Henry David Thoreau cheated. And
while, like so many other wayward youth, I too dove headfirst into
Walden and its mystical idealism, age has brought with it a more
complete understanding of that book.
Despite the beautiful portrait that
Thoreau paints, the reality is that Walden pond was only a few
kilometers (within easy walking distance) from a relatively
established town; hardly the pure nature that Thoreau depicted with
such Platonic zeal. Thoreau himself was heir to a quite substantial
fortune from his parents, a privilege he never relinquished even as
he shed the other material and monetary bonds of society. In the end,
the rejection of established norms and the quiet rebellion that is
the heart and soul of Walden is only skin deep and for me at least,
it has been hard to read Walden the same ever since I began to
understand the context of the book as well as the true disposition of
its author.
Still, Walden is a defining book of
the transcendentalist movement (in the end I think that I prefer
Emerson more anyway), a movement that in itself represents a deep
yearning for authenticity and youthful angst that comes with its
lack. It crystallizes a phase that I believe most thoughtful people
go through at some point in their lives, although they may all
encounter and experience it somewhat differently. But the failure for
most people is that it never amounts to more than just that: a phase.
Perhaps we are all caught up in the same web as Thoreau, with all the
idealism and desire to taste a true reality, but too mired in the
vines of society so that it is ultimately impossible to completely
untangle oneself. We feel that urge, that primal instinct to flee our
social captivity, but we are capable of only words, however eloquent,
and pipe-dreams, however bold, and weak alcohol-induced tirades
against something that most of us will never truly be able to escape,
even momentarily. Maybe the fact is that most of us are actually too
afraid to let go of that lifeline even though at times it feels more
like a noose. In that way, we are all Thoreau. He is the archetype of
privilege.
And make no mistake, such a rejection
of society can only come from someone who is in a position to reject
such things. Put another way, you can only dispossess what you
already possess; if you are hoping to shed the artificiality of
material things, it is cause you are blessed enough to have them in
the first place. There is hardly such existential crises among those
struggling to survive; it may exist, but its manifestation is
completely different as a result of the basic material conditions.
The transcendental experience is coupled with privilege, some might
even say it is a product of such privilege, and its fundamental
meaning is derived in relation to privilege itself.
Allow me a brief caveat: I am not
using the word “privilege” in a negative sense, although there
are many other academic usages in which it is certainly not invoked
positively. Privilege, in the sense I am trying to use it (and
forgive me if I am not doing so faithfully), is only the relative
material comfort that some of use are lucky enough to have. Having
such privilege does not make one inherently bad or ungrateful—though
it most certainly can—but it is a position in life that many people
(the majority of people in the world, as it were) do not have. As a
typical middle class American citizen, I am privileged with the means
to a good home, enough food to eat, I am a member of a relatively
functioning and uncorrupted state with my rights and freedoms
guaranteed. Many people in the world can only dream of such
privilege.
So what is the point of the
transcendental experience? If those who of us who encounter that same
calling as Thoreau are just privileged citizens of decent societies,
is our existential yearning just nothing more than spiritual
self-indulgence? No. Or not necessarily, at least that's what I
think.
To me, the undercurrent of
transcendentalism is a turning inwards towards the self, towards a
deeper spiritual understanding of one's soul through nature and
solitude (hence, the emphasis on the rejection of society). For all
of us, those of relative privilege or otherwise, such a journey is
probably as essential to personal happiness as food is to the body.
But for those of us who find that such an authentic experience is
possible only by first turning away from privilege (people such as
myself), I believe that we must also carry with us an extra
responsibility along the way: the expectation of reciprocity.
Allow me to explain using myself as an
example. A lot of my Peace Corps experience so far has been spent
alone, in a personal solitude where I have had the opportunity (i.e.
little distractions and few other options) to cultivate myself and
invest in my own personal and spiritual well-being. Sure, I have done
development work and contributed innumerable hours of my life to
helping people in my community, but 2 years is a long time and there
have been many, many hours spent alone. Such is the nature of the
Peace Corps.
When I was younger, I used to have a
goal of going off into the woods and living alone for some time to
accomplish the same thing—my own little Walden-type experience.
Now, I am quite satisfied that Peace Corps has provided me with more
than enough of that sort of “turning inwards” if you will. At
times, I feel guilty for spending such time on myself, especially as
I am living in a situation where I am surrounded by such blatant,
abject need. The reality that I have come to accept is that there is
only so much I can do to address the problems in this community, many
of them are systemic and quite beyond my capacity to influence as a
Peace Corps volunteer. At the same time, I have come to realize that
such time of personal growth is, in some ways, just as necessary as
is my development work.
The fulfillment of this process, the
true realization of the transcendental experience, does not come
simply from the “turning inward” but instead, once this phase is
complete, an eventual turning outward as well. To a certain extent,
society can be, maybe even must be, rejected at some point by those
of us from privilege called to experience life in its raw
authenticity—let's call this the spiritual baggage of the modern
man in a consumerist world. But unless we eventually apply the deeper
personal understanding towards alleviating the material need and
spiritual lack in the rest of the world, we will have walked a
selfish path and committed the great treason that is taking our
privilege for granted.
The Buddha, after achieving pure
enlightenment under the Bodhi tree, did not choose to live out the
rest of his days in spiritual solitude, though he would have most
certainly been at peace had he chose to do so. Instead, he acted as a
mentor to others, using his profound spiritual experience to give
back to the world. In that simple choice, he defined the nature of
Buddhism; to this day, compassion, through spiritual and material
means, is a cornerstone of the Buddhist faith.
I don't mean to say that we are all
Buddha (although Buddhists would say just that), but the message is
the same. We are all lost and wandering souls in a great, big,
chaotic world—spirituality (and I am specifically saying
'spirituality' instead of religion) it is implicit upon the human
condition. Our personal experiences with that spirituality may take
many forms, go by many names, or perhaps even be entirely unnamed and
indescribable, but at their core, they all derives from the same
place.
For me, as a child of privilege, the
transcendentalist experience is what called to me most, what first
caught my mind and captivated my imagination. After years of my own
small and quiet rebellions against society, my many moments and hours
of personally-reflective solitude, I honestly hope that I have begun
the process of sharing part of myself with the rest of the world. I
don't believe that the cycle of turning inwards and outwards with
ever stop—it is a process that will likely continue until the day I
die. But with every turn of that wheel, may it take me one step
closer to being that much more at harmony with myself and that much
more selfless towards the world.
From Walden,
little hupo