"My great thoughts as I supposed them, were they not in reality meagre? Nor is it you alone who know what it is to be evil, I am he who know what it is to be evil, I too knitted the old knot of contrariety." (23)
Whitman's hauntingly lyrical "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" offers a humbling view on mortality and leaves us with the realization that we are not as unique as we sometimes believe. With simple words Whitman reminds us that he walked the same streets, he thought the same things, he dealt with 'anger,' 'lust', 'meanness', and 'laziness.' These downfalls of our flesh are not unique to our own walk through life. Whitman makes us understand that whatever fight we are fighting, whatever moments of darkness we pass through or bouts of joy we experience- we are not alone. Someone before us, (and after us) will experience those very same things.
Sparknotes.com calls "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" a way for Whitman to reach through time and explore the common relationship man share that goes beyond time and space. They also say that: "Whitman wonders what he means (not as a poet but as another anonymous individual) to the crowds of strangers he sees every day. He assumes that they see the same things he does, and that they react in the same way, and that this brings them together in a very real sense." While I believe this is true, I also think Whitman wrote this as a way to shake us and declare that our lives are short and petty trials and tribulations are insignificant when viewed with a broader lens. Whitman was always looking through that lens- he slowed time with his words, he embraced eternity with his thoughts, and he never thought of himself as immortal- he recognized the beauty and frailty of life and educated those around him about it.
One thing about Whitman that makes him stand out from the rest of the authors we have read in this class is the very real and tangible passion he exudes with every written word. Reading his prose is indeed like listening to an opera...you feast upon his descriptions the way you take in the beauty of the stage- and when his words reach that swelling crescendo, you're filled with so many emotions that your body seems to take over and your heart is left throbbing in your chest.
There were two times I felt out of breath from the force behind Whitman's words...and as I read the sections over and over again- they seemed to take on an incredible significance that was if it was written for me alone. This was the beauty of Whitman- his ability to reach you where you stand-stretch his fingers out- and touch you in a place you yourself have forgotten.
20/20 "Reading his prose"...oops, don't mistake poetry for prose -- it will make your future profs go ballistic!
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