Nostalgia

   This is intuitive work; modern peoples' difficulty in learning how to do this is a direct consequence of the loss of Pagan Mysteries; a direct consequence of the demonizing of the divine feminine, Dame Wisdom herself, a programmed mistrust of the feeling, intuitive aspect of our natures. Dominant religions are oriented around a basic mistrust of the human heart and feelings - the heart is corrupt with sin, even according to the Bible. At this point, we must make a stand, and part ways with the human-hating religions that turn people against themselves, all to better force them into reliance on dogma, and into reliance on religious leaders and institutions.   A person, at some point, has to stop fighting to make every aspect of their experience "conform" with some notion of how things "have to be," and let the great web of Fate be what it is, because nothing can change how Fate is, or how things "are" on the deepest levels. Luckily, it's no...

Here's an ode for you and I A chant and a love that never sway In the winter snow in the summer sun By the rising moon By the setting dawn By our will and misanthropy By the road left behind and what will be Through blood and tears And nights without measure Here's an ode for you and I A chant and a love that never sway In the winter snow in the summer sun By the rising moon By the setting dawn

1 You said 'The world is going back to Paganism'. Oh bright Vision! I saw our dynasty in the bar of the House Spill from their tumblers a libation to the Erinyes,  And Leavis with Lord Russell wreathed in flowers, heralded with flutes, Leading white bulls to the cathedral of the solemn Muses To pay where due the glory of their latest theorem. Hestia's fire in every flat, rekindled, burned before The Lardergods. Unmarried daughters with obedient hands Tended it By the hearth the white-armd venerable mother Domum servabat, lanam faciebat. at the hour Of sacrifice their brothers came, silent, corrected, grave Before their elders; on their downy cheeks easily the blush Arose (it is the mark of freemen's children) as they trooped, Gleaming with oil, demurely home from the palaestra or the dance. Walk carefully, do not wake the envy of the happy gods, Shun Hubris. The middle of the road, the middle sort of men, Are best. Aidos surpasses gold. Reverence fo...