Essay
- 1. Uncovering Our True Identity: The Problem of Self and That Which is Seen and Unseen
In his poem “Song of Myself,” Whitman presents himself in a song of selfpraise that describes his
relationship to nature and others. In section three of his poem, he describes his soul and “all that is not
[his] soul,” saying that they are both “clear and sweet.” “Lack one lacks both,” he states, “and the unseen
is proved by the seen, / Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn” (Whitman 1331). His
statement undoes itself in that it forces us to come to our own interpretation of the text, unfolding the
implicit argument enveloped in his words to ultimately discover that the individual self, as well as the
multitude of selves, are innately present within each other as one self, and that upon uniting in our
differences, we form one identity.
By denying the need to prove his argument while attempting to convince the reader of his point,
Whitman forces us to come to our own conclusion as we question his statements and determine if they
hold true for us. In section four, Whitman gives elaborate descriptions of people he has met, actions he
has taken, and various experiences he has undergone, concluding that, while all of these have entered the
realm of himself, “they are not” him, nor do they define him (Whitman 1332). Whitman then tells us that
he has “sweated through fog with / linguists and contenders,” making us believe that he has struggled in
some way to prove something or come to some conclusion. Finally, he says, “I have no mockings or
arguments, I witness and wait” (Whitman 1332). This statement, coming at the very end of section four, is
blatantly contradictory to what he has just said. Whitman is not unaware that he contradicts himself; he
does so purposefully1
. Thus, it is in this very statement that he employs his tactic; by being so obviously
contradictory, Whitman forces us to turn inwards and ask ourselves to look beyond what we see before us
(here, his text). Moreover, in trying to make better sense of that which is unclear to us, we are in turn
discovering our own truth. This is precisely the intended effect of his writing2
. We find another example
of this strategy in section three. Whitman states that “To elaborate is no avail, learn’d and unlearn’d feel
that it is so” (Whitman 1331). While Whitman makes this claim, most of his poem is, in fact, an
elaboration; he goes into what seems to be, at time, superfluous detail in order to prove his point3
. Yet,
here he claims that going into such detail proves worthless. He says that it is in the pure essence of things
in the very beingness of that which we encounter that we derive the greatest truth. Whitman even
extends his point by adding almost unnecessarily that “learn’d and unlearn’d feel that it is so” (Whitman
1331). Shouldn’t his argument “To elaborate is no avail” be enough? Still, he finds cause to add more.
Again, we question the credibility of his statement because it is not only contradictory, but ironic. In the
- 2. same way that we doubt the proof Whitman gives for his statement, we examine whatever proof we may
have conjured or collected up to this point, and ultimately discover our own truth.
After being forced to formulate our own opinion about Whitman’s words, we discover that, while
Whitman appears to be writing only about himself, he is really writing about every one of us; the
individual self and the multitude of selves are innately present within each other. Whitman’s selfpraise
rings loud and clear through his poem. He starts his poem by proclaiming: “I celebrate myself, and sing
myself,” and from then on continually employs “I” and “me” in just about every stanza (Whitman 1330).
While Whitman does explicitly say that he finds himself in others, he only implicitly says this in other
instances4
. For example, at the beginning of section three, he states, "I believe in you my soul, the other I
am must not abase itself to you" (Whitman 1331). At first glance, it appears that Whitman is only
referring himself and possibly another “self” contained within himself. Upon closer examination of his
words, we see that he equates the words used to describe himself with those that describe others. He
places them sidebyside for a dramatic effect: “you my soul,” “other I am,” and “itself to you” (Whitman
1331). Whitman’s strategic placement of key words in this sentence leads us to question whether he
could, perhaps, be inferring something other than what he appears to be saying. We begin to wonder how
his words could not imply more meaning. It is through his enjambment of these words that his implicit
argument reveals itself; our identities are bound to each other, and are therefore the same.
Upon discovering that each of us are found in the other, Whitman’s language and syntax take this
connection one step further so we see that it is in this very coming together with all of our differences that
we form a single identity. In section three, Whitman speaks of “opposite equals” (Whitman 1331). He
then says that there is “Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life” among them
(Whitman 1331). Each part of his sentence builds off of the previous one where there is an “identity,”
there is a “distinction,” and therefore, “a breed of life” (Whitman 1331). What is most striking about this
sentence is that is contains many contradictory words that, when put together in the same sentence, make
sense. How can there be “a knit of identity” where “distinction” exists, and, ultimately, one “breed of
life”? In fact, it is this very “distinction,” or these differences, that our identity is knit. We are a “breed of
life.” By examining grass in another section of his poem, we also see that our self and the multitude of
selves form one identity. Whitman begins section six with a question posed by a child: “What is grass?”
(Whitman 1333). He then proceeds to define what grass is. Grass, he says, “Bear[s] the owner’s name
someway in the corners, that we may see and / remark and say Whose?” (Whitman 1333). At the end of
this statement, we are confronted with the unanswered question: Who does the grass belong to? It is in
wondering "whose" that Whitman forces us to turn inwards and examine all we have thought about grass
up until this point in time. One could say that it is all of ours. But, by belonging to everyone, whom does
- 3. it really belong to? Truly, it belongs to no one in particular. Therefore, it is in this shared belonging that
its identity is found. By asking “whose” it is, we are trying to give ownership to something that does not
belong to anyone in particular. To take this image even further, each individual blade of grass can be
viewed as a metaphor for our individual selves. Whitman says that grass is “the flag of [his] disposition,”
and “the smallest sprout shows there is really no death” (Whitman 13331334). Just as the grass
regenerates itself from the same soil, its blades growing and resprouting together, so too are we reborn
amongst and interwoven each other; we have a connection to each other and are inseparable. Furthermore,
there is something unseen which unifies us; perhaps it is in our lack of belonging to someone or
something in particular that we find our place in the world.
Whitman’s clever employment of language, phrasing and word placement in “Song of Myself”
forces us to confront the unseen, or that which is not readily apparent to us. By taking what we see before
us and examining it more closely, we eventually unfold the imbedded argument encased in each stanza to
discover that each of us, as diverse and complex as we are, is present in each other, or the multitude of
selves. Ultimately, we discover that, by coming together, we form one unified identity. One might ask,
then, now that we have realized this, what next? In one of the last sections of his poem section fortysix
Whitman asks a question of his spirit: “When we become the enfolders of those orbs, and / the pleasures
and knowledge of every thing in them shall we be fill’d / and satisfied then?” (Whitman 1370). His spirit
replies, “No, we but level that lift to pass and continue beyond” (Whitman 1370). Ultimately, we must
discover the truth for ourselves; however, one does not stop there. Our quest for greater truths is inherent
in our nature, and therefore we will continue to seek more and more truth, unveiling the false realities and
deceiving appearances of the world to discover the ultimate truth.
Notes
- 4.
1. In section 47, Whitman says “He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the
teacher” (Whitman 1370). Therefore, his intended purpose is to make the reader question his arguments.
2. Whitman makes these intentions explicit in section 30: “Only what proves itself to every man
and woman is so, / only what nobody denies is so” (Whitman 1351). By leaving Whitman’s phrases
alone, without giving them a second thought, we are essentially accepting them as true. Whitman’s
obviously contradictory statements, therefore, drive us to unveil our own truth.
3. The best example of this is his seemingly endless list of people and animals and their various
actions, from “married and unmarried children rid[ing] home to their Thanksgiving / dinner” to a
“Wolverine [who] sets straps on the creek that helps fill the Huron” (Whitman 1339).
4. For example, in section 1: “For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you,” and in
section 4, where he lists his encounters, experiences, and sentiments, concluding that, “they are not the
Me myself” (Whitman 1330, 1332).
Works Cited
![Uncovering Our True Identity: The Problem of Self and That Which is Seen and Unseen
In his poem “Song of Myself,” Whitman presents himself in a song of selfpraise that describes his
relationship to nature and others. In section three of his poem, he describes his soul and “all that is not
[his] soul,” saying that they are both “clear and sweet.” “Lack one lacks both,” he states, “and the unseen
is proved by the seen, / Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn” (Whitman 1331). His
statement undoes itself in that it forces us to come to our own interpretation of the text, unfolding the
implicit argument enveloped in his words to ultimately discover that the individual self, as well as the
multitude of selves, are innately present within each other as one self, and that upon uniting in our
differences, we form one identity.
By denying the need to prove his argument while attempting to convince the reader of his point,
Whitman forces us to come to our own conclusion as we question his statements and determine if they
hold true for us. In section four, Whitman gives elaborate descriptions of people he has met, actions he
has taken, and various experiences he has undergone, concluding that, while all of these have entered the
realm of himself, “they are not” him, nor do they define him (Whitman 1332). Whitman then tells us that
he has “sweated through fog with / linguists and contenders,” making us believe that he has struggled in
some way to prove something or come to some conclusion. Finally, he says, “I have no mockings or
arguments, I witness and wait” (Whitman 1332). This statement, coming at the very end of section four, is
blatantly contradictory to what he has just said. Whitman is not unaware that he contradicts himself; he
does so purposefully1
. Thus, it is in this very statement that he employs his tactic; by being so obviously
contradictory, Whitman forces us to turn inwards and ask ourselves to look beyond what we see before us
(here, his text). Moreover, in trying to make better sense of that which is unclear to us, we are in turn
discovering our own truth. This is precisely the intended effect of his writing2
. We find another example
of this strategy in section three. Whitman states that “To elaborate is no avail, learn’d and unlearn’d feel
that it is so” (Whitman 1331). While Whitman makes this claim, most of his poem is, in fact, an
elaboration; he goes into what seems to be, at time, superfluous detail in order to prove his point3
. Yet,
here he claims that going into such detail proves worthless. He says that it is in the pure essence of things
in the very beingness of that which we encounter that we derive the greatest truth. Whitman even
extends his point by adding almost unnecessarily that “learn’d and unlearn’d feel that it is so” (Whitman
1331). Shouldn’t his argument “To elaborate is no avail” be enough? Still, he finds cause to add more.
Again, we question the credibility of his statement because it is not only contradictory, but ironic. In the](https://image.slidesharecdn.com/be8ef93f-b475-46ac-bb18-6bd4e67476b9-160815184718/85/Essay-1-320.jpg)
![same way that we doubt the proof Whitman gives for his statement, we examine whatever proof we may
have conjured or collected up to this point, and ultimately discover our own truth.
After being forced to formulate our own opinion about Whitman’s words, we discover that, while
Whitman appears to be writing only about himself, he is really writing about every one of us; the
individual self and the multitude of selves are innately present within each other. Whitman’s selfpraise
rings loud and clear through his poem. He starts his poem by proclaiming: “I celebrate myself, and sing
myself,” and from then on continually employs “I” and “me” in just about every stanza (Whitman 1330).
While Whitman does explicitly say that he finds himself in others, he only implicitly says this in other
instances4
. For example, at the beginning of section three, he states, "I believe in you my soul, the other I
am must not abase itself to you" (Whitman 1331). At first glance, it appears that Whitman is only
referring himself and possibly another “self” contained within himself. Upon closer examination of his
words, we see that he equates the words used to describe himself with those that describe others. He
places them sidebyside for a dramatic effect: “you my soul,” “other I am,” and “itself to you” (Whitman
1331). Whitman’s strategic placement of key words in this sentence leads us to question whether he
could, perhaps, be inferring something other than what he appears to be saying. We begin to wonder how
his words could not imply more meaning. It is through his enjambment of these words that his implicit
argument reveals itself; our identities are bound to each other, and are therefore the same.
Upon discovering that each of us are found in the other, Whitman’s language and syntax take this
connection one step further so we see that it is in this very coming together with all of our differences that
we form a single identity. In section three, Whitman speaks of “opposite equals” (Whitman 1331). He
then says that there is “Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life” among them
(Whitman 1331). Each part of his sentence builds off of the previous one where there is an “identity,”
there is a “distinction,” and therefore, “a breed of life” (Whitman 1331). What is most striking about this
sentence is that is contains many contradictory words that, when put together in the same sentence, make
sense. How can there be “a knit of identity” where “distinction” exists, and, ultimately, one “breed of
life”? In fact, it is this very “distinction,” or these differences, that our identity is knit. We are a “breed of
life.” By examining grass in another section of his poem, we also see that our self and the multitude of
selves form one identity. Whitman begins section six with a question posed by a child: “What is grass?”
(Whitman 1333). He then proceeds to define what grass is. Grass, he says, “Bear[s] the owner’s name
someway in the corners, that we may see and / remark and say Whose?” (Whitman 1333). At the end of
this statement, we are confronted with the unanswered question: Who does the grass belong to? It is in
wondering "whose" that Whitman forces us to turn inwards and examine all we have thought about grass
up until this point in time. One could say that it is all of ours. But, by belonging to everyone, whom does](data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7)