Henry David Thoreau. Prince of the Transcendentalists. The self-insinuated ringleader of an army of disobedients. A desirer to live deliberately and a hopeful bride to a life of nature, self-reliance, and self-sufficiency. I write directly to you with all the knowledge of my self-centeredness and self-seeking. I must make this about myself because I could not possibly attach these feelings onto the heart of another. For all that I am worth, and with all of my words that well up inside me, I must place on you a flowing river of thoughts that I have only saved for you. This is my gift and you are the sole receiver, you quiet man of Walden Pond.
He approached the temple slowly; as it was the only speed he was able to muster. All of his appendages trembled and ached in pain, as the pains of these last few days were too much on his small, plump frame. He had been through hell and back, and he had the scorch marks to prove it. He looked behind him at the only friend he had ever known. With eyes that had carried the weight of a thousand sorrows, he gave a slight smile, knowing that what he was about to do must be done.
I love the silence. The absence of all noise around me, all but maybe the occasional chirping of a bird, or the quiet shift of my feet on rock or grass as I sit in my own silent world. It is only in nature and nature alone, that I find what it is I am continuously searching for. It is only with the heavy thickness of a valley meadow, or the thin, whispering atmosphere of a rocky peak, or merely the dampness of a forest floor after a fresh rain as if the earth itself was filled like a sponge with the waters of the heavens, thus dulling out all the noises, all the distractions; the entire cacophony is still.
I. In many of his stories, HP Lovecraft would mention Neptune and the species of creature that inhabited it. In “The Whisperer in Darkness,” Neptune is referred to as “Yaksh” and is inhabited by mysterious beings. No one quite knows what these creatures look like precisely, only that it was the brain of one of these creatures, combined with “Three humans” and “six fungoid beings who can’t navigate space corporeally” that comprised the contents of the Mi-go’s brain cylinder. Later, in “Through the Gates of the Silver Key,” the creatures of Neptune are described as “hellish white fungi.”
The world is quiet. The streets are empty, and the world is constricted with silent tension. Each morning we awake with news on the current spread of the virus, and each evening we go to sleep, with images of new stories and data sheets and charts dancing around in our heads. The world is silent outside of our doors, and we do what we can to be okay every day, both physically and mentally.
I was born mere footsteps from the ocean. No matter where I go, where my feet find their footing, or where my existence is found, I know that I am a child of the sea. I gravitate towards the water in ways only found in men lost in desert sands, clawing through grains for a single drop to ease their scorched throats. I magnetize to the sea, I am drawn to it in ways that confound me. That is why I feel betrayed by what you represent in this world.