Posted on 1 Comment

The Waters of Sacrifice

The Ash Yggdrasil, F.W. Heine

In the northern tradition of Germanic mythology, there lies a well beneath the world tree, Yggdrasil. Located at the lowest reaches of the Nordic peoples’ understanding of the cosmic order, it sits in the shadow of a root that reaches into Jötunheimr, the land of the giants, associated with the ungovernable aspects of the natural world. The well is watched over by a mysterious being known as Mímir (roughly, “the remember”), whose origin and nature are decidedly obscure, but is noted in the  Völuspá as being potently enlightened (compare the symbol of the character Tom Bombadil in the Tolkien mythos). It is stated explicitly that his wisdom is derived from the influence of the wellwater.

As is the case with many of the themes present in mythology, the character of Mímir’s Well can be understood as being primarily symbolic. The situation of the well in an area that is so suprachthonic, beyond even a material concept of obscurity, and existing on a plane so spiritually devoid of light that it sits beneath the roots of all of creation, is no accident, and can likewise be interpreted as a nod to the nature of Ginnungagap — the primordial state of nonbeing from which all phenomena, both material and immaterial, emerged at the beginning of time. The mutable quality of the water as a force that takes on the shape of the vessel in which it is contained (be it cistern or body), its association with sagacity and freeness of thought, and its place in the structure of the universe, also speaks to the Jungian concept of the collective unconscious: something available to anybody brave enough to descend to the darkest roots of the inner and outer worlds in order to sample its quality. This is a theme also echoed in the symbols of two other wells present at the roots of the world tree in Norse myth, Urðarbrunnr (the well of wyrd), tended by the three Norns, goddesses of fate, and Hvergelmir (the boiling spring), from which all waters originate.

Reciprocity is the highest law of the universe. The material and decidedly positivistic field of physics teaches us that every action begets a reasonable reaction at parity with the original impulse. Hermeticism teaches us, echoed in the outstretched palms of the Magician of the Major Arcana, that there is congruence both “above and below”. Naturally, when the reputation of Mímir’s well aroused the interest of the gods Óðinn and Heimdallr, they were not exempt from this rule. Óðinn, having hanged himself by the neck already in the very fabric of the universe, was no stranger to the doctrine of self-oblation, and cast his eye, a powerful symbol of his sensory relationship with the external world, into the depths of the well. Heimdallr, the guardian spirit of the realm of the divine, whose conservatory nature binds him to the blowing of his signal trumpet, the Gjallarhorn (roughly, “yelling horn”) at the end if the world, likewise sacrifices his ear. Óðinn finds the influence of the well and its curator so tempting, that after his death, he carries Mímir’s severed head around, consulting it for advice.

A similar anecdote, perhaps derived from a common source, comes to us from the part of the Prose Edda known as the Skáldskaparmál (the “language of poetry”), is the story of the fabled mead of poetry, from which Óðinn derives his creativity and aptitude at composing verses. After the war that pitted the two tribes of gods in the North Germanic tradition, the Æsir and Vanir, against one another, peace was sealed by way of  a communal ritual of spitting into a cauldron. The saliva, imbued with the power of the now-united pantheon, grew into a man of considerable wisdom, skill, and intelligence, known as Kvasir, whose name is probably derived from a Proto-Indo-European root, to ferment or crush, *kwh₂et-, a stem that brought us Latin cāseus (cheese) and the Slavic beverage kvass. Kvasir travels among mankind, spreading the consequence of his intellect, and is eventually killed, ostensibly through misadventure, his blood being mixed with honey and turned into mead — thereby ensuring his abilities will last thereafter through the effects of alcohol. This process of beverage-as-currency-for-inspiration is echoed in the Indo-Aryan tradition of soma or haoma, the Vedic botanical ritual beverage, the origins of which are still debated.

In all of these paradigms, there is a common theme of sacrifice, of appendages that represent connection with the material world, of old grudges being laid down for common good, and the balm both of creativity and alcohol serving to unite pantheons and inspire humanity both. Not even supernatural beings are permitted to receive wisdom as gratuity. Certainly, you are not permitted to receive inspiration for free. The internal process of invigoration that allows us to transform our inner feelings and perspective into tangible results, artistic or practical, are not spontaneous (though they sometimes may seem to be), and cannot be created from nothing. Before the external work to spur results into existence is undertaken, inner work must be undertaken, and inner work must start with a catalyst that comes from without, however obscure or unconscious its origin may be. There can be no blood from Kvasir without the impetus of the spit from different mouths, there can be no wisdom without the removal of the part of the ego that thinks it already possesses the awareness to see what takes place in front of its face.

 And likewise, without the courage to descend, in the Jungian fashion, to the depths of the darkest places of the world, whether they be war or the reaches of the mind lowest and closest to the proverbial roots of the tree, there can be no opportunity for these gifts to be received. As the Medieval alchemical maxim was applied to the psyche of man by Jung himself, in sterquiliniis invenitur, or, put simply, “in filth, it will be found”. That which one seeks is often derived from its situation in the darkest, least tolerable places. These are the only waters from which the mead of life can be made:

The waters of sacrifice.

Posted on 1 Comment

Solar Punks of a Sunlit Sigil: Blessings of the Darkest Night 🜨

Before there were Gods, there was but one.

Before there was a middle-realm, there was but ice and fire.

Before there was spring, there was winter. 

Before there was light, there was an unimaginable dark. 

Before there was rebirth, there was death.

Before there was freedom, there was oppression. 

We need no science to explain this. We need no logic to wrestle with this deeply embedded truth. 

Chaos is not the opposite of Order. Order exists in many forms, and it is the nature of all things to adapt to the order of its time, or risk rebellion against such. 

It is the duty of youth to rebel against this state of stagnation.

As many books as religions might burn; 

As many truths a government might withhold from its peasantry;

The way of all things reminds us of this noble law, for it is the immortal call to arms. 

Winter is the end of a dynasty and era. 

It is the final motion of the earth as it completes its annual cycle.

It is the pantomime’s final act as the old clings to life before finally letting go in a bitter fall towards the unknown. 

What this leaves is the burning hearts of youth as they climb to the top of the charred mantle and claim the realm for themselves. Their new ideals were destined to usher in a new ‘perfection’. 

‘I’m the son of rage and love. The Jesus of suburbia’

Said Billie Joe Armstrong as he sung a timeless anthem to the youth of the modern world. 

Yet what he truly chants is the same timeless story that even the seasons scream to us. 

This is Baldr as he cries out for his fate to unfold. For he is literally the son of RAGE (Odin) and LOVE (Frigg).

Yet Baldr faces no true danger, or so he thinks. Like many youthful souls we believe ourselves to be immortal, and we also have an inherent venom for the safety we have been provided. 

It is often the thing we see coming the least that takes out the youth in their blind attack upon the world (i.e living the highest/most energetic life they can)

Rebellion in youth is an exhaustion of easy life, for it is nothing that our blood remembers. We are inherently hardwired as a people to undergo stress in order to become something more. 

This is Zeus as he trains to conquer his father Cronus.

The myth of Saturn / Cronus, father of the Greco-Roman Pantheon, is deeply troubling for any youth to digest because it is the cannibalistic oppression of the new from the upper hand for their paternal master the old

Zeus is the only son left after his father devoured all of his powerful, noble, and talented offspring. 

It is the darkest night that yields no hope. 

It is the soil which refuses to be harrowed nor house any seed the farmer plants to feed his people.

“City of the dead

At the end of another lost highway

Signs misleading to nowhere

City of the damned

Lost children with dirty faces today

No one really seems to care”

I imagine very vividly Baldr singing and understanding these Green Day lyrics the same way any punk might have when it was first heard by their ears. 

It speaks to the way the divine youth might see his surroundings. Especially now within this Kali Yuga. The world has turned to ratshit and concrete. The youth understand this.

Odin himself conquered the old state of the world as Ymir walked in solace between the ice and fire of two unkind worlds. 

The three brothers clearly said ‘how very boring this is’. Where the old simply strides. The youth juxtaposes them with an obsession with turning raw materials into useful and powerful new forms. 

Odin conquered there with his brothers and used the giants bones and flesh to shape the world you now read these words upon. Or so it is said. 

Where Ymir used his body, organs and lifeforce to simply exist for himself for aeons, the three divine brothers sacrificed his selfish form and blossomed him through a spell of rage and love into the world that now exists. 

So you see, there is every reason to burn a sunwheel in the heart of winter because of such tales gifted to us by earth, time, space and blood. 

To burn a fire in the heart of winter is the ultimate rebellion against the old. 

It is the ‘fuck you’ that man has always given to the foliage that the old become when they have clung to this realm for to long. 

For if the conqueror sits for too long, he will always see himself become the conquered. 

The spirit of youth and rebellion is the highest power that has ever existed, and it is a power that is fleeting for those who become too wise too soon. 

The Koryos conquered in chariots of fire, and a noble pursuit of manhood through chaos.

The chariot wheel burns forever.

As we ignite this symbol we keep the rebellion alive.

The rebellion against stagnation. 

The vegetation is stagnant, and we are the scythe of the reaper deep in the heart of winter. 

Go forth and conquer, go forth and raise chaos upon the dormant and dark. 

We spring forth from the maypole/Saturn/hagal and create powerful patterns that continuously multiply and conquer more space.

This is our duty to the flame of youth.

Photography taken at Oathbloods ritual 2021 by S.Riley 

Posted on 51 Comments




To worship the Indo-European Gods is to commit to a life of oaths and power. 

These oaths are fashioned by your own will.  

Oaths are an exterior aspect of your truest self. 

They are a tangible symbol of one’s character, and worth. 

Oftentimes they are more you than even yourself; for what people speak of you is far more powerful a force than what you believe yourself to be.

If a man cannot uphold his oaths in this life, then he is no man at all. 

Oaths are broken only by death lest you fall to lesser standing amongst your equals. Which I proclaim again, is no standing at all. 

If no repercussions come from such a case, then you have found your equals at rock bottom. 


From Latin Iūpiter (“father Jove”), 

From Proto-Italic *djous patēr (literally “sky father”) (cognate with Ancient Greek Ζεῦ πάτερ (Zeû páter, “father Zeus”)), 

From *djous (“day, sky”) + *patēr (“father”), 

From Proto-Indo-European *dyḗws (literally “the bright one”), from *dyew- (“to be bright, day sky”), and *ph₂tḗr (“father”). Doublet of Dyaus Pita.

The sky has always been of the utmost importance to humanity. 

Our ancestors navigated into the unknown via the stars, sought to communicate with the Gods and fates through their random trajectories and positions. Some even believed that the sky in-itself to be something of a holy realm that will forever impose itself unto the fertile earth in which all things spring forth from.

I speak to the legend of the Æsir and Vanir is such a sense.

The sky is overtly masculine in every way, and we have always understood ourselves -as a collective- to be the children of the in-between. 


Upheld by the greatest of all trees or perhaps the Irminsul. 

To worship our Gods is to understand that our oaths to them and to our eternal victory come before all other things. 

All jobs

All territories

All women

All peers

All laws

All eternally bow to the oaths we take to our most powerful of Gods. 

We have for too long forgotten this.

Not only are these Gods alive and well within our blood and spirit, but they await us patiently in the glorious future victories that we need only summon into fruition.

I am here today to demonstrate to you one of many rites. 

The following ritual (audio file found above) is tailored to invoke the powerful and hidden secret of your blood-given right to connect with the mightiest of our Gods.

While the thunder, striker, skygod, and supreme king has existed within all of our peoples traditions, it was by this following name and mantra did he so grant the fury and fire of Empire to the sons of Romulus.


Repeat this name loud and proud.

I dare you to discover the primal magic of these words for yourself.

They are fire.

They are power.

They are passion.

They are ours.

This is a name that has not been uttered nor worshiped properly for thousands of years.

I dare you now to search across the internet for a place that can tell you, let alone show you how to properly work with our Father.

You will find nothing more than fables. 

You will witness nothing more than common wiccan misconceptions. 

You will not even find proper pictures of this most powerful form of our holy striker. 

There is fear in the hearts of his enemies, and there is a need to keep his knowledge stifled. 

So I spit at this notion, and call forth the power that once was.

I directly challenge the notion that our true spiritual father should be kept in the shadows and shackles of ‘Myth’. 

It is beyond myth.

It is our eternal father calling us home. 

Furthermore I spit on the notion to confine ourselves to history.

We are not them and they are not us.

We must move forward and rekindle this fire with the embers.

My creation is based on, and not confined to the past.

May you find it beneficial.

Now, go forth and find him.





Let it be known that the men who founded this organization lived through a time of social decay and an unimaginable deterioration of morals, spirit power and dignity. 

Yet they saw that greater men had lived and triumphed through darkness immemorial. 

It is the energy and duty of our blood to move forward into the unimaginable darkness and conquer there. 

We are the Halithaz. 

The heroes that challenge chaos-eternal. 

We have always been and shall always be. 

Against any foe and any chaos that chooses to rear its many heads over and over. 

Whether within the stars of eternity or within the social hierarchy and machinations of bureaucratic jargon.

 We will find it time and time again.

And we will defeat it forever.

To the Halithaz and blood of the Koryos that has sought to commune with his highest of Chieftains;

To he who denied to wither under the watch and rule of lesser powers within an age of death and decay.

To he who saw the lightning within his dreams, and felt the milk of the wolfmother upon his lips;

To he who longs for eternal glory;

Let yourself now be washed of all dross and dirt found within and out of the mortal body and soul; gifted to you by the will of your blood and kin.

Let it be known that this rite was founded and practiced two thousand, seven hundred thirty-seven years after the death of Romulus Rex, first Halithaz to erect an altar of victory towards the glory and power of Jupiter Feretrius.

The initiate will begin by washing their hands in a bowl of pure water. 

The initiate will enter the dark room, cave, grove or mountain peak of their choice.

Upon their first step within -after beginning the ritual- they shall bow their head and touch two fingers of their right hand to their forehead and let their hand drift towards the primary altar of their chosen place of worship. This might be an idol, the stars, an oak tree, a stone, or storm. 

This greeting shall be done twice or four times. 

No more and no less. 

They shall walk towards the chosen spot in which they intend to kneel during this sacred reconnection towards the highone.

The initiate will then sit in silence and meditate upon the dark and cold, and remember the cave of Psychro in which the skyfather was once raised within. They will listen to the voices they hear within and without their head as they meditate upon the darkness.

Until the initiate truly believes they understand the necessity for darkness, they are forbidden from striking the illuminating candle of their choosing.

Fire is a forbidden fruit of illumination for those who fear the dark, and obsess over the light.

This is a primary law to the Halithaz.

Once the understanding is reached, and the three trees within the initiate understand this state of the world, the rites might begin. 

Holding the match, unstruck in one hand and raised high above should the initiate speak these words loud and honorably: 


It burns forever

The initiate might light the match and therefore the necessary light needed to begin the ritual.
This might be a fire, a candle, many candles, etc As long as they are oriented with a fixation on symmetry. 

With the Idol or focal point now illuminated, and greeted by the initiate of whatever time and place upon this powerful earth, might the initiate now stand and spread their arms wide in the shape of the Algiz rune of the Germanic peoples. This is a symbol of invocation known to all forces, and by far the most powerful that we remember. 

The initiate will then kneel, and speak these words: 

“By the will of my blood and forebears do I come here before this holy site in the ____ season of this _____ year after the death of the misled. 

To the spirits and majesty that here witness me, I, _____ of the tribe ____ do so now invoke the eternal majesty of our mighty sky father.


I know you as Father. I know you as King. I know you as the highest of all Gods and powers of this most unfathomable state of consciousness and opportunity.

I beckon thee to witness me and my tribe’s actions henceforth within this time of revival, within a world of ruins and lesser forces.


I am your spearhead

I am your striker

I am your will manifest

And I preserve the flame of people’

The initiate will then state their offerings towards the supreme, and give an offering of blood towards the renewal of these ancient vows. 

The initiate will then state that theirs is the will of the Halithaz, which is the archaic word for hero. Their associations with the thunderous force, and power of his eternal skyfather will therefore be bound through blood and gifts of treasure and good food. 

The initiate will henceforth bring all gains to the feet of this sacred space, whether by word or by literal offering. 

Through sitting and repeating the mantra of his name 


The initiate will reach a state of trance wherein they will find solace in meditation, and can transition into a state of silence. 

Within the silence the initiate will be greeted by positive and negative thoughts alike, and they are to work through them all until there are none left to conquer. 

The initiate will then say his name some final nine times.




And conclude the ritual by bowing their heads and touching two fingers to forehead, letting them drift towards the sublime icon four more times. It is then that they will greet the night once more by extinguishing the candle or light source. 

They will sit for some time longer, and then finally exit the ritual space.

Posted on Leave a comment

Into the Agoge

Insofar as any of us are aware, we are blessed with only one life.

If you’re a frequent reader of this site, I am able to assume that you possess an inherent desire to distinguish yourself from the men around you through your deeds and their consequences.

If that doesn’t sound like what you’re after here on earth, I advise you to stop reading and save yourself the time and energy — this article and the corpus to which it belongs is not for you.

Becoming a man worthy of the esteem of your peer group is not an easy task. Cross-culturally, the rites that separate boys from men, and men of status from men cut out of more ordinary cloth, are primarily distinguished by sacrifice, hardship, and the triumph of the self over the experience of suffering.

Naturally though, for those of us living in the west, the vast majority of even the most mundane of these structures have disappeared. In a world too cowardly to worship the flame of tradition, a society that has shaken the ashes of the fire out and scattered them on the wind, many of us still feel the draw to the principle of initiation. 

We choose pursuits that are familiar to our blood memory in their nature of triumph-via-ordeal: we form tribes, join gangs, and compete at martial arts that award us belts that represent our competence.

But unlike those who came before us, who were part of an unbroken lineage of men experiencing manhood in a traditional way, long before the advent of modernity of the social changes brought about by the restructuring of the world in the wake of the Industrial Revolution and the wars of the early 20th century, we are missing vital context.

Consider, for example, the concept of the Spartan Agoge – the system used to prepare men for war, the highest and most virtuous condition of their society. This graduated system of cultivating qualities that met the standards of the city state began when boys were as young as seven years old.

What is the consequence of this? Men of Sparta, effectively from the beginning of their lives, were trained to understand the caliber of man to which they ought to aspire;  they were raised with the quality of being estimable as an achievable goal.

For those of us who were not brought up drinking the black broth of Sparta, the But zōmós, we are left to contend with the inner condition that must be addressed before we can begin to measure up to the external rites of initiation that we hope to undergo.

As adult men, alive and kicking among the ruins, beyond the death of a society that values the qualities that make men great cross-culturally and supra-chronologically, it is imperative that we make holy the mind and the spirit before attempting to adhere ourselves to a standard that exists outside of ourselves; as always, the exoteric is downstream from the esoteric, and that which one experiences materially must be tempered by the law of the interior.

Naturally, we must construct for ourselves a kind of internal Agoge, a remedial balm for men born swaddled in the polyester palace of irrelevant A.D., and commit ourselves to it fully.

In order to understand what this must look like, we must look to the structure of coming of age rites externally, or more specifically what context informs them

While we cannot hope to actually enforce any real processes of sacrifice, hardship, or the triumph of the self over circumstance in an exclusively internal sense, without actual experience, and call it holistic life transformation, all of these values of the external must be mirrored within: the principle of self-denial and temperance, the principle of intentionality-that-precedes-triumph, these can be cultivated spiritually and intellectually regardless of external circumstances.

I am not suggesting that you live in your head. The process of the Agoge and the myriad cultural practices that echo its purpose in countless human cultures may be downstream from the internal transformation that comes with preparation for initiation, but they are still highly, highly important – especially within the context of a man who wishes to increase the efficacy of his manhood.

The truth is that, almost without exception, even those of us who have lived unbelievably difficult lives by modern standards have still grown up with the guarantee that we might coast by living a life of astronomical inaction by historical and mythological standards, so is the mediocre narcotic curse of the modern world. Unlike those Hellenic youths who were born and raised in the martial culture of the Spartans, even the keenest among us are ignorant to the principle of true initiation, and must be prepared through an internal process to reap the greatest benefits from our commitment to our commitments in the material world.

Is the jiujiteiro an athlete, or is he a monk whose devotional walking meditation consists of exercising his physical prowess on the mats against his teammates, drilling endlessly until his limbs move as seamlessly as the gears in the transmission of a precision machine?

Is the strongman akin to a hydraulic press, diffidently moving chunks of rock around for the simple, absurd purpose of picking them up and putting them down, or is he the focused manifestation of Indra exerting himself over the cosmos, he who so conquered the rain and thus brings it to earth?

It’s an easy choice, a simple dichotomy – the tyranny of the mundane or the transformative power of material allegory.

We in the west, alienated from antiquity and the spiritual and intellectual contexts that prepared the heroes of old for hardship, we have no choice but to accept the challenges available to us in modern life (physical training, mountaineering, et al.) with the cloistered aggression of a furious anchorite, and find transformation therein, or otherwise join or develop an honour group in which we construct our own.

But through this mosaic of smaller rites, through the tapestry of Agoges that we might expose ourselves to, with the wisdom and judiciousness of a Cæsar flashing behind our focused eyes, we can hope to make savage the body, sharpen the mind and the spirit, and live at the potential of estimable men: the path to which only initiatory experience can unlock.

Posted on 9 Comments

Baptism of the Lightbringer

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. This man came for a witness, to bear  witness of the Light, that all through him might believe. He was not that Light, but was sent to bear  witness of that Light.

[John 1:6] 

Meditate on death. 

It feels to me like we’ve all been saying this in some way shape or form for years now. The  importance of reflecting on our own mortality and the uncomfortable truth that our time here must end  sooner or later. It’s been popularized by countless internet icons in various overlapping circles of  influence. Huge social venn-diagrams of crossovers with hashtags and mutual followers and we all  share and re-post these cool sounding, tough, packaged phrasings with pleasing aesthetics like a sharpie sketch of a pointy iron gauntlet holding a flail, or Arnold (perhaps not so much now) with laser eyes  and VHS glitch filters. But are we sincerely in our heart of hearts considering not just the fact that we  will die, but if it must end sooner than we would like, and that we might have to make that choice? 

I discussed recently with another pastor at the church that I attend whether the spirit of  martyrdom still had a place in our world of 2021. Given the ubiquity of martyrs throughout the expanse of time and place, throughout myth and legend and history of every great faith, there seems to be a lack of martyrs in the same sense today. A cold grey zone, an intermission, an age of lead. An epoch marked  by a foreboding absence of the kind of Heroism that truly sets our hearts ablaze with indignation and  the love of true purpose. The Tibetan monk who self immolates, or the man of Tiananmen square.  Even Aragorn’s final charge on the black gate; “for Frodo.” We love this. We may shed a tear, even for  the fictional instances beset with triumphant solemn music. But if or when the axe draws near, while  we have many things to live for – do we have something to die for? Or are we “the voice of one crying  in the wilderness”? 

The unpleasant truth is that given the current climate that is settling in for a very dark night,  even if we collectively marched with vigour and purpose to a symbolic Black Gate of the “Empire of  Nothing”; let’s say a storming of Facebook, or Google, or a pharmaceutical headquarters, or the capitol  building. Well, we’ve seen how that plays out and how it is broadcast to the masses in our perpetual  information control campaign. I do not strive to deliver black pills to any of you – quite the opposite –  but this sobering truth can and should inspire in us not hopelessness against the shadowy hydra of “the  system” but empowerment to begin making an impact around ourselves on comparatively smaller  scales. We have been cursed by large media to believe that we as a lone pilot must take out the death  star. And while history and myth is saturated with individual Heroic figures that perform titanic deeds,  they must be taken as allegory, digested, and assimilated into our life circumstances. The alchemical  transformation from written word and scripture, into inspiration and awe through our emotions and  thoughts, and then into concrete action is the miracle. We reclaim Satya Yuga first within ourselves. It  is an internal, unseen hidden process akin to the cumulative gathering masses of hydrogen in the  expanse of the vacuum of Ginnungagap until finally, under the gravity of their collective weight of  congregation, the birth of a new heavenly body – a god – ignites and illuminates the void where before there was only darkness. 

We are hydrogen atoms, alone and adrift we do nothing and can offer nothing. It is only through interaction and collective power that we hold any sway over the course of our world and the void. It is  only in numbers that we can be a hydrogen bomb – implosive and irresistible, opening gateways to  worlds never dreamed of even by the greatest of utopians. 

Each of us is as John, a witness of the Light. But we individually are not the Light. It is our  interactions, our influence, and our collective force that creates the Light to illumine the shadowy expanses of our worlds. We are Lightbringers, Lucifer and Prometheus, who steal or free Light or Fire  to the benefit of collective Mankind. These figures are indeed individuals, cast about the archetypal  records of the cosmos and passed down to us to pull together us individuals in a united force as sole  atoms are to the unfathomable mass of fire, plasma, and lightning that is a Star. And we will be  punished; chained to the Caucasus, our crowns split by Michael to illuminate the world. For the power  to forge a star was not supposed to be granted us, that which lies with the creator, and we wish to share  that power with our fellow man. Zeus knows all too well that the Titans can be dethroned, perhaps he  has gleaned it from the woven work of the Fates. The wheels turns, Kings are cast asunder, new  empires built, new emperors and Gods crowned. 

I wrote in my earlier article “Incarnating Gods” that our goal here is to forge a vessel into which we may “lure” or “entice” archetypal Gods into, imbuing us with miraculous insight, temperament, and abilities. I still hold this to be true, but as I also said that while Christians will never be Christ, they can only aspire to be as Christ-like as possible in this life, we will never as individuals attain that flawless  archetype we strive to entice. It is the congregation of men and women coming together, collectively  striving for a similar archetype – in service to the same God or Gods – that enkindles the Holy Spark of that Deity which is carried glowing within us all into a mighty conflagration that can consume the high  ramparts, castles, and fortresses of the existing empires of the world. None of us can truly know the  critical mass that is reached in the void of space whereupon the hydrogen ignites under the pressure of  their own gravitas, but once that threshold is passed, once we cross the event horizon, there is no  slowing or stopping that irresistible and insatiable force. Only once the newly birthed star or God has  reached the ferocity ordained by it’s own fate is it then constrained under it’s own gravity once more  and stabilized that it casts it’s own Light out into the cosmos as a beacon to all ships navigating beneath the icy waters of the void with all lights blazing, calling them home to join the blinding brilliance of the new cause. 

How will we tie these symbols and metaphors into our daily lives, and will we be martyrs for a  new cause, a new path, and the new light of a newly born God? 

Consider first, as I will paraphrase here the work of Massimo Scaligero, that we do not see the  Light. What we see is the dying of the Light. The Light of the cosmos extinguishes itself upon contact  with our retinas; dying so that we may see. The Light is the original martyr, the Light cast forth from  the hearts of stars is chained to the rock of our consciousness through the heavy shackles of our  perception so that we may see and bear witness to the beauty of existence. Only death can pay for life. 

The Greek word that we translate by witness is martus. There are three words of the same  derivation: to witness – marturein; the act of witnessing – marturia; the testimony (in an objective  sense) – marturion. The original meaning is that of a witness in a law court; namely, someone who has  direct and personal experience of events in which he took part, or of persons he met, and who certifies  in court as to what he has seen or heard.  

But in ancient Greek usage and already in the time of Plato the words martus, marturein, and  marturia were also used in a wider sense, as an expression of personal conviction without this  conviction’s being necessarily based on “factual evidence.” 

To bear witness to creation is to make a martyr of the Light, to behold the Passion of the Light.  Without this first sacrifice we are left in the void with naught to illumine the cosmos. The word  Passion is from the Latin pati, which simply means “to endure” or “to suffer.” The Ouroborous must  feed and be extinguished, forever undulating in realms above and below or day-to-day perceptions.

Every day we have undertakings and work towards goals in which we extinguish elements of  ourselves forevermore; we open some doors on the path of our lives and others close. Common  perception we have all experienced as we trade one potential path of life for another and may  sometimes reminisce of times in hindsight where we can recognize that was a indeed a hard fork in our  path. The ways behind us can never be revisited and the forks ahead of us are beyond comprehension;  the plethora of infinite quantum possibility jittering and jostling in that Schrödinger-esque eternal state  of potentiality. For eternity is unused time – time in reserve of paths untrodden through each round,  stored and set aside for the Gods who are not bound here or now. 

When we choose to pick up weights, to run, to read challenging material, to eat better, to gather  and laugh with friends and family, to turn ourselves into more instead of withering and shrinking away,  we close doors that lead down dark paths to dark ends. They are things that bolster our lives and enrich  the world as our own internal Satya Yuga slowly kindles, ignites, and casts that radiance outward. It  

does not necessarily usher our friends and family through the same doors that we walk, but it does open that door for them and offer them to make their own choice to enter or not. Some will join us, some  will depart from us, some may rejoin us later on the path higher up the mountain having found a  different route to similar vantage points. But these concepts here are reliant upon our living, what of  our dying? 

Just as the extinguishing – the passion – of the Light is the only principal by which we see –  bear witness – it is only the extinguishing of a Life lived with vigour, absolute Love and conviction that is the ignition and detonation in the heart of what will shortly be a new star, a new God, or an atomic  blast that reduces irreconcilable differences to ash in the wake of the new path – all of the above. Only  with endings are there new beginnings. When we begin to glean that the end of our golden thread of  Fate is within sight, what will our impact be and how will it echo past the end of our perception? In this short article, I do not have an answer, because I am not you. We may share aesthetic ideals, we may be  friends, we may never meet. I am just a man at the end of 2021 who feels the weight of the end of an  era bearing down like the unfathomable gravity and heat of a dying star going red giant and engulfing  planets as it’s internal atomic stores burn out. This end will only be a new beginning – the beginning of  a better age. 

As these witnesses – these martyrs – of the Light which is collectively emanating from more  and more of us, a tidal wave is coming down. It has long since crested the horizon and is towering over  us. Not just a tidal wave of water – for that is not our baptism. It is the tidal wave and the baptism of  Spirit and Fire as the Son of Man returns as Kalki atop the white horse with bronze feet and the double  edged sword for a tongue. We are born perfect and continue to strive for perfection; the re-attainment  of Eden, Paradise, Heaven, Hyperborea. Thus, we are not required to undergo the watery Baptism  symbolic of the drowning of the imperfect human with original sin, washing away his or her flaws for  we recognize that as Muhammad Ali once said with the conviction of Grace: “God didn’t make NO  mistakes when he made me the way that I am.” 

As this tidal wave of Spirit and Fire comes to cleanse this time and place, the Black Gate opens  and the hordes of Mordor pour out, we take a deep breath and dive beneath the turmoil and find that  there is an odd calm – “for Frodo.” We do not know if we will hold our breath long enough to resurface but we see others who have taken the same plunge and gain encouragement that should our breath  elapse, should our constitution not be enough to endure this passing of eras, that our friends and  families will be our witnesses that we did all that we could. That we lived beautiful, unrelenting lives of desire and drive in honour of things far above and beyond our individual lives. Some of us will drown  under the weight of this wave of Spirit and Fire. There is no way around this. What is important is that  we are here – and will be there – together beneath the flames and when those of us who resurface on  the other side are blessed with the manna of ancients with an iron rod in our hands and crowned with the Sun, that we rebuild in honour of those who chose willingly to dive in with us. They were  extinguished so that we might see. Those who are martyred are the Light, we who survive are not the  Light, but sent by God to bear witness to the Light, and thus will be John of the New Way.

Posted on 7 Comments

Archetype Creation

It’s not often that with content I’ve contributed to Halithaz, the imagery comes before the written word. Most times the natural process of writing plants an idea in my head which I later embody visually. However, after the first snowfall a couple weeks back, I took the opportunity to shoot some photos. 

I set up my tripod outside, took my shirt off in the frigid wind, and got to business. I was satisfied with the results. In addition to a damn fine shoot with my recently purchased replica of Geralt of Rivia’s sword, it planted an idea in my head. 

I had created major Witcher energy. I certainly looked the part I must say. But alas, while I adore the Witcher universe, it exists in its own world. Geralt of Rivia is a fantastic character. The way he’s developed across books and other media alike is masterful. 

But I am not him, he is not me. 

I had just achieved something within my own world.

I just achieved a form of creation within myself.

Forging ourselves into something worthy of legend and song has been a core principle of Halithaz since day one; development of our bodies and minds for the sake of upwards momentum. 

Such is similar in the world of Role Playing Games, whether that’s of the tabletop, digital or even live action variety. Upon starting, you create your character that you will be using throughout the game. You assign attributes such as strength or intellect. You can pick and choose proficiency in certain abilities. You can decide your character’s backstory and origins.

Throughout the course of the game, these attributes and skills applied to your character can be molded: increased, developed into new sub-abilities within that specific skill. Your strength may increase, or your magical ability can grow more adept. 

You can learn new attack patterns, new spells, or new skills entirely to bolster the abilities of this fantasy avatar you have aided in creating. 

This is not so dissimilar from our own personal journey, and the main reason I find these types of games to be so engaging. Sure, being born under the sign of the warrior to automatically guarantee you a three plate bench press would be nice — but it isn’t realistic in our world. 

However through work, determination, and patience, through practicing and developing the attributes we do have, that three plate bench press is very much attainable. 

The moment we are born, we become the protagonist of our own universe, the writers of our own story, and the ones who direct our own fate. We are the clay ready to be molded into the statue. 

We can absolutely take inspiration from other characters. Aragorn son of Arathorn, through trial and tribulation, becoming the king of Gondor. How about a trigger-happy space marine tearing through hordes of demons on Mars? A man that embodies such raw power that hell itself fears him. 

Great characters. But, we are not them. And that is a good thing. 

Many view the world through an extremely mundane lens. Many idolize these characters and like to imagine themselves to be like them, however what are they doing to make that happen?

You may not be a super powered demon slayer, or a white-haired, sword-wielding mutant, but that doesn’t make your story any less exciting. Think of the roads you’ve travelled, of the adventures you have undertaken with fellow men, of the successes you’ve had, of the love you have both felt and lost. You grow and develop with each step along the way. 

But words must be written for a story to take place. Actions must be initiated and effort put in. Archetypes must be forged, carefully molded. You become the archetype of your own doings. 

Your archetype becomes your crown. It’s your responsibility to make sure you deserve to wear that crown. 

I enjoy reading about heroes of old, or of tragic figures in history. I also enjoy well crafted characters in our modern forms of media. There’s something about it that sets off an immediate spark in our heads. 

Why not be the one to initiate the spark? You can, through dedication and through willingness to stoke the flames. If there’s a skill you’ve always wanted to learn, or a new hobby you’ve wanted to undertake…

Why would you not try it?

Our time here is not infinite, but the mark we leave can be. 

Develop yourself. 

Grow your character.

Write your own story, make your own legends, and become the archetype of the grandest version of you. Do that, and you’ve earned the right to sit in the same echelon as the great characters that inspired your action to begin with.

No time like the present, lads. You better get started.

Red Wolf, Out.

Posted on 12 Comments

When to Gang Up

How to start powerful allegiances that last and permeate.

It is often the case that man gets high off his own ideas. 

When we are enchanted by break-through thoughts and life-changing ideas it is only human to seek immediate gratification, or share your excitement with those you deem worthy of its knowledge. 

But of course if you were interested in being simply human, you wouldn’t be reading articles seeded to you through an exclusive cyber channel. 

It is your utmost duty as a man seeking a higher quality of life to restrain yourself from such base pleasures.

We all think we know this, but it is better I cover it now, rather than move straight past it hoping we’re all on the same page.

The pregenitive moments of your creation need only your thoughts, and your meditation.

The lowest version of you relishes in fooling you in these moments more than any other.

“I better get so-and-so’s input on this. I can’t do this without first asking ____ to-” you get it. 

All of the things you hear in those first few moments of inspiration will attempt to seduce and tantalize. And why shouldn’t they? Oftentimes these sorts of ideas are a fantastic means to flex and show-off your newest and brightest thoughts; a perfect vehicle for your ego to drive off into the sunset as you think ‘yep, my friends think im the shit for sure’.

But not only is it more-often-than-not going to seem quite dim to all of those you share it with, it’s only half baked, yes even when you think it’s done. 

So i’ll tell you now the one friend you can tell this idea too, and his name is silence. 

For all of those under the spell, I recommend you find a nice quiet spot after your daily tasks and light a candle there. Now sit, plan, think, and then think some more.

Only then might you choose properly to act further. 

Doing is the next step. That STILL doesn’t mean you spill the beans. 

Buckle down and make a plan.

This means a better picture, it means a strategy, it means making it digestible for everyone who may become involved at a future date (as a client or as a partner). 

But this is a crucial step to take before letting others know about your idea.

This is for numerous reasons. My top three are as followed:

1. Your idea might still not have enough traction in the real world. 

2. Through the process of applying meat, muscles, etc this idea looked better as a skeleton. 

3. The balance of proper application for its actualization requires a different time, place, strength, intelligence or skill level. 

It is in that gauntlet of meditation where you will find the weaknesses that would have made you look weak.  

If you pass through those three unscathed then that’s a great start.

If you didn’t, don’t sweat it.

That doesn’t always mean trash the idea, but if you have the proper mettle and that fire of passion still burns then you may rejoice yet. You have truly found something good there; something worth fighting for. It simply needs more meditation.

…Aren’t you glad you didnt take that idea to someone you admire before realizing it wasn’t built properly? 

You should be, because as someone who hears lots of ideas from lots of people. It’s pretty clear who’s done this and who hasn’t. And it’s embarrassing to put up with 100% of the time for anyone on the receiving end.

Yet I am not exempt. For I’m sure many have been on the receiving end of many of my half baked plans before.

Yet the first step in addiction is acknowledging it, no? 

Great ideas form lasting allegiances. 

I like to think of good, well thought out ideas as a commodity just as powerful as gold, or silver. It’s never not an asset in any avenue of society. 

You wanna change the world? You need people.

You want people? They need paying.

It is folly to believe people don’t believe in individuals or ideas the same way we all “believe” in money and its inherent value. 

It’s all just as real and not real as you want it to be. And it’s backed up by others invested in it. 

So if your ideas have been honed well enough, that shit will grow inside others the same way it did in you. And if it doesn’t? Well you know damn well yourself that its gold, and anyone who doesnt must be blind.

See again we understand now the importance of the meditation phase of these things. Without confidence in our new faith/currency/idea then those negative ears that digest it would be right to see it worth nothing. 

It needs to be real through your own conjurings and skill in the realm of voces magicae.  Be a wizard or a peasant when you bring this new chapter of human history to those trusted ears you deem worthy of its power.

Great ideas don’t even need the promise of anything else. The right listener will understand the same way they understand snorting a line of coke. Its fuckin right there in their head right away. 

And guess what? They fucking love it. 

We construct these allegiances to pledge our fealty and oath to the idea we all collectively believe in. 

This idea should become your God. At the very least it should be clear to you that it is a divine will manifest, and you are PLAYER-1 in its level completion. 

These concepts and ideas form more concepts and ideas. This is the formation of lasting works, empires, realms, worlds, etc. 

From a word to a word I was led to a word,

From a work to a work I was led to a work. 


Posted on 9 Comments

Christ and Prometheus

I have been spending time lately with a congregation of Pentecostal Christians. The Pastor of the local Church and his wife have become good friends of mine, and we meet outside of Sunday morning worship – which I attend with my family – to enjoy one another’s company. Our daughters are only a few months apart in age, and our wives are both invested in diet and physical fitness. He is a brilliantly warm and hospitable man, physically fit, intelligent, and well spoken; I quickly grew to like him upon our first handshake.

    There is within our broadly pagan circles an – often justified – distrust or dislike of Christianity. A large majority of the readership and social circles herein likely had satanic heavy metal and the disdain for Christianity as a staple in our teenage years. It remains extremely stylish among intellectuals to chastise and ridicule Christian belief while predictably remaining nihilistic and empty, a perpetual chasing of external stimuli to numb the soul as many of our contemporaries and mentors have previously discussed at adequate length. In this segment, I do not strive to point out the flaws with modern man’s absence of relationship with the divine for the umpteenth time nor provide any particularly detailed dissection of any specific branch of the tree of Christian values, but rather, my own experience thus far in my interactions with the Church.

    I first heard of this particular church through an entertaining yet depressing reddit thread on a page for my hometown that I masochistically used to check in on every few weeks and have since broken the habit. One of the threads was something to the effect of “disgusting new oppressive church set to open in town”. I was extremely intrigued, were we getting some manner of Westboro Baptist church? Could it be some openly extremist church? In progressive coastal BC? The first few comments furthered that notion, suggesting fellow readers check out the church’s instagram and official website and just see all the bigoted garbage being spouted. Upon looking fervently, hoping for some passing amusement, I saw nothing that could vaguely pass for the boogeyman of “intolerance” and was instead greeted by sleek modern graphic design, and invitations to come meet and hear about their mission in person.

    The comments went on to make such statements as “being a member of the LGBT community I feel extremely unsafe that these people are coming here” and more broadly and generally “fuck these people” and so forth. While I couldn’t find anything on the church’s website and instagram even vaguely indicating something akin to “fags burn in hell” I was immensely amused by the degree of rustled jimmies among the redditors and so I messaged the Church simply saying “hey, I’m not a Christian, but I hope you guys do well on opening here, welcome to [town].”

    I wisely neglected to follow the thread on that godforsaken website, and when the Church posted to their instagram that the first few congregations were going to take place I decided to go meet them and get a vibe check. I arrived in the middle of their service, and was greeted immediately by the smiling faces and handshakes of young, happy, healthy looking families, and an assortment of kind elderly couples. The pastor – from another campus, I would learn – was speaking about coming together in the name of Christ above and beyond all mundane contemporary issues that may otherwise divide us.  I stood at the back of the hall for the remainder of the sermon, listened to their worship music, and then chatted with the majority of the congregation afterwards. I asked a few standard questions pertaining to what denomination they were, what philosophies outlines their particular strain of Christianity and so forth. They were all outstandingly kind and engaging.

    Speaking with the head pastor who had founded this Church, I told him that while I am not a Christian myself, I felt that the time is nigh for those of us who feel a connection with divinity, God, the Gods, the Heavens, to largely set aside these differences and come together in our communities against the grey morass of consumption and subjugation that Jack Donovan has named “The Empire of Nothing”. As a side note I was later speaking with Ioan and Zack and I told them that, while he agreed with me, the pastor also said “I’ve known lots of people on their spiritual journey and development.” I asked them if they think he was implying that becoming a Christian, “finding Christ” is the inevitable final destination of any spiritual journey; they said of course; for that head pastor, it would and should only be natural that his conviction tells him there is no other path.

    Years prior I had also attended a number of meetings with a Gnostic “congregation” which I enjoyed greatly. The discussions of archetypes spanning Christianity, Vedic and Norse paganism, Buddhism, and specklings of psychology, numerology, and general occultism set the hook in for me and since then I have been highly invested in this philosophical outlook largely as a thought experiment for investigating cultural parallels, archetypal manifestations, and representations of aspects of humanity.
    In this line of thought, I have come to view “Christ” as a symbol for the enlightened, individuated, elevated, perfected man. In line with Buddha, Odin/Wotan after his self-sacrifice, or any other Bodhisattva across the cultural board. Much in the same manner as we all strive for a perfect unattainable archetype that we know we will not reach in this life, Christians will never be Christ – yet they aspire to be as Christ-like as possible during their time here. This unwavering faith and devotion is immensely admirable whether we agree with the philosophy behind it or not.

    Is this type of thought too invested in some degree of Monism? I’m not sure yet myself. I don’t know if these myriad deities across time and cultures are all “the same” and have just been given new names and masks from each peoples who they sang to in their blood. Are Thor and Indra and Perun the same? This is highly likely given the shared Indo-European background and as many of our contemporaries and forebears have explored in spectacular depth. What about if we begin to call the archangel Michael a parallel to these “Strikers”? Michael leads the angels in battle against “the Dragon”, and his earliest sanctuaries and holy places are also associated with “healing waters.” St. George also takes up the mantle as dragon/serpent slayer as another Christian symbol superimposed over that timeless archetype of He who slays and casts down that which is dark or evil.

    The key area that I have found myself in disagreement with these Christians is the concept of salvation or the “breaking of chains” through servitude and devotion to their God and his manifestations. The current theme spanning the coming weeks of the Sunday services is “Jesus is King” wherein the pastors have said in no ambiguous terms that “you cannot make it through life on your own – you cannot be your own king – you cannot bear the weight of this world yourself” and so forth. My knee jerk reaction is to wholly disagree, but if I decide to play with this notion I can argue for symbolic aspects of it. 

    For Christians, God is their absolute axis mundi about which they navigate their lives. He is the Light and the Way; for this they cannot do it “on their own” without this guiding point. I have conceded to myself that in such a way, this is true. We as mundane fleshy creatures cannot “do it all ourselves” insofar as we require the vertical thought of ideals and hierarchy, we need “God” upon which we can orient ourselves, our choices, our actions, and our relationships. Largely it is the choice of the word “submission” that sits on my tongue as a bitter taste. Though the etymology of the word is as such “to place (oneself) under the control of another, to yield oneself,” from Latin submittere “to yield, lower, let down, put under, reduce,” and while again my initial response is the shirk away from terms that lower me, I must also keep in mind and recognize that for me to have ideals and lofty ambitions, it is necessitated that I be beneath those. 

    But the jealous desert God does not want us to climb that ladder as we know from the archetypal fall of Lucifer who wished to be more. Who tempted Eve with the fruit of the tree of knowledge. Like Prometheus who stole the fire of the Gods to bring it to mankind, which elevated us closer to our own Godhood and actualization – and for this he is punished. Chained to the rock of eternal noontide.

    This, I believe, is the point where we come across the trope of “the Church is all about control”. From what I see in daily life, these Christians are kind, loving people who don’t seem to want to control anybody, but passively hope for everyone that they find this light in their lives which has brought them such meaning. This meaning also provides the scaffolding upon which to base their behaviour and morals, so it can be argued that it does function as a form of “control”, and by that token every concept or idea is also “control” insofar as it provides framework for the mindset and lifestyle of the individual or group. To take a brief step back, my wife pointed out to me a few months ago that of all the other women she had gone to high school with, it was those among them who were Christian who largely “had their lives together”. They were married, had children, a nice home, and by all accounts appeared very fulfilled and happy. She said by contrast, most of the “other” girls were living lives largely outlined by many red-pill advocates or otherwise generally directionless and “figuring out what they want from life/doing me/in my lane.” Which seemed obvious enough to me that the prior women were operating within a set of moral guidelines with a solid community around them that shared these principles. They have a proper cultural framework.

    When your stereotypes are being kind, performing community outreach beyond your own church for people who don’t share your beliefs, praying for people and communities and wishing them well, having wholesome families, and coming together in a common belief of a positive light, it’s difficult to hold on to the disdain for Christians. “Don’t hate the player, hate the game” some might say. And while my experiences spending time with these Christians so far has been enjoyable and finally given me a glimpse into that community, I know I will always be slightly “other” from them. Perhaps they will hold on to the idea or believe strongly that “he’s right on the cusp” or that some miracle or notion or other will pull me over to see the light. What they perhaps don’t know or would prefer to not acknowledge is that much like they consume the flesh and blood of their God, my Gods are already also within me. I have incorporated them into my being and will continue to do so in a flaming, undulating Mobius strip Ouroboros of being and becoming.

    Christ “took our place” upon the cross for our sins. He was crucified atop Golgotha, which is the crown of the skull. Within the Sahasrara Chakra from which the Lingasarira erupts from the body to higher realms. His life was condemned and he was pierced through the ribs with a spear and placed in “the cave” – which we will of course see as the underworld – from which he arose, resurrected after 3 days. 3 days, 3 nights, a tripartite God – 9 – 9 worlds, 9 nights or 9 moons, a full gestational period from insemination to birth. The resurrection of Christ is the lynchpin upon which the faith of many Christians hangs, and it is a tale of ascension wherein the Son rejoins the Father –of whom he is a manifestation – beyond the firmament. It is the unification of divinity beyond our comprehension and ourselves as we too leave “the cave”. Yet the Christians do not seek to emulate Christ in this manner, they do not wish to risk the cleaving of their crown by the sword of Michael as they approach the throne of Godhood themselves. The jewel from which will be sought by many through the ages…

    I will always see fate, destiny – or “God’s plan” – as an extended Promethean hand beckoning me to explore all avenues during my time here in this round. To amalgamate my experiences and to indulge in all manner of undertaking that can embolden or reshape my preconceived notions. I will not stagnate under one single God, regardless of the positive impact His Word has led to in the lives of these people whom I have grown to call friends. His word is not what is in my blood, I will be cast from the garden for daring to eat the apple – I know it is one of the golden ones of the Hesperides. For it is only once we feel the longing and need to reclaim that Paradise within our souls, at the bottom of the Ocean, and beyond the Poles, can we begin to orient ourselves back North and pass beyond the winds.

O divine air Breezes on swift bird-wings,
Ye river fountains, and of ocean-waves
The multitudinous laughter Mother Earth!
And thou all-seeing circle of the sun,
Behold what I, a God, from Gods endure!
Look down upon my shame,
The cruel wrong that racks my frame,
The grinding anguish that shall waste my strength,
Till time’s ten thousand years have measured out their length!
He hath devised these chains,
The new throned potentate who reigns,
Chief of the chieftains of the Blest. Ah me!
The woe which is and that which yet shall be
I wail; and question make of these wide skies
When shall the star of my deliverance rise.
And yet-and yet-exactly I foresee
All that shall come to pass; no sharp surprise
Of pain shall overtake me; what’s determined
Bear, as I can, I must, knowing the might
Of strong Necessity is unconquerable.
But touching my fate silence and speech alike
Are unsupportable. For boons bestowed
On mortal men I am straitened in these bonds.
I sought the fount of fire in hollow reed
Hid privily, a measureless resource
For man, and mighty teacher of all arts.
This is the crime that I must expiate
Hung here in chains, nailed ‘neath the open sky. Ha! Ha!
What echo, what odour floats by with no sound?
God-wafted or mortal or mingled its strain?
Comes there one to this world’s end, this mountain-girt ground,
To have sight of my torment? Or of what is he fain?
A God ye behold in bondage and pain,
The foe of Zeus and one at feud with all
The deities that find
Submissive entry to the tyrant’s hall;
His fault, too great a love of humankind.
Ah me! Ah me! what wafture nigh at hand,
As of great birds of prey, is this I hear?
The bright air fanned
Whistles and shrills with rapid beat of wings.
There cometh nought but to my spirit brings
Horror and fear.

Posted on 11 Comments

The Riddle of Freedom

There is very little on this earth that can disable a man more than a loss of fire. 

Burnouts are inevitable for the modern creative. 

Oftentimes they are brought on by an onslaught of potent, and inspiring ideas and goals which rip and pull at you like the demons depicted in late Christian iconography. 

The eldritch sigil of the rune Kaunan warns us that the flame of creation is also the artist’s ulcer. A flame that both creates, and creates problems.

The Aesir tribe are divine and ultimate. They are those that have dominated nature by hook or by crook. Thunderously thrashing down upon the chaos in chariots of fire and thunder. 

They are the apex aristocracy that reshape the raw materials of the cosmos into shapes and forms that serve purpose towards their reign over all things.

In many ways this is reciprocated through a constant Thursian struggle to eliminate those that threaten the divine and natural state. 

The Gods are creators, and it is man’s highest honor to possess the ability to mimic this holy and immortal act. 

So holy, that if the Gods never even truly existed, we would still possess the spells of those archetypes, and the formulas to create anything we desire. 

As we constantly carve away at the natural order of this life, so too does it attempt to carve at us. 

For there is an equilibrium within the chase of order and chaos, and it sends us spinning ever upward. 

But there are times when that momentum is thrown off kilter and out of rhythm.

Often this is by our own doing. 

Man has a vice in his discovery of the good work. Whatever that might manifest as within his realm, his kingdom, his mind. 

For the good work is never revealed all at once, a fact that has ruined many. 

He might find this flicker of grail-light within a thousand actions and a thousand more endeavors, yet he willingly goes forth, knowing he still might never find that highest of achievements. 

It is within this maze of inspiration, and creation, that we often snuff out. 

Not because the goal was weak, but the application thereof.

We would know this to be true if we were to simply sit in silence after that failed battle and apply an analysis of extreme ownership over all of our actions that lead us to failing on that campaign. 

Were we too redundant?

Too predictable?

Too aggressive for our resource chain?

We must begin to understand that all of our burnouts and failures are due to a failed application of resources (think of a boxing match, a car race, a long distance run, etc) 

We often revel in the idea of freedom without understanding what freedom is. 

Ask most and they will tell you that freedom is something like ‘being able to get up whenever I want, and do things on my own time.’

Freedom is not found in a dutyless life, but rather in its opposite. 

When man has found himself fireless by his own hand, the weapon wielded by his lower self is the sword of comfort.

We fool ourselves into thinking we’re ‘running a company’ though we’re wearing sweatpants and waking up past noon.

We trick ourselves into thinking it’s liberating to ‘have no boss’ when we have no true understanding of how to govern our inner world. 

If man is to persevere through the trials of self governance then he must have a lord to bow to within his mind. That higher self should be your Solar King as you campaign forth for him like Horus and his sons ravage the galaxy as Lunar wolves. 

This cannot be learned through any means other than trial and error.

You will fail, and we all should welcome failure on the road of the self-made man seeking a higher existence.

Failure is the mead, and the ambrosia, which soothes us through enlightenment. 

All of our failures are riddles that if examined will illuminate the next steps to those willing to humble themselves in the eyes of their failed campaigns.

Until then you are simply playing as a king. So go down to Burger King for noon-breakfast, and get yourself a nice paper crown. 

When we men who wish for more run towards something, it is with a goal in mind, however blurry or concealed though it might be during those first steps. 

For without a goal, we wouldn’t have shot down that golden path with such ferocity. 

We would have meandered and become yeast-like long ago, and rarely ever contemplated that state like most of those who walk amongst us on the littered streets of these neon slums we were born into. 

But we are not those men. 

And the goal is not our problem.

How we achieve this highest of boons is often what leads us to this fate. 

With so many options and paths, we often sit and eventually begin to fester. Smell the rot, and sever just above the plague. 

It might seem counterproductive to backtrack, and sacrifice, but there is no greater sacrifice than moving forward while too weak for the next trial that might entirely crush everything you have built.

We understand that there are goals to achieve, that there is greatness to behold, places to visit, people to meet, friendships to be made, glory to be felt as we bite down hard on the flesh of life and feel its great juices cascade through the bloody gums and teeth that have helped us carve through all obstacles thus far. 

But the frenzy will make you a savage animal who has lost his way. We must be enlightened butchers as we carve our way, not simple animals that have become ‘lost in the sauce’. 

When man has less time with his thoughts and more time sacrificed at the altar of great deeds he might gain access to the insight he blindly clamored for with all the time in the world at his disposal. 

Your body should not be used to slaughter for your low-self’s needs. It is a machine that should be seen as off limits to the orders of that deceitful one. 

Build yourself constantly into an apex astartes through the disciplines of mind body and soul. Nor for you but for your future. For in the future lives your King, and everything you wish to become. 

In this way, everything becomes easy, and step by step you understand why you suffer now, for the boons of later. 

Through the correct application of orders, and the careful planning and adherence to the will of your highest self and his goal for your life, you must understand that freedom is found in submission to order. Not in submission to chaos. 

Like the shamans of old Lapland, we should pummel a hypnotic rhythm into the chaos through instruments fashioned through thought and application. 

For in so doing we coax out the spirits that besiege our grail keep; that place that houses our highest plans.

Where once was a reindeer and a tree now stands an instrument fashioned to create a rhythmic spell of order through sonic vibrations, that mimics the heart of the magician and creator on his path towards the Solar King. 

Towards that life you deserve to enjoy, and that position of power wherein you have wealth to shift the fates, power to shift the outcome, and a clan of beautiful people who trust you as their chieftain and their protector against the madness and false freedoms this world bombards you with.