Walt Whitman
1819 - 1892
1819 - 1892
Three days ago, most of my American compatriots celebrated the Fourth of July with cookouts, fireworks, and other festivities that have little to do with either the history of American independence or the constitutional framework within which we are supposed to govern ourselves and function as a nation. There were others, however — myself included — who found it difficult to celebrate American ideals during a year in which the members of Congress, most of whom are beholden to the National Rife Association, have not mustered sufficient courage to ban the private sale and purchase of military-grade assault rifles; during a year in which there have already been almost 500 fatal police shootings (many race-based) in this country; during a year in which the presumptive presidential nominee of one of the two major political parties in the United States is widely considered to be a narcissist, a bigot, a xenophobe, a misogynist, a pathological liar, and a man without any visible moral foundation.
This is not the America of our constitutional ideals, and the mere act of paying attention to what is happening — a civic obligation, I would argue — is enough to leave one in a permanent state of depression. As always, however, something comes alone to remind us of the higher ideals which, historically, have provided this country with optimism, strength, and moral courage when these attributes of character are most needed. In this case, the redemptive tonic was provided by The Writer's Almanac, which, on the Fourth of July, published an inspirational excerpt from the preface of Walt Whitman's great poetry collection, Leaves of Grass. No shrinking violet, Whitman tells us what we should do if we want to turn our lives into a great poem. It's good advice for any time, but it holds a special resonance for me at this juncture in my life. May you, too, find meaning and motivation in these wise words of a true American idealist.
This is not the America of our constitutional ideals, and the mere act of paying attention to what is happening — a civic obligation, I would argue — is enough to leave one in a permanent state of depression. As always, however, something comes alone to remind us of the higher ideals which, historically, have provided this country with optimism, strength, and moral courage when these attributes of character are most needed. In this case, the redemptive tonic was provided by The Writer's Almanac, which, on the Fourth of July, published an inspirational excerpt from the preface of Walt Whitman's great poetry collection, Leaves of Grass. No shrinking violet, Whitman tells us what we should do if we want to turn our lives into a great poem. It's good advice for any time, but it holds a special resonance for me at this juncture in my life. May you, too, find meaning and motivation in these wise words of a true American idealist.
THIS IS WHAT YOU SHALL DO
From Preface to Leaves of Grass
From Preface to Leaves of Grass
This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.
