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We seem to keep coming back to the problem of how to read Whitman’s poem, how much meaning to make.  So I am offering the suggestion that we think of Whitman, not as a writer trying to convey content to us, but rather as a horse trainer.  He has invested years of his life in taming wild words into a well-behaved beast.  Our role as rider is to simply sit on the animal and enjoy the ride.  Anyone who has ridden a horse recognizes that the hardest part is relaxing, allowing the horse freedom of movement, and following the horse.  The very best rides happen when this process becomes unconscious; both horse and rider are of the same mind.  I seem to gain an awareness of where my pony’s feet and what she wants to do with them.  It feels like I have access to her intentions.  So when we do something insane like leave 3 ft early for a 3’6” fence, I, unlike my trainer, am not at all worried.  More generally, the boundaries between the horse and rider dissolve; it is a non-dualist experience for the rider.  (I would love to know what this experience is to the horse…)  When the ride ends, the rider, at least, is in a new place.  I mean this beyond the plain fact that the horse and rider have travelled a physical distance together.  Sometimes it is possible to learn something about oneself only through interaction with another.  This relationship is an important component of the psychotherapy.  When I started jumping my pony, I learned that I could be both bold and brave. 

Where this metaphor breaks down is at the level of directing the horse.  The rider, the not the trainer, is steering, unless the horse is on a lunge line.  To translate out of the metaphor, this implies that the reader provides necessary direction to the writing.  A piece of writing is not completely determined by the writer.  Maybe we are supposed to make our own story of images and ideas Whitman offers us?