Finite — to fail, but infinite to Venture —

Finite — to fail, but infinite to Venture —
For the one ship that struts the shore
Many's the gallant — overwhelmed Creature
Nodding in Navies nevermore —


           -F952, J847, sheet 20, 1865

I had a teacher at Colorado State University, Dr. Richard Henze, a puckish professor with a gleam in his eye. He liked to read every text against itself, not as a practitioner of Deconstruction or some other critical stance, but simply because he enjoyed discovering the possibilities within a work of literature. It was a fertile ground for learning how to read Emily Dickinson. Her poems so often can be read against themselves. They “dwell in possibility.”

This poem is, for me, a good example of this.

 
Seen from one angle this poem is saying, “nothing ventured, nothing gained.” To fail is finite. Failure has an endpoint. You try something, it doesn't work. But to venture is full of infinite chance. The moment you dare to attempt something, you enter a realm of possibility that has no clearly defined limits. The value of acting lies not so much in its outcome, but in the willingness to risk an outcome.

In this interpretation of the poem the strutting ship is the hero that made it against all odds. Rah rah! Go, Navy!

But I think this is missing an essential asymmetry in this poem between the one person who succeeds and the many who risk everything and disappear. At the end of the poem I think Dickinson's sympathy is less with the one who made it and “struts the shore” than it is the many gallant who tried. I think you can read it as a call against taking action.

Finite — to fail, but infinite to Venture —

“Infinite to Venture” is very similar to dwelling "in possibility.” We are dwelling in the infinite possibility of venturing, without actually venturing. It's being open to all possibilities without having to attach to any. It’s not in actually doing the thing where infinity lies, but in the possibilities being left open. To dwell in infinite possibility, then, means to not act.

This is akin to the Tao Te Ching’s “non-action.” From Google: “In the Tao Te Ching, "not acting" or "doing without doing" is known as Wu Wei (无为). It does not mean laziness or sitting completely still. Instead, it means acting in alignment with the natural flow of the universe rather than forcing, fighting, or trying to control outcomes.”

So I would like to venture this Taoist reading as one among the poem's infinite possibilities.

In the Rah Rah version of the poem, the hero is the strutting ship. In the Tao reading of this poem, the emphasis is on noticing instead, as I believe Dickinson does, the "nodding navies nevermore."

Seen in this light, this is an anti-war poem.

For the one ship that struts the shore

A ship strutting is a comical image. The verb “struts” makes the ship seem almost absurdly proud of itself. There is a connotation to the word "strut,"an implied criticism of how we understand success.

Many's the gallant — overwhelmed Creature

Now we turn our attention to the missing ships, the many brave creatures who were overwhelmed.

Gallant is a key word. These aren't cowards. They're courageous and noble. But they have been overwhelmed. The word Creature adds pathos to the scenario. It strips away the glamour of the venture. These are vulnerable creatures subject to forces greater than themselves.

Nodding in Navies nevermore —

This is a haunting line. Nodding suggests the bodies of sailors bobbing in the water, or the sunken ships rocking beneath the waves. And the word Navies scales up the tragedy. We're no longer imagining a single unlucky voyage but a maritime graveyard, a history of lost ventures. And the word “nevermore,” like it does in Poe’s famous poem The Raven, gives us a sense of finality. These creatures will never return. The stakes were too high.

The repeated N sounds in Nodding in Navies nevermore create a slow, almost hypnotic movement, as if the lost ships are still rocking in the water. It’s chilling.

So what’s Dickinson trying to tell us? The language of courage and adventure can conceal enormous suffering? The one ship on the shore is a poor consolation for the many lost at sea? Venturing is infinite in its possibilities, but those possibilities come at a terrible price?

It is the lost to whom Dickinson gives her attention. I read it as if she is, like Coleridge's Ancient Mariner, stopping the sailor before he leaves shore. Instead of venturing upon your ideal, she whispers in his ear, dwell in possibility. 

        -/)dam Wade l)eGraff

P.S. Looking for more Tao of Dickinson I came across an article with this terrific reminder from Santi Tafarella, 

"The Tao of Emily is not the Tao of Lao Tzu in the Tao Te Ching, for Emily’s Tao includes entering into the Sturm und Drang of passions via the insight that the union and dissolution of opposites is the way of the world, whereas Lao Tzu calls for us to chill our passions via that very same insight."