A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any
more than he.
-Walt Whitman, Song of Myself
Walt Whitman’s celebratory “Song of Myself” seems to ring from the very mountaintops here in Alaska, a place I’ll be reflecting on for a long time to come. “What is the grass?” could just as easily be asked of the mountains and the glaciers and the meadows and the clouds and the waters here. Ultimately, it is all the journey-work of the stars.