I will be researching transcendentalism and searching for the premier places to absorb and produce the writing that it inspires. A key aspect of transcendental theory is to come up with one’s own understanding on “Things” i.e. society, nature, God. For my specific research I have been travelling to different state and national parks around the area—from Big Sur up to the redwoods of Humboldt County to try to find what these “things” mean to me, my writing, and how I go about exercising my ever rekindling world-view. At these sites I will be reading a variety of transcendental literature, using them as sort of guide books. After reading through some, my inclination was to stop reading and be in the “now”, I felt it was what those looming predecessors would have wanted. This research has helped me to be in the now, and to write from that place. It seems like I have always had a deep connection with the woods, and am looking for some more in depth basis into that. I definitely share certain outlooks with the transcendentalists. My research is most rooted in the “why”.    

The annotated bibliography that follows tells about the place in which I conducted the research, as well as the literature that inspired.

Joaquin Miller State Park

Joaquin Miller State Park is an urban park run by the city of Oakland. This park offers an escape from the city’s grind and allows for contemplation in a variety of serene and relatively quiet spots. There is a mixture of genuine nature popping up in between manmade structures and clear-cutting. An actually beautiful park considering the amount of foot-traffic and proximity to neighborhoods. I used minimal environmentally impactful means while traveling to and from the park—riding my bike from my apartment in McClymonds up to Grizzly Peak Road. I strolled around to see a still, reflecting pool and pyramids built by Miller himself to represent the Ten Commandments (religion and transcendentalism weaving resulted in some nearly mind-breaking thought). The park was a bit busy, being a Saturday, so I ventured off trail and found a pine needle-encrusted divot under a redwood to settle in and read.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature, Chapter 1

Emerson’s Nature is a self-reflective essay that riffs upon the relationship that humanity has with nature. This idea that man and nature are on the same plane was a revolutionary concept at the time. Many believed that nature was a reflection of man and therefore was dictated by human, which is obviously a very backwards view. Emerson questions the outlook of the past. He begins the essay by saying, “Our age is retrospective.” He goes on to say, “why should not we also enjoy an original relation to the universe. Why should we not have a poetry and philosophy of insight and not tradition…” Emerson speaks about the universe and what composes it—nature and the soul. There is, what is “me” and what is “not me”, separate from the soul. There are perspectives to be found in nature that will impact one’s well-being and moral principles. He goes on to discuss that modern peoples do not even see the sun, or at least do so in a superficial way. At no point in the essay does Emerson rely on authorities of the past, but rather depends on his own experience of being to hypothesize a theory. (After reading that, I put the book down and began to think on my own.)

Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park

Located in the snoring town of Orick, CA in northern Humboldt county is Prairie Creek State Park. Too far north to get much city traffic, and all the tourists have dwindled by the end of October. There is a constant cloud cast over the tops of the trees—it is one of the wettest spots in California. My carbon footprint is a bit bigger than it was in Oakland, the drive took about seven hours on US 1. Once in the park there is no noise from drivers and pedestrians alike, just the subtle breeze coming from the creek and the creek of the ancient giants. This parks offers almost too much time with one’s own thoughts. I felt as though a feeble pebble had been wedged under a mountain. A place that forces the mind to consider reasons and answers but they seem to be unable to escape through the dense canopy. I find a spot to camp by the brook, gather whatever dry kindling I can find, open my ears to the forest music, open Walden, and drift into Thoreau’s consciousness. 

Come morning, I read the words, “How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not yet stood up to live.” I went for a hike, bookless.

Henry David Thoreau, Walden, Where I Lived and What I Lived For

This portion of Walden discusses what Thoreau’s ideal living is. He inquires to several farmers about possibly living on their land and imagines buying their houses to be his own. He prefers a place in the wilderness over one in a village. He draws out plans but decides against building, claiming that true wealth is had when certain wants are left alone. Thoreau questions the acquisition of material objects—he seeks a place separate from society. He begins building, and living in, a home in the woods (at Walden). He basks in its unfinishedness, feeling as though it is part of nature. Thoreau encourages all folks to elevate their lives by “conscious endeavor”, which means to find a passion and run with it. His endeavor was simplicity and solitude. Thoreau pokes fun at those who value the ventures of others (news) over their own. He advocated his own lifestyle as primary. 

Pine Ridge Trail to Sykes Hot Springs

A rugged, grueling, gorgeous hike in Big Sur. Across the road from the beaches is an expansive, undisturbed wilderness of pointy peaks and ridges. The trail climbs to and fro in switchback painted erratically. This is the only trip that I did with a companion, a girl I met in Berkeley who turns out to be really sweet and a total badass. The sun heats up the trail as well as our backs shadowed by the black backing of our backpacks. We climb higher into the halo-cloud, sitting god-like on its rocky throne. It is hard to think of much else other than the “now” while doing something physically demanding, a primary reason why I enjoy staying active. I will myself to take another step, after the last ten and before the next. I play a song in my head that may have squeaked out in an inaudible whisper, at the moment this was the Song of Myself. 

Walt Whitman Song of Myself

This poem, as part of the greater work that is Leaves of Grass, is a celebration of the self. An exercise that everyone should participate in to recognize themselves as active members of a fucked up and beautiful existence. The speaker/narrator of the poem represents the part of us that isn’t our everyday, but the one that keeps us going from day to day. It is our transcendental voice—the one that absorbs all the activity of the moving, natural world. But, it is this “us” that remains detached from our conscious selves. This voice is immortal, hopefully continuing on through generations inspiring. Throughout the poem, this voice dips in and out of a human’s physical self and becomes a part of it. It is when this unity happens that the self can experience spontaneous enlightenment. Whitman riffs on the idea of being content with one’s self—if no one else is aware that is fine, and if they are, that’s fine too. He speaks of the connection between humankind and nature and how it happens in the most intimate way. He does so by using the life cycle of death and rebirth and its continual perpetuation.