Fidus, “Prayer to the Sun,” 1913
2,327 words
German translation here
When I was younger and things were getting me down, I used to have spontaneous little epiphanies that would instantly lift me up. I would hear a song on the radio. I would look across a field when suddenly the sun emerged from behind the clouds. I would peer over someone’s fence and see a rose blooming. In these moments, I had an experience difficult to put into words. The reason for this, partly, is that the experience did not consist of any words running through my head. It was not a logical process; no verbal conclusions were drawn. Instead, it was as if in a single moment I was transported beyond my cares and knew – suddenly, and with absolute certainty – that everything is right, and that all would work out in the end. Bound up with this, as you might imagine, was a sense of my own destiny – that I was moving toward something, and that it was good. These epiphanies were accompanied by an emotion I can only describe as joy.
These little events helped me get through difficult times. But as I got older, things slowly began to change. My spontaneous epiphanies happened less often. It was only recently that I began to reflect on this, and to ask myself what had happened. Part of the explanation is simply that I’ve gotten older. When you’re in your twenties it’s a lot easier to become suddenly suffused with a sense of positive destiny; of your whole life spreading out before you and leading to some ultimate good. When you’re approaching fifty and you realize that your life is more than half over, it becomes a lot more difficult.
In fact, however, I don’t think aging is the primary cause for this change. I think that the real agent is knowledge. As I have aged, I have learned more and more about the world – and most of what I have learned is so negative that at times it is simply overwhelming. Sometimes I stop to catalogue in my mind all the things that are wrong with our world today, and the experience is dizzying. There is not a single area of life today in the West that is healthy and flourishing. I don’t need to make a list of what I am talking about, because readers of this website know exactly what I mean.
We are living in the topsy-turvy world, where everything is the opposite of what it should be. Everything has been twisted and perverted. No matter where we turn, we find evidence of the rot. It reaches into every corner. It is as if some demonic force has taken hold of the world and inverted all values. And the most sickening and oppressive thing of all is the dishonesty. Everything today is pervaded by its sickly-sweet stench. Everything is lies, lies, lies. And all men – or almost all – are liars. The truth is that my awareness of all that is wrong has made it increasingly difficult for me to see any good, anywhere. It seems some days that literally everything reminds me of why this is the worst of all possible worlds.
I walk out of my apartment and see a group of attractive, mostly blond college-age types talking and laughing as they board a bus. Instantly, I X-ray their heads and see the straw inside, stuffed in by their professors. In a twinkling I imagine myself revealing my thoughts to them, and I see the incomprehension, the horror, and the cowardice on their faces. Strong, healthy bodies (everybody in their twenties today looks like a muscly department store mannequin); souls a kind of thin gruel. What is it like to be them? To be humanoid?
On the side of the bus is an advertisement for a new television series displaying the faces of its multi-racial cast. The strongest faces, the ones that show the most toughness and determination, are the women, while the men looked lost. There’s no escape from this kind of thing. I still go to films, and watch a few TV shows. I try as much as I can to just overlook the propaganda, if there’s enough reason to like what I’m seeing. I feel like a Soviet dissident.
The bus leaves, and I turn a corner, narrowly avoiding stepping into the gooey remains of a squashed tomato that’s obviously fallen out of somebody’s grocery bag. “Organic or genetically engineered?” I wonder to myself. And then my mind leaps to the story I read online about how scientists speculate that one day we may be able to eliminate the gene for racism. But why bother? So few of the men in our movement can get laid anyway. Suppose that real men (and women) are simply bred out of existence, and the white race is eventually composed entirely of humanoids perfectly adapted to the modern world. Whites who have no sense at all of group solidarity – as well as no spirit, no fight, no desires that go beyond the satisfaction of physical appetites, and greed for money and possessions. “Then,” I think as I dodge the tomato, “it’ll really be over.”
I make it to the corner convenience store, almost colliding with a tall, clean cut young white guy and his Asian girlfriend. I select a bottle of red wine and stand in line behind two skinny homosexuals in Armani frames, one of whom carries a baby girl in a kind of papoose dangling against his chest. The baby is cute and has the most beautiful pale skin with ruddy little cheeks. But I think, “Wait till it grows up and brings Rufus home.” (The “parents,” of course, would be delighted.) As I wait, I glance at an Entertainment Weekly interview with Daniel Craig, who says that he thinks the next James Bond should be black. When it’s my turn at the counter, I exchange the wine for the largest and cheapest bottle of vodka they have.
I decide to take the long way home, through the park. There’s a stretch that reminds me, very dimly, of part of the Appalachian Trail I hiked years earlier. And I remember a story I read a few days ago about someone calling for a reduction in federal funding to national parks, unless the parks do something to pull in more non-white visitors. I cut fairly close to the Metropolitan Museum and remember that I haven’t been there in almost three years. In my mind’s eye I see the long sculpture hall with the skylight. And then I see it all in ruins. Who will keep it going, after all? I see all the Rodins shot to pieces like Arno Breker’s sculptures at the end of World War Two. The museum, the opera, the library. Art, music, literature. Kiss it all goodbye.
This, gentle reader, is a taste of my daily life, and what it’s like to live with me. I am single, by the way.
The reason I experience my little epiphanies less often now is that they were always occasioned by a sudden “openness” to something that I saw momentarily as good in itself: blondes, a beautiful song, a rose, a beautiful painting or sculpture, a sunset, the forest, etc. But as I’ve gotten older and learned more about what is wrong with our world, everything has become tainted by negative associations. Now I can’t look at a sunset without thinking of Der Untergang des Abendlandes.
As I think you’ll agree, this is an unhealthy situation. First of all, it’s psychologically unhealthy. I often think that if I keep going this way I’ll wind up crazy, and wander the streets having arguments with invisible opponents. (And I really don’t think I’ve got far to go: see the very first essay I wrote for this website.) But more than this, it’s also morally unhealthy. This claim may surprise you, but it’s the more important of the problems, and the real point of this essay.
You see, in the past those little epiphanies were what kept me going. Long before I discovered “the movement” I had other priorities in life, and faced various obstacles. My little “Zen moments” helped me overcome pessimism and dejection. But then at a certain point, as has happened to us all, I had my political “awakening,” and suddenly everything else seemed a lot less important to me. Suddenly I had a cause that was really worth fighting for – one that demanded I devote comparatively less attention to things that had once been my be-all and end-all. But the more intellectual ammunition I acquired, in the name of the Cause, the more hopeless I began to feel (quite in spite of myself, because I’ve always maintained that we must hold on to hope, or our defeat becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy).
Those little Zen moments dried up and blew away. And with them went the spiritual fuel that kept me going. Do you see now why I consider this a moral problem? Nothing is more important than the survival of our race and our culture. Whatever hinders me in advancing that cause is bad. Whatever helps me carry on is good. In order to be effective for the Cause – and, again, nothing is more important than this – I realize now that I must work to put the joy back in my life. But how exactly can I do this?
What I didn’t mention earlier is that years ago, once I had begun to actually notice and reflect upon the fact that I was capable of having these epiphanies, I figured out ways to make them happen, rather than wait for them to happen. Basically, this consisted in a deliberate shift in attention. I would, if possible, change my surroundings to someplace I was less familiar with, and one that provided sources of positive stimulation. For example, I would take a walk in a public garden, and then I would look at the flowers while simultaneously willing all other thoughts to stop. I was generally successful, to some degree or other, in inducing the sort of experience I was looking for.
It’s harder to do that now, but not impossible. One thing that is necessary is to challenge the negative thinking that prevents me, for example, from even enjoying nature. (“What if they close the parks because blacks have no interest in them?”; “What if they destroy nature with genetic engineering?” etc.) Nature is actually our chief respite from the lies. Before I moved to New York I used to go hiking and camping, and I’d often hug a tree or two and think, “Whatever lies they may tell, you are real. The lies can’t change you.” I have to get back to that.
It always delights me when I discover something new that’s genuinely good. Like Breaking Bad. Because the fact of the matter is that not everything is in ruins. There is still a good deal of genuinely valuable work being done. There are the novels of Tito Perdue and Andy Nowicki. The porcelain of Charles Krafft. The poetry of Juleigh Howard-Hobson and Leo Yankevich. The paintings, writings, and oratory of Jonathan Bowden. The cultural commentary of Greg Johnson, James O’Meara, Derek Hawthorne, and a host of other writers. The philosophical and religious writings of Collin Cleary. And these are just individuals who we can claim for our “movement.” There is good music, film, and fiction being created today by people who have no particular ideological bent. (And, yes, there’s even good art that gets created now and then by avowed liberals.) I must focus on these things, and fill my life with them.
And, again, there is nature. Sunsets and sunrises. Mountains. Ocean spray. All the great plethora of species, from the sublime Bengal tiger to the gawky ostrich. So great in their variety and baroque excess that no thoughtful person can attribute it all to complete “chance,” or fail to feel awe in its contemplation. And every species is ultimately subject to the eternal cycle of life that the lies cannot touch – the life mystery that refutes the lies, with its inequality, its hierarchy, and its pitiless test of the fittest.
It is our worldview that is in accord with all that is truly, vitally alive. We own the sunset and the sunrise, and all the stars in the sky. We are real, and true, and good. Through us speaks the voice of nature, and the voice of the timeless ideal. And it is only we who are capable of experiencing genuine joy. Those who live with a censored reality cannot experience full, deep emotional responses.
Have you ever noticed how false and forced the emotional reactions of liberals are? They must suppress their own natural responses; they must censor them according to their ideology. And then, through disingenuous mental gyrations quite beyond my ability to understand, they produce the “right” response. “Look! It’s an interracial couple with their nappy-headed spawn! Send signal to mouth: crank corners up into forced smile. No! Smile bigger. Hold it. Hold it. There, someone noticed. Whew! Relax mouth.”
So, I have to reclaim the joy in my life – and I would imagine so do quite a few of my readers. Not only does joy give us the spiritual fuel we need to keep on working for the Cause, joy also gives us an immediate intuition that victory will be ours. In moments of joy – in my little Zen epiphanies, whatever – we realize our connection to what is true, and right, and natural. For there is no real joy except in connection to these. And against these, the lies simply cannot hold out forever.
We have to restore the joy to our daily lives, and live in the knowledge that tomorrow belongs to us.
20 comments
I think you are quite right to call your small epiphanies “Zen moments”. I would say that your experience of beauty halted the train of your thoughts and you experienced life here-and-now. And even more importantly: you experienced your unconscious mind.
So why not follow up on this intuition? Why not start Zen meditation? To my experience, this method is quite effective. Zen is not dependent on accepting Buddhist philosophy. In fact, it is said that Zen is older than Buddhism, and that it cultivates the most basic human religious experience. I myself view Zen as cultivating the influence of the Unconscious, or in D. H. Lawrence’s terms, the “blood-consciousness”.
Contra Freud, I believe that most of our mental issues are caused by the conscious mind, not by the unconscious mind. Like Jung, I believe that it is exactly the unconscious where our solutions are to be found.
In Zen it is said that the mind cannot liberate itself, that only the body can do that. The body that is always in the here-and-now. Zen is “thinking with the body”. You observe, you feel your body, not accepting any distractions. And somehow this appears to be the key to life.
Of course, the mind is a very helpful tool. Most people here have discovered the truth through intellectual means. But in the end your quality of life, and your effectiveness, is determined by the health of the relationship between your conscious and unconscious mind. I am sure this is the defining healthiness of the Übermensch.
The unconscious mind could be identified with the “Black Sun”, a great modern symbol of fascist spirituality. The “White Sun” concerns visibility: images whether verbal or drawn. The Black Sun emits no light, and it cannot be seen, but you can experience it, feel it.
I think that we have to be careful not to make the White Sun the main criterion of fascism and hierarchy (Evola?). The Black Sun is at least as important.
One rather unconventional method integrates Zen and masturbation. After initial arousal is achieved, all images and words are cast aside, and the focus of attention is completely moved to the body and its sensations. Of course it is a lot easier to focus your attention on your body in this situation than during formal Zen! Mere masturbation becomes an intense meditation. The “petit mort” does not occur, and is replaced by contentment. Some night when I practiced this kind of meditation has been etched into my memory for many years now. It was an experience of life giving mystery.
Apart from Zen, I would say that the activity of the conscious which most approximates to the unconscious is music, and especially dance music. After all, who would like to believe in a god who cannot dance? Dancing is explicitly excluded from service in the Catholic Church. The difference between the collective unconscious of whites and blacks can be easily understood if we compare ballet with Hip Hop.
As warriors, we need to be ascetics, but not of the dessicated Christian variety. Ours is not an asceticism of the body, but of the mind! We need to liberate ourselves from the seductive high speed train of thoughts, whether in words or images. This reminds me of the discovery of the Runes by Wodan. He is said to have sacrificed “himself to himself”. Would this not be the sacrifice of the conscious mind to the “blood-consciousness”?
I do actually meditate. I will enthusiastically follow your suggestion to integrate my meditation with … uh … the other thing.
I briefly scanned the article and I agree with the author whole-heartedly. I turned fifty a couple years ago and I started experiencing the same sentiments. All I ever wanted was to have a beautiful wife, admirable children, respectable job and nice home. However, I couldn’t even achieve those simple things. It is going to be harder for those of us who actually lived in white America to grow old. My nightmare is the thought of ending up in a nursing home staffed only by non-whites. I will kill myself before I allow that to happen. The only thing working for the white race now is that the majority of whites still marry within our race, however time, proximity and lust will eventually negate that trend. I do feel hope when I see all the uber-healthy white males and females walking around. We have conquered almost every disease that used to limit out propagation. If we can ever get a movement going I hope to see many couples having between 5-10 children. We just need a charismatic orator like Hitler.
“All I ever wanted was to have a beautiful wife, admirable children, respectable job and nice home. However, I couldn’t even achieve those simple things.”
Those are noble, simple things to want, my brother. And I sympathize with you. And I agree that in a just world, they should be available to you. So please take this counter-argument of mine in the spirit in which I intend it.
Those noble goals might have been a reasonable expectation in 1950 in America, or in 1850, perhaps. But they are most decidedly not some kind of natural birthright. It’s something that must be constantly fought for and reaffirmed. The white Vandals and post-Romans who were overwhelmed by the Moors in Spain had no such “birthright.” They lost, pure and simple. If Charles Martel and his band of warriors had not stopped the Moors at the gates of Gaul, then the medieval Franks would have had no such “birthright” either.
Let me reiterate that I say this in friendship. But the words you said, which I quote above, seem to me to say “All I wanted was to live in peace. Is that so abnormal?” Yes! It is abnormal. If you want to live in peace you must fight for that peace. I don’t mean to suggest that you have never fought in your own way. And I don’t claim that I have fought as well as I should or could. But it’s the sentiment that I find pernicious.
This fight will never end. Even if we succeed in creating a White Republic in North America two weeks from next Tuesday, that Republic will still need defending for the rest of its existence. If we say “All I wanted was to live in peace, is that so much to ask?” the answer is “YES! That is an extraordinary thing to ask. It is not normal, it is not a birthright, and it will not be possible without constant struggle.”
The situation for whites in the US in 1950 is not some default situation. It is not the “normal” way to run a society. It was the result of a long series of very forceful actions by strong, white men, dating back to the first colonization of the Americas by Europeans and including the various wars against the Indians and including the uneasy peace that whites made with their former slaves from Africa. Only by such long and difficult struggle (including struggles with our own moral consciences) was such a society possible. Again, it’s not “normal.” It’s highly abnormal.
Tribal warfare is the default mode of human societies, whether white, black, or magenta. It is the special character of white societies that, while they still sometimes get drawn into inter-tribal squabbling just as the rest do, they have managed, from time to time, to create grand imperia and alliances that banish tribal warfare to the extremities of the given civilization. This feat takes extraordinary fortitude and organization. The wolves of war and tribalism do not ever go away totally just because we erect pales and moats. Even if whites were to totally overtake the globe and eliminate all other races forever, we would still have to guard against the rapaciousness of wolf-pack tribalism.
So we must still erect the pales and moats as best we can. We must favor our own tribe over other tribes. But we must never expect that a simple life with simple desires will simply arise by default. It will always be hard. And the great folly of the most recent generations of the West is to have been fooled by our brief world-bestriding moment of glory into thinking otherwise.
Our task is really not so difficult; we must only do what our ancestors have always done. It is only in comparison to our recent spate of ease that the current task seems so baffling.
Yes, I agree. I would rather die in a hail of bullets than wind up in a nursing home.
Don’t know where you live, Jef, but you need to move somewhere else. Somewhere less cosmopolitan, by the sounds of it. You have surrounded yourself with our enemy’s cultural dominance. Yes, you have surrounded yourself. Do you not have a brain? Two legs? Get out of there! We still have large swaths of the country that are still overwhelmingly “ours.” Ours’ by default, I will admit, not “consciously” ours’, but ours’, none the less. Also, your comment about not getting laid…I’m sorry, don’t take this personally, but do you deserve to get laid? Are you physically fit? Or do you have skinny legs, no chest, and a pot belly? Are you obese? Are you capable of punching your way out of an old folk’s home or even a wet paper bag? The lack of racial awareness among our people is deplorable. The lack of fitness and robust health runs a close second in my book. Fatties everywhere. Dorks in skinny jeans revealing in their scrawniness.
Some animals, by instinct, create their own environments. A beaver, for example, will create a pond in which to live. Absent trees, it will move to where the trees are. Or die trying. Do yourself a favor…drop the vodka bottle, pick up an axe, and find yourself some trees!
The White States are dominated by peasant culture – and one that is often no longer healthy or authentic. For an intellectual it is a very difficult move. He may end up not liking White people very much. And the natives will not like him. I’m not saying you are wrong btw. After all Liberals are insane and suicidal. We are between the clashing rocks of Greek Mythology.
I agree with you, Jaego. The country rubes have their faults, I just find life among them more tolerable then the burbs where people are educated beyond their intelligence. And trust me, there are plenty of rural places where one can live and still have access to culture…
Yeah maybe a trip to Kalispell would do you wonders.
Your awakenings (epiphanies) happen to lots of us, and if you want to start re-experiencing them, pick an area of white liberation that interests you, and go to work on it. We picked the anti-white narrative and learned to attackback at the person or institution responsible for promoting any element of that narrative.
Wow! It’s as good as the rainbow, it’s as good as those younger epiphanies you mention. It’s as good as watching someone’s eyes light up with a new level of understanding.
I think the deadening of spirit is measured by the decline in reaching out to other people to change on even the simplest level some aspect of the propaganda & political campaigns leveled against our diversity (yes, we’re diverse), our nationality (yes, we’re American), younger people struggling to find their way (yes, the newbies waking up to their white voice), our identity (yes, we have the white voice), and our centricity (yes, we can put all our remarks into white centricity), and so on.
You want epiphanies? Reach out at haters to attackback; reach in our demographic affinity group to help. Millions and millions of epiphanies await.
This was a beautiful essay, thank you.
You’re welcome.
I enjoyed your essay, it led me to do a status check on my own life. I will be fifty this year and know the dampening effect that expanded knowledge can have you your “joie de vivre”. Though I usually disdain advice as wasted for the most part (people must move towards truth at their own pace) your earnestness inspires me to offer a bit.
1) Don’t let the evidence of rot depress you instead realize that the rotted wall must fall and the rubbish must be cleared away before a new building (civilization) can begin to be created. This cycle rise and fall is the nature of human civilization and I see no escape from the pain that is always felt between the death throes of one order and the birth pangs of the next. It is why they say that which is falling should be pushed; this is the societal equivalent of snatching out the splinter rapidly. The pain many of us feel is only made worse by the futility of attempting to salvage what is beyond repair.
2) Always seek out beauty deliberately and every day. Once in the military during a long field exercise my company XO radioed for me to meet with him over some logistical business of the day. He had me follow his HUMVEE a bit further down a rough track than I thought was necessary for the business at hand – a complaint I made as we conducted our business over a couple of MREs. He said look around. I paused in mid-complaint and noticed that he has led us to a small running creek with a few picturesque trees – both rare in the semi-desert of the Yakima Training Center. The clearing where we sat was once some kind of animal (sheep)) pen and the weathered corral had an almost magical forgotten charm of things long forgotten and far away. He told me that he had learned from his martial arts instructor to always seek out beauty, every day. I have kept that lesson to mind ever since.
3) The most important thing you can do for your people is to find a good woman and have children, many children. Nothing else you do matters if you don’t at least attempt to reproduce. Like in the old “Bladerunner” movie, without progeny everything else is just tears in the rain. Forget the usual ideas of finding a pretty and intelligent college educated woman – these exist but the majority of them are intellectually, politically, sexually and morally ruined by the American indoctrination system. Go somewhere like Utah and find yourself a young woman who is perhaps less educated but who has sound fundamental values and then cherish her. After years of dating suburban women in the Atlanta area, many of them from out of state and out of culture I went back to where I started and married a woman that I knew from High School in South Georgia. She never finished college and spent most of her life working in factories of one sort or another but she had made me happier than none-other.
I appreciate your comments, especially the one about seeking out beauty every day. I am not, however, good marriage material. And I don’t agree that nothing else matters other than reproduction. I think can do much more for the cause with my essays, who are my children.
More than one person has suggested that I need to re-locate. Alas, I would do that if it were possible. Unfortunately, it would be difficult to find a job in my field anywhere else, and I’m not yet financially secure enough to just chuck it all.
This evening I went on a horseback ride with my youngest daughter. The light has changed already up here in the North and so everything is reflecting that golden warm glow of autumn though none of the leaves have changed yet. The smells of the horses sweat after a gallop through the meadow and the drying plants and flowers as well as some wild turkey’s with their babies running through the grass.
Living strength thru joy.
Good for you! Sounds idyllic.
You are not alone here, Jef. Experiencing moments of authentic joy in the post-modern world can be daunting. My medicine: fly fishing. This has taken me to exotic locations around the globe and into some of the most remote and breathtaking natural environments imaginable. Frankly, without that little diversion, I would be lost in the same debilitating melancholy thoughts you describe above. It probably saved me.
Seriously, try it. Nothing compares to time spent on remote waters, at least to me.
I think NYC is a perfect place for you, it’s the crotch of America!
What better place to fuel your writing and stimulate your understandings of life.
Take a holiday once in a while, buy a smaller bottle of vodka (if any at all), and enjoy the fact that you arr not stupid and wasting your life. You have the one thing most of these folks crave, and that’s
meaning!
For anyone that wants to live against the current of this age it is a mistake to invest yourself in some fantasy end goal, somewhere in the future. The true battle and the true end goal is to find your path and your principles and to keep to them in the present, without straying until your last breath. Keep going, Jef.
Very uplifting article; thanks.
Comments are closed.
If you have a Subscriber access,
simply login first to see your comment auto-approved.
Note on comments privacy & moderation
Your email is never published nor shared.
Comments are moderated. If you don't see your comment, please be patient. If approved, it will appear here soon. Do not post your comment a second time.