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The Chaos Flail

The Chaos Flail 

If order is the sword, then as the symbol of chaos stands the flail. 

As a man of action, I understand the importance of maintaining a degree of discipline and a relatively staunch control over my actions, the Apollonian side of my nature. I am sure most reading this already have a solid understanding of the Apollonian and Dionysian dichotomy in regards to human behaviours, of the balance between the forces of order and disorder (Read “The New Way” by Ioan Eofor for excellent views on this).

For this thought piece I’m going to choose to focus on the latter. Chaos is an interesting thing. Chaos is the raging hurricane, it’s the tornado across the plains, it’s the bull in a fit of rage goring any unlucky enough to stand in its way. At the same time, I would argue it’s not only beneficial in controlled circumstances, but essential. 

  The sword stands true as a powerful symbol of order. The blade glistens as it points to the sky. Its inspiring presence is immediately recognizable as one of virility, of vigor. Its counterpart I will liken as the flail. The flail is a weapon as frightening as it is chaotic. It’s an absurd weapon, one that despite it’s intimidating aura was grossly impractical. The weapon is more entertaining fiction than anything and was rarely, if ever, used in actual combat historically. For that very reason however, I’m choosing it to represent chaos in a purely symbolic sense, so I implore you to keep that point in mind for the duration of this article. The morning star twirling around one’s head, the rattling of the chain. Its strike is devastating, for either the target or the wielder. Therein lies the nature of chaos. It is unpredictable, dangerous, and at its core absurd and almost comical in the sense of the damage it can inflict. At the same time, It invigorates, it sharpens the senses, it makes us feel alive. 

Where chaos becomes what I would consider to be detrimental is when it gains complete control over order. In human beings this manifests in a number of ways. Mental illness, violent abuse, addiction. The alcoholic man has completely caved to the forces of chaos. His Dionysian side now embodies his entire being as he descends further into disorder with every swig from the bottle. Chaos is rampant not just in our human microcosm, but in the world around us. Storms rage across the oceans, wildfires burn and blot out the sky with their smoke, and earthquakes shake and crumble that which our civilization has worked so hard to construct. 

Chaos is necessary. It is the second half of the whole, and must be respected and understood. It can consume an individual, destroy them if poorly understood, or uplift them if it is effectively controlled.  If you are to take an average person, and put a flail in their hands, and tell them to use it effectively there’s a good chance you’ll be making a mistake. There’s a good chance they will end up caving in their own skull before they even have a chance to hit the target. They must train themselves in the technique to swing it properly, armour themselves sufficiently as to avoid injury. Even so, the risk of the flail, due its very nature, is great. Someone who has trained with such an instrument is still at risk. No matter how adept you may think you are with this infernal device, you still run the risk of taking yourself out simply by using it. With the rattling of the chain as it twirls in air like an iron beacon of destruction it exudes the essence of chaos. As a force of disorder and destruction, it can be harnessed and used by a competent wielder to powerful effect. 

The wielding of the flail stands as the metaphor to us as individuals embracing the chaotic sides of ourselves, using it to uplift ourselves to greater levels without allowing it to consume us. Giving in to the chaos of your anger will result in damage to not only yourself, but those around you. However, by using it, harnessing it and learning to direct it in such a way that it becomes a motivating force, It gives you a reason to change things, a reason to improve an area of yourself that may be lagging behind. You wield the flail in times of grief, where you are overtaken with sadness, and rather than simply giving up and resorting to either a bottle or various other empty pleasures, you swing it around your head and use it to inspire yourself. To make yourself realize that it is your duty to keep swinging it to honour those that came before you. 

The Sword and the Flail. The duality of both weapons and their symbolism are icons of what us individuals along the good path hold close. Our discipline, our control, our tempered steel is in balance with the cumbersome, challenging destructive force of the morning star. But approach with caution. When swinging the chaos flail, you must take care. You must take the time and the initiative to understand both its potential for growth, and for self destruction. 

Keep your chaotic nature in check. Learn how it benefits you, and where its potential to destroy you lies, and learn to redirect its force into one of growth and betterment. 

Raise your flail arm, may your star strike true. 

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The Cycle of Sigel I

The best things in life, so agrees every man of mettle, are those that cost: that have been paid in toil, that have been dear in silver, sweat, blood, time, brains & broken hearts. Ask Christ on the cross, Alexander in his saddle, Admiral Nelson belowdecks or anyone that ever threw money at pink sheets: the spoils of war and love come wound-resplendent, inseparable from the pain of costly dealings. There is an endemic belief in the modern world, however, that adversity and difficult circumstances are, by necessity, exclusively tragic in nature. Even mundane obstacles are considered in a vacuum; the loss of a job, the conclusion of a romantic relationship, an injury: these are situations that must be skirted around, are to be endured and winced through rather than metabolised as part of a greater initiatory process. Speaking generally, there is no consideration for the actual influence that these situations might have over an individual, his internal state, his behaviour, or consequently the hero’s journey that they might be contextualised within.

Cross-culturally, mythology teaches us to consider hardship in a very different way. The motif of the hero is inseparable from the motif of the ordeal. In reality, it is impossible for the hero to rise to any higher station without the experience of significant trial. When tragedy is considered as tragedy-for-tragedy’s-sake, as opposed to an opportunity for self-alchemy, the ascension of the heroic type is simply not feasible. Man gazes upon the heroic figures that populate myth with the same transfixment that sent the eyes of our earliest ancestors skywards to study the stars, we look back into the annals of para-history and archetype to the liminal places so like the heavens where men of legendary calibre dwell still— but will we elect to be spectators? Will we speculate, with our lives divorced from the principles of the figures we revere, scarcely ever attempting to understand, let alone emulate, the spirit that informed the marrow of Troy? Do we wish to embody the principles that empassion us, or sit, cross-legged, like boys on the floor of a world ripe for our taking, leafing through binders of baseball cards labelled “Sigurd” and “Musashi”?

To attempt to make sense of the exceptional, to digest the legendary in its myriad forms at its leanest extent, it is only necessary to consider the element of initiatory tribulation as one of the three primary dimensions of the Cycle of Sigel (which can occur many times over the course of the hero’s life). Consider the shape of the Anglo-Saxon rune sigel ᛋ (the sun, perhaps a sail, also victory), whose three strokes each represent a distinct stage:

  • Beginning from the bottom right side of the glyph, the initial phase is known as The Hero Seed: bogged down by the mundane rigours of ordinary reality, the germinating hero is compelled by some external force to begin the slow journey northward into the mysticism of the self, and through this inner transcendence, ascend to a higher ideal. This phase can be represented symbolically by the rune ēðel ᛟ (the estate, the home) – this is a foundational phase that is decidedly closed off to the possibility and potentiality of the non-ordinary experience, made visually apparent in the crossed strokes of the glyph.
  • At the intersection of this stroke with the second one, the hero begins to experience the second phase of his journey: The Fall, or the summary ordeal that can be understood as a catalyst for literal or figurative rebirth. This is Gandalf’s death at Khazad-dûm, or the dishonouring of Achilles at the hand of Agamemnon. Note that this stroke of the glyph not only doubles back on the progress made in the initial phase of the journey, but also moves the hero laterally away from his former path, thereby severing his connection with the previous mode of thinking. This phase is mirrored in the value of the rune nyd ᚾ (need, distress) – this represents the redemptive and requisitory nature of the purifying fall from the ordinary into the final phase. The transverse stroke of this rune shows well the obstacular nature of the tribulation in what many heroes have assumed would be a linear way.
  • The third stroke of sigel represents The Ascent. The hero, now reborn and fundamentally altered, continues northward on a path that is identical in orientation to the initial one undertaken in the first phase, but influenced to such an extreme extent by his tribulations, that the first and third phases are better seen as being simply parallel to one another rather than continuous elements of one experience. This final phase can, under certain circumstances, become the catalyst for the hero’s return to the first phrase to complete the process anew, as Cú Chulainn’s slaying of the hound that became his namesake was a catalyst for his ascension-and-further-growth. This phase can likewise exist as an element of finality at the end of a hero’s life, as Bēowulf’s ill-fated battle with the dragon. This third phase is represented best by the manuscript variant of the rune gēr ᛄ (years, harvest), the very shape of which shows the continuation of the destined path surrounded by the “champion’s glow”, or lón láith.
Detail from the stave church of Hylestad, Norway, depicting the hero Sigurd locked in battle with Fafnir the dragon

With the substance of the Cycle of Sigel being understood, the most minute and most crucial element of the heroic process can be understood and internalised by extension. With the acknowledgement that each stroke of the rune forms an indelible and functional portion of the hero’s development, trial must be endured with the judiciousness of a cæsar, with the careful battle-serenity of Indra locked in struggle with the serpent Vṛtra. 

The next piece in this series will discuss, in detail, the first stroke of the cycle in significant detail. Where, how, and by what measure does the hero begin? What is foundational to that which is transcendent?

Nyd byþ nearu on breostan;

ƿeorþeþ hi þeah oft niþa bearnum

to helpe and to hæle gehƿæþre,

gif hi his hlystaþ æror.

Trouble is oppressive to the heart;

yet often it proves a source of help and salvation

to the children of men, to everyone who heeds it betimes.

Anglo-Saxon rune poem, “nyd”.

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:Cult of The Solar King:

You are not a man, but a living world of interacting archetypes, struggles, Gods, and beasts. 

Any fool can look at the waking world – our collective cosm built by all – and see problems with it. It’s no secret that many are miserable, and much injustice still runs amok. 

This is easy to say, and there is no kickback from me claiming this.

 Anyone can say “Yeah dude, the world’s gone crazy.”

But, until you realize this single solitary factor, I guarantee that you’re doing nothing but making it worse; so read carefully. 

Chances are, your world is burning.

I mean the true world, the world within yourself. Because when all the cards are down, that’s the world that matters most to you. It’s where you rest, it’s where you shit, and it’s where you eat. In other words, it’s what constructs the immediate physical realm that you operate within. 

More importantly, it’s the realm in which your ideas, and choices spew forth from.

Here’s the thing.

Your world’s forests are not burning because you are too weak. It’s cities, towns, and hamlets do not starve because you are too stupid. It’s rivers do not run black because it was a frail world destined to fail.

My friend, your inner-world is in turmoil because it awaits the return of the Halithaz. And if you haven’t been paying attention, that’s the :Hero:

The carrier of the shining blade, whose blow, whose touch, whose existence will liberate the land. 

– Joseph Campbell –

Within your inner-self resides many archetypes. Depending on who you are and how you were raised, certain powerful pieces might find themselves ruling your inner-realm. 

Some are far more desirable than others. I shouldn’t even have to give examples. 

What I will do is tell you that you must find your grove, and sprout the seeds of your life’s most important principles.

You must guard these with your life, and tend to them often.

This should now be the holiest, most powerful area within your mind. It is from this area you must construct a castle; and from there a Kingdom.

All must spread outward, and mimic these sacred trees. Lest your kingdom be built on lies. 

It could be that you already had a kingdom. I do not judge. I just ask you reclaim it now. 

The peasants will find out, and your less-desirable archetypes will find your weaknesses. Once more throwing your kingdom into ruin. 

The inner you is a gnarled figure. He has seen much darkness, and he wears the armor and scars to prove his descent into the darkest areas of your mind and world. 

He searches for the true god. He searches for the :The Solar King: 

This is your lowest self, understanding he is worth more.

This is your lowest self, taking to the throne in hopes of the resurrection of your highest hopes and dreams. 

What I’m about to reveal to you are personal archetypes that I have found to be paramount in the courtroom of the Wolfhead Rex. You will notice many things about this. But first, I will let you observe.

This is the courtroom, within are the powerhouse archetypes that have existed in Gods and men since the dawn of time, and most certainly before. It is up to you to find your Wolfhead Rex. You must be the light that proves to him God exists. 

He will hear the call of :The Solar King: and he must take to his rightful throne in the kingdom of ruin. 

He has much to do. The Cult of The Solar King must assemble. Next time I will tell you of their roles. 
More soon.


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Incarnating Gods

The much spoken of Golden Age, Satya Yuga, Lemuria, or Eden is the state of ancient Man in which his actions are instinctive and automatic but not mechanical. They “knew and were” those luminiferous Titans of bygone eras, those beings not bound and limited by Time or the curse of Man’s modern self-awareness. We must think of D.H. Lawrence’s “I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.”

The keys to Atlantis, to Agartha, to the Warm Oasis, to travelling back – against time – is such: “set thy heart upon thy work, but never on its reward. Work not for a reward; but never cease to do thy work”. To act in accordance with the shape of one’s nature. To draw from the surrounding earth all requirements in the immediate and eternal “Now”.

The occult, religious, esoteric, and otherwise fanatical schools of thought, temples, and philosophies are rife with countless restrictive dogma which serve to alienate and differentiate by means non-conducive to the health of the physical body; we recognize that while there are undoubtedly other bodies and other planes for the Seeker, the physical body is still of substantial importance (why else would We, He, She, or They incarnate here otherwise?) and must be well nourished, trained, sculpted, taught, and honed. Perfected.

It is known by certain schools of thought that a “new” or different soul, angel comes to incarnate within a physical body every 7 years. This body will be chosen, again, by how well it suits the needs of the entity that comes down to incarnate here. If we harbour beliefs that an immortal and eternal soul, angel, archetype, or Vira comes down,  into a physical form to experience this life here, then we naturally conclude that they must select a body most befitting to their tasks set to accomplish by the thread of destiny of which they – and by extension we – are acutely aware.

We seek to offer perfection. We offer to the Gods who watch from above, from without, from “over there” – as if on the edge of a fountain – a perfect, supple, lean, mighty physical body. Because we understand the importance of this. We understand the undeniable, flawless, perfect natural beauty that arises from the murky quagmire of modern humanity when the laws of nature are again met and the necessities of these biological bodies that are a part of our greater selves are met; when We embrace the power of our physical bodies not for the desires of vanity, but out of a knowing and a will to create the Superman.

We do not care for the “latest study” and it’s supposed findings. There is no need to waste time and effort scouring the depths of the internet for articles claiming this or that benefit or detriment that an isolated compound, enzyme, or nutrient had on a collection of microbes on an agar dish or cells in a test tube. It is the most powerful affirmation to our understanding of nutrition and the sculpting of the body to look to actual, whole human beings living in accordance with their beliefs on how a human must or should live. The effects of their lifestyle and dietary choices will make abundantly clear whether such eating and performance habits lead him towards the slobbish and unfit body of modern metropolitan human as he descends ever downward, farther from his golden ancestry; or towards the bronzed, lean, strong, and sculpted body the Gods wrote into his very being for him to achieve.

Will the person who reads these words be ready to offer to the Gods a fleshy vehicle that is unsuited to their needs? Will the body they inhabit be unable to perform tasks, deeds of strength and overcoming? We ask which God wishes to come down, sacrificing His immortality to rot away in a flabby, weak, slow, disgusting physical body, poisoned by the modern world, starved of the needs this body pronounces in no ambiguous terms that it requires – if only we can interpret the cries. Denied the physical trials that are not available to the immortal Gods, that wilful suffering and sculpting of the self, the Gods will simply select a more suitable body into which to descend and bless by awakening new centres of awareness in that elect.

Like the sculptures of Breker hidden within marble, like the God within the Exernsteine, like the countless Giants and Titans sleeping within the high snowy peaks the world over, the flawless shape of Man hides away beneath the weakness of his own domesticated modern self. It needs only be extracted, and once we are aware of what our bodies are capable, we are pulled irresistibly towards any and all paths and possibilities to excavate this. It is instinctual and impulsive. Deep within our being, We understand that Man is something that shall be overcome. But we also understand that a foundation is required. We understand that perfection is achieved from the bottom (where we are currently stuck) upwards, back towards the Mount of Congregation in the sides of the North, neither by ship nor by foot to be found, up the Spinal Column, ascending always.

Our modern, physical world is the bottom rung. It is the first step towards reclaiming Paradise. If our physical bodies are not first perfected, how have We shown the Gods that we are deserving to be given the raw marble of our higher Bodies with which to sculpt? Does the sickness-riddled, flabby, blotchy, pale recluse deserve the higher existences and realms when he has not embraced and loved all the possibilities of this world first? When he has not exhausted the possibilities of this physical body? When he has not shown he is willing to push to the absolute limits this sacred physical body – an iteration or tool the Gods have left us – to the absolute limits and beyond? To cry to the skies: “MORE!” Knowing that We will always make the most of the gifts given us, the Gods smile, and become tempted themselves to allow us that sacred “more”.

The Gods themselves are not bound by time, not limited by our perception of its passage. In the Golden Age they would come down, or in, and return. They interacted with our luminous ancestors in our remotest history. They could “visit” within what is a moment for them, what is millenia for us, countless worlds, bringing gifts and tidings from Above or without, which was also here, what is now beneath, or within, hidden.

But our worlds are not immortal and eternal, and are subject to involution and decay. The Gods, again not being limited by what we perceive as Time could see this. They knew their children would fall, would descend and forget their illustrious origins. They could see up to a certain point of our era, but they can no longer see us. The modern age is enshrouded by a dense fog. A choking, obscuring cloud  into which they cannot peer, and do not often deign submerge themselves into. We are no longer visited by the Gods at ease.

But they have not left us without hope. Knowing this involution would take place, the Gods hid within humanity the keys, tools, or weapons to our own redemption and return to their rightful kingdoms. Torches to light, to send a beacon across all of existence, time, and space, back to them, to be as that which is underneath the dark waters with all Lights Blazing. What they have given us is within ourselves. But they are not expressed without effort, without displaying that one is willing to alter their environment, willing to subject themselves to discomfort, willing to sculpt oneself, willing to suffer as the Gods do for having watched us be lost. 

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Sisyphus, the Stone, and the Solar Man

Benjamin Howes, Oaks & Oaths

“Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”
-William Goldman

Most people are familiar with the ancient Hellenic myth of Sisyphus. Sisyphus, deceitful and a trickster by nature, twice cheated death and, in doing so, incurred the wrath of Zeus. The Father of the Greek gods, Himself a Hellenisation of Dyḗus ph₂tḗr (whom we shall discuss later) cursed Sisyphus with an eternal Herculean version of Chinese water torture.

Then I witnessed the torture of Sisyphus, as he wrestled with a huge rock with both hands. Bracing himself and thrusting with hands and feet he pushed the boulder uphill to the top. But every time, as he was about to send it toppling over the crest, its sheer weight turned it back, and once again towards the plain the pitiless rock rolled down. So once more he had to wrestle with the thing and push it up, while the sweat poured from his limbs and the dust rose high above his head.”

(Odyssey, Book 11:593)

At first glance this torture seems incredibly terrible, and no doubt it was. To be inches away from freedom time after time, only to be crushed under the weight of not only the stone but also the realization that this would be his eternal fate, could make a nihilist of any man. However, I have come around to take a different reading from Sisyphus’ curse.

Sisyphus is all of us.

We all try to cheat death in our deceitful and trickster ways. Some barricade themselves behind liquor cabinets, some build high walls of great fortune and fame, others lean on the everlasting arms of their understanding of the divine, still others seek younger women in full bloom of beauty in an attempt to discover what Ponce De Leon never could. Regardless of our tactics, regardless of how often we cast the thought aside, we all will die.

We all must die.

And hence the necessity of the stone.

Every man, sooner or later, has to come to a sense of understanding about his mortality. In youth, a man feels invincible. Death is an abstract concept that spares most (if not all) of his peers. It seems to him to be almost an impossibility, the domain of the weak and the sick and the old. As he grows older, the thought of death germinates like a weed in his consciousness. As his body aches and no longer works in the way it once did, that death-weed creeps its tendrils through more and more of his thinking life until it pops up all throughout the once-unbreakable concrete of his confidence.

This realization arrives to different men at different times. Some men face death in the fog of war or a traumatic accident, only to be spared by the fates to meet it at a later date. Others voluntarily face death through plant-assisted shamanic spirit work, as has been the case for me, as well as by becoming students of philosophy and/or meditation. The final category, the saddest of all, avoids all thought of it until it arrives at their door to find them unprepared for their final visitor.

Regardless of when the realization dawns across a man’s mind, this dawning awakens the judgement of Zeus: the punishment of pushing the awareness of one’s mortality up the hill of each new day for the rest of his days. The understanding of death, different from an abstract awareness of it, is in itself an act of initiation into death.

The wise man accepts and is humbled by this existential burden. The foolish man fights it to no avail.

The wise man accepts that this is indeed the judgement of his metaphysical Father. In that acceptance, he resigns himself to the task ever before him and determines to learn from the stone. As he pushes it, wrestles against it, does it not make him a little stronger with each attempt? Does he not learn the weight of the stone and how better to push it? Does he not learn the limitations of his own body and how by moving it more efficiently his task is made easier? Does he not build within his mind an ever-increasing fortitude to complete this endless task to his best ability?

Life is a road in a desert of suffering, with the occasional oasis of joy and fortune, that terminates at the river Styx and crosses over into the shadowy domain of Hel.

Each man, once initiated into death, is charged with pushing the stone. The stone itself is neither good or bad, vindictive or benevolent. It is a stone. Perhaps even a stone-cold fact. Its meaning is given only by the man charged with pushing it. His happiness, anger, defeatedness, or triumph is his choice alone. The stone, and how he chooses to view it, is in his hands alone.

In your hands alone.

Dyḗus ph₂tḗr, from whom Zeus is derived, is the name of the Proto-Indo-European Sky Father, represented by the Sun. The same Sun that marks one day from another. One pushing of the stone to the top of the hill to the next. Like any good father, He gives us this burden not to crush us, but to build us.

Imagine how weak and alienated the Boy Named Sue would have been if his Father had given him another name. It was his Father who cursed him with “that awful name” that was responsible for “the gravel in his gut and the spit in his eye.” This “curse” made Sue a man, despite his name. His name was something he couldn’t change. What he made of it was.

In a similar manner, our Skyfather has given us a similar curse and we must rise to the same challenge. A life of comfort and leisure never made a hero. A hero is a man who wrestles, time and time again, and remains undefeated until his Spirit is finally spilled from out of his mortal vessel.

If we aspire to the Solar ideal, we must accept the stone’s ordeal. We must remember our death with neither fear nor anticipation but with acceptance. We must then make useful the days between now and then. We must rise, like our Heavenly Father, above the dark clouds of this chaotic and terrified age. We must radiate wisdom, justice, temperance, and bravery. We must shine forth with strength, courage, mastery, and honor. We must fix our gaze on that most holy Sol Invictus, our Unconquered Sun, and become blinded to the material concerns of a material world.

Our quest is a spiritual one. Our cause is a righteous one. Our aims are not cultural or political, they are eternal. A legion of men collectively pushing the stone, learning from and supporting one another while doing so, can effectively change their world.

Maybe even the world.

My brothers embrace your struggle, for from it you are made into a man. Accept and love your fate. Remember your death. Use each day wisely, for if you will learn to love pushing your stone, you will do anything.

You will rise each day with the Sun and rewrite the stars.

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Order of the New Way

By Ioan Eofor

“Comeback to me now my forebears

rush through the briar and brambles

dash through the thickets of merrywood

stay there with me for a while”


“Show me the signs and the secrets

sing me the songs of our people

humble me through your bright majesty

bless me from treetop and steeple”

We were born into this world like seeds tossed into a roaring fire. 

In every sense, we can see the waking world for the chaotic amalgamation it truly is. Like a lump of clay, we bend and shape all things as we can. Yet all manner of intelligence has been gifted this power to shape. Big or small, smart or dim; all can move this cosmic giant anyway they please before they are sent elsewhere. 

 In truth we carve god out of the world. But too often do we forget -with our simian brains and eager spirits- that this place, and that god are more than capable of bending us in turn. For as we create, so also are we bent. We are this world, and the world is also us. But what this world is, and what we are… is a similar question to what is the exact shape of a river. 

We only make sense in movement. 

Anything else is a romantic picture of what was.

And so, we were seeds. 

That was our last static. We were nothing and then we were planted. I refer you to this simple runic formula. I describe this to you now as ‘The Cracking of :ING:’ 

ᛜ ᛃ

Look! Do you see it? Where once there was stagnation there is now flow. This is the magic of all things. This runic formula is the tale of life. What is next you might ask? But who is to know, and who should care. 


 Rush towards that answer if you wish, but do so beautifully and foaming with passion. We were encased, and now we are not. Who is to tell in what manner we might grow; in what manner we might flow? 

A tree that grows by a house is shaped by the house, a river that flows through a city, is shaped by brick and mortar. But I tell you now that we have more ability than the river, and we have more decisions to make than the tree. We were born into this world, as part of this god, but you choose your place of growth, and you alone command your manner of flow. 

The average person’s current flow is frozen within an ice age of discourse. The lack of physical connections, and the acceleration of technology has left us all far too susceptible to the frozen winds and blinding storms of our individual natures. And so we no longer move, but rather comment and gaze at this chaos realm and blame those who describe its features we cannot see from our frozen perspective. 

The anger we feel for our fellow ape and how they might perceive this chaos in regards to our own description of that very same beast is the curse of stagnation. How dutifully we stand by our personal descriptions, and by those similar descriptions for those around our vicinity. Scattered we are frozen, but together we scream. Endlessly clamoring about what it is we must change before we have carved out that utopian apollo; our rebirthed savior. 

This is folly. 

The god grows and is shaped by all things. In this way it is more powerful than you; you cannot chop down centuries of growth. You cannot carve the face of true light from one of true chaos-immortal’ built through the power of endless human fraternization. Go to a preschool and tell all the children to draw the face of ‘mommy’ on the same canvas. 

But the power you possess to change all things is -in turn- the same power possessed by the acorn to sprout a new forest; far far away from the woods you have deemed sick. The woods you so wrongfully believe to be the gods face/power. Those woods you hate are not that gods only face, nor is it truly a power of anysort that you need worry about. That river of poisonous thought will not poison all, simply don’t drink from it yourself. It’s not the only artery of this Ymir. 

It was the folly of the first men to believe Odin and his brothers truly killed the giant. For he lives cosmically through all, and this has always been. When the mystics of the blackforests came back from their fungus trips amidst the stars, they wished to tell us of the three brother’s victory not as a static point, but as a power gifted to all of the father’s sons. Do not forget this. It is power, it is magic, it is might, it is triumph.   

Apollo does not attack Dionysus head on, he chases him endlessly round and round the pole, as does Dionysus in turn. They understand that this is the formula of movement and flow. 

I tell you now that the modern world is sick, and destined to be trampled and stuck in mental-traffic. Your fellow apes do not understand the flow of all things, and instead try to combat all things that they hate through brute force alone. This is not the way. On all sides of the fight, we are not understanding. 

The Day exists through the night, and the night exists through the day, and we must understand that this is also an endless flow, and an endless chase towards the unknown. 

Up up up! 

The Ningshizidian Staff demands our ascent; if we are to go beyond. 

We must ascend the axis mundi through this formula, or see ourselves trampled by the ugly god of the static present, for that god is one of the abyssal void, and he was birthed by us all. He lurks down below our climb, he wants you to look down. Do not be so foolish. 

The magic, and the deep capabilities that will come back to us in the form of song and secrets, after we have become in tune with this formula will teach us that this new way has always been there. Like the secret path Tolkien spoke of that he never went down. Like that one path through the woods you might see, and appreciate more for being a mystery.

The new way exists within our minds, and I bring you now to the grove in which the path sprouted from. Clear away the wreckage and understand that you will take those first steps, and see that this has always been. This is the path of the Halithaz, and it demands that you try your very best to become lost. Only then will you find the way. This path will take you away from all things, and bring you to a place where you might see potential. Where you will feel overwhelmed by the thoughts of what could one day grow strong in this new piece of land. 

It is in that area of our minds that we should sprout three seeds of ancient trees. At the dawn of all things they should come to watch the golden age ascend upon the horizon. The birds shall sing and the morning air shall charge across the realm, 

when those trees will grow strong. 

They will dance with pride in the realm, and bask in the golden light of the new dawn. 

Each of them, sacred to the blood in our veins. 

Each of them powerful.

Powerful, not only within their own right, but triumphant in their unity together.

They will stand proud on that land. And you will go forth  knowing that their roots were sprouted and anchored in the old world. Through chaos and the highest madness did they ascend and break through to the golden dawn. 

This is the new way. 

And it is ancient. 


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Mentors & Students

By Bronson Lee Norton

Image result for bronson lee norton

Many people are discontented with their lives, desperate for guidance and mentorship.

They wish that someone would just show them “the way”, or “a way” that might supersede their current condition. Truth be told, successful people are busy; this is why they are successful. It would take a generous teacher and an extraordinarily promising student to justify gambling on another person’s earnestness. If you are holding out for that archetypical messiah, you’re probably not that student. This type of exchange would have to show significant promise that investing in you would benefit them and/or the rest of the world by building you up in such a way.

In other words, this is the spiritual equivalent of banking on winning the lottery as a sufficient retirement plan, only you are gambling with your most vital years. Not to rule out the possibility, but I believe teachers find their students – not the other way around. This should be motivation for you to make yourself more valuable. Read many books, learn new skills, listen to different podcasts, study people who are doing things you would also like to be able to experience. If you are reading this, you have access to every bit of wisdom you could hope for that would enable you to create more opportunities for yourself. Most of my biggest mentors may never know my name, or how much of an impact they’ve had on my life.

Self-mastery is self-subsistent. Remember that.

Bronson Lee Norton is an athlete, archer, musician, and the host of the Barbaric Wisdom podcast.

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Germanic deities and their Celtic equivalents

By Gaisowiros

The word “German” has an elusive etymology, but it is possibly related to a Celtic root that means “neighbor”[1]. As such, we can verily examine the Celts and Germans as having been long-time neighbors. While it would be easy to identify the Rhine as the main border between those two, the Celts were in fact living in what is today Germany for most of the Bronze Age, Hallstatt Iron Age and La Tène Iron Age. It is only when Germanic migrations from the Jutland peninsula in approximately the middle of La Tène era that we start to see Germanic populations migrate deeper in today’s Germany.

Maximum expansion of the La Tène culture. Please note artifacts can be found farther away from these zones because of trade.

These migrating populations would not have been strangers to Celtic culture; La Tène artifacts are found across Germanic land, and even in Poland and Ukraine. It was a highly prized material culture that radiated in Northern and Central Europe. One good example of this is the Gundestrup cauldron. Made by Thracian artisans, the silver cauldron depicts scenes that are unequivocally Celtic[2], and was ultimately found buried in Denmark. These Iron age Danes probably would not have understood all the scenes on the cauldron but kept the cauldron because of its high value.

Taranis on the Gundestrup cauldron with typical Gaulish iconography of the cart wheel, ram-headed serpent and torc.

As neighbors, and long-time interacting trading partners, we would not be surprised to see many parallels between Germanic and Celtic cultures. I will attempt here to draw parallels between their deities. Many scholars have been studying this subject in the domain we call comparative mythology. Apart from comparative mythology, we can also find evidence in what I find to be more of a “jungian”, collective unconscious process in which the different cultures have assimilated deities together. We can see this in how the Gauls added Roman deity names to their native gods, creating deities like Belenus Apollo and Mars Camulos. Another kind of evidence is seen for example, in the names of the days of the week: Tuesday comes from Tiw’s day, or Tyr’s day, and that god was thought to be like Mars so that Tuesday is the same as the French Mar(s)di. That is not the work of specific scholars in an academic setting, but that of a more unconscious process that comes from society itself.

Before stepping into this project, I must specify a more precise culture than just “Celtic” and “Germanic”. I will use the Norse deities in the Germanic side, because they are those that we know most about. As for the Celtic side, I will use mainly Gaulish deities. But please know that Gaul was not a unified entity, and we see as many names for their deities as there are Gaulish tribes. It is possible that these multiple names are all unique gods and goddesses, but there is another distinct possibility Gaulish deities had different names depending on their role or where they were worshipped. They were possibly nicknames in a way. The complicated art in studying the Gaulish pantheon is to know when to see different deities or multiple names for the same god.

Since the introduction to the project I will have on the website has already taken some space on this article, I will start with a fairly simple deity with a clear iconography and evident parallels: Thorr


There is no doubt here that Thorr’s Celtic equivalent is Taranis. Both names mean “The Thunderer”, and Taranis is found across Gaul, albeit with some differences in his name, with the most common being Taranus, but I will use Taranis in this article for it is the most known form nowadays.[3] The Thunderer divine archetype is also seen in the Slavic Perun and Baltic Perkunas. The difference between this Indo-European archetype and that of Zeus and Jupiter is that Zeus and Jupiter are both descended from the Proto-Indo-European root “*Dyeus” meaning day sky, while the Thunderer’s name either comes from a root simply meaning “thunder” or a root meaning “oak tree”.  The Thunderer deities are also deities of fighting; they are courageous, they protect the common folk and slay monsters. They are also great drinkers, and red-haired. This is not something we see with Zeus and Jupiter, who are though instead to be arbitrary father gods of ruling[4].

The biggest difference between Thorr and Taranis is that Taranis does not have a hammer or another percussive instrument. In his representations, we see him holding a lightning bolt like Zeus’[5] in one hand, and a chariot’s wheel in his other hand. The wheel can have a varied number of spokes, and we see their miniature bronze versions deposited as votive offerings or worn as pendants. It is, for what I understand, a great misconception to think Taranis’ wheel is the wheel of the year, as the wheel of the year has 4 or 8 spokes, representing seasons, while Taranis’ wheel can have 5, 6, 9 or any number of spokes.  But this does not mean that the wheel cannot represent order and the passing of time. His wheel is the iconographical remnants of his chariot. The Thunderer, whether it is Perun or Thorr, rides a chariot across the sky. The chariot’s wheels are noisy, and that sound is the thunder we hear. The reason for the Celtic god’s disappearance of the chariot is due to the great popularity of cavalry amongst the Gauls, to the point that they thought it would be better to have Taranis ride a horse. Thus, we see Taranis riding a horse, holding the lightning bolt in his hand and the wheel in his other, on top of the so called “Jupiter columns”, monuments erected in the Rhineland, when its native population was Celts that were recently romanized.

A late representation of Taranis, with the Roman influences showing in the toga and possibly the lightning bolt as well.

Example of a Jupiter column from Köngen. The trend of representing Jupiter riding a horse, defeating a giant, wielding a thunderbolt and occasionally a cart wheel in his other hand is thought to come from Celtic tradition and syncretism with the god Taranis. We never see the Roman Jupiter riding a horse, nor the Germanic Thorr.

[1] Irish gair, Proto-Celtic root unknown

[2] The cauldron depicts many Celtic gods that I will describe. There is no way the depictions are of Germanic or Thracian deities, for the iconography is quite clear. A whole article could be written on the cauldron.

[3] Dictionnaire de la langue gauloise, Xavier Delamarre, p.290

[4] The three classes of Indo-European are: deities of ruling, deities of fighting and deities of producing. Zeus/Jupiter/Dyeus rules, while Thorr, Taranis and Indra fight, though they can also be kings in their own ways, they do not decide on the rules of the universe.

[5] Though this could be from Roman influence.

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Heeding the Call

I live in a fantasy world, tucked away on the East Coast of Canada, somewhere between Hyperborea and the entrance to Agartha. This week I built a house for the Forest Fairies, providing them a safe place to stop in on their journey to the Antarctic Entrance as they bring gifts for the children in the community. It wasn’t always this way.

Approximately a year and a half ago, I lived in a city. I was working in a factory while doing an electrician program in college. I had plans of becoming self-employed afterwards. Working for someone else isn’t my thing; I don’t like being told what to do for the most part, because that’s for low-test dorks.

During the summer of 2019, a good friend of mine who lived in Nova Scotia invited me out to visit. Through him I met a fellow homeschooled wizard. He ran a construction company and offered to teach me heritage carpentry if I moved there. I packed what I could fit in a two-door 90’s Civic, and moved immediately. I had goals of learning how to work for myself, living a rural lifestyle, and to one day fulfill my dreams of living in the woods with no neighbours in sight, tanning my balls, and smoking a pipe on the porch blasting power metal. 

I’m now in the process of timber framing a Gothic Wizard’s keep in the woods for myself while living in an off-grid bus with my dog. It’s been a daunting task to live in a bus with no insulation or utilities while conjuring a house late into the year. I have no running water. It is very cold. My genitals are heavy. This has been as uncomfortable as the time I branded my arm with a hot knife, only this has lasted for months instead of seconds. I know that in a year, this is just another story to tell people so they can look at me like I’m crazy.

Initially, I was going to write about how to start building a home, but I think that’s better suited for a later article. For now, there’s a bigger problem to tackle before the building process begins. The issue I’m seeing with like-minded folks these days is that they all want to move to a rural setting, rejecting the modern world and returning to tradition. There’s a lot of talk about it and not a lot of action. It doesn’t take much effort to find countless pages on Instagram and Facebook of faceless men sharing memes about living in the woods as barbarians and eventually revealing they live in a city with a cozy job. Most people that I’ve spoken with are unsure of where to start, they don’t know how to take the step out of safety into the unknown. What needs to be understood is that it is not something that can be taught. You must learn by doing. Having the courage to venture into the unknown with no safety net is the only requirement. Adopt a mindset that it’s your choice whether things work out or not — because it is. The world consistently proves that if you show up to the work with the right intentions and an open heart, that it’ll result in progress. I’m pretty certain this is magic.

As all adventures go, if you align yourself properly with the world and you are on the path that you know you should be, supernatural aid will come in some form — if you believe. In my case, it’s in the form of mentors, friends, wise wizards and black sorceresses. All of my successes in anything I’ve pursued have not fully been my own. I choose to only surround myself with people of positive influence, who I can learn from and who hold me accountable to who I say I am. This, combined with my testicular fortitude to take risks and willingness to show up for the work is the reason for my successes. I am eternally grateful for the knowledge that is continuously being passed down to me. One day I hope to have the capacity to be in a similar position of mentorship.

We become who we surround ourselves with. This is the most important aspect of community based, based living. Everyone needs a self-improvement mindset, an indomitable work ethic, and to actually be fun to work with. If this is who you are, you will naturally attract people like you if you put in the effort. You must wake up with a toxically positive attitude of Asgardick kápros might thrusting into a day of maximum productivity. If you want to begin this journey, then it’s imperative to set aside the dweeby outlooks permeating this internet sphere. Nihilistic, misanthropic nonsense must be set aside to bring this ancient future back. From Odin to Christ, our ancestors recognized the importance of self sacrifice for something greater than themselves. The inevitable hedonism brought on by destroying all positive higher aims with weak worldviews will not be an asset to tending the garden, feeding the animals and breeding an army. Uplifting chaos as something worthy shows a lack of taking responsibility and an inability to establish order. 

I had zero practical lifestyle experience for living a life like this till I moved into it. I’ve learned a lot, but I’m still a budding wizard’s apprentice in all aspects of living a rural lifestyle. But if I can do it, anyone can if they choose to put themselves in a position to learn. It’s simple but the most challenging thing I’ve ever done.

If this is the lifestyle you want, if you want to be a man and not a meme, to rebuild a culture and community worthy of respect, take the first step. Things will fall into place if you believe in yourself and your quest. Everything will be more challenging than anything you’ve experienced so far but the rewards will be more than the Dragon’s hoard you imagined. So go forthrightly into the world. Stop stalling, time is limited; there is no ideal moment except now. Our ancestors are watching.

My name is Winston. You can follow my journey to Agartha on Instagram @boar_94. Message me if you want to work.