It becomes wearisome to speak of nothing but ills and evils and wrongs as if there is no good in the world. It smacks of a dark, loathsome kind of calculus in which there is only problem and no solution, there may be call and no answer. Sad, but true. Like a Metallica song. It doesn’t have to be this way.
The day before this was written I had the pleasure of attending a local gathering in a town I’ve always wanted to visit. We discussed many a thing, needful, and worthless (to some.) Two points of great contention addressed were the problem of the age gap, and also the problem of expectations of the very young in life from sex, women and dating in no particular order. The day before there had been a protracted discussion among some of the grown brothers in our area about the increasing fractation and atomisation in our ranks due largely to assumptions from older men (relatively speaking) and younger.
The thought of the latter topic has nagged at me for some time. Touching upon identity politics in a very intimate way is the role of genders in the dystopian climes we have inherited. Now, the New England Bund is built up from mostly married men in their prime. We forget, I think, what it was like to be ten years our younger, scrabbling about in the Clown World of our people’s making. Of course. Men my age are often vexed by the perceived divide between our elders (Boomers) and ourselves. The Boomers were vexed by the divide between themselves and their elders. In his memoirs my Grandfather does not betray this cycle, but from his notation that my great grandfather had a problem getting out of his cups I sagely infer there was a divide.
However, is this natural? No. This was the opinion of leadership, I saw and see no point to argue. The enemy, whomever and whoever, wherever and whatever they are, has turned a natural dialectical tension into an arbitrary albatross. Yes, generations always struggle: but they were not always seperate. When the veil of illusion descended, I have not lived long enough to say. However, here is what I can say, have said, and will likely say again:
One mustn’t assume. We cannot point the crooked finger at the youth and demand they rise to our level without first “condescending” to theirs in relative understanding. Even this attitude betraying language illustrates a false divide. If we are to be one Folk, seeking one Flag, than we must play the part. Better men than us understood that class and age struggles dissolve bonds among men. It is a two way street, but there is only one road, it goes from one point to another. One. Alpha and Omega, the same. Certain divisions are poison.
There are inevitable divisions of course, Religion, being a keynote speaker in the long diatribe of causing Folk to split apart at the seams. Does this make Religion evil? No. Does this mean you can erase it and offer no relacement? Ask the Russians, their country and their Folk are perhaps forever altered and to some minds unsalvageable by the filth of Communism which seeped into their very veins, buried itself in the genes – self-evident as the night is long in so many observable ways. Are there outliers? I’m sure. But rules can often be defined by exceptions. We live in a fallen world.
But alas alack. Birds and bees. My crux is intimately involved with the topic of the gender divide. I shall get to it. Still it goes, the young and younger have been done a disservice. This I cannot explain to my father’s generation, whose world was still just so, whose infrastructure was laden with useful knowledge. For my generation, the knowledge was seeping from the bloodline and into the sewers, what I and mine might have seized has in large parts returned to the great and primordial sea where groups like ours must recollect every last drop of blood from the unforgiving sea.
Gender, as I said, is one. What does it mean to be a man? Is it as simple a question as an old New England mother might think? Should be is not an answer. The pressure to change has changed the answer to a question. It is not clear. Nor is it clear what it is to be a woman. I sure as hell can’t say. Here is what I can say. You can measure what is against what was. Does this mean you must go back? Of course not. Why should you? It is easy to trip and fall walking backwards. Can you turn around and walk forward the way you came? Your back is turned on the world that will follow you wherever you go.
Allow me to be blunt. Sex is not a Jewish invention. Why have I said this? I anticipate a critique based upon the diagnosis I shall make. Our Folk, such as they were, were once dripping in sex. This was good. It brought us here. Note: I did not say dripping with lust. Sex was not always a taboo, nor was it a game. Sex has become a game, this is a sin. The very young will say the kind of old don’t understand, and the very old might admit they can’t. But what of it? Did my generation somehow lack degeneration? My Gods, no, by Caesar’s Ghost and Odin’s beard, no.
Are you a Pagan, a Heathen like me? Our Way pulsed, dare I say throbbed with sexual energy. Does that make the way lewd? No. To infer so is ludicrous. To conceive of a sexless generation is a bizarre and obtuse, feverish and vain imagining. A Christian can point the crooked finger and call us lewd, but I have read every word of the Bible according to Douay-Rheims and from this I know that one cannot go far in the Old Testament without very specific instructions about the sanctity of sex. The Canticle of Canticles was a glorification of the fruits of carnal knowledge between good man and good woman. There are plenty of other examples. In Pagan lore, important spiritual trends were categorised in semi-sexual tones. For example Odin was the God of Death; Wisdom, Poetry and Sex. These things are all related. I have covered them ad nauseum elsewhere. But in short; sex was the obvious vector to life. Sticky, sweet life. Did admitting this make us craven perverts? No. And why should we even entertain criticisms in the modern year, when they come from people who actually argue about pronouns like anyone gives a good goddamn?
Will the wonders ever cease?
Wisdom was a Woman, Philosophy was courtship. Sex was poetry. This was a trend recognised by Nordic and Hellenic lore, by Celts and the Bible. For many long ages men would seek the Lady Wisdom as their secret God Wotan had done. Odin the God of Wisdom courted Her in her many forms. Sometimes she was elusive – vindictive, other times she was playful, other times she gave of Herself freely. Odin sought Her and he had Her. Wisdom was a woman in the Bible, and she was present with the Creator when He shaped the Universe. One seeks her intimately in the Psalms in a more subdued, but gender driven fashion.
The Cult of Chivalry is eternal, Edward the Third of England – my favourite saint did not invent it, he revived it. He saw something the English had lost, something swimming in the blood, the genepool. The obsession with balancing the polarities of Existence saturated our myths. Our very languages, at least the Germanic ones, had gender cases. Three; masculine, feminine and neutral. Even this sublime, divine little factoid was informed by something nobody seems inclined to discuss: the void of pre-creation was neutral (Ginungagap, Erebus, Nihil, Void.) This neutrality was flanked by polarites of opposites, fire and ice. Ice came to be associated with Hel the Death Goddess where fire came to be linked to Muspelli a male giant we know little of. Neutrality was always for cucks, it seems.
Before this itself, which seems to have been a religious system introduced by the Nordics, previously called Aryans, who regardless of your nomenclature displaced another, older, and still curiously “European” Folk. Before were the Megalithic cultures, from Neo and Paleolithic times. An almost incalculably ancient culture was completed by this Nordic blood, whose suffusion seems to have created the Genius of the White races as we know them today.
The sexual pressure here was even higher. While the sexuality of the invading Aryan was sublime and celestial, here among the so-called Old-Europeans was a cthonic, earthy kind. Great hulking bodies of stone Goddesses with wombs akimbo led to and from grave-like grottoes. A message is inferred, life from sex, rebirth from death. A missing link to some of Vikernes’ lingo, you might say, for Varg (at least he did when I still followed his work) insisted that among the Germanic tribes a tradition was one would become reborn in barrows by claiming their ancestral gear, thereby inheriting aspects of their ancestors.
The Maltese Hypogea were said to be arranged like a womb. Great sculptures of vulvae have been found from across Europe and across Asiatic lands. Here there were giants, you see, things the Aryans put away, making us in the process.
And we? We had a divine spark, a source, a wellspring of vitality. Of course it came from sex. Where else could it have come from?
But sex, sex was not a game. It was to become a ritual. It was a choice, a life style. One and one make two. There was never any question. But now? Now we have man-children swishing their dicks inside of whores whose names they shall forget. And the whores? They don’t forget. They become bitter crones with axes to grind. Ask yourself how many shrews in office were subject to some “chad” or “slayer of pussy?” Actions have consequences, often ones that others uninvolved with your indiscretions must pay for, or else shuffle the bill to their children. Yet the man-child remains. Maybe they will get married. They will have memories of their indelicacies. Maybe they will pretend to be the “Chad” and speak of their so many conquests of sluts – yes sluts. No fun euphemisms are needed, not “Art Hoe,” not nothing. Impropriety is nothing more than excusing yourself from the responsibility of having led a woman further into degeneracy. Yes, led. There is no sense in blaming women for unique social ills when one cannot comprehend that women would not act this way if there was pressure against it. A pressure that comes with refusing to humour degeneracy.
Women were made to be wives. Did you know “woman” is a compound word? So was “man.” Mannaz was a God and a Rune, he and it became the Germanic word for “humanity,” itself having obvious common roots with the former. A divine essence either way. Wifnaman was the man who made weaves – woman. Waepnaman was the man who made weapons – man. Wife again should obviously be seen as coming from wifnaman in the same way. Husband is a word we borrowed from our former Danish overlords. Husbondi meant a bondsman of the house. A “Bundsman” should know this if for no other reason to understand the true depth of our word Bond, or Bund. In German a Bund can refer to a kind of government, a structure, whereas our English word refers to a strict connection. Esoterically, they share a bed.
Call it Vril if you like (I don’t, but I know great men who do.) But your sexuality, indeed our sexuality as a Folk, is a sacred thing. One could make this argument for any angle. There is no need for Materialists and Atheists with their tinfoil yarmalukes to baulk, because Science should belong to the Kindred that made it. Science is a Roman word shared amongst White Peoples’, European, British, American – whatever. It was never meant to be split apart from soul and spirit, this declension is a weapon of the enemy. Studies have inferred that at the peak of orgasm that a man’s IQ experiences a (embarrassingly temporary) boost. When a man has sex with a woman, they develop a chemical bond. When you rotate through “partners” like a filthy degenerate, you deplete the necessary bonding hormone and studies have shown this too, that you make it more difficult for yourself to maintain a relationship on that level because your sexual proclivity becomes scattered. That’s okay, Shlomo will gladly sell you a pornhub subscription after your free trial expires – because that is the end of the man-whore. Nevermind the numerous other studies done on the emotional effects of being a godless whore.
But what are we told? It’s in good fun. We’ve been liberated from all that then. Yes, of course. (((Of course.))) And yet at the same time discussion of the primal wonders of sex have been delineated, and in a swoop of crushing irony, made taboo. Someone is often more comfortable to go have sex with a stranger they found on some jackass app than they are to discuss the matter in civilised company. I know men who can with sick pride list them numbers of nameless whores fucked, describe their every nook and cranny yet neglect to recall the colour of their eyes, which one should think would make them whores also, but have leave only to stare at their shoes when the matter is made serious. What does that say about our social contracture and priorities? Go ahead, drop me a line.
Yes of course, there is a private side. It should go without saying. Specific details are best kept between the steamy sheets, or lack thereof. But there again, the fruits are not. Children play, and there is a glow that a sexually healthy member of a tribe carries with them that a sexually ill person destroys. The diseased of soul suck that glow within them, where it dies, and they steal that glow from those whom they haunt like a shadow, and they radiate little good in return.
Society teaches them that this is normal, nothing can be done, there is no escape. You speak with those who have known nothing but dating apps, and of course they think there is no other way. They are hard pressed to believe that you can, in fact, find a woman who may become your wife in unexpected places. They think this works for you, not them. That somehow their circumstances are alien to you. This is the (((lie.))) It always has been. The lie has always been that this is now, and now can’t change. Bollocks, bullshit and bastardy. Don’t listen. You feed them their victory dinner on silver provided by your ancestors, and the children you become less likely to have with each round, when you do.
The Soul of Man is Eternal. It has blemishes, and is largely sick. I don’t think this can be argued. Folksoul can be shattered, but not destroyed. You can wallow forever in degeneracy and prove Freud and all (((his minions))) right, you can go a-whoring and let Alinsky’s spawn run rough-shod over your ancestors’ graves and turn the world into their personal bloody ficas. But really, our ability to delay gratification for the Higher Cause is what seperates us from the kinds of animals we like to use as illustrations for why we need our Cultures back.
How again, exactly, shall we win our cultures back acting like Sub-Saharan tribals? I think we shan’t. Sex is not something you deserve, you earn it. It comes with finding a woman who is ready to receive it. That might mean waiting. Delayed gratification was once the standard of adulthood. I think we call it time preference now. Grow up. And don’t tell me about what women are doing. Please. That’s childish. Be better. Let me tell you a secret that has worked for most every man who has known what he wanted from life. Own it. Do you want to be a husband and father, with children and a future? Be clear. From the start. When I met my future wife I was clear. Here is what I want from life; a little Tribe with my family name all over it, a little tribe that can set itself apart from this gay piss earth. And I want to be left alone. I don’t want the world pissing on my shoes and telling me it’s raining.
The kind of woman you want to know will understand that this kind of self-mastery is a rare gift. Most men today can’t even admit what they want. What does courtship look like now? Irrelevant, fix it. Courtship could look like the flowers of our Nation’s youth striding through the field, hand in hand, sharing their innocence, life’s trials – rather than being degraded on Shlomo’s left-right swipe paradigm. Or, you know, continue collecting STDs until they slowly become leprosy and perhaps when the Slut of the Year gets to keep the tip she can put it in a notch on her bedpost and block the draft before she eventually dies young from cirrhosis and toxxo.
Retvrn to tradition. Sex is sacral. Fun fact: sacred comes from sacrum. That’s a bone in your groin. Romans felt it had a potent spiritual power. Here again is why I say sex is not a Jewish invention. Freud came along and looked at sex as an affliction, obsession, with the kinds of ideas only a cocaine addicted pervert would endorse. (Big think.) His big problem, aside from being a soulless mongrel, was that he looked at sexuality with the compartmentalised eyes of a sociopath – no nuance. He looked at everything in that way. How could he not? But this was not how our ancestors did. There was nothing sacred about Freud’s way. Jung made this criticism, and they eventually went their ways. Jung was largely forgotten, but Freud went on to poison the well like his kind have always done. Slowly Freud’s analyses successfully atomised sex to the point it became a clinical diagnosis, then came Kinsey with his eccentric degeneracy and bloody well paedophilia. They became trendy, because (((friends))) had peer reviews and funding. Pills were prescribed and people were “cured.” You talk about sex outside the pervert spectrum and rainbow coalition, you suddenly become a “Nazi.” (Might as well own it, Goy – get active, find your grassroots and collectivise.) They call you obsessed, a fine irony coming from the kinds of people who insisted all women have penis envy. Except in this brave Clown World, they apparently can, so perhaps Freud was right? Nevermind the incredibly tragic and heavily censored and discouraged stories from those who have “changed” sexes, become monsters and wish they could go back. Why? Because there is no actual discussion of sex, no realism, no environment of culture confirming or denying. You can be a eunuch, but we can’t say what a man is, and of course, there are the 666 ‘genders’ on the pervert spectrum. You can get the switch and you don’t have to tell a soul. Now you can fuck but you can’t have sex. And nobody talks about it, but they love to watch it. It is difficult to find words for how wrong this is. We should be ashamed, but that requires a culture of conscience, which we do not yet have in full force.
Retvrn to tradition. If we truly dare to measure ourselves against our kind, than we must become worthy of the blood in our veins. That requires sacrifice. Sacrifice is the ultimate delayed gratification. If you reading are young enough to sidestep the damnation train, do so. Dare to be different. Embrace virtue, learn to deny the base, reject the alien bastardisation of everything. Do establish a value upon your dignity, and kindly refuse to sell it for the latest trend. Your soul is worth more than the temporal pleasure.
6 thoughts on “Birds & Bees Against The Ruins”
A rite of passage into adulthood is necessry, sever the the rites and folks lose their way, remain infantile dependents long into adulthood, etc. It all goes back to a folks cultural inheritance and the passing down of traditions without which folks become interchangeable cogs in a bread and circus culture of escapism or freedom to the extent where responsibilities are downplayed/shunned/turned into “systems of oppression.” The Enlightenment stemmed from a particular time, place, and folk though that doenst mean it is wholly suited to our kith/kin especially in ZOG’s world.
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Full agreement. I don’t agree with much about the (((Enlightenment))), especially where it so heavily influenced this”Faustian Spirit” which to me seems like soul cucking.
As to rites of passage, absolutely. The glaring lack of a formal transition to adulthood has obvious consequences. Growing up becomes hard to do. Harder than it was in “hard times” when there was nobody lieing and saying there is a choice.
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*IF* I am to play devil’s avocado than the only fringe benefit and boom from French Enlightenment philosophy was the readiness to challenge corrupt authorities, except even here the challenge became the entire game – and to this day so many “movements” disintegrate because they have no substance beyond aggression and discontent… No Folksoul, no Oversoul, no life.
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‘If we are to be one Folk, seeking one Flag, than we must play the part.’ This functions as a good critique of nationalism. The ideal of nationalism has long been used, e.g., by elders sending off the young to die in war. Of course the nation could always be a higher goal than internal, domestic Justice. But is it right now? Kant in any case famously argued, the prisoners on death row would have to be executed, even if civilization were about to be extinguished. It is possible to greatly value, domestic Justice.
You note that there is an ‘if’ present. Then there is a question, might internal Justice not be higher than this goal of Union? Some though not all of our elders are very bad indeed.
The topic of age is a comic one, when seemingly most European television today has as its theme, the bourgeoisie’s fraud and fibs concerning their age. The ‘teenaged’ daughter of the detective – almost always featured inseparable from Dad – is played by a midget in her forties, etc.
Then too brotherhood in America is difficult as a topic. Brotherhood in Odinism seems to emerge for us from the 1960s, as if in Eternity, as if the brothers of knowledge still live in the 1960s, though not apart from our now. As to empirical brotherhood in America – I am still at a stage where I wonder if it is possible? Nor do I any longer visit Europe.
As to sisterhood, and sisters in the faith – the Pill has undoubtedly changed very much. Also for Blacks….
New technologies of birth control allow for national decline; still I do not think they actually cause it. So, we must think further on the cause….
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At the risk of sounding like a negative Nancy, Nationalism I think is in a rough spot. But as to internal justice… My answer has a circular logic: internal justice should inform Union, so that a more perfect Union can afford individuals their right to justice unmolested.
I admittedly don’t watch much European television, but a lot of my observation of the artificial age gap is drawn from articles, liberal hype culture really.
American Fraternity is absolutely complicated. I don’t think impossible, but hideously difficult and tragically historically repetitive.
Anywho. I appreciate your feedback, I’ll have to think, I think, more on what you’ve written. And leave a question of my own before my lunch break ends: was the sun brighter in the 60s, was the sky crisper?
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Oh, I rudely forgot to thank you for the reblog. Også, månge tak for reblogget.