Thinking Critically

I am quite happy that I have finished doing all of my annotations. I will admit these took much longer than I expected. One day last week I came to the Kresge library at OU, but all I had any motivation to do was type out (and by that, I mean copy and paste from an online Walden text) the passages I was planning to annotate later. My three worked out quite well, one from “Economy” (Thoreau’s introduction to the book), “The Bean-Field,” and “Conclusion.” I have a habit of underlining meaningful sentences while I read, and so all I really had to do was search through the book until I found a place that had two or more underlines within the allotted space.

It was interesting, because my motivation to take the annotation section in the direction I did, actually came to me somewhat during each annotation, but it actually manifested itself in the third passage. I found that many passages of Walden matched verses of the Bible as well. Therefore, from one of my criticisms that described one of five ways of looking at Walden to be as a spiritual text, I took that section of the critical file in that direction. I was happy to finish the three annotations and introduction to the annotations in one sitting.

Such far, I have my three criticisms completed. The first, one that I found on JStor, was more so about Thoreau as a person than about the text of Walden. The other two, however, I decided to get out of a book, one of which I later found on JStor as well.

For the most part, I was not surprised with the thoughts on his writings. One individual said that Thoreau writes very well and his paragraphs, which extend for eternity, and his sentences, which are almost as long as paragraphs, are so eloquently written, that one does not notice that they drag on forever. I noticed. But that is okay.

One thing I do want to throw out there, because it was so novel of a concept for myself, is that Thoreau sought to purify himself completely. Let me explain, since I know this does not seem new at all. In his diet and his choices of activities, the goal was always to intake the energy needed to work the least amount possible. Meat, for example, gave much energy (for the woodcutter he met in the woods required it), but it also took much more energy to create than, say, beans. It becomes novel at this point: sexuality was part of the energy his body exhibited that he desired to cut out of his system.

The most interesting passage, which I paraphrase, is “I lit a fire in my house, and then on the way out to the bean-field, I suddenly had an urge to return to the house and, sure enough, a spark from the fire had caught my bed, and when it was the size of my hand I put it out.” Seems innocent, no? Well, one commentator said that the connections between the words, namely fire, bed, and hand, was too much to ignore the metaphor. He did not go back to the house to check on the fire, but instead he had a sexual urge and then returned to his house, where the “fire” of passion overtook him on his bed which he had to put out with his hand. Interesting. Nevertheless, Thoreau explained it as a harmful, painstaking task which he wanted to cut out of his ideal life.

Here it is. The precipise of the book. What were we to learn amist those rabbits, squirrels, and fish? This:

“Direct your eye right inward, and you’ll find / A thousand regions in your mind / Yet undiscovered. Travel them, and be / Expert in home-cosmography.” (Habbington 215)

The purpose of going to Walden was to live a principled life. To do the same, we must look at ourselves, not society.

Now, Thoreau did not stay at Walden forever, he left after two years. Why?

“I had several more lives to live.” (217)

“It is remarkable how easily and insensibly we fall into a particular route, and make a beaten track for ourselves.” (217)

“How worn and dusty, then, must be the highways of the world, how deep the ruts of tradition and conformity!” (217)

“…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 unexpected in common hours.” (217)

“In proportion as he simplifies his life, the laws of the universe will appear less complex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness.” (217)

Perhaps I got carried away, but the best why to explain Thoreau’s epigrams are by stating them simply.

Later, he attacks the term “common sense” because it puts intelligent and dim-witted people on one plain. He says that the only true sense common to all men is that which he realizes while sleeping, manifested only in snoring.

Later he also tells us to allow people to march to the beat of their own drummer. Do not trouble ourselves with new things, such as clothing or friends, but to return to the old, reliable things. And, of course, do not worry about money because it cannot help us with the soul.

But, the burning question is still, why do I, Thomas Howard, have to go live as Thoreau did on Walden Pond? Because I need to learn how to live:

“Who knows what beautiful and winged life, whose egg has been buried for ages under man concentric layers of woodenness in the dead dry life of society…” (224)

And of course, remember these famous epigrams:

“Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.” (222)

“The sun is but a morning star.” (224)

THE END.

This was not too exciting of a section. He did once use a Jesus allusion, describing Walden as “dead and is alive again.” (209) He also used spring as an excuse to forgive others.

“We loiter in winter while it is already spring.” (211)

Excellent.

The best Thoreau gives us here are a few quotes worth mentioning.

“While men believe in the infinite some ponds will be thought to be bottomless.” (192)

Perhaps this is a call for men to be more practical? He spent the winter mapping out the bottom of Walden pond, simply to prove that it was not, in fact, bottomless. Hmm.

“If we knew all the laws of Nature, we should need only one fact, or the description of one actual phenomenon, to infer all the particular results at that point.” (195)

This would seem to be the goal of science. If we can have a world of formulas and such, then all we need is one thing, and we know it all. Perhaps this, too, is infinite and not practical?

Lastly, just one that is somewhat comical:

“Why is it that a bucket of water soon becomes putrid, but frozen remains sweet forever? It is commonly said that this is the differecne between the affections and the intellect.” (200)

I’m sorry, I have nothing from this section. It appears to me as if Thoreau was just sitting there writing about his view. That’s acceptable, okay. But from a philosophical perspective, it is not worth my time. Sorry, squirrels, you are not important.

Apparently, when despression hits, we fall into depression. Thoreau says,

“to such routine the winter reduces us…” (179)

To begin, Thoreau compares traditions to a hardening brick and mortar. He explains that, like the mortar, traditions are ever-hardening, and it takes a lot to break them. It reminds me of a statement my youth pastor told me that he heard: “that ‘we have always done it this way’ is simply a matter of fact, it is not a reasoning.” We must know why we keep traditions, not just follow them because.

Here is an interesting passage:

“The chimney is to some extent an independent structure, standing on the ground and rising through the house to the heavens; even after the house is burned it still stands sometimes, and its importance and independence are apparent.” (163)

Evidently, Thoreau thought himself to be a chimney, and begged others to be the same way. Be self-relient. Be important and independent.

I thought it was interesting when he explained hospitality. When a guest spends the night at, say, a richer person’s house, the host has a guest-room. Also, with cooks and butlers, you do not need to know where any of your food and such comes from. Thoreau cries, it is a similar situation as if the host wanted to poison you! Hospitality, to Thoreau, is the art of keeping someone in your house without having them in your home.

This was an interesting section. Perhaps Thoreau ate something weird, or was just away from society too long to deem what was acceptable writing and what was not. He goes on for a few pages about an ant war. The only thing worth remembering about this anticlimatic Homeric passage is that we must fight for a principle, whatever it may be. Do not waste your life for money, but only for you and something you find necessary.

He also hails a loon who decides and acts upon that decision quickly. Apparently, humans think and plan too much, more should be done out of instinct and intuition.

That’s all from here. Not too exciting of a section…the title was misleading. Ants are not too vicious.

“I found in myself, and still find, an instinct toward a higher, or, as it is named, spiritual life, as do most men, and another toward a primitive rank and savage one, and I reverence them both.” (143)

Interestingly enough, Thoreau is explaining the law as practised in the wild. He was a naturalist, and yet he mocked “tree-huggers”. Essentially, if you live in the wild, you will not kill it. It is only by extracting yourself out of the wild that you will eventually grow too fat and crush that which you are now trying to protect.

In all things Thoreau did, it was less about what actually happened, and more about why what did happen, happened. For example, if he was to go fishing and caught nothing, it was still worthwhile because he was able to sit and enjoy, say, the mountains in the distance. Those who grumble at catching nothing are fools because they do not realize the beauty around them they are missing.

In diet, Thoreau worked towards a vegetarian diet, and would drink water:

“I believe that water is the only drink for a wise man; wine is not so noble a liquor; and think of dashing the hopes of a morning with a cup of warm coffee, or of an evening with a dish of tea!” (147)

The last three pages of the section explain what the basis of the higher law is really: chastity. It is purity which is more important to a man.

“From exertion come wisdom and purity; from sloth ignorance and sensuality.” (150)