Thoreau in the Times of Covid

'In wildness is the preservation of the world.'  Henry David Thoreau

Walking, or sauntering as Henry liked to call it, is something everyone can do during these times of social distancing. Here in the Finger Lakes we’re fortunate to have miles of trails where we might walk and see only one other sojourning soul. The word ‘sauntering’ may have come from the latin ‘sans terre’, not a type of wine, but rather meaning ‘without land’ and referring to someone who is homeless or landless. It could be said that we are all homeless in the very fact that few of us own our own home and have full rights to the use of the property on which the mortgaged house sits. Saunter could have also come from sainte-terre-ers or ‘those seeking the holy lands’ during the crusades. We all could benefit from a pilgrimage to commiserate with the forest, to express empathy for nature or rest by still waters and hear the song of the wood thrush. During these times of isolation we all need to allow nature to console us. You can commune with nature in the deep woods of the Finger Lakes or Schmooze with the wild dandelion of your unmown lawn. Get outside. Take a walk. Eat your veggies. Sound familiar?  

I walk everyday; saunter some days. August is blackberry season and this has been a bumper year for berries. Berry picking entails long thoughtful walks. This is walking with a purpose but on a few occasions I allow myself to saunter and find myself at one of the shrines here on the holy land of Odonata Sanctuary. 

One such Kaaba is a wolf tree we call the ‘Pitcher Tree’ where I found myself in need of rest.  And so I did and sat down and leaned against the adorned Pitcher Tree and commenced to nap. 

During this post saunter slumber I had the following dream. 

Raising my head, and  squinting into the rising sun, I gazed upon the image of a man wearing the formal clothes of another century and a well worn straw hat. There was something familiar about the middle aged, bearded gentleman but I could not quite place him. I stared into his cool blue eyes as he introduced himself as Henry; Henry David Thoreau of Concord and what follows is our short conversation. 

OS (Odonata Sanctuary): ‘You’re quite a long way from home, Henry. 

HDT (Henry David Thoreau): Well, wherever you go, there you are, and wherever you’ve been is really not far. 

OS: (Oy, I thought. This is going to be a sing-songy conversation.) What brings you to our little neck of the woods?

HDT: Obviously I’m lost. No, just kidding. I’m on my way to Mackinac Island in Michigan with my friend, Horace Mann and I thought I would stop by and chat. 

(Henry, gently coughed and held a handkerchief to his mouth. I stepped back wondering if he had contracted SARS-CoV-2 in his travels). 

OS: Are you alright, Henry?

HDT: Not really, Steve. I know you are concerned today about the current pandemic that you’ve named COVID-19, but I am afraid I am a victim of an early curse called tuberculosis. I first contracted the curse while attending Harvard College. It's been a battle for years now. I believe my love of the outdoors and exposure to nature have enabled me to survive all these years.  Folks of your time could greatly benefit from such exposure to the fresh air and pheromones of the forests that surround you here in the frontier.  TB also claimed my grandfather, my father, and my older sister. My brother John, who died from tetanus, was also living with tuberculosis. So many members of my family have died of tuberculosis. Of course, in my home town of Concord, we have had outbreaks of all manner of plagues: dysentery, cholera, malaria, pneumonia, smallpox, typhoid fever and whooping cough to name a few. We had little knowledge of the causes or cures of many of these diseases. Most of these diseases are unthought of today in a time as advanced as yours. If only we had a better healthcare system and organized scientific agencies to study these diseases back then.  

(He lowered his head contemplating the great losses of his time. I lowered mine thinking of the great losses of mine.) 

HDT: What, by the way, was the source of this dreaded COVID? 

OS:  The virus was first detected all the way around the world in Wuhan City, China. The first infections were linked to an animal market where the disease spread from animals who were confined in unhealthy conditions. The virus spread from infected animals to humans and is now spreading from person-to-person.

HDT: So, if we treated animals better or didn’t eat them, there would be no current pandemic? You keep animals here at the sanctuary. Do you eat them?

OS: Odonata Sanctuary is a hospice for farm animals. The critters here live out their lives in the fields and forests of as natural a setting as we can provide.  My family eats only a plant based diet, primarily for health reasons. Are you a vegetarian? 

HDT: I’ve experimented with vegetarianism as a more ethical way of living. Though I did have a woodchuck bothering my beans last week that became dinner. I am certainly mindful, but never rigid about my diet. I’d call myself a "reducetarian". I’ve  reduced the amount of meat I consume. But, a primary difference is I know where that groundhog came from and that he wasn’t raised in some massive slaughterhouse factory. I guess as long as there are meat eaters among you, there is the recipe for a stew of sickness. 

OS: I’m very sorry to hear of your illness, Henry. And yes, we do know more today than during your time. We’re working on a health care system for everyone and we have an agency set up just to study infectious diseases around the world. We’ve developed vaccines for most of the diseases that plagued your century. We’ve even developed simple protocols to help stop the spread of those diseases. Simple things, like wearing a mask or washing your hands and what we’re calling ‘social distancing’.  

HDT: If I knew it would save my father or sister, I would certainly be willing to wash my hands and wear a mask! Such simple things. And I know a thing or two about social distancing. Mr. Emerson was kind enough to allow me to squat on his land for a time to carry out an experiment I’d been contemplating since the death of my brother, John. I wanted to separate myself from the buzz of society, to slow down and ask nature who I am.  I wrote my first book there, in a cabin I built, mostly myself, by the shores of Walden Pond. Have you read it?

OS: Yes, indeed I have and many of your other works. I find them gushing with optimism and spiced with your wit. But I’m afraid the modern American is afraid of solitude and shuns being alone. We pride ourselves on multitasking and being ‘busy’.

HDT: Ah yes, busy, busy, busy. It is not enough to be busy. So are the ants. The question is: What are we busy about? I recommend everyone read Walden during your time of isolation. Especially my words about solitude and simplicity. “Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand.” (He was walking in a circle, ranting now and growing a bit red in the face.) This is a  time to spend with your family. What an opportunity! Why should I feel lonely? Is not our planet in the Milky Way? What do we really need and what do we want? My greatest skill has been to want but little. 

OS: I tell folks you don’t have to read your book as a novel. I find solace in opening to a chapter and reading. Would you read something for me? (Handing him my copy, he pulled a pair of thick lensed reading glasses from his jacket pocket  and balanced them on his aquiline nose. He turned to a random page and read.)

HDT: “Let us settle ourselves, and work and wedge our feet downward through the mud and slush of opinion, and prejudice, and tradition, and delusion, and appearance, that alluvion which covers the globe, through Paris and London, through New York and Boston and Concord, through Church and State, through poetry and philosophy and religion, till we come to a hard bottom and rocks in place, which we can call reality…”  (He raised his head from the book and reflected.) My retreat to Walden Pond is often mistaken for an escape from society, to live like a hermit. I did seek to escape from the shackles of society, but I certainly did not live as a hermit. I had many visitors, some human, most not. I worked on my bean field along a busy road where I could banter with many who passed by. I had dinner most evenings at home or with the Emersons! I was no hermit but I wanted to find my own reality. To know myself. To know what I wanted and what I needed. To know what is necessary. (He bowed his head to read another passage.) 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. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms. (He looked up at me and spoke again in a voice pleading to be heard.) This pandemic can be a time of reflection and inner searching.  And, when this pandemic passes, we should never take for granted that hug from a friend or kiss on the cheek from a parent. This should be a time to decide what is most important in your life. What to let go and what to treasure. How is your life different now? How will your life be different in a year? What have you found to be precious and truly important in your life? What changes are you willing to make? What are you willing to give up? Ask yourself not just how COVID 19 has altered your lifestyle, but ask yourself what lifestyle changes are you willing to make because of the COVID 19 experience. 

I awoke to the sight of a damselfly, an Ebony Jewelwing  (Calopteryx maculata), the patron saint of the holy land of Odonata Sanctuary; a symbol of wisdom, change, transformation, light and adaptability in life. 

Henry David Thoreau in the woods near the ‘Pitcher Tree’.