Letters from God (dropped in the street)

January 8th, 2012

I confess I know Walt Whitman’s works only by occasional quotes. One, however, has inspired my long agreement. Here it is:

I find letters from God dropped in the street,
and every one is signed by God’s name,
And I leave them where they are,
for I know that whersoe’er I go
Others will punctually come for ever and ever.
–Walt Whitman, Song of Myself, Sec. 48

What experiences he had that convinced him of this truth, I cannot say. I do like the way he put it. Like a poet would. That’s what poets do: They put the commonplace in uncommon language and we see it again for the first time. Different. New. Better.

It’s like it dilates the eyes and we take in more light.

But what are these letters? Hints for guidance?

That’s something that we care about quite a lot. What to do? Which direction to take? How to get there? And where, exactly, are we going anyway? Mysteriously, the solution is very often very near to the problem. At least the next step is. In most cases, it’s the question that needs clarifying. Then the answer will appear. And it can appear in the most mundane places. (If there is anything mundane in our universe.)

Or was he referring to provision, that which comes when we need it? There’s a truth in that, too. But no, Whitman was always poor, and it’s unlikely he would have said, “And I leave them right where they are.”

Maybe it was just evidence. Evidence itself refreshes our souls . . . evidence that there is a divine hand, guided by a divine eye, and a divine hint-leaver that lets the observant know that s/he’s not alone.

Another said it more plainly. “Ask, seek, and knock; the rest will happen.” Believe it.

And, if the problem is belief, then start with that. The rest will come.

Punctually, for ever and ever.

 

Next: More on guidance . . . and the GPS, coming Tuesday.

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3 Comments

  1. Norm Huie Jan 8, 2012
    2:52 pm

    Yes, hints. If God is love, would this not be the initiation of the perfect Romance?

  2. Terry & Pat Lampel Jan 8, 2012
    3:05 pm

    Hyatt, I love these thoughts which provoke those old, dusty mind-tools of ours…

  3. Alison U Jan 10, 2012
    9:47 am

    Well, I was prompted by this blog entry to go find my Mother’s Leaves of Grass which I knew was around here somewhere. She had an interesting bookshelf – hard bound books only – and I remember as a child pondering the title of the Whitman collection, for nought. Especially because when I would open up the pages it looked like nothing I could understand either.

    Thank you for renewing my interest in “the Wit.” I can love poetry, in small doses. I even have several volumes of this and that. Perhaps I will now consider them to be letters from God sitting on my bookshelf. Here is an utter favorite by R.S. Thomas:

    I have seen the sun break through to illuminate a small field for awhile and gone my way and forgotten it. But that was the pearl of great price, the one field that had the treasure in it. I realize now that I must give all that I have to possess it. Life is not hurrying on to a receding future nor hankering after an imagined past. It is the turning aside, like Moses, to the miracle of the lit bush, to a brightness that seemed as transitory as your youth once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

    Thank you, Hyatt.