I'm not sure why I'm not blogging at least a little more often. A dozen years ago, as one of the nation's busiest political bloggers, I posted constantly. But these days, when I have something to say, I guess I want to let it echo for a while.
Speaking of echoes, something Henry David Thoreau wrote has been reverberating in my head all this spring. It's in his Natural History of Massachusetts, just a few lines from his comment ("Surely joy is the condition of life") from which I named this blog. He writes:
We fancy that this din of religion, literature, and philosophy, which is heard in pulpits, Lyceums, and parlors, vibrates through the universe ...
Oh my. Can you imagine what Thoreau would think of the din vibrating around us today? He goes on to say:
... When I detect a beauty in any of the recesses of nature, I am reminded, by the serene and retired spirit in which it requires to be contemplated, of the inexpressible privacy of a life -- how silent and unambitious it is.
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| Monet's pond, Giverny. Photo by Julie Fanselow, 2017. |
Those two phrases. Is it possible in 2017 to live a private life? This morning, I'm thinking about one private life that ended a few days ago when a young Seattle mother was shot by two police officers she'd called on for help. Her life mattered. I changed my Facebook profile photo to honor her today. It feels like the right thing to do. I get that.
I have written before that I am weary of politics. I am weary of the din. I know that it's a marker of privilege that I can go weeks and months without publicly weighing in on the daily acts of violence swirling around us.
But by heeding the call to contemplate nature and sit with my spirit, to be mostly private and silent and unambitious as a practice, every day, I am able to cultivate the kind of calm I need to face the madness of our world.
(Read more Thoreau here.)
