succeeded. I found today! I have passed the path to the cliff several times, but have never been facing the right way to catch the sign pointing to the cliff. Eureka!

Climbed the cliff to look out at the vista and take in the quiet of the woods. A few people could be heard off in the distance, but it appears people rarely walk the other paths in the Concord and Lincoln land conservation, or not when I do. I walked around the cliff for a while, then laid on the rock smelling the autumn air and taking in the colors of the forest, which is mostly yellow now with splashes or orange and red. I could look out and see the pond bathed in all the colors of the seasons, green, red, orange, and a multitude of hues of yellow. The colors of fall seem to awaken the senses.

As I meandered through the trails back to the pond I could hear the exuberant voices of young people relaxing by the pond, looking to be in their teens I surmised a break in the day from school as they were all wearing their packs. What a great place to have to visit between sessions of learning. I sat on the beach a while admiring the colors of the water. Studying the people at the pond. A woman reading, two men fishing, Joe and Frank I learned earlier, and high school aged students sitting on the retaining wall talking and eating lunch.  I love the water at Walden the colors are spectacular. The pond consists of so many colors, especially in the autumn.

I headed back up to the parking lot, stopping by the replica constructed of the cabin Thoreau spent two years, two months and two days living in by the pond in 1845. The ruins of the cabin are not too far off the pond path along the highway side of the pond. The light streaming into the cabin illuminated the entire house. The light and shadows on the aged door were alluring. And the smell of the cabin. I always love the smell of it.

Happy Birthday Jesse!!

Today my boy turns 29. Hard to believe it was that long ago. Thank you for making life fun, interesting and complete! I am so very proud of all your accomplishments.

October 15, 1981

October 1985

And in 2009 on his wedding day.

Exploring music on Facebook

I don't use Facebook much anymore; it became too superficial for me. So I decided to take a break from it. However, there is a page I always liked to check out in the mornings. The posts represent the music in history on that day. Always an interesting selection of music.  A lot of Beatle selections, which I really enjoy, because I love the Beatles, especially George and John. I guess my sisters passed that down to me. Seemed it was always playing when I was growing up developing my own taste of music. Great music that lives on through every generation.

I Love It Loud

The page owner is looking to increase the likes on the page.

Happy Birthday Scott!

Happy Birthday Scotty. Even though you're no longer with us. The time you spent on earth and enriching our lives with your love and affection will never be forgotten! RIP sweet man.

Hindu Wisdom

Like strangers in an unfamiliar country walking over a hidden treasure, day by day we enter the world of Brahman while in deep sleep but never find it, carried away by what is false.

- Chandogya Upanishad

Golden Leaves of the Season!

the best time of the year

the colors of fall are so inviting and comforting, vibrant and bold.

*Criminal*

"Criminal"

Chrissie Hynde

difficulties in life

Difficulties are meant to rouse, not discourage. The human spirit is to grow strong by conflict.


William Ellery Channing II

Crimson

Running hasn't been very consistent lately, however, I have been observing this one tree when I do get out and run. This morning it was a beautiful crimson red. It is so deep and vibrant it just awakens every cell. You feel alive. It is so vibrant you can see it pulsing, vibrating, throbbing, keeping rhythm to some beautiful aria in nature.

I have been re-reading, as I do every autumn Thoreau's "Autumnal Tints." Every time I read it I pick up something new. It is so beautifully written. He observed, and seemingly absorbed everything he saw or touched. What stuck with me this morning as I was running down my suburban street was how he described the oldest leaves turning first, the top usually the last. This tree is nearly all red except for the top branches. Also his observation of red leaves how they grab your attention, standing out with their vibrant stimulating presence.

I love running in the fall, not only are the temperatures perfect, but the colors and smells and feel of the air is so comforting. I can't wait for Halloween, even though I won't be with my girl I love spending All Hallows Eve with her. I want to carve pumpkins. I love carving pumpkins. There is nothing like the smell of a cut pumpkin digging into it's slimy body, pulling all the innards out, reminds me of Thoreau pulling out the marrow, and the smell of my hands when I'm finished.

"I seem to be more constantly merged in nature; my intellectual life is more obedient to nature than formerly ..." HDT 10/12/1851

The Cat's Song

Mine, says the cat,, putting out his paw of darkness

My lover, my friend, my slave, my toy says

the cat making on your chest his gesture of drawing

milk from his mother's forgotten breasts. 

Let us walk in the woods says the cat.

I'll teach you to read the tabloid of scents,

to fade into shadow, wait like a trap, to hunt.

Now I lay this plump warm mouse on your mat. 

You feed me, I try to feed you, we are friends,

says the cat, although I am more equal than you.

Can you leap twenty times the height of your body?

Can you run up and down trees? Jump between roofs?

Let us rub our bodies together and talk of touch. 

My emotions are pure as salt crystals and as hard.

My lusts glow like my eyes. I sing to you in the mornings

walking round and round your bed and into your face.

Come I will teach you to dance as naturally

as falling asleep and waking and stretching long, long.

I speak greed with my paws and fear with my whiskers.

Envy lashes my tail. Love speaks me entire, a word

of fur. I will teach you to be still as an egg

and to slip like the ghost of wind through the grass.

Marge Piercy

the world transformed

"The moment you have in your heart this extraordinary thing called love and feel the depth, the delight, the ecstasy of it, you will discover that for you the world is transformed."
J. Krishnamurti

"Men Say They Know Many Things" by Henry David Thoreau

Men say they know many things;

But lo! they have taken wings, —
The arts and sciences,
And a thousand appliances;
The wind that blows
Is all that any body knows.

Friendship

Friendship By Henry David Thoreau

I think awhile of Love, and while I think,

         Love is to me a world,
         Sole meat and sweetest drink,
         And close connecting link
            Tween heaven and earth.

I only know it is, not how or why,
         My greatest happiness;
         However hard I try,
         Not if I were to die,
            Can I explain.

I fain would ask my friend how it can be,
         But when the time arrives,
         Then Love is more lovely
         Than anything to me,
            And so I'm dumb.

For if the truth were known, Love cannot speak,
         But only thinks and does;
         Though surely out 'twill leak
         Without the help of Greek,
            Or any tongue.

A man may love the truth and practise it,
         Beauty he may admire,
         And goodness not omit,
         As much as may befit
            To reverence.

But only when these three together meet,
         As they always incline,
         And make one soul the seat,
         And favorite retreat,
            Of loveliness;

When under kindred shape, like loves and hates
         And a kindred nature,
         Proclaim us to be mates,
         Exposed to equal fates
            Eternally;

And each may other help, and service do,
         Drawing Love's bands more tight,
         Service he ne'er shall rue
         While one and one make two,
            And two are one;
In such case only doth man fully prove
         Fully as man can do,
         What power there is in Love
         His inmost soul to move
            Resistlessly.
               ______
Two sturdy oaks I mean, which side by side,
         Withstand the winter's storm,
         And spite of wind and tide,
         Grow up the meadow's pride,
            For both are strong
Above they barely touch, but undermined
         Down to their deepest source,
         Admiring you shall find
         Their roots are intertwined
            Insep'rably.


HDT

Ellery on Henry

"His journals should not be permitted to be read by any, as I

think they were not meant to be read. I alone might read them
intelligently. To most others they would only give false
impressions. I have never been able to understand what he
meant by his life. Why did he care so much about being a writer?
Why did he pay so much attention to his own thoughts? Why
was he so dissatisfied with everyone else, etc? Why was he so
much interested in the river and the woods and the sky, etc?"

Something peculiar, I judge.

- Ellery Channing, friend of Thoreau's


I have often wondered this, what would Thoreau think of us reading his journals? I love reading them and getting into them they are so thought provoking. I love his observations and the way he thinks about every intricate thing. He thinks so deeply, and looks so far into and examines very part of life down to the cellular level. I get into that. Such a brilliant mind. But I'm not certain he would approve of the world reading his thoughts, also I'm not convinced we interpret them as he meant, even the greatest scholar I believe is flawed in some way. I mean really how could you know what he was thinking, feeling, enduring, what was pressing on his mind, who was he thinking about, was he thinking about anyone, when he wrote his thoughts down? What was his mood, the weather, what was he looking at, where was he, what was on his mind? I have such deep respect for Thoreau. I believe him to be a very private, intelligent, deeply loving and caring person. I have enormous respect him. As did Ellery.


And of course I could be completely off track here.

Imagine

Happy Birthday John!!

WWTT

What would Thoreau think?

I ordered a book for my son, who lives in Maine, from the Thoreau Society store located at Walden Pond. I received an email confirming my order, completely cool with that. Received an email about my order shipping, rather quickly I might add, very cool with that too. So I have these two emails, and in addition I can also go to the website and view my order and print any time I want. In the mail I received a printed receipt of my order, and another piece of paper notifying me it was shipped to Maine to my son and billed to me. My discount was not applied, but no matter ... what is with the paper waste?

My question is, why isn't the Thoreau Society living by Thoreau's principles?  I find it a bit wasteful to send me a receipt that I can print out myself, and what if I had? Not to mention the extra paper enclosed and the envelope. Shouldn't they be "printing responsibly?"

Robert Scott

I woke up thinking of you this morning. When I was in that place between sleep and wake I thought you were still here. Seven years ago was your last day. I was remembering the last time we we're together; riding through the Maine woods, sitting on a log talking about nature. How in awe you were.  I still remember you looking up at the trees and saying, "wow, nature is so cool." I also remember the last thing you said to me as we parted that day:  "I love you Aunt Deb, try to be good." I miss your hugs, I miss your laugh, I miss your smile ... I miss you.

Robert Scott Dabbondanza

October 14, 1979 ~ October 8, 2003

In the city...

Urban walking in Philadelphia

The Layfayette Building in Philadelphia.

Fifth Street Station after everyone's gone home

30th Street ... waiting!

Watch the Gap