Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows (from The Prelude, Book 1)

by William Wordsworth


Original Language English

Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows
Like harmony in music; there is a dark
Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles
Discordant elements, makes them cling together
In one society. How strange, that all
The terrors, pains, and early miseries,
Regrets, vexations, lassitudes interfused
Within my mind, should e'er have borne a part,
And that a needful part, in making up
The calm existence that is mine when I
Am worthy of myself! Praise to the end!

-- from Poetry for the Spirit: Poems of Universal Wisdom and Beauty, Edited by Alan Jacobs

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Commentary by Ivan M. Granger

It has been a while since I have turned to Wordsworth, but reading these lines I have to wonder why I have stayed away so long.

Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows
Like harmony in music


Even that beginning line is worth rereading a few times. Here Wordsworth distills everything into this one elegant image of the transitory human being that is somehow, miraculously home to the immortal spirit. And that immortal spirit emerges within us, or, rather, we slowly become more aware of it throughout life as if it is an underlying harmony within music. When focused on the individual notes, as we focus on the details and specific events of life when we are younger, it can seem chaotic and fugue-like, but when we relax and allow our awareness to take it all in, we begin to recognize the underlying musical beauty:

there is a dark
Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles
Discordant elements, makes them cling together
In one society.


Then the poet shares the revelation that comes to him:

How strange, that all
The terrors, pains, and early miseries,
Regrets, vexations, lassitudes interfused
Within my mind, should e'er have borne a part,
And that a needful part, in making up
The calm existence that is mine when I
Am worthy of myself!


Let's unpack that statement because it is so rich, we don't want to miss its beauty. He has that wonderful phrase, "when I am worthy of myself." That is, when our identity rests in the vastness of the immortal spirit we all are, that is when the whole symphony, the entire tapestry of life reveals itself to us. The amazing thing is that is not just the lovely, delightful experiences that have a place in that blissful wholeness; the terrors and struggles have played a part too, and an essential part. How can such beauty and fulfillment emerge from such a complex patchwork of life experiences that includes suffering? Somehow it does. The bliss of that grand vision, when witnessed from the fullness of the full Self -- it embraces it all, integrating everything, recognizing an all-encompassing harmony. The ego-mind that desires only pleasant, self-aggrandizing experiences rebels at this possibility, but the true self witnesses it all with a smile that heals even the cruelest wounds as it rests amidst unassailable calm. To some this may sound like one more spiritual platitude amidst life's difficulties, but this is the actual experience when we settle into the Self we all inherently are.

Religious belief has nothing to do with this holistic vision of life. Even the impious find themselves stammering--

"Praise to the end!"



Recommended Books: William Wordsworth

The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology) Poetry for the Spirit: Poems of Universal Wisdom and Beauty The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse Complete Poetical Works William Wordsworth: Selected Poems
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Dust as we are, the