During the poetry seminar on Wednesday, I scoffed that those
who make up the Great Western Canon of literature are "old white
dudes." I really deserved the fact that my clownish, crass witticism
garnered only a giggle from my peers.
However, my words did not spring from falsehood: the
classics are nearly all written by men. Only in the recent century have
anthropologists and literary experts begun to construct the canon of female
writers through the ages. The more stubborn side of my feminism resists wanting
to begin to relate to the men of the canon. None of them seem to be young,
fabulous women.
Despite opposing genitalia and societal roles, I often find
that the same stuff that makes me is often expressed in their poetry, songs,
and stories. These honorable gentlemen are part of the classic canon for a
reason: they know the stardust that makes the human soul, and they bind it in
words and make it visible.
The words that personally rang true for me were from William
Wordsworth’s “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud…”
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
Wordsworth is explaining the benefit of escapism. The moment spoken of is the discovery of a field of daffodils - according to the Daffodil Society, to find one daffodil spells misfortune, but to have several means joy and happiness. "[W]ealth", says Wordsworth of the field, "continuous as the stars that shine / And twinkle on the milky way." The sight of dancing daffodils is a joy to be treasured. Which is why, "when on my couch I lie / In vacant or in pensive mood," Wordsworth escapes to that day with the daffodils. The stresses of every day life can fade away for one moment as the speaker returns to that moment in his own contemplation.
In the days since my dad passed away, I find myself in that vacant and pensive mood. I'm numbed to feeling and weighed down with urgency and obligation. It's harder and harder to go back to a field of daffodils, a place to recharge and find peace.
Though over a century and a half, and different life experiences separate me and Mr. Wordsworth, he found the words I want to say - nothing is more precious than a moment to breath and find peace and spend a some time enjoying the daffodils.
