By Whitman, Biweekly! January 26th

By Whitman, Biweekly!
Tuesday January 26th,  4pm SLT
Caledon Library, on the Hub in Victoria City
http://slurl.com/secondlife/Caledon%20Victoria%20City/160/117/23

A Discussion led by Dame Kghia Gheardi of the works of Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass is one of the works at the foundations of American poetry. Its expansive attempt to capture the spirit and landscape of the 19th century United States has influenced an entire culture's self-concept, and its rich language continues to inspire readers today as it has for the century and a half of its existence.

"By Whitman, BI-Weekly" will provide an opportunity to look closely at this beloved work. Each time we'll spend an hour discussing its context and examining the poetry of the 1855 first edition.

The series will also give those who love Leaves of Grass, and those who would like to learn more, an opportunity to explore Whitman's vigorous and heartfelt poetry together.

Below is the text we'll discuss this week:

This is the nucleus . . . after the child is born of woman the man is born of woman,
This is the bath of birth . . . this is the merge of small and large and the outlet again.
Be not ashamed women . . your privilege encloses the rest . . it is the exit of the rest,
You are the gates of the body and you are the gates of the soul.

The female contains all qualities and tempers them . . . . she is in her place . . . .
         she moves with perfect balance,
She is all things duly veiled . . . . she is both passive and active . . . . she is to con-
         ceive daughters as well as sons and sons as well as daughters.

As I see my soul reflected in nature . . . . as I see through a mist one with inexpress-
         ible completeness and beauty . . . . see the bent head and arms folded over the
         breast . . . . the female I see,
I see the bearer of the great fruit which is immortality  . . . . the good thereof is
         not tasted by roues, and never can be.

The male is not less the soul, nor more . . . . he too is in his place,
He too is all qualities . . . . he is action and power . . . . the flush of the known
         universe is in him,
Scorn becomes him well and appetite and defiance become him well,
The fiercest largest passions . . bliss that is utmost and sorrow that is utmost be-
         come him well . . . . pride is for him,
The fullspread pride of man is calming and excellent to the soul;
Knowledge becomes him . . . . he likes it always . . . . he brings everything to the
         test of himself,
Whatever the survey . . whatever the sea and the sail, he strikes soundings at last
         only here,
Where else does he strike soundings except here?

The man's body is sacred and the woman's body is sacred . . . . it is no matter who,
Is it a slave? Is it one of the dullfaced immigrants just landed on the wharf?

Each belongs here or anywhere just as much as the welloff  . . . . just as much as
         you,
Each has his or her place in the procession.

All is a procession,
The universe is a procession with measured and beautiful motion.

Do you know so much that you call the slave or the dullface ignorant?
Do you suppose you have a right to a good sight . . . and he or she has no
         right to a sight?
Do you think matter has cohered together from its diffused float, and the soil is
         on the surface and water runs and vegetation sprouts for you . . and not for
         him and her?

A slave at auction!
I help the auctioneer . . . . the sloven does not half know his business.
Gentlemen look on this curious creature,
Whatever the bids of the bidders they cannot be high enough for him,
For him the globe lay preparing quintillions of years without one animal or plant,
For him the revolving cycles truly and steadily rolled.

In that head the allbaffling brain,
In it and below it the making of the attributes of heroes.

Examine these limbs, red black or white . . . . they are very cunning in tendon and
         nerve;
They shall be stript that you may see them.

Exquisite senses, lifelit eyes, pluck, volition,
Flakes of breastmuscle, pliant backbone and neck, flesh not flabby, goodsized arms
         and legs,
And wonders within there yet.

Within there runs his blood . . . . the same old blood . . the same red running blood;
There swells and jets his heart . . . . There all passions and desires . . all reachings
         and aspirations:
Do you think they are not there because they are not expressed in parlors and
         lecture-rooms?

This is not only one man . . . . he is the father of those who shall be fathers in their
         turns,
In him the start of populous states and rich republics,
Of him countless immortal lives with countless embodiments and enjoyments.

How do you know who shall come from the offspring of his offspring through the
         centuries?
Who might you find you have come from yourself if you could trace back through
         the centuries?

A woman at auction,
She too is not only herself . . . . she is the teeming mother of mothers,
She is the bearer of them that shall grow and be mates to the mothers.

Her daughters or their daughters' daughters . . who knows who shall mate with
         them?
Who knows through the centuries what heroes may come from them?

In them and of them natal love . . . . in them the divine mystery . . . . the same old
         beautiful mystery.
        
Have you ever loved a woman?
Your mother . . . . is she living? . . . . Have you been much with her? and has she
         been much with you?
Do you not see that these are exactly the same to all in all nations and times all
         over the earth?

If life and the soul are sacred the human body is sacred;
And the glory and sweet of a man is the token of manhood untainted,
And in man or woman a clean strong firmfibred body is beautiful as the most
         beautiful face.

Have you seen the fool that corrupted his own live body? or the fool that corrupted
         her own live body?
For they do not conceal themselves, and cannot conceal themselves.

Who degrades or defiles the living human body is cursed,
Who degrades or defiles the body of the dead is not more
cursed.