Iuchian the Poet
S. E.

Canadian Theosophist, September-October, 1986.

The Associate met luchian the poet at the entrance to the School. They spoke briefly about earlier visits, and then both entered the classroom. The students welcomed the poet in the customary manner by standing while he walked to the dais at the front of the rows of semi-circular wooden benches. The Associate withdrew from the room, and all attention turned to luchian. He motioned the students to be seated.

The classroom was very quiet. Each student's eyes were fixed on luchian. He was an imposing figure, standing there in front of them on the raised platform. The rust brown mantle that he wore was thrown behind his shoulders. His hair was still fair, despite his years, and reached down to the collar of his homespun tunic. His kilt and stockings were also homespun and matched the mantle. His sturdy legs were criss-crossed with the thongs of his high sandals. The only ornament he wore was a gold clasp holding the mantle at his throat. It had an acorn and mistletoe joined together in a simple device.

luchian looked like some hero of long ago. He had the sort of bearing that suggested quiet authority. A soft smile played across his weather beaten face. He looked first at all the students in turn. They each returned his gaze, with reverence and deep friendship. Then he appeared to look beyond the students as if recalling some memory. He spoke low words that carried through the room in rhythmic beat. All the youthful minds were tuned to his, all were at one with the thoughts he formed.

"We meet at this moment when time wishes our discourse. We bring to birth words that have long lain asleep in our breasts. We come to consider the ways we have been walking, and the premises that our hearts have placed before us. At this season they have reached their time of bloom, and we look on them with amazement and reflect on their beauty and symbol. It is so tangible a beauty that we are impressed with a sense that appears to be of some other dimension, and yet it is of truer quality than that encountered in the commonplace. Would that we could ascertain the depths of all its meaning."

He paused for a moment, unclasped the golden brooch and lifted off his mantle, which he laid across the bench beside the dais. Resting on a point far off in time and place, his eyes were seeing other than was present at hand. He then continued speaking.

"The dawn breaking along the purple hills gives some hint of homeland. The Sun coming forth after his heralder gives such a wealth of meaning to our quest, and invigorates the mind. The stars, though now unseen behind the canopy of light, still go their courses and send their energies over vast distances to us. The great deep void is all an ordered space, with secrets there to open when we will. The distant firmament awaits the golden rays to add to its diadem."

He stopped again for a moment, his eyes coming back to meet the eyes of the students. Then, again looking beyond them, he went on:

"The sea, pushing against the waiting shore, moves as does the heart. The wind, strumming the high hills, is the touch of a familiar breath. The coloured land is the garment of the day, and all its flowers and trees are ornaments. And all are made in the processes of thought and coloured in with loves, and songs, and sighs, and separations, and rebuilt unities. But the light that shines in the eye, and the fire that burns in the mind, and the imagination of the heart, are of different births.

"We meet here deciphering, as we have met so many times before, remembering our origin and our race." He smiled now in the direction of the younger members at the front of the rows of seats, and made a motion with his hands as if presenting a point to be especially considered.

"This Isle, magnificent in the setting of the western sea - how small it is, and yet how dear to all our fond fraternity! In the consciousness of time it flashes still an emerald. Time makes such markers across the spiral space. We find our present exile here, and sense the task we long ago assumed. We meet once more to give another impulse to that great undertaking to which we once pledged our full intent. We join as comrades confirming the nature of that long sojourn from our true estate.

"Our Druid Princes, fathers of our race, were demi-gods who walked with Solar Kings. They deigned to set in this green isle a dynasty that would mirror back their own fair commonwealth. We walk in turn heir to that far estate that sends us such a radiance every morn that we delight in all we see and do, and thus confirm each day its festival."

The poet stilled his words, and for a few moments the students did not move. Then a young man, Aengus, a senior in the class, rose to his feet. luchian, seeing him standing, signalled that he could speak. The youth paused a moment, and then asked his question: "Why do you say that the Sun forces the mind to renewed vigour? Does the Sun not have its own reality, or are we talking about the illusion of the Sun based on some conjecture?" The youth sat down, and luchian answered:

"Danu of the golden vision taught these many times that the Sun we see with our eyes when it is reflected on our sacred lake is in its fourth reflection. From that advice we know that when seen by the eye in his high heaven, the Sun is but a star turning on its axis in like manner as the orbits of the planets. But the Sun thus seen is not one of the seven planets.

"The inner eye sees best beyond the veils. The golden star is symbol only of the bright light beyond. From cosmic matter all the heavenly bodies of the universe were clothed. The real within us, dear pupil, is not dependent on form. We can look behind what Danu said about symbols, but there are truths behind them, and then further truths. We know that the Central Sun is there behind it all.

"We could not hope to see Spirit with the eyes of earth, any more than could we see the true Sun. Nor could we know what Danu knows just by looking at the form. So we have to consider how the Real sees the symbol of the Spiritual Sun, and align ourselves with that view. The Real will not see it relative to the earth body - how could it? We know our heart-hymns tell us we are Children of Light. The symbol is the key, and it is the inward passage that has to be travelled. That is why I said that the definition of the Sun we see is a relative condition of thought. But, see it as a symbol, and reach for its hidden meaning, and its real association with each of us becomes apparent. Do you agree?"

Aengus rose again and answered: "Yes. I agree the bright star is symbol only, and beyond its form there is a shining, and beyond that the true Sun. It is the same premise which we hold when we say that behind all form is the user of that form, and in its trinity resides the Real. We know that Danu's ways were a shining of that trinity. We in turn reverence Danu when we try to bring that shining into our own living."

Aengus sat down. luchian continued: "Yes, you are correct. We reverence Danu by our own conduct. We give the Real its validity when we offer a gentle service to others. We see in this the symbol of the sustenance which the Real Spiritual Sun gives to all the Universe."

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