20/12

i had a dream that there were huge vehicles with around a hundred people onboard which were basically driving cities, and that it was a convoy of a multitude of such vehicles that were going in a single line, each following the one far in front of it in the fog.
it was in a somewhat arctic setting, the grounds flat as far as you could see, boundlessly open. i recall the vehicles driving on through permafrost and snow. said vehicles were thus adapted to the conditions, and were moving on caterpillar tracks. they looked like those huge excavators, with handrails and walkways and all that, only with no limb or instrument in front.
the people onboard did not really know exactly where they were, which world they were in, how many vehicles there were, who built them, and even what their history was. they graspingly believed that they were in some sort of world beyond, which was not exactly a land of the dead, but something akin to a land in between, and that they were on the mythical voyage to one such land of the dead and probably on their way to meet the gods there.
they did not know how their vehicle's engine worked. perhaps their ancestors knew at some point? it was a massive engine, which resembled a diesel motor, but didn't really need any fuel input to function. so the inhabitants prayed to the engine, and conducted ritualistic ceremonies to worship it, wearing robes and giving several offerings, seemingly integrating it into their mythos which was actually very close to nordic mythology.
i recall that they believed in Yggdrasil, and were a bit clueless about where on the tree of life they were currently situated or where their destination would be also. but it all felt nordic, their culture, the beliefs, or just the mood.
they did not know the lands they evolved upon, and i wonder if they had assurance that the direction taken was the right one. it was just about following the rear lights of the vehicle maybe a few kilometers ahead of them, day and night, in whatever weather, which was usually thick fog until it cleared up.
the sun on the almost entirely uniform arctic lands was not a rare occurrence. i recall the deep cold blue of the skies, and the blinding bright white of the snow. there still were trees visible out there on occasion.
sometimes they held sacred ceremonies on the roof top level of the vehicle also, more likely to be a spur of the moment thing for them. they would sing songs and play truly touching music with drums and guitar-likes and pan flutes and instruments of all kinds. it sounded like Wardruna's Solringen, and by now i associate that song with them.
it was not a hard life in the driving city, people tended to have rooms and were clean and fed somehow. it's not like there were buildings inside, it really was an industrial-style machine built with an utilitarian mindset. i don't think it was intended for housing at all, or any permanent settling. but people just made do. the station of vehicle driver was seen as a higher calling.
they did not keep records. it seems they were more interested in developing the mythology and maintaining it, but not even as a concerned precaution, but just due to an unpressured, genuine puzzled obsession with gaining a better understanding overall.
that was their way of thought, it seems. as flawed as it may have been, that was their way of reaching understandings. i reiterate that they did not keep records; that seems important, because it feels typical of them. they wouldn't be the type to sit down and compound data, run it through calculus, and teach the conclusions to their kids... they were instead the type to worship what they did not understand, or to try to figure things out through a more folkloric, liturgical, wondrous but natural and freely instinctive manner.

The inexorable march of the opponent is broken crashing against the hidden effortless bastions of the free obfuscated spirits of all deep ancestries.
A connection so deep chases away the perverting influences and warms up this timid soul of ours, the sandy dirt and rushing pebbles of the older lands, in their nature cruel and beautiful, but just natural.

I just want to say that an escape is possible, from this ugly modern world, and that there exists, out there, exiled out of our world, an entire conclave, The hidden commonwealth. It is the same world that you once thought you knew, as all children do have an inherent connection, or ability to connect, with these lands. They are the lands of the fae, the faerie, the strange and closed off realms just beyond our reach.

Somewhere out in these woods exists a portal, or two, or maybe more, perhaps behind that tree stump, those treelines, in a rock, in a cae somewhere, there the faeries can be found. The other realms. Things as such, previously unseen.
The Resistance.
A ordinary path will suddenly branch out into a new unfamiliar one. A wrong turn and you may pass below the gates. I still think they are out there, and there i'm just talking about them, which still to the best of my wishes remains a hypothetical. I heard a story of a man who intended to end his life on earth and went out into the deep woods to do it. Legend has it he met the fae instead.

I digress. The Other world is real, you can indeed go there. Sadly for my case, i doubt i'll ever wander very deeply inside. I'm already an adult, masculine, and i work with steel all the time. They hate steel and iron... i must stink like it, even through all the showers. Still i can wander into the outer realms. And everyone can. They are out there in the beshadowed villages, in the back of a barn, in the old cities, the homesteads, out in the wilds, where the forest paths thread. In the homes of heritage, the resistance lives.

The product is still impure.

Now i need to remember that as if some otherworldly force it actually was there today, the 12th, since i'm always whining and complaining, constructing myself the illusion that the universe detests me and holds me in contempt, and just oh-so-always is seeking to ruin me somehow. And i keep blaming it for all the troubles, and keep cursing at my angels and firing my guardians, pesting and pestering like a rat. Thus i must remember and keep that fairness close to me, to remember and gratefully, thankingly weaponize the realization, the understanding, that this day,
because yes it was, had been for my own personal being, blessed and well-meaningly directed by some of any of these angels which i propulsed all my longings and frustrations to. I just ought to be fair! But more than that, i ought to make sense. Does it make sense to only ascribe the cruelty of my pains and miseries to the intent of the universe? Won't i just frustrate it? I have so much more to gain by treading on the light side of the boundary... And i have.

Personal Defence! Against all that is trying and wanting to parasite you and vampire off your energies. A blockade. A denial. A self-containment. Against sneaky demonic intrusions. It's the self. The guarding and steely gripping of thought. In the form of just a denial. No. There is much work to be done. Yes, much work still needs to be done to safeguard the future of our Reich.

I want a Neue Thule Gesellschaft. Gesellschaft or Gemeinschaft I don't mind it. I want an organized association propagating awareness about the beauty and splendor of the European race and peoples. No other message needed. Just the stark and stern beauty of that inheritance. The Heritage. Aesthetic, non-dubbed, paced imagery of woods and forests and cold-sky blue eyes with Wardruna songs overlaid. Professional-level video production and rendering, smooth and expertly flowing visuals and transition effects, while retaining the basic pure aspect of the idea. Pale skin flashing, the deep pine forest paths, traditional arts and crafts like blacksmithing, horses, horse-riding, old houses, nature, animals, farmsteads, the Sun, Yggdrasil, boats, explorers and conquerors, men and women in traditional attire laughing, dancing, looking; strong bodies, the snow, fire, combats and blood, ancient imagery and symbols, like the Vikingr, and whitish blonde flowing hair. With some 18th through 20th century also, and real life examples, the message is clear: This race is beautiful. You should feel good for being white.

That is all. No other political message. Nothing else needed. No militantism, no advocating. No anti, only pro. That is all that needs to be said, and it must be beamed at the younger European population, so as to make our future, and carry and instill the message: Europeans are beautiful. Europeans are beautiful, and that is right so.

Let them learn the depth of their roots, hear the calling of their ancestors, and realize that that is a wonderful treasure.
Pan-Nationalist Alliance. Constructing and forging a New Mythos. A militant nationalist EU party intensely advocating for the unification of the European continent will eventually be formed. I trust that the horizons of our fates will inexorably clear up. Neue Ahnenerbegesellschaft. Ich bereue nichts. 80 years and they still fear him. Cowed. We should have less compassion, still a decent amount of it, but far less than we have now.

Until I stop caring. Until I want to kill myself again. I want to kill myself. Not really. I'm just tired of living and saying this makes me feel alive strangely. Not really. When you think of 'time' like ten PM, always think "social time". It is fake invented conventionally concluded time. Fake!

Godly transcendence calls to me again, saying Sillan! Saying cleanliness is holy, like a higher natural law. Absolute youth, the smell of mint chewing gum? With spa, fasting, LBRP, incense and so on, RHP, Arcana Mana... i may know how to reach transcendence.

I should do what i can to reach transcendence, but this lowly worlds keeps distracting me and i keep forgetting. I need other things i can use to infer godly hygiene to ascend. Oh, and drugs. the right type of drugs, of course. abstinence also... sensory deprivation. physical and mental cleansing. spiritual cleansing. Cleansing and cleaning of the abode and place of dwelling. Better living. Yes, the dedicating of sacred places for the adepts. Examples include dedicated bedrooms or shower houses that no one else is ever allowed access. Tea. And my other teachings. Including the hygiene stuff of course as well as some peculiar form of collective anticollectivity. partial isolation, like Finnish boundaries, with some paganlike holidays celebrated. Nature. Nature. Nature. We were looking at DMT! There's also Dark retreats. Working with Angels. Aquatic therapies. Subaqua. Shower ceremonies. These days November are once again the days of the White skies. In such times i invite you to shower outside with heat and look up as you do so. Cold wind will help you lots, these are is the proper season for this. Oh, and we recognize more than 4. These days it's very cillan out, so honor it and clean yourself. Whoa, i realized that that Angelic Process song sounds a lot like The Trip goes on (Birch book), at the end.

I want to ascend, but i need to get over so many things. I need some therapy in order to resolve my unfinished business, my unresolved issues, so i can finally ascend. And i could use some more living life to the fullest, so that i don't transcend with too many regrets. Other people like me have lived. I wonder how many still give a fuck about the little apeworms crawling around the mud that remained down there. They might descend in the name or form of angels, closer in essence to the light of god and thus shiny and deeply perturbingly illuminating and attractive. They come down sometimes, sometime, to try their best to pull us idiots out of the rut we've stuck ourselves in. They call them Fallen angels... hah! You may as well call them Descended angels. I guess some are bad and some stayed good. There is always a reason. Death makes transcendence easier, it seems, but I worry that there is something permanently and alteringly negative about it. And where are they all so? The great masters and gurus, reaching up to the greater states of being with their soul's edges or already being there. The ascension creates angelic beings in nature. It is called: Fading rain. Walled garden. Amber rising. So, wash away the rain.

I should stop jerking off forever. Someone once said, if your hand causes you to sin, cut it off.
I am looking for a culturally untainted approach to angels and magic. I want the purest, truest sense of the words. Their real names, which i probably can't even pronounce. But the closest thing feasible. It's why i really want better Enochian resources. It comes from my disgust of zionism, which seeped into hebrew, which seeped into all abrahamic religions. Abraham, after all, was probably just crazy as fuck. All this to say that it means something when i still say, that the christians were onto something. All the hidden dialect and the passages about transcendence. You don't go to the methodists to go handle real demonic possession. Only the catholics dare touch that shit. As the rumour goes.

The True way... remains meditation. Breathwork. Astral travel. Thought sanitization. Abstinence. Learning. Meditate to reach the ascended states. Somewhere deeper, higher. I can feel it. I need it. I crave it, like light underwater, the air. I know it is where all my paths are leading. And I thank ... whatever or whoever there is above me for that. The Universe? Pan? The feeling is real. Brought about by a deep cleanse. Never forget, me! Hygiene is sacred! And you can feel it! A thoroughly cleansed room, and coming out of a deep, soul-purging outdoors steaming winter spa, and having resolved all your inner issues and frustrations and darknesses and negativities, after fasting and working out, and doing LBRP... That feeling, you will know.

I praise God tonight, from a semi-LHP perspective strangely. Lord knows i'm not very religious. Although i am increasing. And i know i might lose many battles in the future and plunge back into darkness! But in the end, i am secured in knowing that indeed, all of my paths really do lead there. It is not changeable. Just because I myself, am very deep down a being of the light. And that light is where I want to go.

It will be truly epic, i think. Such monumentally significant changes not just in one's life, because it goes beyond the Life, it is such a legendary, mythic, mystical stepping stone in a soul's existence to ascend... just like death is, it is deeply stirring and very emotionally rousing, in a stoic kind of way.
All this little nonsense down here loses meaning now. And free of all your responsibilities, you advance on.
I have no idea what lies beyond the Veil, but it sure is something. And it probably isn't bad. You need to want it to happen, to want to achieve the ascension, because you convince yourself and your innermost dark sides (the dweller on the threshold) that you want to ascend really. There may have been cases of people touching that transcendence just ever so briefly, but the dweller on the threshold dwelled on the threshold, dubitative, worried, undecided, and as such it did not happen and just went all back for a collapse onto the soily sands. Eh! Ascend. Your doubts have no foundations. Unfounded and futile. Ascending is fun!

There's some motivation for my life. Since i don't know what to do of it! Well, i can start by procuring myself my own environment, my respectable lair, my job and good entourage, these things i want to unlock and succeed at in life, precisely so i can build myself an environment that facilitates the emerging onto the light. So i need a good country, a good house, a good job, good people around me, all that to allow for a good setting to feel and imbue myself with the inner peace and light and purity and global better-ness which tends to pull one upward.
That's how you do it. I cannot forget that feeling! Of being freshed. That's what the linguo calls it. Being cleaned deep inside, as in corpore sano a sane soul wants to be. I don't work out a lot because i'm worried it'll make me meatier and thicker when it comes to spiritual practices. But perhaps that's nonsense! Just an excuse! Perhaps it's much better for me! I cannot bow to the pressures of a satanic world! If i get buff, i might like it a lot, and perhaps it will be good to me.
Anyways, i have sensed my light. I know the later passages have not felt very close perhaps since i'm writing this while listening to The Angelic Process, Weighing Souls with sand. The album, with the remaster, hence all the higher talk. And i just took a shower. O greatness! Mayhaps i should ground myself? Don't forget to look up LIRP language versions.

Every single creature on this earth dies alone. But don't worry. We all die laughing. But i think i get it now. The thing about death. You forget everything. Usually. And then your progress gets wiped and you have to start all over again. For a transcendentalist, time is running out. Although there are multiple tries, really. It's just such a shame to be wiped out of memory after you've figured so much out about the Soul and ascendence and all that stuff. We have turned away. I'm a different kind of soul, from somewhere.
Although, of course, all that is from a terran practice's point of view. Truly, it seems that if you're in the right lane, the right spot, you will ascend beyond to better stuff. Farther horizonts. And that's the stuff I like. Ulver, the Institute, Gnosis.

I've been practicing something called Commend and condemn. Each day i conclude by commending something and condemning another. I judge it as some sort of greater person would. And I am not. Yet in a manner of changing, i wield both dark and light. Angels and demons. So mote it be, the middle hand path, right and left there clasped and formed into one. Inherent parts of me. Cherished.

Listen to this. This is DMT saying I love you!

I've been thinking about real love recently. Not that easy to describe. Recently... i feel like there is something higher, on some plane of existence, that has deep philia for me. I like the Greek in that particular regard where they though of naming love levels. In this case it's so deep. As if it's the Universe, Pan, whoever, discreetly telling me, I love you like a son, for in the end you are my son, and though you've lived it tough, beyond all, farther than all, I am your parent, and all that, which is such a disgracious word to describe how much i cherish and embrace you...
And love you.

I haven't really loved anyone. But this DMT-type-god... whoever it is, on the other end of that realm... And whatever it is, it feels angelic and powerfully pure. Transcendental, in a way.

I think of this image that flashes through my head, after binging Blue Exorcist, of a curled soul lashing out a storm of fury against the advancing figure, which continues stoically, almost fatalistically smiling, through the furling items and debris telekinetically flung, and goes to embrace him, in this sort of supreme acceptance, the silencing strength and courage of a father, that runs deep, which builds and crafts, someone, a life, a living, an inheritor.

“My daddy's god and my mom's a cat. Meow” Isaac Newton

But the real quote is, "I love you". DMT God said. I don't eat... I don't sleep... I do nothing but think of you... You keep me out of my head. You keep me out of my head. You keep me out of my head. 15 is truly a Cilan day. Did i talk about Tiera already?
I can't stop forgetting these things... Uh, i meant, i can't keep forgetting these things, i have to stop so... Forgetting that i like Winter. In autumn i always dread its return due to past traumas. I like it... it is clear, white, cold. Pure. Light and lovely. And i prefer the cold to the heat. And that November is colder than December. With less sun. Aaand I forget... what else do i forget? That I and i aren't the same? I forget to explain and talk to you about Luminism, which i always assume *you* know? I feel things you people wouldn't believe.

Then what i shall remember is my hopes and dreams. What i yearn for... some land, a dwelling, with a clean river nearby. Far and protected, but not too far. A place I can be. Where i can dream, be happy, and be clean. And more. Like a solid career. A nice life, with a couple people i enjoy. Talking to the angels. I want DMT. And the connection... that transcendental channel. Above all probably. What a relief if i'm truly channeled and protected. My favourite word is Absolution. To Absolve.
The place feels germanic. And i want to do fasting also. And i need servants around me... to take care of earthly business and be directed as i go beyond the veil more. We can forge a new communion...

I do nothing but think of you~ ...

Real ones don't cut their hair. They are the connecting element also. At least they help. I would like to express the flying yearning for night spaces, in their realms, the streets, towns like Endingen Amoltern, those Sackgassen and upwards streetlets, in their haunted peace and quiet unseen regency. I wanted to be a kind of inciteful adventure bearer, forging paths like Hellier's princes for a monumental mythos. Few people hear of caves, know them, dig them, prepare their quarters. I am the Statudere of the night guardians. And i dig, underground, lantern and telogreika. In the earthy smell, freerange soot of dust lovingly grounded onto rocks. It spares, keeps you of your hell. I repeat and call upon all to dig. Live underground, start with this. And at opportunity give yourself to the Orm. I have only so many fingers, i can only write so much. The true real coming of ages is when you start to BUILD. My cunt quivers. OriginalAlraune. And few people know still: HALLING is building creativity, FLOWING is channeling it into a directed stream. Building out of dreams. He doesn't remember that.

Anyways.

Words from the Resistance

ᛚᛁᚢᛖᛏ ᛖᚱ ᚲᚨᛗᛈ ᛞᚢᛞᛖᚾ ᛖᚱ ᚺᚢᛁᛚᛖ