Henry, Oh, Henry!

Happy Birthday to our Concord feller

Today is the birthday of Henry David Thoreau, born in 1817 in Concord, Massachusetts. If you’ve followed me on Instagram or here on Substack, you might have noticed that I often mention Henry and the writers and thinkers of Concord - dear to my heart, inspiration for creativity and life. I find it difficult sometimes to write about these figures, as there is so much to share and I find that my heart bursts with an adrenaline that is difficult to contain in a few composed and concisely chosen words. On May 6th, Henry’s death date, I wrote a post about his life and this very topic. ‘Now comes good sailing,’ his final words before death, ominous and evocative, asking us to make meaning of our own or simply rest in the sounds of the syllables.

I’ve loved in the past to be in Concord surrounding his birthday, especially for the Thoreau Society Annual Gathering (happening right now July 10-14). I’ve attended only a few times over the years, but made lasting pals and connections while exploring my favorite spots of nature and history there, walking the footsteps of some of our literary heroes and long departed friends. I like the word ‘friends’ better than ‘heroes’ in this context. We call them our friends even though of course we never met them, existing in another century in a completely different reality, though much like our favorite musicians, we spend so much time cohabitating with their words and books (both in our inner and external worlds), that it seems we must be able to call this friendship, if even in within its own unique definition of the concept. So that is why Henry, and Louisa, and Emerson, and Nathaniel, and farmer Ephraim Bull, and everyone else are our dear old pals, our comrades and collaborators, our neighbors to look at a leaf and discuss which tree it fell from, and to meet for local saunters down trails and through town.

We’ve shared a lot about books here over these months together, and I was so honored and overjoyed to be the Ambassador of the NY Antiquarian Book Fair back in April. One of my favorite items to visit at the fair that weekend was a handwritten letter from Henry with a big, bold, legible signature, as though he had written it just moments before. I didn’t wish to own it myself, I just liked seeing it, walking to the booth where it sat displayed on a shelf, standing in front of it for a few moments just to say hello.

November 8-10 will be the Boston International Antiquarian Book Fair, exciting especially for its proximity to Concord, a promise at least for a train ride and visit to Sleepy Hollow Cemetery and Walden Woods. A part of me hopes that maybe some extra special books and manuscripts will show up because of this closeness, though rare and special editions of Concord writers’ books always make their way to book fairs near and far. I’ll be happy either way and look forward to it so much.

Of all the books I’ve become a caretaker for over the years, I would guess that books written by or about Henry are the ones I have the most of on my shelves. Different editions and collections of essays and poems, illustrated versions, excerpts, etc. I have a beautiful copy of Walden I received as a birthday gift when I turned 31, and another copy in 2 separate volumes with very beautiful etchings covered by tipped in tissue paper. One of my dearest books is a printed excerpt of ‘Where I Lived and What I Lived For,’ one of my favorite and most cherished sections of Walden that I mentioned in a previous post about making decisions (a theme I often revisit as I struggle sometimes due to chronic ‘analysis paralysis’). This particular copy was published by Penguin in 2005, when I was 18. It’s a simple little book and I love seeing it there on my shelf, remembering the way the words moved and inspired me at that time of my life and the way they have revisited me in profound ways at various turning points since then. In addition to books, I have 2 items that are also very dear to me - not printed material, but strange objects that seem to carry a super charged energy, so much so that I barely look at them, as if wanting to contain the magic and not let it out of their paper vessels. One is an unsharpened pencil said to be from John Thoreau & Co, their family pencil factory, and the other is an old nail said to be from Henry’s birth home, rescued and protected when the house was moved down the road in 1878 (now managed and protected by the Thoreau Farm Trust). These strange little items didn’t cost very much money, but they sit upon my shelves with my books as though they are protectors, priceless in existence and the imagined stories they evoke.

One of Henry’s poems is one of my favorite of all poems, maybe the only one I know fully by heart, a poem which has deep meaning for me and that I personally review and question often as I get older. I recorded a demo setting it to music when I was about 22, and I was able to perform it live during the Thoreau Society Annual Gathering in July 2022, along with a set of music, readings, and stories connected with Henry and Concord. I loved putting that event together, and it remains one of the most sacred and special evenings of my adult life. It also remains the only time I ever shared a full concert of my own, and I really hope in the future I can do this again. <3

Because of that experience I met some very special people that I learned so much from: Andrew of the treetops, Kay Hurley of lichens, Peter Alden of birds, to name a few. That was when I got to meet Jane Goodall, as part of my duties as a guest musician was to share a song to welcome her to Concord to receive the Thoreau Prize for Literary Excellence in Nature Writing. This of course was an incredibly great honor and I was moved to tears just to be in her equally calming and commanding presence. Along with a few local singers, we played ‘People Have the Power,’ dedicated to Jane and her great work as an anthropologist, activist, and beyond.

With Peter Alden, Jane Goodall, and Andrew of the Treetops

I stayed in Concord and Carlisle for a handful of days, exploring nature (and getting a few tick bites! eek!!), kayak rides on water that flowed by where Henry lived, and then made my way to Boston with my godmother, celebrating Henry in her kitchen with some leftover ice cream cake from her birthday. Living in Boston, she has shared over the years in our Concord experiences, and helped me so much with this event, too, so it was equally special in the magic of sharing music and meeting new characters, as it was to share in a bonding memory with her through our mutual love of New England history and its accompanying books and nature.

So for Henry on his birthday, I just want to say thank you to him. It’s because of his curiosity and exploration of nature and the human experience, because of his passion for learning and asking questions, because he refused to stand still in the face of injustice and environmental destruction that I and so many others have been able to eventually have these meaningful experiences. The ripple effect of his efforts has spanned across the globe and has remained intact and powerful as ever, now 162 years after he died. What a legacy to leave behind, taking roots evergreen and bearing fruit indefinitely, for new generations to discover and make their very own.

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Here are a few nice quotes of his to think about today:

• As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives.

• An early-morning walk is a blessing for the whole day.

• Wealth is the ability to fully experience life.

• Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.

• Watch for the people whose eyes light up when you talk about your dream. Those are the people you keep.

• Live in each season as it passes. Breath the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit and resign yourself to the influence of the earth.

• Morning brings back the heroic ages.

• I am struck by the fact that the more slowly trees grow at first, the sounder they are at the core, and I think that the same is true of human beings. We do not wish to see children precocious, making great strides in their early years like sprouts, producing a soft and perishable timber, but better if they expand slowly at first, as if contending with difficulties, and so are solidified and perfected. Such trees continue to expand with nearly equal rapidity to extreme old age.

• Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other's eyes for an instant?

• When it comes time to die, let us not discover that we have never lived.

Do any of these quotes inspire some thoughts or journaling today? Henry was an avid journal-er and believed it to be crucially important, so let’s all try and do our pages today in honor of Henry and his birthday. Please feel free in the comments to share an excerpt of your pages or any thoughts that come up - anything at all!

Here are some Henry quotes about writing:

Write while the heat is in you. The writer who postpones the recording of his thoughts uses an iron which has cooled to burn a hole with. He cannot inflame the minds of his audience.

Writing your name can lead to writing sentences. And the next thing you'll be doing is writing paragraphs, and then books. And then you'll be in as much trouble as I am!

If you can speak what you will never hear, if you can write what you will never read, you have done rare things.

A perfectly healthy sentence, it is true, is extremely rare. For the most part we miss the hue and fragrance of the thought; as if we could be satisfied with the dews of the morning or evening without their colors, or the heavens without their azure.

The more you have thought and written on a given theme, the more you can still write. Thought breeds thought. It grows under your hands.

What do you think about those quotes? Do they inspire your writing or views of the process? As always, please share any thoughts in the comments. :)

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During the concert in 2022, I shared a song that I wrote in the Colonial Inn as a funny sort of game for the audience. Each line was from a different writer of Concord which the crowd had to guess while listening. I’ll share the recording for fun in the next post along with the printed lyrics to read, and maybe you can play along, too if you like. :)

Happiest birthday to Henry. Sending joyful ribbons of birthday remembrance to you all. <3 <3