Simply wonderful

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.
        -- Henry David Thoreau

The only thing I’ve used from the trunk of my Saturn in the past 10 weeks is a light jacket. Everything I need for day-to-day life on the road is contained in the back seat, inside one of two suitcases or my backpack.

One case holds my clothes, the other my technology and the backpack is a bit of a catch-all with maps, brochures and miscellaneous.

Upon arrival at each destination, I strap on the backpack and grab each suitcase by its puller (both are on wheels) and take everything I’ll need for the succeeding five days inside – one trip.

In 1968, at the conclusion of my service as a Vista Volunteer, I sold or discarded furniture and other non-essential possessions and loaded the remainder in the back of my Jeep. It was a CJ5, the “standard” model that was 21 inches shorter than the CJ6 – not much cargo space and very cramped legroom for passengers.

I well remember my sense of freedom on the drive from Colorado back to San Diego. Knowing that I had all of my worldly possessions with me, I realized that I was “footloose,” that I had no roots, no burdens, and no responsibilities.

That’s a feeling I never had since – and, most likely, never will.

I know that possessions add to the quality of life – I’ve learned to really appreciate a comfortable chair; and I don’t know what I’d do without a computer – but, I’ve always felt burdened by the things in my life.

I suppose the only real exception was that Jeep – when it was capable of carrying me and all that I owned anywhere I wanted to go.

O.K. back to the topic – which, by the way, is Henry David Thoreau and Walden Pond…

I had heard grim reports about the pond and expected to see a trash-lined puddle with shores and surrounding land trampled by the feet of thousands who don’t get what HDT was saying.

To my surprise, the “pond” is a wonderful lake. It is largely in what appears to be pristine condition, with only small concessions to the desires of pilgrims. Trails are invisible among the heavy growth of trees and other plant life; and the woods remain deep, providing opportunities for solitude and for communing with the spirit of the great Thoreau.


Our life is frittered away by detail. An honest man has hardly need to count more than his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and lump the rest. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand.
        -- Henry David Thoreau

I stood on the shore of Walden Pond for a good long time. I contemplated what had apparently not changed in 160 years and what had not. The dozen or so humans whose presence was obvious to me were different – Thoreau rarely had visitors. The stone wall that prevented erosion on the beach near a sandy boat ramp was new – and the three human-powered watercraft, each silently patrolling a patch of water, were clearly not of 19th-century design.

The water was not just clear, it was surprisingly clear. Smooth pebbles were very visible through several inches of water; unsullied, as it has been in recent years, by motorboats, the water of Walden Pond looks suitable for human consumption – though it likely is not.

With only a slight effort, I could incorporate my fellow visitors into the larger picture and might have been able to conjure up the past – except for incessant interruptions by passing cars, trains and aircraft.

Alas! It may be impossible to lose oneself in the past and to pretend that old Henry is just around the bend, tending to his beans or making repairs to his cottage. These are but shadows of the world as it was.

On the other hand, we have idealized the experiences of those like Thoreau and Native Americans and others who appear, in retrospect, to have lived closer than we to nature. Our sense of what live must have been “back then” is certainly far different from the reality.

The enduring aspect of human experience, it seems to me, is the manner in which it causes a resonation in a person’s mind, or consciousness. And it seems quite reasonable to me to imagine that the sense or feeling I get while observing the pond in my time and through my filters has much in common with that obtained by Thoreau.

We are, I believe, kindred spirits. His writing, along with other inputs I’ve received in my life, makes it possible, I hope, for me to “get it.”

I expected to be disappointed by man’s inhumanity to nature at Walden Pond. But I was uplifted, rather. And in the context of new realities, I maintain hope that enough of us will take enough action to make it possible not only for humans to survive another 160 years but for places like Walden Pond to also survive, and thrive.

When I leave the road in a few months, I am committed to continue efforts to simplify as well as to purify my personal environment and to be part of the solution, as is possible, through positive encouragement of others.

I will strive for economy and good sense in decisions I make as a consumer and will support leaders who attempt to lead our country and the world on a similar path.

Walden Pond survives! There must be hope for the rest of the world.