Henry

In 1817 an American original named David Henry Thoreau (the locals will tell you it's pronounced "thorough," not "thuh-row") was born in Concord, MA.  After attending Harvard he reversed his names and preferred to be called "Henry David" although the name was never legally changed.  He worked in the family pencil factory for most of his adult years, refining the process and developing new products.

His most notable endeavor was spending 2 years, 2 months and 2 days living in a tiny cabin in the woods of Walden Pond.  He separated himself from the materialistic superficiality he saw in society and spent his time observing nature in detail. According to Ira Chernus in American Nonviolence:  The History of an Idea, Henry believed that "only by leaving society could he gain direct access to God's cosmic laws, simplify his life, and escape the pressures of conformity."  He found that "Nature teaches, better than anything else, the interconnectedness of all reality, the spiritual unity of the cosmos."

Thoreau found confirmation and understanding of God through his intimate, personal contact with the natural world.  He was astonished by what he saw, whether in the interactions of competing black and red ants, the sound of pond ice melting, the playful solo flying of a hawk, the awakening of life in springtime, or the spectaclular night sky.

We moderns, especially those who live in cities, shield ourselves from nature.  We live in heated and air conditioned homes that draw us indoors.  We travel in cars or trains that keep us from the bite of a winter wind, the heat of the mid-day sun or an unimpeded view of a rainbow.  City lights dull the stars.  If you've ever stood on a remote hilltop on a clear winter night you know exactly what I mean.

We've removed ourselves from the obvious magnificence of His work.  Instead we analyze it in laboratories, fool ourselves into believing we're doing sterile scientific research and ignore God's presence in lab slides and petri dishes.  We even fancy ourselves in God's role, nonchalantly believing that we are in control.

Henry didn't cripple his spirit with such nonsense.  Nature was of God and as scientific inquiry unraveled its intricacies he would have been even more amazed at His creation.  But even Thoreau found it necessary to remove himself from the mental clutter of day to day life in order to see these things clearly.  And this was long before the information overload became so heavy you could cut it with a knife.

In the weeks before he died he was asked if he had made peace with God.  His response:  "I did not know we had ever quarreled."  His last words were, "Now comes good sailing," as he anticipated the afterlife.

Henry David Thoreau is buried on Author's Ridge overlooking Sleepy Hollow Cemetery within a few feet of his friends Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne and Louisa May Alcott.  Set among pine trees now grown tall, his tiny tombstone simply reads "Henry."



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