This week we are pleased to share something very special with you. It's an assignment the students do in response to the Walden chapter "Where I Lived and What I Lived For." This is the chapter in which Thoreau presents what is essentially a manifesto on why he went to live in the woods; it's the chapter, one could argue, that acts as the thesis of the entire book. Students are asked to write their own "manifestos" in response to the question, "What do you live for?" We celebrate these pieces of writing by honoring Thoreau and getting out of town to take a slow walk in the woods. At the end of our walk, students read their work aloud, projecting their declaration into the welcome arms of nature and their peers. It's a moving experience, and a real gift, to witness this tender and generous moment. We are excited to be able to share a snippet of this moment with you today, as we've had some students offer to share their work here on the blog.
What I Live For by Brem
It is fleeting,
and when I know what it is, it’s gone. I can only be reminded of such a thing,
because when it’s present it pervades one’s being with such a thick, blinding
glow, one can not know anything else, but can only drown in it.
Wonder for what
that once was, leaving you with a warmth in your chest. Wanting to cry because
it’s left you, but beaming because you once knew it. And you don’t know it –
but you’re in it – drowning again, being thrown from a cliff.
Such invisible
glows linger like ghosts of things you once loved, but they are so unclear that
mere hints of its shape evoke shivers, and I live, blinded, suspended,
submerged, trying to make them out.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
Freedom by Chiara
Life.
Never-ending circles drawn in the
red dirt
with the end of a child's stick.
I live for the circles, the
cycles
that inhabit my soul
and fill my chest up
with endless emotions.
The cool creekside air
creeping into my lungs like a
summer disease.
A clatter of laughs spills
out of small wooden windows.
The inevitable serenity that
envelops my soul,
calming my brain into a deep blue
haze.
I live for the warmth.
The smiles smeared on our faces
like children in a blurry memory.
Barefoot journeys
and soil between my toes.
These are the moments I hold
in the tunnels of my tattered
heart.
Whole I am now- one with the
earth
and she whispers stories of my
past
into my ears as as I float
through the distance.
Forgetting.
Everything fades to a
dull golden glow,
and night is called into the sky,
my thoughts become glistening
stars.
Scattered across the matte black
canvas
of my life.
I live for the moment
that purity fills my veins once
again,
and my bones fall into a slumber.
Anxiety's curse,
hushed with pursed lips,
blowing out the steady flame of a
candle.
I live for those rich smells.
Rain trampling dry soil
with tiny teardrop feet.
Warm tortillas- fresh from
that simple white stove,
in the cabin tucked behind
watchful pine and juniper
branches.
I live for this comfort.
Open arms and warm embraces.
Goodnight kisses and midnight
grins.
Hot water and woodsmoke.
So many souls
in one old house.
In the tranquil morning light,
the sparrows and doves cry out to
me,
gently welcoming me to a new day
like a fragile newborn.
I live for the days I am born
again.
Into the sun and the land.
It is here that I feel at home.
My body-
content with nature.
I live for the sound of my
grandfather's flamenco guitar.
The elegant sway of my
grandmothers singing.
The tip tap of nails against hard
wood floors.
Tradition.
I live for this greatness-
the wide open.
The illumination of the world
that my emerald eyes hold
in those single precious moments.
The feeling in my heart
as it truly embraces the freedom
I have somehow forgotten.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
So, dear blog readers, what do you live for?
