Sounds: A Reading From Walden By Henry David Thoreau

A quiet reading from the “Sounds” chapter of Henry David Thoreau’s Walden, published in 1854. Beginning with a brief invitation to notice your surroundings, this reading explores attention, stillness, and the value of being fully present to what is already around us. After the reading, a few simple questions invite you to notice your environment again and what may have escaped your attention before.

Transcript

Before we begin, Take a moment to notice the environment around you. You don't need to change anything. Simply notice what is already asking for your attention. And perhaps what has been present all along. This is Henry David Thoreau from Walden, Published in 1854 from the chapter called Sounds. You don't need to work at understanding it. Just listen. And see what catches your attention. But while we are confined to books, Though the most select and classic, And read only particular written languages, Which are themselves but dialects and provincial, We are in danger of forgetting the language which all things and events speak without metaphor, Which alone is copious and standard. Much is published, But little printed. The rays which stream through the shutter will be no longer remembered when the shutter is wholly removed. No method nor discipline can supersede the necessity of being forever on the alert. What is a course of history or philosophy or poetry, No matter how well selected, Or the best society or the most admirable routine of life, Compared with the discipline of looking always at what is to be seen? Will you be a reader, A student merely, Or a seer? Read your fate. See what is before you. And walk on into futurity. I did not read books the first summer. I hoed beans. Nay, I often did better than this. There were times when I could not afford to sacrifice the bloom of the present moment to any work, Whether of the head or hands. I love a broad margin to my life. Sometimes in a summer morning, Having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise till noon, Wrapped in a reverie amidst the pines and hickories and sumacs, In undisturbed solitude and stillness, While the birds sang around or flitted noiseless through the house, Until by the sun falling in at my west window, Or the noise of some traveler's wagon on a distant highway. I was reminded of the lapse of time. I grew in those seasons like corn in the night, And they were far better than any work of the hands would have been. They were not time subtracted from my life, But so much over and above my usual allowance. Take a moment to notice where you are now. What is here now that you may not have noticed before? Thank you for listening.

Reviews

Pretty good my dear! Gotta work on the mic with those “p” sounds - but you’ll get there! Keep going :)