Picture Brooklyn in the summer of 1855. A newspaperman holds a small book he published himself. Twelve untitled poems and a preface.
He mails a copy to Ralph Waldo Emerson. Emerson writes back with warm praise. And the very first line of that little book still rings like a morning bell, I celebrate myself.
That line holds a gift for anyone who feels ordinary on an ordinary Wednesday. You get to celebrate yourself today, and you get to see the whole world as a miracle while you do it.
This is part of Timeless Authors, our daily series on the writers who change ordinary days. Yesterday we found peace in the deep heart’s core with W. B. Yeats. Today Walt Whitman shows us how to walk out the door afoot and light hearted.
Walt Whitman (1819 to 1892)
American poet of democracy and wonder, the singer of Leaves of Grass.
The Teaching of Walt Whitman
Walt Whitman taught that every ordinary hour is a miracle and that you belong to it. His poems invite us to celebrate ourselves, welcome the many selves living inside us and take life like an open road. Joy, presence and fellowship were his daily companions.
To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Walt Whitman, Miracles, Leaves of Grass (1882 edition)
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle
Whitman looked at the same streets, ferries and fields everyone else saw. He simply called them what they were. Miracles. Every hour, light and dark alike. That is a lens you can borrow this morning.
In Their Own Words, Favorite and Lesser Known Quotes
These lines come from the 1882 edition of Leaves of Grass, the book Whitman kept growing across his whole life, now free to read on Wikisource.
On Celebrating Yourself
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
Walt Whitman, Song of Myself, section 1, Leaves of Grass (1882 edition)
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
Notice the generosity in it. Whitman celebrates himself and instantly hands the same celebration to you. Self love, for him, was something to share.
I exist as I am, that is enough
Walt Whitman, Song of Myself, section 20, Leaves of Grass (1882 edition)
Read that one slowly. You already count, exactly as you are this morning.
On Wonder in Ordinary Things
Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.
Walt Whitman, Song of Myself, section 24, Leaves of Grass (1882 edition)
I loafe and invite my soul,
Walt Whitman, Song of Myself, section 1, Leaves of Grass (1882 edition)
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
Whitman found the universe in a single blade of grass. Your eyes, your ears, your two hands are part of the miracle too. And a little loafing is holy work.
On the Open Road
Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Walt Whitman, Song of the Open Road, section 1, Leaves of Grass (1882 edition)
Healthy, free, the world before me,
Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons,
Walt Whitman, Song of the Open Road, section 6, Leaves of Grass (1882 edition)
It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.
The road Whitman sings about is right outside your door. Fresh air, a few steps, the world before you. Growth loves the open air.
On Growing Larger
I am larger, better than I thought
Walt Whitman, Song of the Open Road, section 5, Leaves of Grass (1882 edition)
Do I contradict myself?
Walt Whitman, Song of Myself, section 51, Leaves of Grass (1882 edition)
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
Oof, yes. You get to be gentle and bold, quiet and loud, still learning and already whole. Whitman makes room for all of you.
On Presence and Fellowship
We convince by our presence.
Walt Whitman, Song of the Open Road, section 10, Leaves of Grass (1882 edition)
Camerado, I give you my hand!
Walt Whitman, Song of the Open Road, section 15, Leaves of Grass (1882 edition)
I give you my love more precious than money,
Your presence is your strongest argument. Whitman lived this in the Civil War hospitals, simply showing up for people, hand extended, again and again.
Who Was Walt Whitman?
Walt Whitman was born on May 31, 1819, in West Hills, on Long Island, New York. He began learning the printer’s trade at twelve, taught in one room schoolhouses on Long Island as a young man and then spent years in journalism, editing papers including the Brooklyn Daily Eagle.
In 1855 he published Leaves of Grass himself, twelve untitled poems and a preface. He sent a copy to Ralph Waldo Emerson, whose letter of praise appeared in the 1856 second edition. Whitman kept adding to the book for the rest of his life, and the final deathbed edition appeared in 1891 and 1892.
In December 1862 he traveled to Washington, D.C., to care for his wounded brother during the Civil War. Moved by the soldiers he met, he stayed in the city and spent years visiting the wounded in its hospitals.
After a stroke in 1873, he went to Camden, New Jersey, where he later bought a home and spent his final years. He died on March 26, 1892. The Academy of American Poets biography tells his full story.
What Every Hour Is a Miracle Really Means
Whitman’s big idea sounds grand, and it lands in the smallest places. The steam off your coffee. The sound of a door. A stranger’s laugh at the bus stop.
A miracle, for Whitman, is simply something seen fully. The moment you pay attention, the ordinary starts to glow.
So instead of asking whether today is special enough, try asking where today’s miracle is hiding.
If you loved this, our seven days of wild attention is a beautiful next step, and E. E. Cummings on wonder sings in the same key.
Why This Teaching Fits Today
It’s Wednesday, the middle of the week, the point where days can start to blur together. Whitman is the perfect companion for exactly this moment.
Late October is also showing off. Gold leaves, crisp air, early sunsets painting the sky. Every hour of the light and dark is putting on a show right now.
Midweek is a lovely time to step onto the open road again, light hearted, with the rest of the week before you.
Your Morning Practice, the Miracle Count
This takes about five minutes.
- Arrive. Step outside or stand by a window and take three slow breaths.
- Loafe for a minute. Let your eyes rest on one small thing, a leaf, a cup, a patch of sky, the way Whitman watched a spear of summer grass.
- Count three miracles. Name three ordinary things you can see, hear or feel, and call each one a miracle.
- Celebrate yourself. Write one sentence that begins with I celebrate, and finish it with something true about you today.
- Take it on the road. Choose one moment today to give someone your full presence, your own version of giving them your hand.
Make it automatic with an if then plan. If I pour my first cup of coffee, then I name one miracle in the room.
Essential Reading
- Song of Myself, Whitman’s great hymn of self celebration, free on Wikisource.
- Song of the Open Road, the perfect poem for a morning walk.
- Miracles, a short poem to read before breakfast.
- Leaves of Grass on Project Gutenberg, the whole book, free to download.
Quick Answers About Walt Whitman
Who was Walt Whitman?
Walt Whitman (1819 to 1892) was an American poet, journalist and Civil War hospital volunteer, born on Long Island, New York. He is best known for Leaves of Grass, the book of poems he first published himself in 1855 and expanded across his life.
What is Walt Whitman’s most famous poem?
Song of Myself is his most celebrated poem. It opens with the line I celebrate myself, and sing myself, and it explores the self, the body and the wonder of everyday life.
What does I contain multitudes mean?
It comes from section 51 of Song of Myself. Whitman is saying that a person holds many moods, ideas and selves at once, and that this richness is something to welcome.
What does Song of the Open Road teach?
It celebrates setting out with an easy heart and the world before you. Whitman praises fresh air, companionship and the growth that comes from meeting life directly.
Where can I read Leaves of Grass for free?
Leaves of Grass is in the public domain. You can read it free on Wikisource or download it from Project Gutenberg.
You Get to Celebrate Yourself Today Too
Think back to that Brooklyn newspaperman in 1855, mailing his small book to Emerson and opening it with a celebration. He trusted that his ordinary life was worth singing about.
Yours is too.
To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Walt Whitman, Miracles, Leaves of Grass (1882 edition)
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle
What ordinary miracle will you notice in the next hour?
Start early. Start wondering. Start today.
Complement this with W. B. Yeats on Peace and Dreams, Emerson on Self-Reliance and Seven Days of Wild Attention.
Want a calm, intentional start every day? Hold Until Sunrise is our little app for mornings that matter.
For a little goodness in your inbox every Sunday, join us here.
With love, Paolo
Sources
- Leaves of Grass (1882 edition), Wikisource
- Song of Myself, sections 1, 20, 24 and 51
- Song of the Open Road, sections 1, 5, 6, 10 and 15
- Miracles, Leaves of Grass (1882 edition)
- Leaves of Grass (1855), I celebrate myself
- Leaves of Grass, Project Gutenberg
- Academy of American Poets, Walt Whitman biography
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Carry this into tomorrow morning
The practice in this post lives in an app we built, Hold Until Sunrise. Your alarm becomes a moment of stillness. You hold your phone, rest with one affirmation, and let the sunrise welcome you into the day. Begin tomorrow gently and on your own terms. Find it on the App Store here.