Secular Seas

What lies beneath Seamus Heaney's The North.

A recent post by a friend reminded me, indirectly, of the importance of memorising, not just reading, poetry. Disturb us, Lord, by Sir Francis Drake, holds the place of honour for the first poem I’ll try to master in 2024; it’s ancient, magisterial, and prayerful, all at once.

This next one stands apart.

I returned to a long strand,
the hammered curve of a bay,
and found only the secular
powers of the Atlantic thundering.

I faced the unmagical
invitations of Iceland,
the pathetic colonies
of Greenland, and suddenly

those fabulous raiders,
those lying in Orkney and Dublin
measured against
their long swords rusting,

those in the solid
belly of stone ships,
those hacked and glinting
in the gravel of thawed streams

were ocean-deafened voices
warning me, lifted again
in violence and epiphany.
The longship’s swimming tongue

was buoyant with hindsight—
it said Thor’s hammer swung
to geography and trade,
thick-witted couplings and revenges,

the hatreds and behind-backs
of the althing, lies and women,
exhaustions nominated peace,
memory incubating the spilled blood.

It said, ‘Lie down
in the word-hoard, burrow
the coil and gleam
of your furrowed brain.

Compose in darkness.
Expect aurora borealis
in the long foray
but no cascade of light.

Keep your eye clear
as the bleb of the icicle,
trust the feel of what nubbed treasure
your hands have known.

Seamus Heaney, The North from the volume by the same name.

What to make of this?

Heaney wrote often on old themes, tales of the Vikings, etc. Think of the line from Phantom of the Opera - “dark stories of the north.” Strong echoes of that idea run through the poem, along with some keen historical knowledge. Vikings didn’t always pour out of the Norwegian coast, or set off from Denmark; Dublin was a famous Viking kingdom, with large parts of the Irish and Scottish coast under various Viking kings and kingdoms. The Kingdom of Dalriada, which lay just north of the section of the west coast of Scotland where I currently sit writing this newsletter, was an offshoot of those very kingdoms. Part Irish, part Viking, and no strangers to “fabulous raiders.”

But without focusing overmuch on the specifics, note the shift in Heaney’s tone.

Secular seas are seas devoid of passion. Iceland becomes a windswept, overly-large volcanic rock, largely devoid of vegetation of any size. Greenland is a huge island with barely any people on it. These are boring, unexciting places, like any number of uninspiring spots of land dotting the seas of the North Atlantic.

Secular culture is a similarly boring place.

Materialism, in itself, holds no fascination. The majestic sweep of secular culture contains no rich mystery in its X threads, its Facebook forums, its Reddit subforums. At least, until you view it with different eyes.

Open to a realm of magic, mystery, and religion, and the perspective changes.

Now “violence and epiphany” sweep over you. Those secular seas transform into battle-seas, across which ancient ideas conduct lightning-raids on modern culture. What is “manliness”? What means “faith”? What power does history itself hold?

That last one is the question that drives The North, at least to my interpretation.

In Heaney’s new-found sight, Thor’s hammer, trade, the althing (Norse government), and other ideas all clash, baptised and incubated with blood. Blood, and memory. Blood-memory? I’m not sure Heaney goes that far, but I’m not sure he doesn’t, either.

Whatever meaning he intends, Heaney then transitions. Raiders have sailed out of these secular seas, and in their wake come violence and transformation. Powerful ideas have emerged, ideas found in words and “word-hoards.”

Secular seas don’t tell stories. Not truly powerful ones, at least; those stories are found in history, religion, magic, and the fundamental questions and ideas that shape who we are inside.

To see those stories in a secular sea requires a singularly clear mind’s eye, clear as an icicle, pure and untarnished.

To see those stories in a secular sea is, perhaps, to see - and then to grasp and hold - treasures indeed.

Action Points:

What business has poetry with manliness? Much. Tolkien speaks of “warrior-poets;” Odysseus is both writer and adventurer. David composes songs of praise and soothes angry kings, while also becoming a peerless warrior and king himself.

Read more poetry. Open your eyes to something beyond the mundane of this world.