Nature

I was watching an old movie last night about a band. Toward the end of the movie, song lyrics started to stand out to me, "Like the raindrops touch the land, like the ocean hugs the sand, like the sun kisses the leaves....Like the wind talks to the trees, with a soft whispering breeze, Like the birds sing to be free..." As I sat on my couch, I started to think about Whitman and nature. Nature is such a powerful force. She has her own language, her own emotions, and her own desire for unpredictability. Whitman recognized this. I, however, take nature for granted. I need to start paying attention to the small details. I think it makes Whitman's writing sheer genius that he could capture nature in her purest moments. He recognized the value in observing nature and understanding how she operates. He realized that we are all a part of nature, whether we want to admit it or not. 

In "Song of Myself" Whitman says, "The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night, Ya-honk he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation, The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listening close, Find its purpose and place up there toward the wintry sky."  Whitman watched, listened, and learned from everything he observed. He took the simplest things in life and gave them a voice. Whitman has taught me not to take the little things for granted. When I write, I tend to gloss over the details. I don't do it on purpose, I certainly see them in my mind. I just need to work on getting them onto paper.

Our lives are filled with clutter. We are surrounded by material items. We live in a world full of technology and gadgets. Life used to be much simpler, you could take a walk through a garden and that beauty was one of the finer things in life. Not anymore, now it's about who has what and how much. As I sit here looking at my messy desk, full of papers, magazines, textbooks, file folders, printer, etc - it's no wonder I've lost my link with nature - she doesn't seem to be a part of my world anymore. I walk outside rushing to the truck - I don't look around. I don't see or hear anything but my own whirlwind thoughts that are fussing at all the things I have to get done. I look ahead and think about retirement  --is that when I will have time to smell the fragrant flowers, to feel the texture of the sand? Whitman moves slow so he didn't miss anything. He wandered through town, the woods, or even the beach ALL throughout his life. He took the time to appreciate his surroundings. I am envious. I need to make a change...my power of observation could be just as keen as his - if I would only use it.

Leaves of Grass is Whitman's legacy, a reminder to all of us that we need to embrace life.