THE YOGA IN HENRY DAVID THOREAU

by Renée Silvus

If the day and the night are such that you greet them with joy, and life emits a fragrance like flowers and sweet-scented herbs, is more elastic, more starry, more immortal—that is your success. All nature is your congratulation, and you have cause momentarily to bless yourself. 

When we think of Thoreau, we might recall a brash misanthrope chronicling his two years at Walden Pond. This invitation to joy and blessing is also his voice. While at the pond, he read the Bhagavad Gita twice, finding it “unquestionably one of the noblest and most sacred scriptures which have come down to us.” Thoreau continued to read more Vedantic texts and integrate Samkhya philosophy over the next six years while revising his Walden manuscript. He had been experiencing meditative states since his early twenties. “Silence is the communing of a conscious soul with itself….She is audible to all men, at all times, in all places.” This journal entry is typical Thoreau—insisting on something transcendent while including a paradox.

 

I’ve been inspired by Walden ever since reading it as a teenager. It took teachers in the Bharati tradition to show me enough depth and nuance in Yoga to see Walden as entirely a course in Raja and Bhakti Yoga. To add another layer, consider Thoreau’s reputation as a hermit. More so he was a man of action, his Karma Yoga. He participated in the Underground Railroad, took passionate political stands, and figured out forest succession, contributing to a nascent scientific field.

 

 For me, it’s Thoreau’s Bhakti that sings. It’s his reverence for the pond, woods, and their inhabitants that keeps this book alive. In Choosing a Path, Swami Rama describes Bhakti as channeling emotional energy with complete self-surrender and devotion, spontaneous and fearless. These qualities define Thoreau’s focus in living at Walden Pond, all in service to his muse. He wrote more in those two years than any other time in his life. 

Some of the most vivid memories of Thoreau by his contemporaries are of his Bhakti—playing the flute, dancing, walking, rowing, or picking huckleberries with one-pointed purpose. While we may not consult Thoreau for guidance on matters of devotion to God, we do find a deep devotion to his path, marked by steady commitment to his own ideals and disregard for the ones others wish he had. 

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Let’s look at that first passage, from the “Higher Laws” chapter—

If one listens to the faintest but constant suggestions of his genius, which are certainly true…that way, as he grows more resolute and faithful, his road lies…If the day and the night are such that you greet them with joy, and life emits a fragrance like flowers and sweet-scented herbs, is more elastic, more starry, more immortal—that is your success. All nature is your congratulation, and you have cause momentarily to bless yourself…The true harvest of my daily life is somewhat as intangible and indescribable as the tints of morning or evening. It is a little star-dust caught, a segment of the rainbow which I have clutched.

This is an invitation—to listen to your inner voice, which is constant, as a path to presence—the harvest of daily life. This brings confidence, beauty, even joy. Thoreau insists on your genius, truth, and success. It’s a way of reverence for your road, to bless your life.

 

This all includes a little spin on Gita philosophy, which reflects Karma Yoga—that we do our work— show up in the world—because we are called to be us. In the Art of Joyful Living, Swami Rama instructs, “but you wonder how you know what your duties are. Whatever you do and wherever you are, pay attention to the things that are occurring in the present—that is your duty.” We don’t have to understand our work, that daily harvest, and we are uninvited to the results of our work. How do you clutch a rainbow anyway?

 

Following your genius also feels to me like Svadhyaya, recollecting a higher Self, and the surrender of Ishwara Pranidhana. There’s also a flavor of Satya, even allowing truth to be intangible. Satya might ask us to heed genius and make a change, or it might reveal Santosha or contentment with that daily harvest. 

There you go—Thoreau’s sense of Bhakti generous enough to weave in a little more than you may expect, just as much Yogi as Yankee.