Forgotten Roots

by Karol Kolbusz

  Indo-European pagans of the present times should be encouraged to visit forests frequently, not just for the sake of seeking mere relaxation or pursuing physical activities such as cross-country running (although both are productive ways of spending one's time), but also to reconnect with the divinity present in nature. This can be achieved through solitary meditative practice or group rituals and offerings. In contemporary Baltic paganism, worshipping deities in old, sacred groves is not a re-enactment of the past, but a living tradition. Heathens from other parts of Europe should follow the example of their Baltic counterparts and make forests great again, to paraphrase a popular slogan.

  On Uniqueness

  Every one loves his country, his manners, his language, his wife, his children; not because they are the best in the World, but because they are absolutely his own, and he loves himself and his own labours in them.

  – Johann Gottfried Herder[35]

  One December night, a man called Arminius was travelling through Austria by train. Hallstatt, an ancient archaeological site, was his final destination. He had chosen an almost empty compartment, where his only companion was a young lady sleeping by the window. The train was rushing through a howling blizzard as she breathed softly in her undisturbed sleep. The alabaster paleness of her slender fingers bore a close resemblance to the snowy peaks that loomed in the distance. The girl's intricately braided blonde hair had a unique, platinum shade. Arminius glimpsed at her face two or three times, although he could not see it clearly enough in the darkness. As they were approaching a small train station somewhere in Upper Austria, the train slowed down and the light of street lamps started peering into the carriage through the window, illuminating her countenance with ephemeral light and shadow play. The train stopped and a complete silence fell over the compartment. She woke up suddenly and opened her azure blue eyes. The girl fixed her gaze on Arminius and smiled charmingly. The man was flooded with a sudden wave of genuine warmth which beamed from her radiant countenance. In that very moment, he was ready to protect her from anything that could have blemished her angelic uniqueness.

  ***

  Today, it is often said that all human beings are equal. The media constantly remind us about the policy of equal opportunity in employment and education. Some people, driven by an excess of wishful thinking, go as far as to reject any qualitative and differentiative judgments. According to them, there is no such thing as good or bad art. They also claim that men and women are basically the same, and that their gender roles are a social construct, which should ideally be abolished in favour of total freedom in this area of life.

  In our modern society, underdogs are encouraged to take pride in their mediocrity, ugliness or minority status, whereas strong, beautiful, and healthy individuals are never allowed to say that some people are better than others, or that some moral stances are objectively superior to others. They are not allowed to celebrate and preserve their identity and heritage, their most cherished traditions and customs. Today, displaying a protective and knightly attitude towards women is frequently perceived as something highly inappropriate, sometimes even oppressive. In this way, modern men are literally prohibited from proving their worth and honour. How can they fulfil their innate, biological roles if their natural instincts are nipped in the bud? The same applies to modern women: a young girl who expresses her willingness to have many children and to become a housewife is often met with mockery, laughter, and a lack of understanding.

  In general, human life is a constant tension between losing your extraordinariness and preserving it. An individual is exposed to a multitude of different personalities during their lifetime. This causes an internal conflict: should I conform and be like them or should I maintain my uniqueness? The more conformist and agreeable behaviours you exhibit, the more successful you are in the eyes of modern society. Naturally, a certain dose of individualism is allowed and even tolerated. You can wear different brands of clothing, you can have your favourite musical bands, you can be an animal rights activist, you can even vote for different political parties. You can do whatever you want and be whoever you want, as long as you pay taxes and keep your mind busy by agreeing upon solutions that they offer you. But real individualists, i.e. those who attempt to undermine the foundations upon which modern society is built, are subjected to persecution (or in the best case – they are ignored). They do this because they realize that the decline of traditional life philosophy, which is deeply rooted in transcendence, is the main source of all problems – and that we need to look for more radical solutions which would allow us to live more authentic lives.

  Contrary to some optimistic prognoses, the society of tomorrow will not be a harmonious and peaceful amalgamate, in which the diversity of particular groups or individuals would be respected and honoured. A grey mass of mindless robots in human skin is what probably awaits us.

  A traditionalist notion of uniqueness has nothing to do with conceited bragging or hatred of other groups. Rather, it’s a gesture of respect for yourself and for your ancestors who struggled and fought to maintain their true identity and distinctiveness from others. Only a traditionalist society based upon the hierarchical system of varnas creates conditions in which all individuals can thrive without having to sacrifice their own personality for the sake of social conformity. For example, in the bygone world of Tradition, gifted introverts performed important functions of bards, priests, seers, and healers. Today, in an overly-extroverted, materialistic civilization which values only incessant external activity, such people are treated as social outcasts. Their extraordinary skills are tamed by the public education system which aims to bring everyone down to one low level. Homeschooling your children is the only sensible way to preserve their creativity and nurture their unique hobbies and talents.

  From the windy Aran Islands of Ireland, to the mighty Ural Mountains in Russia; from the majestic fjords of Norway to the sunny islands of Greece – you shall find beauty and uniqueness therein. Every European country has its own traditions, customs, and beliefs. In every European region, you shall find distinctive human phenotypes and languages. When I look at the tall, blue-eyed, blonde Swedes (although one valiant, Anglo-Saxon gentleman has also infiltrated their ranks...) who gather around the ancient burial mounds in Gamla Uppsala, in order to celebrate Winter Solstice, I have nothing but admiration and respect for the richness of their culture. When I watch how a stocky Bavarian shepherd, dressed in a traditional garment inherited from his grandfather, follows the doleful cries of lost sheep, I have nothing but admiration and respect for his traditional way of living. When I stand on the white cliffs of Dover, looking wistfully at the stormy sea, I am reminded of the legendary sunken land of Ys. I wonder, what will happen to us? Will we throw ourselves into the sea, to drown in dull greyness? Or will we stand tall on the top of the white cliffs?

  As long as I live, I will not allow the former to happen. Neither should you.

  On brevity

  True brevity of expression consists in a man only saying what is worth saying, while avoiding all diffuse explanations of things which every one can think out for himself.

  – Arthur Schopenhauer

  Have you noticed that those who have nothing important to say are the ones speaking the most? They escape from their own emptiness by drowning it in a constant babble. You can see such talking heads rambling on television or on the Internet. They are often journalists or politicians, who cover up their lack of intellectual depth and substance with the lengthiness of their speech. A man of few words is a noble soul and he speaks only when has something important and wise to communicate. For what is the point of chattering about trivial and meaningless matters?

  As you may have noticed, my book is written concisely. I try to articulate my thoughts clearly and in a way that would not bore my readers. The sole function of the poetic threads, sporadically woven into the narrative, is to convey a specific atmosphere and message. My essays are not supposed to provide you with entertainment
or a mere opportunity to pass the time. I respect your precious time, therefore I do not want to waste it on meaningless, inconclusive speculations. Instead, I offer you sensible solutions, tips and practical advice.

  There are several other reasons why I advocate for brevity in writing and speech. In our turbulent times, in which we are bombarded with an overload of information, in which everyone is afraid to be forgotten, true wisdom is buried beneath heaps of trash. Thus, the only way to break through information pollution is to communicate your ideas in a brief yet informative manner. However, I need to stress that conciseness of expression should be combined with a profound insight into subjects or ideas. Otherwise, we run the risk of falling into the trap of mediocrity and triviality.

  On alienation

  There are reasons to believe that the identification with frenzied and elementary rhythms produces forms of ‘downward self-transcendence’, forms of sub-personal regression to what is merely vital and primitive, partial possessions that, following moments of violent intensity and quasi-ecstatic outbursts, leave one feeling even more empty and estranged from reality than before.

  – Julius Evola[36]

  One March evening I went on a lone walk to the nearby woods. The full moon hung high in the cloudless night sky, illuminating the Earth with her silvery presence. I sat on a mossy rock and meditated in silence for a while. The stillness of my surroundings was broken by an owl's call. Later on, I noticed that the moonlight created a peculiar path of pale lightness amidst the birch trees. It was a very primeval experience. It made me wonder: how many people are still capable of noticing such small details?

  ***

  We are so detached from our natural environment that we cannot feel any spiritual connection to the trees, stars, quiet rivulets and misty clouds. Our eyes can see them, but our soul is blind to their beauty. Everything is becoming more and more horizontal, and less vertical. People no longer look at the sky; everybody’s gaze is fixed on their own electronic device. It is important to remember that what we describe is not just a disconnection from nature, but also from transcendence, from anything that is imperceptible to the senses. In the beginning of the Silver Age, the prehistoric man had been thrown into the world of becoming and experienced a progressive alteration of his own consciousness. No longer in a direct communion with the divine, as he gazed at the starry night sky, he was struck by a feeling of his total insignificance and loneliness in relation to the vastness of the universe. Death, illness, toil, and despair began to torment him. The connection with transcendence was temporarily restored thanks to the wisdom of the venerable sages, who taught mankind powerful techniques of spiritual practice. Already back then the connection was loose, however, as the spiritual practice required much concentrated effort to silence the constant restlessness of one's mind. As time went by, man has only fallen lower and lower from his pure and undifferentiated primordial state of being.

  Since then, instead of finding refuge in spiritual practice, we have designed sophisticated ways to distance ourselves from the world around us. A typical citizen of our brave new world no longer perceives reality directly through his eyes and ears. He lives in a cyberspace of indirect experience. To explain what I mean, I would like to briefly elaborate upon my perception of live performances. One who attends rock or metal concerts can see a crowd of detached individuals, who intoxicate themselves with alcohol in order not to feel lonely, and to be able to digest the art presented onstage. The Dionysian-like experience of rock music differs enormously from people's mundane, daily existence, as its ecstatic rhythm and loudness shatter the boundaries of rational individuality. In black metal, the most extreme form of rock music, we find a powerful fusion of atavistic screams and chaotic noises that threaten to swallow the Apollonian sun of rational order. In other words, black metal (oftentimes regarded as a form of anti-art) opens the portal to the naked truth about our inner despair that we try so hard to conceal with comforting images of entertainment. Most people who go to such concerts prefer not to think too much, therefore they numb their senses with alcohol, drugs and… photography!

  Yes, photography. Instead of experiencing music directly (all they need is a pair of ears and eyes...), they take photos of the band or film the entire performance with their phones or digital cameras. They do not concentrate on the present, real and tangible moment, but create an artificial, indirect memory of it.

  The same can be said about tourists who admire the beauty of cultural or natural heritage not with their own eyes, but through the veils of digital cameras. Furthermore, a lot of people take photos with the primary intention of posting them on social media, in order to receive instant gratification. The direct experience of the present is lost in the intemporal sea of lenses and screens. Can we really blame others for taking a keen interest in photography? Photography as a derivative form of painting shields us from previously described feelings of metaphysical nausea, which can surface when we perceive reality directly. However, I believe that a tactic of constant avoidance is counter-productive in the long run. We may feel safer under the shelter of mechanical images, but we never confront the problem head-on. Waking up from this peaceful slumber and recognizing our part in nature through conscious spiritual practice is an absolute necessity for personal development, lest we turn into mindless, robot-like creatures. Moreover, those who rule the world would love us to go with the flow of such technological pipe-dreams, so that we stop questioning anything.

  As we see, our disconnection from nature is rapidly accelerated by progress. The boundaries between relatively unspoiled countryside and crowded cities are becoming increasingly blurred owing to the process of urbanization. New technological advancements and facilities are indiscriminately accepted by the masses, which only care about immediate convenience, regardless of the long-term consequences. Our children are no longer taught how to identify plant and animal species. Instead, since their early years they are encouraged to watch cartoons and to play games on different electronic devices.

  It's high time for us to find the optimal balance between us and nature. The first step towards this goal is to limit our excessive attachment to modern technology. Introducing a few Internet-free days into your monthly schedule will help you realize that you won't miss out on anything while you are away. On the contrary, you will most likely notice that going offline is the key to enhancing your productivity and improving your concentration. The next vitally important step is to change the way you use modern technology in relation to your surroundings. In order to get closer to a direct perception of reality, you can leave your digital camera at home when you go on a trip. We put ourselves under strong, psychological pressure to take photos. Many people are under the spell of a common misconception that a holiday excursion not documented through the lens of a camera is a holiday without memories. This is a myth, and according to scientific studies, taking photos may even impede our memory[37]. Despite not having cameras, people of the past had far better memory than we do. Why do we still feel overly anxious and guilty when we leave the camera at home? Why are we still tempted to live our entire lives through a plastic screen? Cast away the shackles of technology, cut off your dependence on artificial stimulation.

  We may recognize the enormous significance of choosing to live closer to nature, but we must also keep in mind that unless this essential step is taken simultaneously with a genuine desire to tighten our bond with the divine, our efforts will yield unsatisfactory results. Through conscious and systematic involvement in spiritual practice, as well as by the attentive study of the ancient scriptures, we gradually lift the veils of illusion and suffering. Ultimately, we find ourselves sheltered from the chaotic, unpredictable world of becoming. Those who master the art of being present in the material world, whilst having their mind fixed in transcendence at the same time, acquire great inner tranquillity and stabilization.

  On secrecy

  Telling someone something he does not understand is pointless, even if you add that h
e will not be able to understand it. If you have a room which you do not want certain people to get into, put a lock on it for which they do not have the key. But there is no point in talking to them about it, unless of course you want them to admire the room from outside! The honourable thing to do is to put a lock on the door which will be noticed only by those who can open it, not by the rest.

  – Ludwig Wittgenstein[38]

  A warm June day was coming to an end. A young lady called Freya was slowly riding on a white horse, admiring the beauty of her sylvan surroundings. The forest was gradually darkening in the waning light. Only a few sun-flecks caressed the path with their golden fingers. The primeval stillness whispered to Freya's imagination, reminding her of ancient druidic groves that once dotted the Welsh landscape. Unbeknownst to her, she was being observed by a giant stag who stood, motionless, on a nearby hillock. The animal's broad antlers looked majestic in the crimson glow that peered through the foliage. There was an inexplicable air of mystery in Freya's deep blue eyes – perhaps she was daydreaming about meeting her noble knight next week? Her meditative mood was abruptly interrupted by noisy movement in the foliage. Freya halted the horse and made her stand completely still. She looked around. Out of the corner of her eye, she espied the stag languidly returning to a thicket. Freya instinctively wanted to take a photo of the animal, but on second thought she decided to look at it with her own eyes instead. The softly diffused light flickered faintly on the reddish-brown fur as it faded away into the distance. Freya thought that such a rare encounter with the stag was too magical to be shared with a wide circle of friends. She decided that it would be more appropriate to keep it a secret, not to be revealed to anyone except her beloved one, the noble knight Urien.