A Personal Journey Through Walden

It was a warm day of summer in São Paulo, and little drops of sweat were running down my back and the sides of my face. I was at the gym doing some aerobic exercises in order to get a figure that would go well with Brazilian bikinis, but as a good daughter of a city that never stops and a society that values multitasking, I was also reading a book. I got through the preface with a good rhythm, carrying a subtle smile that denounced how happy I was with that tiny demonstration that I was winning in life, that I was making the culture that parented me as proud as it could be.

But then, that’s when it happened. With no warning, the ground under my feet was gone and I felt like my whole body – my whole being – was being sucked into another dimension. I am not talking about that amazing feeling one has when reading a good story that transports its readers into other worlds. What I felt was a sudden change of reality, in a way that I literally could no longer understand what I was doing at the gym reading a book on an iPad with a smile in my face. This is how Henry David Thoreau and his book ‘Walden; or, Life in the Woods’ threw me into my on-going journey of change.

You see, when a young mind touches for the first time words that question so deeply the notions of life and truth, there is a good chance this mind will be hooked and the new perspectives will unfold in front of these unblinking eyes as a guide. I sank into Thoreau’s words like if all the world I knew before had in one struck of a brush been painted in a brighter color, covering what didn’t need any more of my attention while enhancing eyes, smells, feelings and practices that have been there all along, completely invisible to me.

I kept reading the book during my free time, and just as Thoreau, I wanted to pack and leave, to start fresh in a place and in a context that would enable me to keep seeing, to keep feeling the dirt under my bent knees and the new possibilities at the tip of my fingers. And I did it, many times.

I changed cities, countries, professions, sometimes feeling closer to the natural world, sometimes being closer to a better intelectual understanding of things. Most of the time, though, I was feeling completely lost, afraid, unprepared. The journey was intense, and I lived more lives in my early twenties than most people I know will ever live.

But at some point I noticed that the promise of a well lit conscience became a constant run from the person I am. There is a fine line dividing what is a healthy search of a better self, and what is the constant search of an illusion, of something that is not part of one’s being. I eventually crossed that line, and it took me a while and lots of physical, emotional, and spiritual signs for me to see that I had lost my way. I had seen so much, but I wasn’t seeing myself.

But thankfully, the long process of search had taught me that the truth, our own, personal truth, is not uncovered though deep thinking and observation, it actually comes to life though touch, encounters, little doings that leave behind tiny arrows pointing to the horizon. After exhausting all the rationalization and overthinking inside me, the pair of hands that guided me into the mud, I could only be, voiceless, wandering adrift but accepting anything that life would bring to me.

Yesterday was the eve of Thoreau’s 200th birthday, and because of my deep connection with him, I thought that rereading Walden was in order. I was sitting in a comfy chair while little drops of rain sprinkled my window, and all of a sudden, with no previous warning, I felt like home. To be clear, I moved to my current city one week ago and I am subletting another person’s room until I figure my life out, so the home I am talking about is really not physical. What brought me home was the feeling of encountering that girl that years before had her feet swept away by this same book. I was happy to finally go back to her, to me, although I was also surprised to see that after such a long journey I was basically the same.

But was I? While sinking into Walden again, I realized that Thoreau has never asked for big movements of change, he actually says that he doesn’t want anyone to follow his path. What he proposes is a kind of change that is possible while we are still, wherever we are, whoever we are. Thoreau is asking us to look, to care, to pay attention. And then, through this newly created connection with our surroundings, we respond. Not a reaction, a response.

What unfolds from there is beyond imagination or any “guide” one encounters along the way. To look and to respond involves more than oneself, it is a process that is inherently dependent on the eyes one is looking at and responding to. This is a dance with many partners, and the moves depend on the ones who are on the dance floor.

The younger me didn’t understand that I had to take myself, entirely, into these dances of encounters, I thought that in order to see the other, I had to leave myself behind. But here I am, on a comfy chair, writing and realizing that somewhere along the way, I found myself again. I am, finally. My eyes are now full when I look into another’s, so this is just the start of the continuance of my journey of change.

)
Raquel de Oliveira Cardoso

Written by

Copywriter and brand strategist for social-ecological organizations and businesses with a sustainable stand. www.raquel-cardoso.com

Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade