Whitman and His Witticism
Thomas McKellar
October 5, 2014
American Literary Traditions
Most individuals would say that most advice from prose or poetry is more around life lessons, or human emotions. Whitman, however, gives physical challenges, to go out and experience the world. In “Song of Myself”, Whitman glorifies the outdoors, and the true essence of humanity, the act of creation. Throughout the poem, Whitman uses vivid descriptions of life and all that it encompasses to bring the poem to life for the reader. This life giving vivacity is magnified ten-fold when the advice of Whitman is followed.
I took my book to the benches around the parade ground, I “loafed and invted y soul” (Whitman I). As a rat, I am fairly restricted in my movements. I sat for two hours, reading a stanza, then contemplating the message of the poem, and rereading it with that thought in mind. On a beautiful, cool Thursday, I sat, and was absolutely blown away. When a book is read indoors, in the fluorescent glare of modern life and conveniences, reading a line such as “the bright suns I see and the dark ones I cannot see are in their place, the palpable is in its place and the impalpable in its place.” The significance is lost indoors. Looking up at your roommate shining brass, compared to sitting in the sunshine and feeling the unseen wind on your face, the warmth of the sun on your back, there is no contest. Song of Myself has a beautiful fractal to it, while it has no meter or rhyme, as nature does not, the fractured surface leads to a eloquence like that of a mountain cliff.
While not what I originally saw as a poem, which in my head was a sonnet about a pretty lady, and other frivolous topics, Whitman actually embraces what I see as a man in beauty. All men are driven by the carnal urges of humanity, and Whitman saw that these urges, if controlled and shaped, are just as beautiful as any mountain lake. So as I sat and looked up at the mountains, and relaxed, I truly identified with Whitman. While not wanting to strip and run nude through a field, I was in awe of nature, and one with it. Breathing the air, watching the birds, and looking at what Mother Nature has wrought, I was “mad for it to be in contact with me”. I noticed the little things that I usually missed when I was outside.
Things like the way a sun beam played on a leaf, or the quiet rustle of trees in the breeze, other minutiae that as a rat contemplating is taboo. We cannot look around, or do anything really. We must obey. When I read this poem, I was not a rat anymore, I “was enamored of growing outdoors” (Whitman 14) I was just Thomas, enjoying a day in the sunshine. The ratline gave me an appreciation for the small details however, because when working on a uniform that your cadre will run over with a fine tooth comb, you must be exacting in detail, and I was finally able to put this newfound attention to use on the natural world. Finally, while sitting on my bench, I began to see that Whitman’s world is an eerie parallel for ours.
In today’s world, sex is an oftentimes taboo subject, with many cultural faux pais caused by mentioning it, or even thinking about it. We are in a modern day Victorian era, with books being banned for “dirty” language and many people subject to rise hell if their children are taught how to protect themselves from life threatening diseases. Whitman was a visionary, and I was privileged to be able to read and identify with him.
Song of Myself
Listen closely, lend me your ears, for I have a tale to tell,
About a trial of life, and true burden for young people,
Of angry cadre and screaming sergeants, of early mornings and late nights,
Of blood sweat and tears, sacrifice and self-doubt,
This trial is the Ratline, of The Institute, The mother at whose breast we are nurtured,
We are taken from our families, the loving ones back home,
And taught a new love, that of discipline and respect, a mountain to be climbed,
With gritted teeth and bunched muscles we push up the hill, straining every fiber of our being
To accomplish one goal, and become the cadets we dream of, these shining will o’ wisps
In our minds, which we dare not raise hope for
Lest we get cut down at the knees.
We live day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute, standing shoulder to shoulder
Fighting for each other, bonding as brothers and sister to defeat the boulder
That is cadre
The scourge of the existence of so many young lives, the killers of hopes and dreams
And yet they build us
In our weakest moments they push us, show us that our limits are higher than we ever dreamed
That the man I want to be is inside, that I must be broken down to free him
Reflective Tab
Reading Whitman was an extreme change of pace for our class. Moving from the tradgey and success of Douglass to the whimsical meandering of Whitman was a bit of culture shock. However, I really enjoyed Whitman, I find I can really immerse myself into the reading, especially the love of nature. I love being outside, and this poem really helped put into words many of my feelings about the great outdoors.