nicole

“In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barleycorn less, And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.

And I know I am solid and sound, To me the converging objects for the universe perpetually flow, All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means.”

-Walt Whitman

The more I reread the poems the more I understand them, Reading them aloud is the key, well to me at-least.

I say to myself, how can Walt be so explicit in his period in time,  he’s  a rebel, he crosses boundaries between  different races, cultures and ethics.  He asks direct and provoking question and gives an answer to them in such a manner you have to gasp.

He is one with the world, a white man who feels the pain of others whom are told they are different. He is a man who knows he is different and he tells the world out loud, rather than hiding and being secretive like most other men back then.

Reading his work makes me blush at times, it sends you through different emotions, the different periods in his life I feel it, as though I can see.

He achieves this equality or oneness with the reader, I think that’s why when I read I see what he see’s.

To be in any form, what is that?
If nothing lay more developed the quahaug and its callous shell were enough.

Mine is no callous shell,
I have instant conductors all over me whether I pass or stop,
They seize every object and lead it harmlessly through me.

I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy,
To touch my person to some one else’s is about as much as I can stand.

Is this then a touch? . . . . quivering me to a new identity,
Flames and ether making a rush for my veins,
Treacherous tip of me reaching and crowding to help them,
My flesh and blood playing out lightning, to strike what is hardly different from
myself,

The Quahag or Quahog the word comes from the Mohegan-Montauk Narragansett it simply means a clam.

I like this excerpt because I think persons can relate to it. Never mind Whitman is referring to I, it speaks to us as a  whole.

We as humans are always looking and finding new identities, from child hood to adulthood. It may not be drastic, but we do change. We evolve sexually mentally and physically.

The shell of this quahog is hard, it  has protection, the clam grows safely inside, no-one  seizes it, it already has it’s identity. It changes only in it’s callous shell. Never mind the exert goes in to a naughty scene it captures Whitman at his raw state…………….

On all sides prurient provokers stiffening my limbs,
Straining the udder of my heart for its withheld drip,
Behaving licentious toward me, taking no denial,
Depriving me of my best as for a purpose,
Unbuttoning my clothes and holding me by the bare waist,
Deluding my confusion with the calm of the sunlight and pasture fields,
Immodestly sliding the fellow-senses away,
They bribed to swap off with touch, and go and graze at the edges of me,
No consideration, no regard for my draining strength or my anger,
Fetching the rest of the herd around to enjoy them awhile,
Then all uniting to stand on a headland and worry me.

I just found those words jumping out to me.

Nicole for Tuesday September, 8th 2009

In the beginning of this class I was truly overwhelmed by the course of this project, I had no prior knowledge of Walt Whitman rather than he was great American poet, and writer.

I began to read “Song of Myself “. I was astonished by the words and phrases Whitman used; he was not just a great American Poet but, a man whose work can relate to every reader in any time of history. “Song of My self” spoke to me as though it was written in the 21st century. He bluntly spoke about his sexuality, his looseness something that was regarded as being very private and discreet.   At times I felt a deep connection to his work, his words and his sense of being. “I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you”. However, Living in NYC I don’t feel that much of a connection every waking day, but you do have a sense of connection to your city and surroundings.

Whitman used his worlds carefully, his words are powerful, they grab you and pull you in, they transcend you into his eyes, you feel his pain, joy and his oneness to every man, woman, child, tree, bird, and earth. Each stanza gave a different part of his life, like a story a biography. Each was like an emotional roller coaster to me. He was everyone and everyone was him, he felt their pain… Godly in some parts he was, the father, the holy trinity.

I Exist as I am, and that is enough,
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
And If each and all be aware I sit content

I see the approach of your numberless gangs….I see you understand yourselves and me,
And know that they who have eyes are divine, and the blind and lame are equally divine,
And that my steps drag behind yours yet go before them,
And are aware how I am with you no More than I am with everybody.