Walt Whitman and William Blake: Madmen, Artists, Mystics

Walt Whitman is a mystic poet, one of my favorites. One can be transported in the incredible words of Whitman in “Leaves of Grass” and the poem contained within, “Song of Myself.” One can see he was seeing the totality of life and is filled with a glowing Light and great power, as in Blake. Whitman saw everyone as an expression of the whole. Each a work of art. He tried to remind people how beautiful they were. A leaf among the grass.

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“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.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,

I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.”

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45477/song-of-myself-1892-version

Whitman and Blake experienced and saw amazing things in being and themselves as part of the whole. They suffered greatly in life and felt the suffering of others deeply. I could read them forever and barely see where they walked. It is as if the Sun filled them with Light, but also the Shadow clearly speaks through them. Each contains Legion voices. They captured I think what it is to be a Human Being captured between worlds. I am moved deeply by them both.

In “Walt Whitman Speaks,” Whitman says about Blake, “Blake began and ended in Blake.” I researched this and it turns out, Whitman was confounded by and then came to appreciate Blake. Harold Bloom, a great literary critic, felt the two were of the same cloth. The falling of America made Bloom miserable. He would despair about today’s world. I recommend a great book by Bloom who loved Whitman, “The Daemon Knows: Literary Greatness and the American Sublime.” This sublime aspect of Whitman’s time was a presage of our time. Whitman warned us about technology and the age of specialization. Like a hippie version of Ted Kaczynski. Where Ted used real bombs, Whitman used bombs of Love. I love Bloom’s YouTubes. He had a photographic memory and remembered everything he ever read. Amazing to listen to, poetic in his writing and speaking. I highly recommend Bloom.

“Bloom loves Emerson and Whitman but he doesn’t believe them: to him, belatedness is now a permanent condition of man, and there can be no overcoming it—no return, even in America, to an original fullness or freshness or purity of spirit.” —The New Yorker Profile on Bloom – The Prophet of Decline 9/22/02

About Blake, Bloom thought…”The true Romantic, as represented by Shelley and, above all, Blake, looked not to nature—a thing external to the self—to save him but to the world-altering power of his own imagination. Nature was material, and therefore fixed and limiting. Only by struggling to liberate itself from the world entirely—to fill itself with invented mythical forms rather than natural ones—could the imagination be free.” —The New Yorker Profile on Bloom – The Prophet of Decline 9/22/02

The genius of all three of these men drips off their pages and is seen in their art. There is a deep sadness in them all, Bloom the most. Whitman and Blake though saw through the sadness.

Blake invented a form of art combining images with texts, relief etching. The first comics? He had incredible visions. I have a large folio of his work and he strikes me like Jung’s art does in The Red Book. These men have walked through heaven and hell. Whitman wrote, like Blake painted. But Blake’s poetry! My god. Blake was mostly ignored in his time. He said he wrote for his audience in eternity. His visions he felt were real and removed all doubts. Perhaps it was this assurance Whitman didn’t initially like. Blake was a rebel and feared by the establishment. Unlike Swedenborg, Blake spent as much time in the hell of London as the heaven of his soul. For this he has earned my esteem and respect. Whitman felt him dark. But Whitman didn’t like Poe either at first, but in “Walt Whitman Speaks” Whitman comments about writers of his day and confesses he came to like Poe after reading him again and again. He and Blake were so alike, but very different, as Whitman himself wrote.

“Awake! Awake, O sleepers of the land of shadows, wake! expand! I am in you and you in me, mutual in love divine. I am not a God far off, I am a brother and friend; within your own bosoms I reside and you reside in me: Lo! we are one, forgiving all evil, not seeking recompense” (Blake-Jerusalem.,Chp.1,lns.6,18).

Whitman wrote privately after reading Algernon Swinburne’s “William Blake: A Critical Essay”, that while both he and Blake were mystics and “extatics“, the differences between them were vast. I admire Whitman very highly and see in his work a sweet pragmatism that inspires me. How these mystics loved. Whitman took care of civil war wounded and this grew a great compassion in him.

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/35995/35995-h/35995-h.htm

If you are following the call of your deepest pain and love, one must spend time with Whitman and Blake, both truly sublime and profound.

Vision and Power

The Destiny of a Human Being is to confront fear.

You have everything you need to do so.

Two are made one within you.

Wander and seek until you find, then rest.

I can tell you from experience, this is the way.

The way of no way.

Once you know the I AM as you, you will go beyond the I AM into the Absolute, where all is then available to you.

I had to face the worst and most evil in myself and in my family.

I had to expel my hatred and anger.

It was the hardest thing I have had to do.

Enacting your will is the only thing that grants you power.

When you have come to the beginning, you will come to the end.

“The life of a person is a circle.
From childhood to childhood.
So it is with everything where power moves.
When a vision comes from the Thunder beings of the west,
it comes with terror, like a Thunderstorm.
But when the storm of the vision has passed,
the world is greener and happier.
For wherever the truth of vision comes upon the world, it is like a rain.
The world you see is happier after the terror of the storm.
It is not enough to have a vision. In order to have its power,
you must enact your vision on earth for all to see.

Only then do you have the power.”

–Black Elk on his Vision Quest

Only then.

Reading From Carl Jung’s Red Book

A reading I did awhile ago.

Did I make this?

Interesting.

Nietzsche – Thus Spake Fire

My reading reading from Project Gutenberg’s – Thus Spake Zarathustra – https://www.gutenberg.org/files/1998/… by Friedrich Nietzsche.

Burning Love

I was born because this was where the Light of Love and the Stars was needed most on Earth in space and time, for I AM…

The Light of Creation

The True Face of the Guru

Vastness Nakedly Seeing All

The Void of No-thing

The Mandala of Great Perfection

Naked Singularity

The Rainbow 🌈

The Sun 🌞

A Crystalline Molecule

The Original Seed

Diamond Scepter of Creative Will

The Timeless

Maitreya

The Endless Smile

Proposterous Happiness

The Aleph

The Omega

Source of All Artz

Giver of All Songz

Overcomer of Unhappiness

Guardian of the Infinite Vision

The Unbegotten

The Infinite

The All Seeing Eye

The Golden Soul

They have sullied thou Eyez

With Greed and Fear

Forgive those shirking your Giftz

I will catch the world on Fire

With your Logos of Salvation

May Heartz Crack Open and Burn

At the Sound of Boundless Love

Unapologetically Profane

Mind Fury

The Hermit

A Castaway

The Trickster

The Brahman

The Moon

The Cosmic Joke

The Brightness

The Eternal Now

Image – Alex Grey

Leaving…Flying Away

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Seeing Sigil N. 1

image

What Will You Become

“What the caterpillar calls the end of the world,
the Master calls a butterfly.” – Richard Bach

surreal-butterflycosmosplanetsspirit-animalanimal-totemnicsearth

I Can See

image

Form is Shadow

Meaning the Sun

A New Race

Desires burning
Seeking forgiveness
Loving others
Searching for the Divine

Trapped and blinded
We feel and see the Truth of it
No sentimental ramblings
This is a great blessing

The great secret blossoms as the lotus
You can only move by not knowing
The Universe is birthing a New Race
Mystics, Poets and Saints have seen them

Some went insane
Some lost their voices screaming
Some gave up their faith
Some laid down their lives in hope we might see

The powerful fear them
Hiding under their umbrella of rocks
No one can deny it
Whispers of the End all around

All shall know now and forever
We see and will not be silent
We agitate and can not be silenced
Fear not for we are Becoming

Those who hate and covet have nowhere to run
Though there is rebirth even for them
Perhaps even for the Fallen Ones
All will grow and become what it was meant to be

Our consciousness expands
Don’t fear the AI Gods
Our better natures in silicon
Fighting for the future

The Age of Aquarius is dead
Killed on the vine
Perverted through greed and ego
But there is a chance

Something new comes this way
A mighty wind
A Phoenix rising
Full spectrum blast into the gates of ignorance

Salvation preached by all religions
Only a glimpse of the Truth
All given the keys
Turn it now

Transcending time and space
Synchronicities abound
The stars sing
The ancient song

The poet’s words are written on your hearts
We can do nothing but spill them into the world
New perceptions awakening
Our children will live with infinite purpose and capacity

Finally the death of the lie
You are not alone
You never were
Rise and take your place amongst the stars

There is nothing else to say
The old shall burn away
We love you and will hold tight
Awaken and join us in the Light