"Walden?"

“Walden?”

I remember reading “Walden” in high school and how Thoreau was boosted as the “self-sufficient” and “civil disobedience” guy, while at the same time reading privately Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. Somehow I couldn't figure out that there was more than one way to be an “individualist.” In my sophomoric mind, being an individualist is to be selfish with the persistent attitude to screw the other guy. Getting ahead with a blind eye to the social fabric was what made sense to me.

Now forward fifty years. I have been around the block a few times and sometimes not that eager to. I realize now that solitude is a good thing but it is a passive way to deal with society's human problems. It is true that there is “no exit” from other people and we are all “waiting for Godot.” And if Stephen Crane is right, the universe merely acknowledges our existence but is not obligated in any way. Sort of like creating Frankenstein and not finding him a mate. We ought to be responsible for what we create, for what we bring into this world.

This is rambling and will never pass an English 101 compositon class. But my attitude has always been form without content is suspect. I advocate living before writing, for otherwise we forever sharpen our pencils and the Tao Te Ching says, circa 500 B.C., “Over sharpen the blade, it will easily blunt.” I suddenly has this terrible image of decapitating someone with a rusty blade by sheer force. Gruesome, life is gruesome. No wonder I love solitude when I can find it.