While researching my latest novella (which will released very soon, check out the cover – just finished this morning – at the bottom of this post), I read some of Walt Whitman’s work. His views on the human body, soul and nakedness are perfectly attuned to the ethos of my main character, who is a naturist and artist who connects with her muse through her connection with nature… and nakedness.
Never before did I get so close to Nature; never before did she come so close to me … Nature was naked, and I was also … Sweet, sane, still Nakedness in Nature!
A Sun-bathed Nakedness, Walt Whitman
Walt Whitman is often called the father of free verse. His work was controversial during his lifetime, and was described as obscene for its overt sensuality.
Like an angel, or a Buddha with wings,
it was beautiful, and accurate,
striking the snow and whatever was there
with a force that left the imprint
of the tips of its wings — five feet apart —
and the grabbing thrust of its feet,
and the indentation of what had been running
through the white valleys of the snow —
and then it rose, gracefully,
and flew back to the frozen marshes
to lurk there, like a little lighthouse,
in the blue shadows —
so I thought:
maybe death isn’t darkness, after all,
but so much light wrapping itself around us —
as soft as feathers —
that we are instantly weary of looking, and looking,
and shut our eyes, not without amazement,
and let ourselves be carried,
as through the translucence of mica,
to the river that is without the least dapple or shadow,
that is nothing but light — scalding, aortal light —
in which we are washed and washed
out of our bones.
Dear Ann, wrapped in light, soft as feathers…
I’ll miss you
I adore beautiful images and sensuous words and in my search to feed my addiction, I came across the evocative fine art photographic images by Brooke Shaden. Her creations are the embodiment of the atmosphere the poet Mary Oliver’s words paint in my imagination. I’d like to share some of my favourite pairings.
“I want to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings.”
“When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it is over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.”