Tag Archives: Walt Whitman

A song of myself

When we drop out of the head and into the body, we become aware of a thrumming aliveness, an unconducted chorus of burbles, pops, pulsations, tingles, surges, warmings and slow, tendrillic movements. Awareness of this is consciousness aware of itself.


There are a few idols to smash, a past to jettison, before we’re ready for Whitman’s question. “After you have exhausted what there is in business, politics, conviviality, and so on—have found that none of these finally satisfy, or permanently wear—what remains?”