Transcendentalist Peace
Ecclesiastes 3:1-11
Henry David Thoreau wrote, "Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each."
It is that "resign yourself" that I find so intriguing.
We do not readily accept resignation as an acceptable state of being. To be resigned to something is to give in to its inevitability, unavoidability, and unremitting power to control us--even if temporarily. A cancer patient will become resigned to the power of his disease. A constituent will become resigned to the corruption and self-serving force of her government. A resident of the South will become resigned to the oppressive power of heat and humidity in summer. Resignation, then, carries with it the weight of surrender, defeat, and losing hope.
So what does Mr. Thoreau mean by it?
Look at his whole statement. Mr. Thoreau advises that the better way to meet our lives is to accept where we are, as we are, and as things are all around us.
I live in Augusta, Georgia. That means that as June arrives, so, too, will the wall of wet heat that will lay upon us 24 hours a day. It will be here until September, and sometimes, God help us, linger into October. It is as sure and certain as the sun's rising and setting each day. Now, I have a choice. I can rail against this arrival every summer, refuse to accept it, and be miserable as retrieving the morning paper means breaking a sweat. Or I can just accept that this is summer in Augusta, deal with it, stay air-conditioned for as much as possible, and look forward to next autumn.
Mr. Thoreau advises the latter.
He is being scriptural. Ecclesiastes 3:1-11 says exactly the same thing, but in a series of statements about there being time for everything--i.e., EVERYTHING--in the course of life. If we practice patience, we will come to know that everything balances eventually. Good balances evil; right balances wrong; fullness balances emptiness; and so on.
Patience, though, is an absolute requirement. Much of the time we simply do not experience the balance. We feel drug down by the difficulties, finding the happier times fleeting. We feel the burden of dealing with other people's mess, while feeling our moments of relaxed ease are flashes of light. To find the balance, we have to step back and breathe, taking it all in.
Part of the relaxation is practicing Mr. Thoreau's resignation.
Take what the time and season gives you. Take the gifts of that moment. Deal with the burdens. Everything will pass and the next season will bring its own character, promise, and conundrums. Deal with those as they come. Don't try to force this time into something it isn't. I can whine, rant, and collapse under the humidity or I can just be in it, taking another shower if need be. Autumn will come.
Mr. Thoreau sought to be at one with his world. Some think he made it.
So can we.
Henry David Thoreau wrote, "Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each."
It is that "resign yourself" that I find so intriguing.
We do not readily accept resignation as an acceptable state of being. To be resigned to something is to give in to its inevitability, unavoidability, and unremitting power to control us--even if temporarily. A cancer patient will become resigned to the power of his disease. A constituent will become resigned to the corruption and self-serving force of her government. A resident of the South will become resigned to the oppressive power of heat and humidity in summer. Resignation, then, carries with it the weight of surrender, defeat, and losing hope.
So what does Mr. Thoreau mean by it?
Look at his whole statement. Mr. Thoreau advises that the better way to meet our lives is to accept where we are, as we are, and as things are all around us.
I live in Augusta, Georgia. That means that as June arrives, so, too, will the wall of wet heat that will lay upon us 24 hours a day. It will be here until September, and sometimes, God help us, linger into October. It is as sure and certain as the sun's rising and setting each day. Now, I have a choice. I can rail against this arrival every summer, refuse to accept it, and be miserable as retrieving the morning paper means breaking a sweat. Or I can just accept that this is summer in Augusta, deal with it, stay air-conditioned for as much as possible, and look forward to next autumn.
Mr. Thoreau advises the latter.
He is being scriptural. Ecclesiastes 3:1-11 says exactly the same thing, but in a series of statements about there being time for everything--i.e., EVERYTHING--in the course of life. If we practice patience, we will come to know that everything balances eventually. Good balances evil; right balances wrong; fullness balances emptiness; and so on.
Patience, though, is an absolute requirement. Much of the time we simply do not experience the balance. We feel drug down by the difficulties, finding the happier times fleeting. We feel the burden of dealing with other people's mess, while feeling our moments of relaxed ease are flashes of light. To find the balance, we have to step back and breathe, taking it all in.
Part of the relaxation is practicing Mr. Thoreau's resignation.
Take what the time and season gives you. Take the gifts of that moment. Deal with the burdens. Everything will pass and the next season will bring its own character, promise, and conundrums. Deal with those as they come. Don't try to force this time into something it isn't. I can whine, rant, and collapse under the humidity or I can just be in it, taking another shower if need be. Autumn will come.
Mr. Thoreau sought to be at one with his world. Some think he made it.
So can we.
Comments
Post a Comment