Philip of Macedon's Reviews > Self-Reliance and Other Essays

These essays are unlike anything else. They’re a glimpse into the workings of transcendentalism, into the mind of its most noteworthy poet-advocate. Emerson has a mystical, romantic, esoteric way of writing about all manner of things. I appreciate many of the sentiments he expresses, his celebration of individualism, self-reliance, solitude, mental or “spiritual” fortitude, his embrace of nature, of poetry and philosophy and art and a connection to history, to reality, and to things beneath the mundane, unseen to the eye, his joy for intellectualism and tranquility and the unnamable qualities of life that he has somehow given names and descriptions to, as well as his criticism of conformity and the forces and opinions and motives of society.

I’m confused by his delivery. At times I wonder if he means everything he says, or if he on occasion says things just because he’s in a strong flow, carried away by his own momentum. Given his love for the things mentioned, and his almost metaphysical disposition as a poet, it may be no surprise he finds math cold, science lifeless, facts untrustworthy, empiricism worthless. His writing style reflects this aversion to reason and logic. It is all from the gut and a state of trancelike riffing, rarely a carefully worded, straight forward organization of thoughts. Since he does not bother to persuade, but only to express, I can only read along and differ in opinion here and there, while nodding along and pausing occasionally to reflect on the moments of wonder, on his lyrical might.

What he lacks in persuasion and reason he makes up for with hardy, feeling, romantic, poetic, insightful, and reflective musings. Many good thoughts and ideas abound. He can appear disorganized and lost in a stream of consciousness instead of focused, but maybe it was only me who was lost in his current. We get a lot of strong and beautiful passages full of sage wisdom and sound thinking, sometimes profound observations, on top of passages that do nothing to convince the reader to share his perspective, but still suffused with awe.

Like Nietzsche, he does not reason so much as he intuits. I think I see where Nietzsche gets it from. Emerson also reminds me of Spinoza, in his vague allusions to a god that seems to be synonymous with nature or the universe, but somehow still personified. And as I reached the end of the book and began to detect some hints of ancient Chinese thinking, he brought Mencius into the fold, as fitting a philosopher for him to refer to as any.

He urges his reader to see the glimmers of genius that have shone in others in the past, in great thinkers and writers, like Homer, Dante, Milton, Shakespeare, and to see them also in ourselves. He encourages one to see themselves as an active participant in the world and to see history and experience and friendship as part of the vastness of existence and the self.

Emerson writes a manifesto against conformity to society, to live one’s life even around others as though they were steeped in solitude and able to live according to their own opinions and values. Ones who are seeking amusement or escape in world travel instead of self realization and growth, he supposes, will find neither. His observations on the “improvements” in society being no improvement for man are astute. For every gain on one side it recedes on the other, losing old instincts while acquiring new art, becoming weak while becoming civilized, becoming ignorant of the universe around him while inundated with new tools and luxuries.

This collection overflows with dense substance to go over again and again, to unwrap and consider. It isn’t always compelling, sometimes it seems as though he rambles a bit too long, though not without some grand cavalcade of ideation, but when it’s good it’s very good.