Kublai’s Walden

A walk could be a conquest of many lifetimes. This was what Henry David Thoreau proved to us when he lived in Walden Pond for two years and left us with his observations of natural life and how they relate to the most important human concerns in his classic book Walden; Or Life in the Woods. But missing his point entirely, I wanted to take my monumental walk, Thoreau-style in Walden Pond itself.

The pond covered 61 acres. The place was crawling with people of all ages, mostly wanting to take a swim in the pond that I think should be called a lake. I began my walk, distracted by the wires that fenced the pond trail. I was about half an hour into my trail when enough, I gave in to my all too characteristic desire to get off the beaten path. I jumped over the fence and got to a more interesting path, sloped and much more rugged and unpeopled. I felt more comfortable, more able to focus on the place I was trying to get to know. The only creature I found was a frog, terra-cotta in shade, with golden copper eyes that bulged out in the direction of the pond, like a terra cotta soldier himself, waiting for his marching orders from the wind that will also carry a hapless prey within the frog’s zapping distance. Frogs are one of those real Jurassic animals as their earliest fossils date back to the Jurassic Period (208 million to 144 million years ago.) They are tailless amphibians and with toads, belong to the amphibian order called Anura. Frogs have bulging eyes that help them see in all directions and give them a perceptual depth a sentry guard would envy. In a sense, a frog’s eyes are also its ears, as behind each eye is an external eardrum that is linked to the inner ear that makes for a very efficient sonar radar for finding mates and spotting predators. I stared at the terra cotta frog for a long time but it remained unperturbed. I wondered if it would croak upon news that one of its Asian comrades will be the subject of horror of one of my most favorite teenagers in her biology class when they dissect one to learn about "vertebrates."

Other than the frog, Walden Pond did not offer any insightful encounter in the proportions I had dreamed of. Admitting no insight, I walked out of Walden Pond to about five more miles to nowhere. And soon after, the walk of my dreams began. I went through a field that had giant sunflowers mixed with some other flowers that were deep purple. There was a dwarf tree that had a brown hairy parasite plant growing in it profusely like a wig, making it look like it was trying to disguise itself to confuse the other trees. Then there was a cemetery almost buried by new earth that carried leaves of grass, wildflowers, and in many parts, full-grown oak trees. I read the almost uniform tombstones and could scarcely make out the etched names but the dates all said they passed away in the 1800s. I wondered how many lifetimes they were able to explore in the area Thoreau said could preoccupy many lifetimes of exploration. Then I remembered the many lifetimes of walks and "sits" I have had with many kindred spirits in my life with whom I have shared grateful moments crazed by a flower, puzzled by a bug, tickled by a fish, entranced by sparks of light, caressed by the wind, grazed by the spread of sand, subdued by the sight of mountains, thrown off by magnificent mammals, nestled on the backs of elephants, breathed into by giant tortoises, shoved ashore by sea lions, accommodated by sleeping volcanoes, or humbled and quelled by giant glaciers. A wave of Sufi wisdom hit me: "If a man points at the moon, an idiot will look at the finger."

Yes, I the idiot, like Kublai Khan and his grandfather, Genghis Khan who burned themselves out riding their horses conquering almost half the world. In Italo Calvino’s Invisible Cities, Marco Polo, Kublai Khan’s Venetian adventurer and storyteller, pointed out to Kublai Khan that the ebony nature of a mere chessboard which Khan played upon, is itself a potent ground for as many stories about life as the emperor’s grand conquests. Thoreau himself bade: "Go be the Lewis and Clarke of your own oceans and streams; explore thy own latitudes."

But Nature forgives and supports the understanding of all creatures, even the idiot walker who brandished Thoreau but found herself and her world.

My next walk will be inside a potted plant.