Transcendentalism and Ralph Waldo Emerson Essay Example

How is one a “lover of nature”? Ralph Waldo Emerson, the father of transcendentalism and author of Nature, suggests that the full appreciation of nature can be achieved in three ways. First, Emerson argues that to fully be immersed in the benefits of nature, one must be in tune with their internal and external instincts. To be a “lover of nature” is to be aware—both self-aware and aware of the livelihood and unity of nature. Secondly, Emerson indicates that nature creates a “wild delight,” and it is the key to relieving man of all sorrows and griefs. Finally, Emerson emphasizes the importance of returning to a childlike innocence to fully understand and appreciate nature. Transcendentalism attempts to destroy our reliance on society and Emerson gives us, the readers, a map in order to escape and immerse ourselves in nature.

According to Emerson's implications, nature will treat one as his own child and solve the problems we humans obtain from the perils of society. We see the connection between nature and childhood through many traditional transcendentalist concepts: adulthood is associated with money, jobs, and traditional society. These are things transcendentalism seeks to escape and destroy. I agree with these aspects of transcendentalism; a reliance on traditions and the rigid rules our society has is dangerous. However, we can simultaneously criticize the extremes transcendentalism pushes us to: society causes sadness and nature causes happiness.  

Categorized as a higher power and almost a being, nature in this text is worshipped by Emerson and many transcendentalists of the time. Nature is considered to be superior to both society and man. I see a truth in the idea of nature being more powerful than humans—it is superior in some ways—but I see it as foolish to worship nature as a god. To devote yourself to something so mysterious and unpredictable is to be rash. Instead, a sense of respect for nature is merited. There is more nuance to the spirituality of nature than it just being a deity. 

Nature is merely another part of the complexities in our society. Both society and nature can exist within each other. Emerson establishes that our real sorrows are at fault of society and that our joys come solely from the appreciation and immersion in nature. I disagree—the relationship between nature and society is an unbalanced yet symbiotic relationship. Society profits from the benefits of nature, while also destroying it. However, I see a balance between the two—neither is fully good or evil. I believe that we can thrive in both nature and society at the same time and that neither needs to be something we want to escape.

A general flaw of transcendental philosophy is that the terms used are never defined: nature, solitude, joy. To explain transcendentalism using a religious context, I could compare it to the Bible: punishing, rule-filled, and yet so incredibly vague and left up to interpretation. Nature, in my words, is more of an abstract concept. While it includes the physical, it is not constrained to that definition. I think the idea of nature has nothing to do with a line between nature and non-nature. I believe it is up to interpretation and relates to the feelings produced. I agree with Emerson: nature brings us joys and “wild delights”. Society defines nature as features of the earth and as a collection of the physical world outside of human creation. I define the wilderness, or nature, as everything outside our control and not created by us. This doesn't mean we are excluded from nature; humans are inherently a part of nature. Nature could be a park in the middle of a bustling city, or it could be a creek in the middle of nowhere. It could be a sense of calm while walking on autumn leaf-filled streets or the exuberance felt when out of breath from swimming in the ocean. There is no scale to nature—nothing is too small or too big.

Nature is the human connection back to our original selves. We once existed in the same ecosystem, the same niches, as the plants and animals across our world. Human detachment from the natural world due to progression and technology has created an otherness that separates us from the wilderness. An ability to return to our roots is only one of the opportunities nature gives us. I do not see it as always primitive, but nature is the return to the natural world, where we re-exist in our original roles on this planet. It is not a rejection of modernity to want to return to nature, but rather an acknowledgment of the balance between nature that is possible—to coexist in both and maintain the happiness that comes from either. We can accept the concepts of society, reap the benefits, and simultaneously criticize civilization.

In my life, nature makes appearances through everything I do. An irreplaceable part of my childhood and young adulthood, nature shaped my values and gave me a place to return to. I have always been surrounded by and felt connected to the natural world. I grew up on floating homes on the Columbia River, on farms, and on boats. I've always been circled by the lessons and beauty of nature. My childhood was full of sunny summer days living on a farm in Northern Oregon. The plums would ripen right around my birthday, sweet but tart, and the cherries were always full of worms, though we never really cared. I’d plop myself in the dirt and chew on onion leaves that made my stomach ache and rub the mud in the ditch near the back fence all over my face. The threads of nature weaved themselves through my life like the vines weave through the spokes in the fences in the backyard of my house in the city now—specks of nature in the seemingly lacking atmosphere. I wouldn’t say I ever took nature for granted, but when you frequently experience the world outside of a basic city and it is such a normal part of life, you begin to forget how special it is. My parents always valued experiences over materialistic things. This meant Christmas was spent with vacations to mountains or sailing trips as presents instead of toys and gifts. My dad, a sailor and traveler by heart, and my mom, an Alaskan resident for most of her life and lover of nature, taught me and my siblings so much about the natural world and it has shaped my values permanently. 

My personal experience with nature has been inherently positive—I was taught nature is something to be grateful for and to be appreciative of because it is slowly being ruined. I was taught that nature is powerful and out of our control, that the storms and waves on the ocean when we sailed were not meant to be conquered and that we simply had to embrace them. I was taught to leave nature how I left it and to use its resources with respect.

The classic Seidl family summer trip—a couple of days to a week spent in the Salmon-Huckleberry Wilderness on the edges of Mt Hood. We would hike deep into the forest, past the service roads, and through the huckleberry bushes that were already half empty even though it felt like bear season had only just begun. With only our packs, we would hike with clear views of the volcano the Multnomah tribe called Wy’east. It felt like I was living how people used to, existing in nature to its fullest extent, relying on only the position of the sun for the time because my phone was dead. I would set up our tent while my father pulled down branches for our fire with ropes. “Strike the flint and steel at a sharper angle,” he’d say, “You won’t get any flames if you don’t choose the driest moss.” Backpacking trips were full of survival skills and learning about the wilderness around us. Flip over the rocks on the edges of the lakes to find crayfish. Always scan around you and check for movement in the trees, cougars won’t bother you but they’re hanging around. Check the direction of the wind before you go out on the water. The power of nature whistles through these sayings, cursing through the sails of the boat of life I’m constantly maneuvering. I find myself questioning the relevance of nature—I wonder why everyone cares so much about “finding yourself in nature” and “escaping the city” and yet I know the answer. I know the answer lies in the reason I’d pack my bags to hike the Pacific Crest Trail without a second thought, or why I trade burning calves for the view at the end of a hike. Within these lessons is the very essence of nature: that it is power and to be a part of nature is to have power. The scarcity of rights and wrongs, of blacks and whites, when there are only greens, blues, and all the colors that exist outside the grey cities. The ethics and ebbs and flows that transcendentalists speak of are captivating. I push to understand nature and its balance. 

I have plans to climb Mt Hood in the spring. There is something so attractive about climbing mountains to me. This balance between triumph and humbleness, accomplishment and weakness, draws me in. It is not a conquering. It is both a self-accomplishment and a way to fully appreciate nature. I think all of nature has these balances—the extremes society tends to carry frustrate me. In nature, we see contradictions and nuances everywhere. The feeling of being on top of the world when you reach the top of a hike pleasantly clashes with the knowledge that nature is so much more powerful than the tiny humans we are. I search for this emotion and I continue to strive to feel this balance of grey, instead of black and white.