As I plunged into the clear, azure water of Walden Pond, a blissful beatitude embraced me, and I wondered: Was this the spiritual force that inspired Henry David Thoreau to pen one of the most celebrated and influential books in American literature?

Thoreau, whose 200th birthday is Wednesday, July 12, spent two years in a primitive cabin he built on the pond’s north shore. Many consider his “Walden; or, Life in the Woods,” the bible of the environmental movement.

I made a pilgrimage to Concord, Mass., the other day, where Walden Pond is enshrined in a 335-acre state park/National Historic Landmark.

Visitors expecting to enter a secluded sanctuary faithfully preserved as it had been when Thoreau lived there in comparative isolation from 1845 to 1847 may be disappointed to find a busy recreation area containing a beach, roped-off swimming section, lifeguard stand, bathhouse and well-trod hiking path mostly enclosed by a wire fence running its entire 1.7-mile length around the pond perimeter. At a parking lot across the street, there’s a $10 fee for out-of-state cars and $8 for those with Massachusetts plates; there’s also a replica of Thoreau’s cabin, book store and gift shop. At least there is no Henry’s Hot Dog Stand.

But considering that the park, about 20 miles from downtown Boston, is accessible only via some of the most traffic-clogged roads in New England, Walden Pond exudes a sublime grandeur reinforced by its distinctive hue.

Some 10,000 to 12,000 years ago, retreating glaciers formed this kettle hole that, at 102 feet, is the deepest pond in Massachusetts. Walden Pond remains so free of sediment that peering beneath its surface is like gazing through cobalt-tinged glass.

Infused by a transcendental reverence for nature that reflected his spiritual mysticism, Thoreau wrote about how “the pure Walden water is mingled with the sacred water of the Ganges." Unfortunately, the state has had to close the swimming area a few times in recent years because of high bacteria counts, which I belatedly learned after my short swim.

During my visit, I also kayaked around the pond — there’s a boat launch for human-powered craft and small vessels with electric motors.

My walk around the pond on the fenced-in path took less than an hour, including a short stop to view granite posts marking the tiny dimensions of his long-gone cabin.

A wooden sign adjacent to the site is inscribed with a sentence from “Walden”: “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”

While many oft-quoted passages from this seminal volume focus on his veneration of the natural world — “We need the tonic of wildness ... We can never have enough of nature” — others extol the self-reliant, ascetic lifestyle advocated by his friend, benefactor and mentor, Ralph Waldo Emerson, who allowed Thoreau to move to his property surrounding the pond.

“Our life is frittered away by detail ... simplify, simplify," he wrote. “… My greatest skill has been to want but little.”

To some, Thoreau’s hermetic existence bordered on misanthropy, expressed in such observations as “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation” and “I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. To be in company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.”

This attitude compelled Pulitzer Prize-winning author Kathryn Schulz to write a 2015 article in The New Yorker titled “Pond Scum,” which raised the hackles of Thoreau acolytes by focusing on what she called his “antipathy toward humanity.”

It may be true that, by contemporary standards, were he alive today, Thoreau could risk dismissal as a reclusive vagrant, at best, but I find such revisionism disingenuous.

We shouldn’t assess the value of Thoreau’s legacy using the same measures applied to Mahatma Gandhi or Mother Teresa. Thoreau may not have always demonstrated compassion, opposed oppression or provided comfort to the poor, but Thoreau did teach us that humans are not the only living organisms on the planet and that we ignore this truism at our peril.

I find Thoreau’s most refreshing perspectives referenced his ability to find joy in simple pleasures, his belief in honest, hard work, and in finding the right direction in life:

“Every man looks at his woodpile with a kind of affection.”

“Cultivate the habit of early rising. It is unwise to keep the head long on a level with the feet.”

“Do not be too moral. You may cheat yourself out of much life. Aim above morality. Be not simply good; be good for something.”

“Never look back unless you are planning to go that way.”

Happy birthday, Henry! May your writings continue to inspire us for another 200 years and beyond.