On the Lumenorean
(Pt. 1) The Project of a Lifetime
[Greetings, friends, from Iowa! I am heading back to Texas tonight for a wild couple of days before I’m back off to Tarpon Springs for the Symbolic World Summit hosted by Jonathan Pageau and a few other artists I admire. The theme of the Summit is “Reclaiming the Cosmic Image”—a topic I’ve been thinking a lot about lately while teaching Dante’s Inferno (which wrapped up this last Monday… I’m thinking I’ll do the Aeneid next!).
All of this has me reflecting on the creation and mission of this Lumenorean project—what it is and where it’s headed. The name came to me almost a year ago during another one of my quarterly road trips from Omaha to Des Moines. I’ve had private conversations about its origins, significance, and aim… but it’s time I shared it with you all. This is, after all, a joint project.
The more I pour into this newsletter, the more it feels like the centerpiece for everything I’m trying to do through writing. And it all starts with the name: The Lumenorean.
It is to that name and the vision behind it that we devote the rest of this essay.]
The Name
When I started this newsletter, it underwent a series of name changes. Noah Huisman’s Substack (lol). Scattered Stars.1 Roots & Wings.2 Though the names were (and continue to be) meaningful to me, none sat quite right. Something about them felt off. And something in me knew this Substack would be the centerpiece of the project of my life, so I had to get it exactly right.
I knew I wanted the name to reflect a few things: (1) I wanted it to sound like it could be a magazine or periodical; (2) I wanted it to sound like it could be the name of a character (because I wanted a pseudonym to write under like Kierkegaard had Johannes de silentio; and (3) I wanted it to carry the feel of wisdom, ancient yet futuristic.
For the character, I had this image of a cosmic, time-transcending librarian of Atlantis tasked with re-educating the world on ancient ideas at strategic times in history. C.S. Lewis said the role of the modern educator was “not to cut down jungles, but to irrigate deserts.” That would be my character’s task, too. But Lewis was only partially correct—it is not just the role of the modern educator, but the role of every educator, reaching back to the times of Socrates and forward until eternity. True, Good, and Beautiful things are never more than a generation away from being lost.
My character’s stated purpose would be something like the one Gandalf expresses to King Denethor in Lord of the Rings: Return of the King:
The rule of no realm is mine, neither of Gondor nor any other, great or small. But all worthy things that are in peril as the world now stands, these are my care. And for my part, I shall not wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything passes through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit and flower again in days to come. For I also am a steward…
I could practically see the character in my head. But I still didn’t have a name… and it drove me crazy. Because the name is everything.
Not quite a year ago, I decided to try something: I had a three-hour drive from Omaha, Nebraska to Pella, Iowa ahead of me and a name to discover. So, I decided to dedicate the entire drive to contemplation. No music. No podcasts. Just space and silence to let my thoughts wander deep into the labyrinth of the unconscious and see what they would dig up and send to the surface.
First, there was nothing, as my thoughts slowly worked through the concerns of the day—the ones swirling on the surface. But as time passed, my thoughts were allowed to sink below. If memory serves, things started to click somewhere around the two-hour mark. Associations began to fire.
If I wanted my character to be something like the librarian of Atlantis and Gandalf, where better to draw inspiration than the Atlantis of Tolkien’s world—Númenór—and its inhabitants—the Númenóreans, the most noble race of Men.
Replace Numen with Lumen (Latin for light), and there you have it: The Lumenorean. It was perfect. Reminiscent of periodicals like the Smithsonian or the Guardian, characters like the Númenóreans of the Lord of the Rings universe and the Mandalorian of the Star Wars universe, and somehow carrying the sound of something familiar (despite being an entirely new word, as far as I’m aware), the name struck like lightning, and a persona was born.
The Project
With the name settled, the seed of the project—who the Lumenorean is and what the universe could contain—has continued to flower. Shirts with some of my favorite mantras and images. The Lumenorean’s music library with a few LoFi favorites. Books written under my legal name but in truth belonging to the Lumenorean’s spirit inside me. Courses teaching the classics (like the Dante’s Inferno class that just wrapped up). Soon-to-be clips and animations, some of me telling stories, and some inserting the Lumenorean into scenes. It is a project I’m prepared to spend the rest of my life making as beautiful as possible.
Some of the beauty of creating this character is the reminder that none of the things that come through me come from me. To the extent any good reaches through these projects, it has its origin elsewhere and the only thing I can be congratulated for is devotion. The lighthouse isn’t the light; it’s just a steward of the light, chanelling and directing in a way that’s helpful for ships lost at sea. The Lumenorean is the keeper of the flame but he is not the flame. He is the better angel of my nature that wants to tilt the world towards Heaven.
My hope for this Lumenorean project is that it can grow into a place where people can come to reconnect. With the eternal. With themselves. And with each other.
But it’s going to take your help. Without you, it will flounder. With you, it will flourish into something that’s so much bigger than any of us. I can feel it in my bones. The time has come for the world to know Light once again and each of you is hereby recruited to the cause.
By order of the Lumenorean,
Fiat Lux.
Inspiration for this came from two places: the first album of my favorite musical artist, Jon Bellion, was titled “Scattered Thoughts.” Combined with a little Platonic cosmology that saw each soul assigned a star at birth and, you get the title: Scattered Stars.
Inspiration for this came from the quote: “There are two lasting things we give our children. One is roots, and the other is wings.” It was also a nod to Simone Weil, who thought our uprootedness from our ancestral cultures and current communities is what made, and is making, us so anxious.
Love the name. Congratulation!