Me and Kayce at the “Y”
Currently Reading: "Walden And Civil Disobedience"
I'm at the point in my life where I could be happy with a small armload of books. When I survey the blocks of paper occupying my shelves, I am grateful for the minds who share their thoughts in them, but it's a crowd of voices. I'd like to surround myself with a few great men who have great things to say--the kind of men who would pull a knife from their pocket, slice off a chunk of apple and ruminate with horse-sense on things that really matter.
I am spending some time with an old friend I've not visited in well over 30 years. I'm out on a pond outside Concord, Massachusetts. You might know the place, on the way to Boston. You might know my friend, the anarchist Henry David Thoreau.
Giving the Stoics a break, I'm reading Thoreau's "Walden And Civil Disobedience" with pencil in hand. No agenda. Just visiting. Just one book from the pile I'd rescue from a fire or wouldn't mind being stranded with. (I carry three in my backpack at all times: this book, Marcus Aurelius' "Meditations" and Seneca's Moral Letters).
He's a man who delivers. I've already noted some passages I might share in days to come, such as the following that harmonizes nicely with my Stoic theme of the month:
"But men labor under a mistake. The better part of the man is soon plowed into the soil for compost. By a seeming fate, commonly called necessity, they are employed, as it says in an old book, laying up treasures which moth and rust will corrupt and thieves break through and steal. It is a fool's life, as they will find when they get to the end of it, if not before." (Thoreau, Walden, "Economy")
I can't help but wonder if Pink Floyd had this book in mind, because as I read his first chapter on "Economy" and he speaks of men who are born on their land, eat the fruit of their own dirt only to die and compost the same land, I hear the following song:
"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats. A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them, for this comes after work. But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things." (Thoreau, Walden, "Economy")
And there it is: wisdom does not do desperate things.
I am spending some time with an old friend I've not visited in well over 30 years. I'm out on a pond outside Concord, Massachusetts. You might know the place, on the way to Boston. You might know my friend, the anarchist Henry David Thoreau.Giving the Stoics a break, I'm reading Thoreau's "Walden And Civil Disobedience" with pencil in hand. No agenda. Just visiting. Just one book from the pile I'd rescue from a fire or wouldn't mind being stranded with. (I carry three in my backpack at all times: this book, Marcus Aurelius' "Meditations" and Seneca's Moral Letters).
He's a man who delivers. I've already noted some passages I might share in days to come, such as the following that harmonizes nicely with my Stoic theme of the month:
"But men labor under a mistake. The better part of the man is soon plowed into the soil for compost. By a seeming fate, commonly called necessity, they are employed, as it says in an old book, laying up treasures which moth and rust will corrupt and thieves break through and steal. It is a fool's life, as they will find when they get to the end of it, if not before." (Thoreau, Walden, "Economy")
I can't help but wonder if Pink Floyd had this book in mind, because as I read his first chapter on "Economy" and he speaks of men who are born on their land, eat the fruit of their own dirt only to die and compost the same land, I hear the following song:
"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats. A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them, for this comes after work. But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things." (Thoreau, Walden, "Economy")
And there it is: wisdom does not do desperate things.
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