As I sit in the airport, frustrated that I still can’t get a cell phone signal, I look back at an afternoon of contemplation. In the footsteps of Thoreau, I spent time walking, reading “Waldon” and contemplating the self and the community on my last day in Concord. These are the results of my contemplation.
I loved the communal time that I spent in Concord. Perhaps this was my own Brook Farm -- the community of educated philosophers who came together for a common cause. The group was delightful -- a wide range of individuals, each of whom had an impact on me. Two community leaders, Martha and Rick (though I prefer to think of him under the more dynamic name of Sterling), kept us moving. The obvious care and dedication they held for the program showed. Like Brook Farm, there was a bit of intellectual scatteredness -- vegetarian or non-vegetarian, schedule shifts, and new information on payments that popped up -- but these were all minor and certainly did nothing to lessen the experience. The community simply went with the flow in a very Transcendental sort of way.
Martha and Rick heralded us through the experience with a subtle gusto that was impressive.The speakers were a dynamic set of individuals who were not pretentious or unapproachable. I had lunch with an Alcott expert, discussed a Buddhist/Christian wedding with a scholar of women, and walked through the ruins on a guided tour with a Brooks Farm fan. The knowledge that they imparted wove together the histories of the time -- I have never had such a wonderful study of the 1820s- 1880s before. They tied together so many loose ends that it allowed for a whole new humanistic insight into US history -- stripped of the streamlined propaganda of standard educational settings. I feel as if I know Emerson, Thoreau, Hawthorne, and even the Alcotts -- as if I had met them and lived among them for even the briefest of times.
As for my fellows, what a remarkable group. Historians mixed with humanities, literarians with social studies, and I found a cousin in the philosophical set. Transcendentalism, always a bit enigmatic, seemed much more attainable though it may be due to my studies in the past 10 years with Eastern religions. The sense is heightened with similarities I found to my own state of living within a globalizing world order. My essay was accurate -- we relive some of the fears and anxieties of our ancestors from this time. I am pleased that my philosophy linking past and present holds -- we still walk in the footsteps of our ancestors. I wonder, now, if there will be a Neo-Transcendentalism out there, or if the movement is already born in the fringe society of the 21st century.
I was pleased to be a part of a group of people who worked so well together. We each brought to and complimented the community around us. Each day led to new revelations and new meetings; friendships were forged.
I learned so much from the workshop, its leaders, and my comrades, that leaving was a melancholy event. This sensation started on Friday evening and was dispelled for a time by transcribing notes, reading Waldon with an entirely new understanding, and sitting over dinner with some of the folks I had met. I was, I believe, the last of our group to leave on Saturday and I empathize with Ripley as to how this must have felt to end the Brooks Farm experiment. People started to congratulate each other and said goodbye. The first few left. During the day, as I walked through Concord, read the rest of Waldon and waited for my own appointed time to depart, I spoke with people as they, too, lingered to leave. I saw a few people as they left town, boarding shuttles, walking to trains, and driving out of town. For each passing face, whether they slipped out seen or quietly departed, the sadness occurred. I realized that I would truly miss them -- even though I had know this community but a week.
Now as I sit on the plane preparing to depart, I have from my learning a new experience: transcendental musings. I cannot give enough thanks to those individuals who allowed this great experience. This has been a life changing event that shall never be forgotten. Perhaps one day, someone will thumb through my musings as I thumbed through Thoreau’s, and a new idea of Transcendentalism will spring forth. If this is the case, then the community is not dead but perpetually springs forth through the ages -- inspired by scholars and devotees into new heights of self-understanding and wonderment.
I loved the communal time that I spent in Concord. Perhaps this was my own Brook Farm -- the community of educated philosophers who came together for a common cause. The group was delightful -- a wide range of individuals, each of whom had an impact on me. Two community leaders, Martha and Rick (though I prefer to think of him under the more dynamic name of Sterling), kept us moving. The obvious care and dedication they held for the program showed. Like Brook Farm, there was a bit of intellectual scatteredness -- vegetarian or non-vegetarian, schedule shifts, and new information on payments that popped up -- but these were all minor and certainly did nothing to lessen the experience. The community simply went with the flow in a very Transcendental sort of way.
Martha and Rick heralded us through the experience with a subtle gusto that was impressive.The speakers were a dynamic set of individuals who were not pretentious or unapproachable. I had lunch with an Alcott expert, discussed a Buddhist/Christian wedding with a scholar of women, and walked through the ruins on a guided tour with a Brooks Farm fan. The knowledge that they imparted wove together the histories of the time -- I have never had such a wonderful study of the 1820s- 1880s before. They tied together so many loose ends that it allowed for a whole new humanistic insight into US history -- stripped of the streamlined propaganda of standard educational settings. I feel as if I know Emerson, Thoreau, Hawthorne, and even the Alcotts -- as if I had met them and lived among them for even the briefest of times.
As for my fellows, what a remarkable group. Historians mixed with humanities, literarians with social studies, and I found a cousin in the philosophical set. Transcendentalism, always a bit enigmatic, seemed much more attainable though it may be due to my studies in the past 10 years with Eastern religions. The sense is heightened with similarities I found to my own state of living within a globalizing world order. My essay was accurate -- we relive some of the fears and anxieties of our ancestors from this time. I am pleased that my philosophy linking past and present holds -- we still walk in the footsteps of our ancestors. I wonder, now, if there will be a Neo-Transcendentalism out there, or if the movement is already born in the fringe society of the 21st century.
I was pleased to be a part of a group of people who worked so well together. We each brought to and complimented the community around us. Each day led to new revelations and new meetings; friendships were forged.
I learned so much from the workshop, its leaders, and my comrades, that leaving was a melancholy event. This sensation started on Friday evening and was dispelled for a time by transcribing notes, reading Waldon with an entirely new understanding, and sitting over dinner with some of the folks I had met. I was, I believe, the last of our group to leave on Saturday and I empathize with Ripley as to how this must have felt to end the Brooks Farm experiment. People started to congratulate each other and said goodbye. The first few left. During the day, as I walked through Concord, read the rest of Waldon and waited for my own appointed time to depart, I spoke with people as they, too, lingered to leave. I saw a few people as they left town, boarding shuttles, walking to trains, and driving out of town. For each passing face, whether they slipped out seen or quietly departed, the sadness occurred. I realized that I would truly miss them -- even though I had know this community but a week.
Now as I sit on the plane preparing to depart, I have from my learning a new experience: transcendental musings. I cannot give enough thanks to those individuals who allowed this great experience. This has been a life changing event that shall never be forgotten. Perhaps one day, someone will thumb through my musings as I thumbed through Thoreau’s, and a new idea of Transcendentalism will spring forth. If this is the case, then the community is not dead but perpetually springs forth through the ages -- inspired by scholars and devotees into new heights of self-understanding and wonderment.
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