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A Little Wildness: Some Notes on Rambling
What does a good, long ramble in the woods reveal to us about our shared human condition? How do we gracefully shed our civilized layers of defensive behavior, our fear of discovery, of the unknown or once-known but forgotten? Award-winning poet and outdoorsman Sydney Lea vividly explores these issues in this compelling, refreshing and humorous memoir. Sydney Lea lives, writes and roams the woods in Vermont.
175 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 2005
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
June 10, 2021
https://rogueliterarysociety.com/f/a-...
...We seek not that virtuality but rather physicality. We will defend the physical to our dying days—in part because, without it, we have no access to the spiritual. That paradox is at the center of our beings and doings, at the center of this book…
I too am a rambler. I ramble on. The out-of-doors fills me with feelings far surpassing those that might occur inside a movie theater, a shopping mall, or even a Chamber of Commerce Parade of Homes. I am an outdoorsman. I chop wood and carry water. I take long walks with my wife and our dog. We appreciate the seasons, now just basically two or three of them. We live in Florida, and nowhere near the woods and waters found in the upper northeast. But we have beautiful white sand trails through our sandhill pine forests, live oaks and spanish moss, and of course the many varieties of palms that grow wild everywhere it seems. I no longer hunt with a gun, only a camera, and rarely even that. And when I do, I shoot pictures primarily of my wife with no clothes on. A naked wildness that I capture, but never tame. Call me names, demean and stereotype me if you choose, but I’m telling you I’ve got a life in spades. I’ve found through the years that lucky, for me anyway, is a relative term.
...The same applies to anyone who feels a desperate need to plug in when he’s out: email, walkie-talkie, cellular phone, camcorder, what have you?...No matter where he may be, even in backcountry, such a person is the Anti-Rambler: rather than going to wildness as an escape from the busy world of purpose and its encumbering tools, he brings that mess along for the outing. He’s too full of purpose…
Our great American writing icon Jim Harrison was also a rambler, among many other obsessions NSFW (not-safe-for-work). I have yet to read where Sydney Lea mentions him at all, even in passing. Perhaps he will as I continue on with my study of his work. I am primarily interested in the essays and memoirs of Sydney Lea. There are few poets I am endeared to, and generally find a bad taste in my mouth after reading what our academics and literati consider to be our very best. That is usually a sign or coded word or two for my running away as fast as I can. Even from poet laureates, for that matter, although I’ve never met one. But that has nothing to do with my liking Sydney Lea, his person, his character, his brain, or emotions. I do like him. He is cool, non-pretentious to a T, rugged, and aging as I am; fast. But that does not deter him from his hikes, his mission, his rambles about the land.
...I’ve been neither intellectual nor woodsman entirely, but I’ve been enough of both for each to inform the other, to help me savor what I savor …
When I write I ramble. It is not to be avoided nor is it something to shy away from. I go forward with a pretty full head of steam. I use no compass either, though I generally have a pretty good sense of direction. I know I am heading for my end and that keeps me feeling energized and vibrant as I can. Sydney Lea knows he’s headed the same direction and hastily eager to ramble on advantageously.
...We seek not that virtuality but rather physicality. We will defend the physical to our dying days—in part because, without it, we have no access to the spiritual. That paradox is at the center of our beings and doings, at the center of this book…
I too am a rambler. I ramble on. The out-of-doors fills me with feelings far surpassing those that might occur inside a movie theater, a shopping mall, or even a Chamber of Commerce Parade of Homes. I am an outdoorsman. I chop wood and carry water. I take long walks with my wife and our dog. We appreciate the seasons, now just basically two or three of them. We live in Florida, and nowhere near the woods and waters found in the upper northeast. But we have beautiful white sand trails through our sandhill pine forests, live oaks and spanish moss, and of course the many varieties of palms that grow wild everywhere it seems. I no longer hunt with a gun, only a camera, and rarely even that. And when I do, I shoot pictures primarily of my wife with no clothes on. A naked wildness that I capture, but never tame. Call me names, demean and stereotype me if you choose, but I’m telling you I’ve got a life in spades. I’ve found through the years that lucky, for me anyway, is a relative term.
...The same applies to anyone who feels a desperate need to plug in when he’s out: email, walkie-talkie, cellular phone, camcorder, what have you?...No matter where he may be, even in backcountry, such a person is the Anti-Rambler: rather than going to wildness as an escape from the busy world of purpose and its encumbering tools, he brings that mess along for the outing. He’s too full of purpose…
Our great American writing icon Jim Harrison was also a rambler, among many other obsessions NSFW (not-safe-for-work). I have yet to read where Sydney Lea mentions him at all, even in passing. Perhaps he will as I continue on with my study of his work. I am primarily interested in the essays and memoirs of Sydney Lea. There are few poets I am endeared to, and generally find a bad taste in my mouth after reading what our academics and literati consider to be our very best. That is usually a sign or coded word or two for my running away as fast as I can. Even from poet laureates, for that matter, although I’ve never met one. But that has nothing to do with my liking Sydney Lea, his person, his character, his brain, or emotions. I do like him. He is cool, non-pretentious to a T, rugged, and aging as I am; fast. But that does not deter him from his hikes, his mission, his rambles about the land.
...I’ve been neither intellectual nor woodsman entirely, but I’ve been enough of both for each to inform the other, to help me savor what I savor …
When I write I ramble. It is not to be avoided nor is it something to shy away from. I go forward with a pretty full head of steam. I use no compass either, though I generally have a pretty good sense of direction. I know I am heading for my end and that keeps me feeling energized and vibrant as I can. Sydney Lea knows he’s headed the same direction and hastily eager to ramble on advantageously.
May 3, 2025
As the subtitle lets you know, this is a book both about and structured by "rambling." Yes, it follows the uncertain lines of an aimless walk in the woods. But the author follows whatever line of thought occurs to him while remembering his rambles. Occasionally it feels as if Lea never met a digression he didn't love. I imagine that could get tedious if this were a much bigger book, but it works just fine here. And becomes a way to reenforce his commitment to this kind of exploration. Lea knows this, and he writes: "So if it all comes together, one divagation upon another, one ramble after the next, even one big mistake after the next: how? How can all this ever produce a coherence? I ask you. I'm nothing if not serious."
Book both remembers his walks in the woods behind his home in northern New England, and was written while on an extended stay in Switzerland. The contradiction, too, helps enliven the book.
Book both remembers his walks in the woods behind his home in northern New England, and was written while on an extended stay in Switzerland. The contradiction, too, helps enliven the book.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews