If we are ever to reach any higher than the merely physical, we first must needs master the physical. The loftiest plans in the world are all too easily dashed out into the dust – much like the brains of the mere intellectuals – when confronted with the merely-physical but unabashedly-physical niggers of the world. Since our Readers are not really inclined to abdicate everything of value to the world’s violent orcs, let’s go into some discussion of physical training.
When Pheidippídês rose to immortal fame through his sacrifice beyond the already-heroic sacrifices of Marathôn, it was not a spontaneous act with no precedent. The man was no amateur, he was not unaccustomed to the hardships of endurance whether physical or mental. Neither were the assembled Hellenes stupid or whimsical when assigning to Pheidippídês their urgent mission: a first message 150 miles in two days to Sparta (and back), and then 25 more miles to the battlefield – and back.
In crucial moment after crucial moment, each point of decision a pivotal hinge between possible worlds of the future, there was no more time to prepare and no more bravado of the theoreticians’ weightless words. What the Greeks had right then was what they might work with, and it was the time for long years of training (or the lack of it) to either pay off or be found wanting.
Intro to Practical Aryan Spirituality Part III of IV – राज्
I. Even after five years, the intensity of my near-death-experience remains more vivid than many parts of my more reliably tangible and appreciably physical life. This is no doubt due in part to that journey’s consequent (and, all-important in talking about these matters: experientially-born) weighing of two distinct ‘tiers of reality’ and their respective stature in a grander Whole. How shockingly could it prove to be, that such formerly ‘concrete’ benchmarks of ‘reality’ as were nigh-omnipresent in the physical dimensions – could be eclipsed so utterly by perceptions of a greater reality whose dimensions my wildest imaginings could scarcely have dreamed of.
My first awareness of ‘the light’ at ‘the end’ was as a golden-glowing shape in the corner of vision, at first small and unremarkable but growing in breadth and nearness in proportion to the attention directed at it. Perhaps there might have been some point prior to which if I had pulled that attention short it would have kept its distance, but before very much linear-time at all it had grown to such an extent that it became a tunnel-like vortex of golden-white light which had a pull irresistable to the surprised spiritual consciousness that easily left my physical body behind.
The inverse and “upside down” nature of the Kali Yuga is most likely no secret to even the most recent of our followers, however the exact extent of this inversion is often only glanced over – for it is much easier to critique that which is apparent, as compared to that which pervades the eye and often conflicts with the observer’s perspective of the world and oneself. This is the case with many of supposed “spiritual aristocrats” emerging after the rapid spread of reactionary ideas in the online sphere, and is largely the fault of a dangerous mindset proposed by certain individuals, which shall not be named here – namely, the appeal to “inherently” aristocratic nature of modern adherents of the Traditional value system and the subsequent conflation of this superiority with one possessed by the true aristocracy of the past ages. The resulting confusion – narcissistic belief in one’s inherent greatness stemming from one’s ability to read hand-picked “traditional book lists” and understand practically mouth-fed information without any internal input as well as a particularly disdainful view towards those of a lower caste than they pretend to, is not hard to predict.
It took some by surprise, when I was in the Boy Scouts (before anyone ever dreamed they would allow homosexuals, if that says anything about my age), that one of the preliminary requirements for further advancement towards Eagle Scout was the demonstration of competence at – cooking! And, while some would decry this as ‘what is proper to women’, at the heart of it can be seen cultivation of the essential manly quality of self-sufficiency. Were we required to learn croque-en-bouche, or even cordon bleu? Of course not. What we were required to do was provide for ourselves and avoid being so helplessly dependent as to never attract a wife to take over domestic matters!
This principle continues to hold firm in matters of wider importance. As the head of the household to the family, so too the head of the state to the nation. Would you accept the moral authority of a ‘priest’ who had not the heart and scars of a fighter? Would you esteem a ‘fighter’ who would be starved into submission without firing a shot, for lack of ability to feed himself?
To speak of these times and the currents overwhelming them as vulgar, corrosive, anârya – is to perhaps waste words saying what all of us (who matter) already know. We know that we are up against the most formidable concentration of anti-initiatory entropy in the (surviving) history of this planet. We know that not only the institutions of government in what were once our countries, but the very people who used to be the bulk of our racial kin, are not merely useless in the Struggle but useful and sometimes even conscious tools of the Enemy. We know exactly what we are up against, we few who know all this – and insist upon Victory anyway.
But, my very special Readers, we are few at this stage in the Struggle. To be in possession of both the accurate Knowledge and the unyielding Will is to be one of a very few. It goes without saying that we are far outnumbered by the overtly hostile or even just passively sleeping masses – but even on the (self-declared) Right there are those of partial knowledge but without the Will to even confront what they do think that they know. From the ranks of these uninitiated ‘sages’, we tend to hear unceasingly these days of all their varied (((messiahs))).
Intro to Practical Aryan Spirituality Part II of IV –क्षत्रिय
I. When I was a young man brand new to serious martial training in general and kajukembo in particular, one of the things that taught me the most was the contrast against other schools and methods. The hard-and-fast of this approach resulted in a pretty solid way of isolating what actually worked, in a way that ignorant isolation might never highlight – until too late.
There were numerous karate schools, ranging from strip mall daycare laughingstocks to seriously skilled fighters. There were MMA types, ranging from overweight and overconfident fad-chasers to very practical and savvy combatants. There was one kung fu school whose students seldom failed to challenge, impress, and often humble with their technique and dedication. And there were even lessons to be learnt from the taekwondo practitioners, those entitled-seeming kata-ballerinas whose tendency for kicking very high was only matched by their tendency for being knocked out very quickly.
Intro to Practical Aryan Spirituality Part I of IV–वैश्य
I. Walking up the tidy path leading to the spacious and elegant house, I paused before the front door in the shade of an oak tree. The sun shone down and even though the grounds were expansive and open, I happened at that moment to be alone. Even as a visiting guest, I could in that serene moment feel appreciation verging on pride, as if I myself were lord of this lovely inheritance. A robin somewhere above retrieved me from reverie, and I walked up the broad stone steps to face the dark and heavy wooden doors that reached above my head.
How heavy a matter money is, when you really think about it. You can have all the ideals, fervour, and conviction in the world – even to the point of fighting a dogged guerrilla war that can seem all but doomed! But then, sober reflection sets in – and how weighed down with vulgar realism all lofty designs can seem, pinned asphyxiatingly by that most implacable Semitic god-imp: Money.
‘We have Loyalty,’ you may say – ‘but they have Money.’
Night has fallen where I type this missive, and the day has seen its long train of strange pageantry pass bizarrely before my open eyes. No, I don’t mean restaurants full to the bursting with “veteran”-of-no-war snowflakes squeaking “me too!” and hoping to be thanked for their “service” while porking it up on free food. I mean the even more strange, even more tragic spectacle that speaks of this modernist holiday’s origin, and why this date of 11/11 was chosen.