Thoreau’s ecosystem of language: A study of Spring’s revisions

Throughout Walden, Thoreau writes, cuts, sharpens, and reshapes his own language, which tells us what he wants his readers to understand. This is clear in the “Spring” SpringImage233SpringImage234chapter , where his manuscript drafts and the final published version reveal a shift toward clarity, purpose, and cyclical thinking.

1.Thoreau removes excess, repetition, and hesitation so spring becomes clearer, more purposeful. In the manuscript SpringSiteOne, Thoreau writes in his manuscript draft of the ground becoming “completely partially bare of snow.” and a long, wandering list of plants. These repeated phrases like, “as if not till then their beauty was ripe” appears twice. While in the published version, he tightens the language to “partially bare of snow.” The lists are shorter and more organized and the repeated “ripe” metaphor appears only once. Thoreau’s revisions make spring feel more decisive and direct. Instead of a hesitant, cluttered transition, spring becomes a clear moment of renewal. This supports that spring models the kind of purposeful renewal humans must choose in society.

2.He then goes on to remove the chaotic, tangled ecosystem catalog and replaces it with a more balanced, harmonious one. The manuscript SpringSiteTwolists off these elements, “asters, goldenrods, thistles, sedges, reeds, rushes, wild oats, cotton grass, cat-tail, mulleins, hardhack, meadow-sweet”. The draft is sprawling, almost overwhelming, like an ecosystem in full complexity. He simplifies in the published version SpringImage234Cropped to “life-everlasting, golden-rods, pinweeds, wild grasses, cotton-grass, cat-tails, mulleins, johnswort, hard-hack, meadow-sweet.” The revision shifts the tone from chaotic abundance to a coherent interdependence. In a similar way, society functions like an ecosystem, but one whose patterns can be recognized and understood, not random or overwhelming.

3.Thoreau also removes the architectural comparisons’ complexity and keeps only the essential metaphor. From the manuscript version SpringImage3of this section, he uses the Greek classical order of architecture, such as ionic, corinthian doric, and composite. Whereas in the published version, he refers to it as “an antique style, older than Greek or Egyptian.” When making this change, Thoreau simplifies the metaphor so it’s not about showing off knowledge, but rather it is about making a clear connection between natural forms and human cultural forms. This change also represents how human society mirrors natural patterns.

4.In the published version of Walden, In the original manuscript SpringImage4 the sentence, “laws and figures which first existed in the mind of man.” is a long philosophical sentence about astronomy, which he then replaces with a cleaner analogy in the published version, “…have the same relation to types already in the mind of man that astronomy has.”. This revision makes the analogy sharper while also reflecting on the patterns of nature already present in the human mind. These patterns show how humans instinctively follow natural cycles, renewal, hesitation, and conflicts just like ecosystems do.

5.Another revision in the published version of Walden that is important to make note of is how Thoreau keeps and strengthens the final contrast of winter as gentile, not tyrannical. In both versions of Walden, Thoreau keeps this claim about winter, however the published version can be perceived as much cleaner than the manuscript. In the manuscript SpringImage5, winter is referred to as “rude and boisterous tyrant” but in the published version, he reframes it as “gentle, delicate, tender”. This revision emphasizes the importance of recognizing winter not as an enemy of spring, but rather that winter is necessary in preparation for spring. Thoreau’s revision to this specific moment also brings light to the conflict that stagnation in society is not an endpoint, but rather a part of the stages that lead to renewal if people can recognize the cycle.

The revisions make spring’s emergence more focused, cyclical, and interconnected, reinforcing the idea that Thoreau uses spring to model how society functions like an ecosystem whose progress depends on recognizing natural patterns and choosing renewal, action, and cooperation.

Living with notifications: A week of watching my own attention

For a week, I tried to pay attention to my attention, something that Thoreau would probably say I should have been doing all along. I did not go to the woods, but I did go to class, The Lamron office, WGSU 89.3, sorority meetings, and hung out with my friends. I carried my phone and started noticing how often my attention was not really mine.

Below is what I learned about what “I agreed to attend to,” and what was forced on me.

What I tracked: I kept a running log in a Markdown file on my laptop and added quick notes on my phone. I focused on:

  • Invited attention: things I chose to focus on
  • Uninvited attention: notifications, ads, algorithmic pulls, and digital interruptions
  • Moments of regained autonomy: when I resisted or redirected my attention

A week of attention: What I actually noticed Thoreau warned that “our inventions are won’t to be be pretty toys, which distract our attention from serious things.” My pretty toys were:

  • GroupMe blowing up during class (sorority, Lamron, radio, etc.)
  • ESPN alerts I did not ask for
  • Brightspace notifications that felt urgent (even though they were not)
  • Instagram/Snapchat messages that pulled me in for “just a second”
  • Apple News pushing stories I did care not about I counted: on Tuesday alone, I got 63 notifications before 3 PM None of them were emergencies. All of them demanded a tiny slice of my mind.

The algorithm knows I am a Sports Editor/into sports Scrolling “for five minutes” turned into:

  • 20 minutes on Twitter/X reading up on trades and game highlights
  • 15 minutes on TikTok watching mor highlights and podcasts
  • 10 minutes on Instagram reels of athletes/sports that I do not even follow I did not choose these videos, they chose me.

Ads that followed me like mosquitoes on a muggy summer night I looked up one pair of jeans on Monday. For the rest of the week:

  • Instagram: ads
  • Google: ads
  • TikTok: ads
  • Even ESPN: ads It felt like the digital version of Thoreau’s “brain rot,” not because the jeans were evil, but because the repetition made my thoughts feel less like mine.

The moments I actually chose my attention These were fewer than I expected:

  • Editing a Lamron article and getting into a flow
  • Running a WGSU sports segment and forgetting about my phone
  • Reading for my anthropology class without checking anything
  • Talking with friends at dinner and realizing that I had not looked at my phone in an hour These moments felt like what William James meant when he said, “My experience is what I agree to attend to.” They actually felt like MY life.

How my attention was compromised

  1. Constant micro-interruptions Even when I ignored notifications, they still registered.
    • A buzz, a banner, a preview = a thought Thoreau wrote that the mind can be “macadamized”, broken into fragments. That is exactly what it felt like.
  2. The illusion of choice I thought I was choosing to scroll. However, the more I tracked my attention, the more I realized that I am not choosing the content, the timing, or the duration. The platforms were choosing for me.
  3. The loss of mental quietness Thoreau wanted us to “read the Eternities.” I was reading: headlines, hot takes, ads, notifications, etc. None of them were eternal, and most were not even important.

Did tracking my attention change anything? Honestly? a little, but not dramatically. I did not turn into a digital monk, I did not delete my apps, and I did not turn off my notifications. But I did start:

  • Putting my phone in my bag during meetings and class
  • Turning off nonessential alerts
  • Catching myself when I am being pulled instead of choosing The biggest change is awareness. I can now feel the difference between the attention I give and the attention that is taken from me. That distinction alone feels like a small reclaiming of autonomy.

Living my life, or letting it be lived for me? Thoreau believed that attention shapes perception. William James believed it shapes experience. Tim Wu believes it shapes freedom. After a week of watching my own attention, I believe all three are right. My digital environment constantly tries to live life for me, to decide what I see, what I think about, and how long I think about it. Noticing that process gave me a little more control. Not perfect control, but enough to feel like I am choosing my life a bit more deliberately. Even if I still check Instagram too much!

Making history legible

ShelbyCountyFreedmen
Participating in the Douglass Day transcribe-a-thon, I expected it to feel mostly technical. I thought it would be about typing, accuracy, and maybe learning a few historical details along the way. What I did not expect was how personal it would feel. Sitting at my laptop, slowly working through documents from the Colored Conventions Project, I found myself genuinely absorbed, not just in what the words said but who had written them and why they mattered. It is hard, especially in this day and age, to connect oneself with writing like how I connected on Douglass Day.

Before this, my understanding of the Colored Conventions movement was pretty surface-level. I knew it involved Black leaders organizing in the nineteenth century to fight for civil rights and equality, and I associated it with names like Frederick Douglass. But I had not really thought about how extensive or coordinated the movement was. Transcribing the convention proceedings changed that. For example, during the transcribe-a-thon I looked at a document that was a report of the freedmen in Shelby County. Shelby County FreedmanThese meetings were not informal or symbolic, they were serious and strategic gatherings. Delegates debated issues like education, voting rights, and economic opportunity with intention and urgency. Reading their words made it clear that they were not simply reacting to oppression, they were actively planning for the future. What stood out to me while transcribing these documents was how organized everything was. Motions were proposed, amended, and voted on. Committees were formed, language was chosen carefully, and seeing this unfold line by line made the movement feel very real. It was not just an idea discussed in class or summarized by a textbook, it was a living process, carried out by people who understood the stakes of what they were doing.

The experience also changed how I think about digital archives. I have used online databases plenty of times, but I have always taken their readability for granted. Working with scanned documents show me how much effort goes into making historical materials accesible. Some pages were faded or slightly damaged, the spelling and punctuation did not always match modern conventions, and certain words took a couple of tries to decipher. It made me realize that digital archives are not effortless or automatic, they are build through careful, and often invisible labor. Now when I use online databases with digital archives, I will remember just how much work and dedication goes into making something accessible for all.

Transcribing the documents was harder than I expected. I assumed it would be mostly a matter of copying text, but it required real focus. I had to slow down and look closely at every word, even when I thought I already knew what it said. There were moments where a single unclear word stopped me in my tracks. In those moments, context became extremely important. Reading surrounding lines, double-checking spellings, and sometimes just taking a breath and coming back to it helped me move forward. At times I would type quickly because I was able to read the document quickly, then when I went back to check my typing there were many errors. As a result of that, I had to go back, reread, and retype, so it took even more time. One thing I learned quickly was how tempting it is to “fix” the text (to modernize spelling or smooth out some of the awkward phrasing). But I learned that transcription is not about making the document easier to read, it is about preserving it as accurately as possible. Letting the document speak in its original voice felt important. Those small quirks in language are part of the history, which makes it easier to appreciate the document as a whole.

What surprised me the most was how connected I felt to the people behind the documents. Typing their words created a strange sense of closeness, almost like if I were listening in on their conversations from nearly two centuries ago. Their concerns did not feel distant. Issues like access to education, political representation, and economic fairness still resonate today. That realization made the past feel less like something finished and more like something ongoing. In this day and age, I think that is important for everyone to transcribe documents like these at least once. The hardships and issues that they experienced are being experienced today, but in a slightly different font.

By the end of the transcribe-a-thon, I did not feel like I just had completed an assignment. I felt like I had contributed to something meaningful. Helping turn fragile historical documents into accessible digital text made me feel connected to both the past and the present. It reminded me that history is not only preserved by famous figures or major institutions, it is also preserved by students, volunteers, and everyday people willing to spend time engaging with it.