Burroughs: Don’t Lose Your Connectivity with Nature

In Whitman:  A Study, the Catskills nature-writer, essayist, and philosopher John Burroughs  (1837-1921) defended Walt Whitman (1819-1892) against the hostile reactions of contemporary scholars, for whom Whitman’s poetry was too coarse, racy, and controversial.  In the book, Burroughs presented Walt Whitman as the “poet of democracy” and described him as a primal man, visionary of the open air, barbarian in the parlor, force of nature, and prophet.  But Whitman:  A Study isn’t just about Whitman, it’s also an exposition of Burroughs’ philosophy.  Inspired by both science and nature, Burroughs saw natural processes at work within society, and he explained how both physical strength and the vitality of culture can fade if we lose our connection with the natural world.  This message seems just as relevant for our information age as it was 120 years ago when  Whitman: A Study was first published.

Continue reading “Burroughs: Don’t Lose Your Connectivity with Nature”

Burroughs: Don’t Lose Your Connectivity with Nature

Warming up to John Muir

In a previous blog post, I expressed skepticism about John Muir’s message.  Both nature and humanity are expressions of God’s love, he had written, but it was pretty clear he didn’t care for humanity’s towns, cities, factories, and social conventions.  In some of his most famous quotations, he described nature as a place of “refuge” from the worries of everyday life, with the “healing power” to cure the wounds of society.  The wilderness was a source of beauty that “cleans and soothes and warms” and a place for “repose,” “pure rest,” and “sleep.”  As a runner, I had trouble relating to these metaphors and found the message a little preachy.

But then I read a comment by John Burroughs, America’s most popular nature-writer during the late 19th and early 20th centuries.  Burroughs lived in New York’s Catskill Mountains, on the other side of the country from Muir’s beloved Yosemite, but the two men had met during a trip to Alaska, and while their personalities were quite different, they shared many values, respected each other’s work, and became friends.

A unique character — greater talker than as a writer — he loved personal combat and shone in it.  He hated writing and composed with difficulty, though his books have charm of style; but his talk came easily and showed him at his best.

— John Burroughs journal entry 1915

Based on this assessment, I needed to give Muir another chance.  So I picked up a book called The Wild Muir:  Twenty Two of John Muir’s Greatest Adventures, which contained first-person accounts of some his most interesting exploits.  And now that I was hearing him talk (so to speak) instead of preach, I got a much better sense of the man….

Continue reading “Warming up to John Muir”

Warming up to John Muir

Burroughs on Barefoot

If you don’t know the man, John Burroughs was America’s most popular nature writer in the late 19th and early 20th century.  The other day I was flipping through one of his early essays and came across this commentary:

Occasionally on the sidewalk, amid the dapper, swiftly moving, high-heeled boots and gaiters, I catch a glimpse of the naked human foot. Nimbly it scuffs along, the toes spread, the sides flatten, the heel protrudes; it grasps the curbing, or bends to the form of the uneven surfaces,—a thing sensuous and alive, that seems to take cognizance of whatever it touches or passes. How primitive and uncivil it looks in such company,—a real barbarian in the parlor! We are so unused to the human anatomy, to simple, unadorned nature, that it looks a little repulsive; but it is beautiful for all that.

— John Burroughs, Winter Sunshine

Continue reading “Burroughs on Barefoot”

Burroughs on Barefoot

Tree Pose

The Stoic philosopher and Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius once wrote,

It is in your power, whenever you choose, to retire into yourself. For nowhere either with more quiet or more freedom from trouble does a man retire than into his own soul

— Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

This advice reminds me of one of the messages in the Bhagavad Gita, a two-thousand year-old Hindu text:

Wherever the mind wanders, restless and diffuse in its search for satisfaction without, lead it within, train it to rest in the Self.  Abiding joy comes to those who still the mind.

— Vishnu, Bhagavad Gita

I’ve been trying to put this advice into practice.  Walking down the street in the face of an icy winter wind, I make an effort to relax.  Instead of fretting at subway delays, I imagine shifting my brain into neutral gear.

The other day, arriving at a restaurant a few minutes before my wife, I took a deep breath and put away my phone…

Continue reading “Tree Pose”

Tree Pose

Accepting the Universe

john burroughs

In his prime, John Burroughs (1837-1921) was one of the most popular writers in America, with a huge following of readers and relationships with the likes of Theodore Roosevelt, Henry Ford, Thomas Edison, and railroad tycoon E. F. Harriman.  His passion was the birds, forests, rivers, and mountains of his native Catskills, and his writings reveal a scientist’s powers of observation and a nature-lover’s emotional connection to the land.  In 1919, at age 82 he appeared in a short film, shown leading a trio of young children around his Catskill farm.  He points out butterfly, chipmunk, grasshopper, and then the following words appear on the screen:

I am an old man now and have come to the summit of my years.  But in my heart is the joy of youth for I have learned that the essentials of life are near at hand and happiness is his who but opens his eyes to the beauty which lies before him.

Today, these words are remembered by a dedicated group of Burroughs enthusiasts.  But despite his enormous popularity, his hasn’t become a household name like other American naturalists such as Henry David Thoreau or John Muir.  I wondered, why?

Continue reading “Accepting the Universe”

Accepting the Universe

Let’s Put Thoreau in his Proper Place

In a recent post, I compared a weekend spent hiking in the Catskills to Henry David Thoreau’s two-year sojourn at Walden Pond, as both were experiments in natural living and self-sufficiency.

But then my daughter Emeline brought to my attention a recent article entitled “Pond Scum.”  The author, Kathryn Schulz, questions why we still admire the literature of a man who was mean-spirited and a fake.  She summarizes her opinion in no uncertain terms:

Continue reading “Let’s Put Thoreau in his Proper Place”

Let’s Put Thoreau in his Proper Place

A Catskills Afternoon, Complete with Flies, Thorns, Stinging Nettles, and Gunfire

As I dragged myself out of bed, the main topic on my mind was breakfast — not another bushwhacking adventure in the Catskills.

The day before, my friend Todd Jennings and I had put on the inaugural Ellenville Mountain Running Festival.  Organizing the race and ensuring everything went smoothly had taken a lot of effort.  That night I went to bed tired and didn’t bother to set the alarm.  But once I was finally awake and suitably nourished, there were no other pressing tasks at hand, and in due course I found myself motoring down the Thruway in search of Bearpen Mountain.

Todd and I had designed the Ellenville Mountain Running Festival as a “minimalist format” event, meaning that the course wasn’t marked and runners had to carry maps.  Many of the racers missed turns and ran extra miles, and a small number gave up and returned to the start.  It was only fitting, therefore, that on the way to Bearpen I would get lost.  And this despite having both Google Maps and NY-NJ Trail Conference maps on my phone.  It was high noon before I pulled into the parking area, almost two hours later than expected.  As they say, Karma’s a bitch.

Continue reading “A Catskills Afternoon, Complete with Flies, Thorns, Stinging Nettles, and Gunfire”

A Catskills Afternoon, Complete with Flies, Thorns, Stinging Nettles, and Gunfire