Paris Salons February 22-23: Virginia Woolf, dip into Thomas Mann

Come, said my soul,
Such verses for my Body let us write, (for we are one,)
That should I after return,
Or, long, long hence, in other spheres,
There to some group of mates the chants resuming,
(Tallying Earth’s soil, trees, winds, tumultuous waves,)
Ever with pleas’d smile I may keep on,
Ever and ever yet the verses owning—as, first, I here and now
Signing for Soul and Body, set to them my name,

–Walt Whitman

I don’t know; why not a bit of Walt Whitman to set a new tone–to keep me from apologising and explaining how life interrupts, how much I have missed our work together, how I hope to go on with the Paris Salons and how I hope each of you is facing forward and strong into this New Year of possibilities… I will let Walt say it for me. He does this so well.

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There are two studies on offer for the weekend of Feb. 22-23:
Between the Acts by Virginia Woolf -Saturday Feb 22nd 5:30-10 PM
The Magic Mountain–first third Sunday Feb 23rd 3-8 PM
* I am hoping to offer the following sections of Magic Mountain on dates convenient to participants; but if you start the study and can not make the next instalment, I will work to keep you in the read with extensive notes and resources. I may offer each third more than once if necessary.

The next Salon weekends are currently scheduled for:
April 11th-13th weekend
May 16th-18th weekend

Possible Works to study: Fridays Short Story special, The Oresteia, Invisible Man, Magic Mountain, Middlemarch…

Walt Whitman Poetry

LEAVES OF GRASS

By Walt Whitman

Come, said my soul,
Such verses for my Body let us write, (for we are one,)
That should I after return,
Or, long, long hence, in other spheres,
There to some group of mates the chants resuming,
(Tallying Earth’s soil, trees, winds, tumultuous waves,)
Ever with pleas’d smile I may keep on,
Ever and ever yet the verses owning—as, first, I here and now
Signing for Soul and Body, set to them my name,

Walt Whitman

Song of Myself

Walt Whitman

I
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. 5
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,
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.

Creeds and schools in abeyance, 10
Retiring back awhile sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.

Song of Myself

Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself

Come, said my soul,
Such verses for my Body let us write, (for we are one,)
That should I after return,
Or, long, long hence, in other spheres,
There to some group of mates the chants resuming,
(Tallying Earth’s soil, trees, winds, tumultuous waves,)
Ever with pleas’d smile I may keep on,
Ever and ever yet the verses owning—as, first, I here and now
Signing for Soul and Body, set to them my name,

–Walt Whitman (From introduction to Leaves of Grass)

What better way to offset the lethargy of winter and the exhaustion of the holiday schedules then to dip into the poetry of Whitman? His poetry is exuberant, embracing and evocative of the Transcendentalist philosophy that he admired.

In the words of Clifton Fadiman:

“It is Whitman’s language rather than his message that exerts power. He worked with all his soul to become a national bard, the voice of “the divine average, ”the Muse of Democracy…He has penetrated our consciousness not because he is accepted by the “powerful uneducated persons ”he idealizes, but because he is a poet in the original sense: a maker, a coiner of wonderful new language.”

Our study will consider “A Noiseless Patient Spider” and selections from “Song of Myself”…we will read aloud, with gusto his words of expanse and celebration; we will use the sounds, words and rhythms to explore meaning and recognize mystery.

Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

The Transcendentalists

The Transcendentalists: Emerson, Thoreau and Whitman

from anti-materialism.weebly.com

(photo from anti-materialism.weebly.com)

“I should have told them at once that I was a Transcendentalist. That would have been the shortest way of telling them that they would not understand my explanations.”

—Thoreau, Journal, V:4

The writings of the Transcendentalists may seem daunting– but their vision informs the mission of many contemporary grass-roots campaigns. Their focus on individual sled-knowledge and engagement with the world we inhabit is increasingly crucial to our human (and humane) existence. There are moments of real beauty in these dense readings– just when we are encountering the most complex ideas, the writer offers a moment of effervescence– a lifting towards light and illumination. For this study, we will consider aspects of Thoreau and Emerson’s essays and a selection from “Song of Myself” by Whitman.

Just listen:

“I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

32. I think I could turn and live with animals, they\’re so placid and self-contained,
I stand and look at them and long.

They do not sweat and whine about their condition.
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins.
They do not make me sick discussiong their duty to God,
Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things,
Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago,
Not one is respectable or unhappy over the earth.

52. The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of my gab and loitering.

I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric YAWP over the roofs of the world.”

Wild, yes?

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“Not I, nor anyone else can travel that road for you.
You must travel it by yourself.
It is not far. It is within reach.
Perhaps you have been on it since you were born, and did not know.
Perhaps it is everywhere – on water and land.”
― Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

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