I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
|Praise yourself. We are all connected. We are all perfect beings in the eyes of the cosmos, in the eyes of the universe. Find your place and then you can celebrate yourself like Walt does.|
Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems,
|I have knowledge. Knowledge that you can learn from me. Learn from me and from how I sing myself and you too can sing of yourself.|
|In section 6 a child brings Walt grass, and he goes through a list of possibilities each with their own separate connotation as to what they might be.||And each explanation is just as viable as the next, each a piece of this perfect creation, each in balance with the world.|
Has anyone supposed it lucky to be born?
I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.
I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash’d babe, and am not contain’d between my hat and boots,
I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth,
I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and fathomless as myself,
(They do not know how immortal, but I know.)
|Praise your life. Celebrate that you were born and use the time that you have to make yourself into this immortal being that you know you can be. Walt knows what it is to be truly immortal, and if you follow his advice and sing yourself you can know what he knows.|
|In section 15 there is another list. And this list talks about people and how they make up society. |
And after he is done listing them he says.
And of these one and all I weave the song of myself.
|You need this holistic view of life, you need to be the man of many men to be this superman, this man in balance.|
I know I am solid and sound,
To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow,
All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means.
I know I am deathless,
I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter’s compass,
I know I shall not pass like a child’s carlacue cut with a burnt stick at night.
|Be solid, be steadfast, make yourself into something immortal and worth being known for.|
Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son,
Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding,
No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from them,
No more modest than immodest.
Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am touch’d from,
The scent of these arm-pits aroma finer than prayer,
This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds.
|Humility, passion, truth, balance. Embody these and you will be more than just a man.|
|Through me many long dumb voices, |
Voices of the interminable generations of prisoners and slaves,
Voices of the diseas’d and despairing and of thieves and dwarfs,
Through me forbidden voices,
Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil’d and I remove the veil,
Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur’d.
|Through him the voice of the people, a symbol of a people, a symbol of hope, that carries the voices aloft of those people whom he is a part of.|
Not I nor any one can travel that road for you, you must travel it yourself.
If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest the chuff of your hand on my hip,
And in due time you shall repay the same service to me,
|Not only can you do it. You must do it. Be like Walt celebrating himself, singing himself. Be like the heroes, Smith, Franklin, Douglass, Lewis and Clark. |
Walt will help you do this. And you in turn will help Walt, you will fulfill him. What is a hero without someone to save?
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.
|Walt will be waiting for you to be that perfect man, that superman. And this is the culmination of Whitman’s Ideology. You must be a steadfast noble powerful person. In balance with the universe.|