Morgans transcendentalist Essay (rough)

Emerson Powder essay

Morgan Osborne

With out a true blizzard since years before locals are un controllably antsy. Rumors circulated through the town, “the storm of the century.” Before a storm even hits, there is a connection only an individual alone can feel with nature. There’s no way to experience a day like a powder day second handed, and there’s no way to teach the feeling of a powder day. Every soul across the mountain was connected directly to nature.

The powder day was everything and more than the rumors. School was cancelled and every local was on the mountain. Ski shops were sold out no one had fat enough skis for the chest deep snow. Do I contradict myself? Can I truly connect with nature, if I can’t experience nature with out the best technology?

Today, the next run, the next line, are the only thoughts running through the minds of these innocent loving humans. Today may have been the first day in over five months these people haven’t had a thought about yesterday, or the week before, or even ten years before. But is this the only time people are focused in the moment connected alone with nature, are people only appreciative and connected if gifted? 

No matter where I was the snow was rushing into my face like a water fall rushing into rocks. The Snow kept falling with fresh tracks with every run.  At points I couldn’t breath or see, but I had no care in the world I was alone experiencing the greatest gift of centuries. Grinning ear to ear there was no thought of the past or future only the moment, looking back there isn’t a time I’ve been happier.

Caught by extreme surprise threw my snow filled goggles I saw three older men trudging through the chest deep snow across one of the more popular runs. Alone at the time I stopped it seemed as if my group had disappeared and I was truly alone in the woods, except for these speechless men trudging in the chest deep snow. One dressed in the oddest of clothes and the others in older warn warm clothes. I spoke but no response, I clanked my poles- they looked at me but said nothing. Confused I slowly approached the men, the one dressed in the odd bright clothes with the bright blue top hat spoke out, I couldn’t understand.  Feet away now, I could understand. These men must have been the most confrontational, friendly people I have ever met. Following them deeper into the woods they started a small fire in which I was invited to gather around, two of the men disappeared as I was left alone with the oddest of the group.

Searching the surroundings my eyes traced up and down every natural cell. It seemed as if I was watching nature through the eyes of an elder, thoughts crossed my mind that would have never crossed my mind ten minutes ago. I looked at my skis in disgust, I seemed to have rather watched nature than play in it. “What’s your name young fella” Morgan Osborne I responded yours? “I am Ralph Waldo Emerson.” No, that can’t be I have studied you in school, I have read many of your essays and question them all. “School, you go to school and learn what I wrote in the past.”  “Yes I did,” “if you were to have learned one thing from my writing why weren’t you writing your own work, coming up with your own ways alone in this beautiful beast we sit in today, called nature?” I couldn’t come up with an answer I stuttered, the words couldn’t come out of my mouth. I thought for a second and thought; if I were to follow his instructions, why can’t I come up with my own ideas and write essays to influence society for years to come.  Wouldn’t this be genius, from the Self-Reliance essay.

Thoughts rushed to my head, Emerson sat across the fire waiting for an answer as the snow fell on his shoulders like white feathers from a dove falling from the sky. I asked if our society is not supposed to be retrospective why did you publish inspirational essays studied in schools today.” You think I wrote those essays to inspire decades later; no I didn’t even think about education in this era.”

“Do you think I inspire today? If I inspired today why are these people out here with hundreds of other people, enjoying nature for the first time in many years.” I was at a lost again, it was exactly like siting in my AP Literature class but more surreal. He was right we weren’t out here learning from nature, we were learning from each other, today, yesterday, the year before. We are learning from the “best” all the time.

“Let us demand our own works and laws and worship.” I agree we shall all write our own history, but is it not almost impossible to not be sparked by another, were you not given any ideas from any one else? “No, my ideas came from my findings of the transcending with nature.”

I looked him in the eye with an instinct of non reality.  Emerson- you have sparked a fire under me. I don’t believe a lot of your beliefs and I will not live by your beliefs but I will write my own beliefs, and inspire those around me. The image in front of me faded, the snow seemed to fall faster and harder. Emersons basic outline was still there against the white backdrop. “Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string.” And that was the last I saw and heard from Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Left with a whole lot of ideas and writers block I sat at a rose wood table staring blankly at computer screen sipping a steamy hot coffee.