Surroundings

Earlier this week I finished Henry David Thoreau's Walden. I wish I could praise it's magnificence, but it was a bit sleepy. I do love nature writing though, and was attracted to Thoreau's classic in the hope to think deeper about the natural world in relation to writing. The two seem to support one another so well.

Tonight's sky, Plymouth, New Hampshire

I've been thinking recently about our land before European settlers arrived and how Native Americans might have lived, co-existing with the earth in its darkness and light, harvests and droughts. I don't think many of us will ever know the experience of living in a purely natural world. I don't see how we can understand it, even our time spent in the wilderness comes supported by machine-made warmth and the modern conveniences accessible to all. I wouldn't trade any of these comforts but it's challenging and fascinating to imagine that so many lived successfully without them.

Over the weekend, I hiked to an elevated lake in the woods with my Dad. I somehow missed photographing the extraordinary lake, but captured this sweet chimney and hearth about a hundred meters from the lake.

Towards the end of the hike, as we were discussion technology, I looked to the right and saw this owl. He/She was so closely camouflaged to the tree and was an extraordinary sight.  I had never seen an owl in the wild before and both the bird and scene were calm and beautiful. We stared intently for a minute or two until the bird flew away. In the time that followed, the discussion about technology couldn't have felt any more meaningless. 

Our Role as Global Citizens

I’ve heard remarks and questions recently about the negativity of international news, of how our world could have molded so drastically into today’s state. It’s a comprehensive question, one lying in truth, but also overlooked opportunity. The answer may lie in worldview.

Increased media access to place and story could be an explanation, yet a profound information shift has occurred and might better explore the process. The news and media content we receive has split into two distinct powers, one of every person having a voice to project via social networks, and the second being our own media networks controlled by larger corporations and interests than ever before. I think I'll call these separate platforms the media of man and the media of corporation. 

Not only do we have access to increased knowledge of sadness and suffering, but now hold the chance to reach beyond our borders and change what we can, while we can. This model has proven evident as issues of sexism, sexual assault and conscious and unconscious acts of racism are slowly being brought to light and to the table for discussion, both by the media of man and corporation, with an increased call to end.

Our role as global citizens today lies in interacting where we can, with who we can and positively changing as much as we can. Our social divisions today between national border, race, and socioeconomic class still stand strong, but in time, can be broken completely. If trends and movements can spread across the globe, interaction and togetherness can spread as well. The media of man has a positive role to play, one of awareness, and action, in today’s opportunistic, globalized world.

The issues are endless. Income and racial inequality, discrimination, unfair labor conditions, war between cultures and nations and the ticking clock of a rapidly warming planet. In urging our attention beyond our borders, I’m not making a political statement or plea to send finances and resources, my intentions are not to demonstrate that issues within the United States are no longer relevant.

I’m presenting that we turn our attention and compassion, at the very least, paired with understanding and the minutes we have left in our day to educate ourselves about those who live beyond our fence, to those who through our connected world, live closer than they ever have and in which lies the opportunity to end Us versus Them, East versus West. First versus Third.

A Photo Essay: Urban and Rural

Over the weekend, I visited New York City. It's a place that while expensive and crowded, I've grown to love and find an escape in, particularly the amount of culture, modernity, opportunity, diversity and intersection of international influence. 

I've always lived in quiet, friendly, community-minded and naturally beautiful areas. Any setting has pros and cons in lifestyle and opportunity, with the extremes of rural and urban as no exception. 

After work today, (Monday, 10/20) the sunlight was beautiful with a second wave of foliage visible. I walked through Holderness, New Hampshire capturing the surroundings. 

Later, I compared them to scenes of Manhattan from over the weekend, below. 

Literature in Concord, Mass.

In an American literature class a couple of years ago, the required reading included a few poems in a large book with plenty of Concord writers, Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Nathaniel Hawthorne in later pages. I ventured out a bit and tried to read a small ounce of each. Older literature can be challenging, and boring, and I think a bit of an accomplishment once completed. It seems to require so much more focus, understanding and grasp. At the time, I found each writer to be extraordinary in different ways but I didn't develop a love for any of the writers or pieces of writing. Hawthorne was likely the favorite though, as The Scarlet Letter remains memorable today. That summer I read Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, another Concord writer. Though similarly challenging, I enjoyed this novel in its own way of showing the domestic side of war.

the Colonial Inn, Concord, Mass. 

I was born in Concord, Massachusetts but until yesterday, held no recollection of the Revolutionary War/Nineteenth-Century-Literary-Destination-town-west-of-Boston. A friend and I attended a literary event in the town and found that through a mixture of morning rain, afternoon sunshine and evening fog, the town appeared so familiar to how it does in literature, with distinctly intact colonial architecture (along with a booming tourism business). I wouldn't have guessed that Concord was quite as old as it is (settled in 1635) as it seems preserved in its two main revolutions, the Concord of the 1770s and the literary one of the mid-1800s. 

The event included a tour of Sleepy Hollow cemetery which appeared to stretch for miles, and in which  Thoreau, Emerson, Hawthorne and Alcott are buried. Pencils and pens adorned the graves.  

Buried beside siblings with similar single-name headstones, the grave of Henry David Thoreau.

The grave of Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Concord, Mass.

Concord, Mass.

with Katie, Lexington, Mass.

Bedford, Mass.

Bedford, Mass.

Bedford, Mass. 

Choices, Thoughts and Robert Frost

I'd been craving a bit of Robert Frost poetry lately in the adjustment to autumn and a coming winter in a quiet, lovely and rural part of New Hampshire. The peak of autumn colors passed a couple of weeks ago here, and while the trees were colorful and the weather beautiful for several weeks, the busy-ness of changes and adjustments in these last couple of months have allowed me to forget just how fast time has passed.

Holderness, New Hampshire, late September

 Campton, New Hampshire, September 26

There has been so much happiness lately, but few quiet moments. I began three jobs (4 if freelancing is included…) in two months and met many new and amazing individuals. Every moment felt filled with social interaction and excitement, laughter and discussion. Laughter, mainly. There has been so much of it recently, more concentrated than I can remember in any period of time. Yet as everything now begins to settle and autumn slowly turns towards winter, I'm left with 1 (very wonderful) job in that quiet, lovely and rural part of the NH. Like adjusting to any new normal, suddenly the silence has arrived unexpectedly and unfamiliar, although welcome.

Grantham, New Hampshire, September 28

Concord, New Hampshire, October 1

The silence first hit earlier this week and once more this afternoon, as I walked alone through the woods. It was a 3 or 4 mile wooded path I'd ran with the girls xc team at the school I work at a few weeks earlier. I was hesitant to embark it alone, fearing that I might become lost, but found that when I did choose to walk it, complete silence arrived, paired with the sudden urge that I wanted and needed to think deeply about the passage of time, about all of the happiness and laughter that had filled recent moments, the moments that I had barely realized had occurred as I focused on all that needed to be completed in transition.

It's as if we possess two selves with different potentials, one short-term focused on filling the moments, and one long-term to understand, reflect and prepare for what lies ahead. Thinking about this in the woods, Robert Frost came back. His poem "The Road Not Taken," seemed to fit the journeys accurately.

The Road Not Taken
by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.