“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” - Henry David Thoreau, Walden
One hundred and eighty years ago, transcendentalist philosopher Henry David Thoreau uprooted his civilized life in Concord, Massachusetts and relocated to the woods along the shore of a nearby pond, hoping to take control of his life and “live deliberately.” Every August, Cornell’s class of incoming freshmen do the same, making their own treks to quiet Ithaca to live and study on a green campus among woodlands, gorges and lakes, unintentionally embodying the transcendentalist spirit. Coming to Ithaca from a larger town, let alone a city, it can really feel like you’ve entered the same woods as Thoreau, a place “a mile from any neighbor.”
Between the years of 1845 and 1847, Thoreau supported himself with his own physical labor in the woods, living in blissful solitude in a house he built while practicing the principles of self-sufficiency, simplicity and transcendentalism — a philosophical movement characterized by followers’ strong reverence for the natural world. These two years of isolation are manifested in his Walden (or, Life in the Woods), a first-hand account published in August 1854 of his philosophical findings and day-to-day happenings living beside Walden pond. The book was written as an address to students, sharing his firm convictions regarding how a student should practice their life in matters of shelter, education and the natural world, among other themes. At times, Thoreau’s passionate indignation about the various subjects he explores is so strong that readers may be taken aback by his views — they take on a rant-like quality that can be excitingly strange to hear from the voice of a renowned scholar. Thoreau’s Walden, though over a century old, retains its relevance for students today, specifically those in their university years, preaching that people should “earnestly live [life] from beginning to end.” The piece acts as a guide, one which he clearly states readers should only take that which applies to them. In his own artistic words, Thoreau considers readers digesting his material: “I trust that none will stretch the seams in putting on the coat, for it may do good service to him whom it fits.” When taking his words as life advice where it fits, Cornellians can learn a lot about taking charge of their four years in their own conveniently Walden-esque landscape, following Thoreau’s philosophies on the home, consumerism, practical wisdom and ecological appreciation.
The moment you step foot on campus your first year, you are tasked with the enormous responsibility of curating your own living space — move-in day! For many, freshman year is the first time they have ever lived without parental supervision, with complete freedom to decorate their space as they please. This could translate into a massive shopping spree complete with finding the perfect posters, lamps and pillows for your dorm — a thrilling moment of self-expression through consumerism. While this is, admittedly, a blast, let’s turn to the 171-year-old college handbook, Walden, for some philosophical move-in advice. Thoreau’s cries for “Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity!” strongly disapprove of back-to-school shopaholics, echoing his experience being almost completely possessionless except for that which he created himself. Throughout the book, he preaches living with less — that the more you own, the more you must tend to. In his words, “men have become the tools of their tools.” This burden of possessions is one many college students end up facing when they realize their closet is the size of a shoebox, there is one cupboard for them and their roommate to share or that there is no reason to bring their summer wardrobe to frigid Ithaca. Maybe, in a situation like this, it is best to listen to Thoreau, the expert of minimalism, and accept that less is more.
After the excitement of move-in and O-week, Cornellians quickly snap into work-mode, attending daily lectures on theoretical topics spanning all forms of academia. While the theoretical is what we proudly attend university to study, Thoreau argues that practical knowledge is too often neglected by students. He explains that students should participate in life, not just watch, that “they should not play life or study it merely… but earnestly live it from beginning to end.” Here, Thoreau is urging us to get our hands dirty, to apply our studies to our daily lives. This could manifest itself in artistic creation, technical construction or just simply getting our noses out of the textbooks. In a more general sense, Thoreau is telling Cornell students to get outside and do something, something that requires practical action alongside thought.
Much of what Walden covers is an unequivocal appreciation for the outdoors and its simple wonders that make solitude comfortable — a thinking that is easily replicated as a student at Cornell. Walking from North to Central Campus, we get our own special glimpse of Walden Pond in Beebe Lake. An afternoon alone basking in the sun on the Slope is never lonely. As Thoreau puts it, “A taste for the beautiful is most cultivated out of doors, where there is no house and no housekeeper.” And though he was a Harvard man, Thoreau’s life in the wilderness seems to fittingly speak to the Cornell experience — one ripe with natural beauty anywhere you look.
Sometimes, it seems the best advice was written centuries ago.
Hazel Tjaden is a sophomore in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at hlt43@cornell.edu.
