This book actually inspired the following blog post on my Blogger site back in January:
I bought this book as Christmas gift to my son Rob and have taken some time to read it while he reads some of his other book gifts first. If you love Thoreau, or even if you just love 19th century American history, this is a wonderful read. Editor and independent scholar Bradley P. Dean has done an incredible job of editing these letters from Henry David 'Thoreau to his friend Harrison Blake, which were written over a period of 13 years. His many footnotes put the letters into the familiar context of events in Thoreau's life and give the reader a more informal, more personal peek into Thoreau's thinking and philosophy. As a student of New England Transcendentalism, I can not tell you how inspiring, and at the same time, reassuring, reading these letters has been to me.
I originally thought the next blog post I wrote was going to begin, "I want to want to go to church, but I just don't," both "want to"s intentional. In other words, I really want to have the desire to attend church, but each Sunday that rolls around finds me apathetic at best about getting myself into a traditional house of worship. This morning I was reading over the editor's footnotes on Letter Thirty-Eight. It explains that Thoreau's essay "Chesuncook" (which now appears as a section of "The Maine Woods") had been appearing serially in the Atlantic Monthly until that journal's editor James Russell Lowell deleted, without Thoreau's permission, the following line: "It (the pine tree) is as immortal as I am, and perhaps will go to as high a heaven, there to tower above me still." Lowell saw this as heresy, unprintable in the Victorian era Atlantic Monthly. Thoreau found the editing out of this line unacceptable and stopped further publication of "Chesuncook."
Thoreau's letters and writings are chock full of this kind of "heresy". Thoreau saw himself as inseparable from the mountains he climbed - at one with them - his very physical and spiritual substance being one with nature and the universe in a way that would be much more familiar and natural to a Buddhist than to a 19th century American raised in the Christian tradition of his time. But Thoreau found himself unable to reconcile his profound experiences at Walden, and in the wilds of Maine, with the relatively narrow Christian beliefs of his time, and in some quarters still, of our time too. I truly believe that Jesus would have recognized Thoreau's spiritual orientation as infinitely more familiar and sincere than he would, for example, the conventional practices some modern mainstream "Christian" churches. I have spent the last several years reading Emerson, Thoreau, Swedenborg, the literature of the Shakers, Buddhist texts and modern day Buddhist monks, Thomas Merton, and Catholic mystics. And now, I suppose, I am "ruined" for church.
It is not that my church here in Maine is at all constrictive. To the contrary, my church here is pastored by a woman who keeps a copy of Thich Nhat Hahn's "Living Buddha, Living Christ" on her nightstand. She is quite progressive and always ready for a great conversation on world religions, ecumenism, and philosophy. If ever there were a church ready to accept my spiritual peculiarities, it is this one. But as each Sunday rolls around I am less inclined to round up the kids and pack them off to church than to pack them up and go cross country skiing, or, as we're all waiting for nicer weather to do, to finally stand in Thoreau's ancient place at "Ktaad'n" as it was spelled then.
I suppose I am in good company. Just today I was reminded again that one of my great heroes, Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, took a trip to Egypt in the early 20th century, quite late in his life, and while there took a great interest in Islam, reading the Koran (along with his Bible, of course - JLC was a devout Christian in a very real way). This is no surprise. JLC spoke, I believe (someone correct me if I'm wrong, please!) 8 different languages and was a man with a sharp, learned, and philosophical mind. I could not begin to compare myself to him. However, what little I can understand of this is that here was a man this great, and so assured in his relationship to Jesus, who must have known that there is no defining God in a neat, orderly, or singular way. Surely his experiences on the battlefield would have profoundly affected the breadth of his spirituality, having seen things that defied articulation or explanation anywhere but in the soul itself.
Maybe this is the wrong time in my life for church as we know it. I know my father-in-law, a devout Christian and a Mason, stopped attending services a long time ago. When I was younger I couldn't understand why he sent my mother-in-law alone to church every week, why he still served the church in terms of helping with the building and grounds, etc. but still rarely attended services. I get it now. At some point in his spiritual development the weekly routine ceased to be relevant for him. I want to emphasize "for him" because I am not suggesting that regular church-goers are somehow less spiritually evolved than those who somehow don't feel called any longer to attend. In fact, it may be that regular church-goers are more evolved, because they are able to find an inspiration in a limited routine that is eluding me (and apparently my father-in-law and others I know) at the moment. I can't judge that. I honestly don't know. For some reason it's not working for me. And clearly, it didn't work for Thoreau, who when once invited by Emerson to go to a lecture/sermon during the daylight hours declined because he could not imagine why anyone would waste the daylight indoors listening to someone else's idea of the divine when he could be outside witnessing the genuine face of God.
To get back to "Letters to a Spiritual Seeker," what a great book. Letters give us an insight of a different tone into the minds of their authors. The sad thing is that none of Harrison Blake's letters survive to add to the context of HDT's letters to him, but even without Blake's letters it is clear that Thoreau was a spiritual mentor to Blake - a challenging, forthright, sometimes not-so-gentle mentor prodding Blake to LIVE. The letters also demonstrate that Thoreau was anything but pessimistic or dark - he is a deep man - but a fundamentally happy man. He is frustrated by the many worldly cares that take him away from what he sees as the "real" work of life - he grumbles about having to do surveying, work for his father's pencil factory, and other mundane tasks that seem spiritually empty to him. And yet some of the basic tasks of "getting a living" in the 19th century, such as getting wood for the fires, he finds full of spiritual meaning. I think most of us can relate to this aspect of the letters - how many of us sit down at the end of a busy day and think, "Well, did ANY of that have ANY eternal meaning at ALL???" Thoreau nudges us to spend more time living, more time with the true God - not necessarily the god of a neatly packaged religion - and in his letters as presented in this book we can share in the mentoring that Blake received.