I've mentioned the sublime in a couple of classes recently. In short, it's an aesthetic vision of grandeur, usually of the divine or nature, in which the individual is overwhelmed or lost in the greater glory. Emerson in Nature is experiencing the sublime when he becomes the transparent eyeball. Edward Taylor praising God is experiencing the sublime. I find the sublime beautiful, but I'm wary of it as well. There's an inhumanity about it as well. I find myself want to sample the sublime, to use it without becoming addicted. In American Lit I today I contrasted Edward's sublime aesthetic to Anne Bradstreet's domestic aesthetic, which is based on connection between people (Longfellow's big on this too). Anyhow, I found a poem--actually perhaps my favorite poem--"When I Heard at the Close of Day"--by Walt Whitman, which wonderfully merges the two--the domestic and the sublime.
Anyhow, mostly this post is just an excuse the share this poem.
-Andrew
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A great poem Professor Higgins! As a beach girl myself this line stuck out the most to me, "When I wander'd alone over the beach, and undressing bathed, /laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise," To some the beach is an obvious place to seek the sublime, not only because of the calming scenery, but the waves that mimic human life. As the tide rolls in, we are riding on a moment (sometimes happy, sometimes sad)but when the tide recedes only the sand is left, particles of a memory, until the next wave comes in. For this speaker the moment is with his lover, a beautiful parallel to appreciating that perfect moment. I believe that the spark of the divine, the eternal wave is constant within us and it does not have to be sought at the location, but rather we should look within to experience the day to day tide.
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