The Transcendentalists and, by extension, Walt Whitman

Satan: I've noticed you have a penchant for being interviewed. Like you were someone famous.

Tom: I'm ready. Go.

Satan: You claim the Transcendentalists have played a part in your writing?

Tom: I was introduced to them in 1995. I was a junior at Poway High. We were required to take a semester of American literature. I've always been friendly with books, and I enjoyed the class.

Satan: Who was your favorite?

Tom: Emerson. I find it interesting that Thoreau seems to have firmly supplanted him in the public consciousness, and yet I was initially attracted to Emerson's writings more so than his. I do love Thoreau, however.

Satan: Since we're on the subject, can you tell me who is your favorite 19th-century American writer?

Tom: I'm sure it changes, but off the top of my head I'd have to say Walt Whitman.

Satan: Any reason in particular for that?

Tom: "On the Beach at Night Alone."

Satan: Why?

Tom: I think the timing had something to do with it. It was 2005 and with a collection of Whitmann's poetry and other writings, I chanced upon "On the Beach at Night Alone" as I was on the beach at night alone, saying goodbye to my hometown and everything I loved in it before I went off to live in France. Plus it's just a beautiful poem.

Satan: Shall we include it?

Tom: I can't think of a better way to end this post, but aren't there legal issues to worry about?

Satan: Ah, fuck it. It anybody says anything, just tell 'em I made you do it.

Tom: Sweet.


ON THE BEACH AT NIGHT ALONE

by: Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

On the beach at night alone,
As the old mother sways her to and fro singing her husky song,
As I watch the bright stars shining, I think a thought of the clef of the universes and of the future.

A vast similitude interlocks all,
All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns, moons, planets,
All distances of place however wide,
All distances of time, all inanimate forms,
All souls, all living bodies though they be ever so different, or in different worlds,
All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes, the fishes, the brutes,
All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages,
All identities that have existed or may exist on this globe, or any globe,
All lives and deaths, all of the past, present, future,
This vast similitude spans them, and always has spann'd,
And shall forever span them and compactly hold and enclose them.

The Worst Fear in My Life At the Moment

I unconsciously think and act like my individual existence is more important than any other. I've done nothing significant in my life (cured cancer, wrote the Great American Novel, etc.), nor have I ever had a thought that was original or at least helpful to someone. And yet, I live my life as if I were on the verge of some big break, as if I were on the threshold of fulfilling some great potential that will be both impressive to the layman and beneficial to the world for generations to come.

Beneficial is an entirely subjective term. Am I going to do something that benefits the world in its current manifestation (as my own finite mind understands it)? Or will I leave something that is more beneficial to future generations? Do great people think like this, or do they just get to work doing something they feel called to do, something they consider higher than themselves, and let the cards fall where they may?

Perhaps I've set my sights too high. No matter. I intend to die trying. Trying to do what? Apparently I'm not supposed to worry about it.