About Perfect Whole

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About Julie:  

Julie Goldberg (Ed.M., MA, MLIS) has lived a life entirely too entangled with books. She is a school librarian, former English teacher, compulsive reader, and occasional jazz singer. She is seeking representation for her first novel, Lily in the Light of Halfmoon. You can follow her on Twitter @juliegoldberg, email her at perfectwhole@gmail.com, and follow Perfect Whole on Facebook.

About Perfect Whole:

Perfect Whole is updated with a new essay on the first and fifteenth of every month, whether it needs it or not.

***As of January 15, 2013, Perfect Whole will no longer be updated on a regular schedule, while I complete my first novel. It will be updated from time to time, and may return to a regular schedule in the future.***

The title of the blog comes from a poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson entitled “Each and All.”

Each and All

Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown,
Of thee, from the hill-top looking down;
And the heifer, that lows in the upland farm,
Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm;
The sexton tolling the bell at noon,
Dreams not that great Napoleon
Stops his horse, and lists with delight,
Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height;
Nor knowest thou what argument
Thy life to thy neighbor’s creed has lent:
All are needed by each one,
Nothing is fair or good alone.

I thought the sparrow’s note from heaven,
Singing at dawn on the alder bough;
I brought him home in his nest at even;—
He sings the song, but it pleases not now;
For I did not bring home the river and sky;
He sang to my ear; they sang to my eye.

The delicate shells lay on the shore;
The bubbles of the latest wave
Fresh pearls to their enamel gave;
And the bellowing of the savage sea
Greeted their safe escape to me;
I wiped away the weeds and foam,
And fetched my sea-born treasures home;
But the poor, unsightly, noisome things
Had left their beauty on the shore
With the sun, and the sand, and the wild uproar.

The lover watched his graceful maid
As ‘mid the virgin train she strayed,
Nor knew her beauty’s best attire
Was woven still by the snow-white quire;
At last she came to his hermitage,
Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage,—
The gay enchantment was undone,
A gentle wife, but fairy none.

Then I said, “I covet Truth;
Beauty is unripe childhood’s cheat,—
I leave it behind with the games of youth.”
As I spoke, beneath my feet
The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath,
Running over the club-moss burrs;
I inhaled the violet’s breath;
Around me stood the oaks and firs;
Pine cones and acorns lay on the ground;
Above me soared the eternal sky,
Full of light and deity;
Again I saw, again I heard,
The rolling river, the morning bird;—
Beauty through my senses stole,
I yielded myself to the perfect whole.

7 Responses to About Perfect Whole

  1. Emily Crowell says:

    Very nicely put. A minor quibble about the Europeans’ casual brutality: Not casual at all, they were stealing the Indians’ land and heritage and they knew it.

    Poor Paterson indeed. A third world country surrounded by denizens of the first world, who if they notice Paterson at all stop in admiration at the stately edifice that was so wonderful 100 years ago and badly needs replacing by a 21st century facility, in order to serve a vastly different population with different needs. Speaking of “weeding.” And let’s not mention the multi-million dollar art collection that may not be sold under any circumstances.

  2. Pingback: The Blog of the Future! | Perfect Whole

  3. Faye Morgan-Amidon says:

    Look forward to contemplating your musings…

  4. fransiweinstein says:

    Hope you are not in the eye of the storm. If you are, take care. Hope it passes swiftly, with no damage. I have nominated you for the One Lovely Blog Award. For more details:

  5. And here I had guessed that the title was drawn from that Jane Fonda quote: “We were not meant to be perfect. We were meant to be whole.” 🙂

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