the aboriginal wildness
...Thoreau's Journal: 21-Apr-1852

The birds are singing in the rain about the small pond in front, the inquisitive chickadee that has flown at once to the alders to reconnoiter us, the blackbirds, the song sparrow, telling of expanding buds. But above all the robin sings here too, I know not at what distance in the wood. “Did he sing thus in Indian days?” I ask myself; for I have always associated this sound with the village and the clearing, but now I do detect the aboriginal wildness in his strain, and can imagine him a woodland bird, and that he sang thus when there was no civilized ear to hear him, a pure forest melody even like the wood thrush. Every genuine thing retains this tone, which no true culture displaces. I heard him even as he might have sounded to the Indian, singing at evening upon the elm above his wigwam, with which was associated in the red man’s mind the events of an Indian’s life, his childhood. Formerly I had heard in it only those strains which tell of the white man’s village life; now I heard those strains which remembered the red man’s life, when these arrowheads, which the rain has made shine so on the lean stubble-field, were fastened to their shaft.


michael jameson said...

nature is pure and being a part yet apart of nature, why oh why cant we be as pure,natures pureness is lasting forever the same, humans keep moving further away! yet we seek pureness, is being civilized so great that we lose our pureness? and we think nature is one of our greatest treasures! WHAT HAVE WE DONE!. michael jameson oldantiqueguy@hotmail.com

michael jameson said...

each day i return and read my thoughts a year ago!, i find myself happy at my thoughts, its not that im set in my ways, im just comfortable with who i am !?. michael jameson