Monday, September 26, 2016

A man and the mountain

I can’t remember the story exactly as it was told to me... 
but I’ll tell it like this...

A man heard the voice of God - and God said “go move that mountain...” the man looked to the distance and saw the mountain rising over the horizon... and he shook the voice from his head.  The next day as the man was working in his field, again he heard the voice of God - and God said “go move that mountain...” and the man questioning his own sanity now... shook the voice from his head.

The next day as the man was working in his field, three strangers appeared in the middle of his crop.  The man walked to the strangers and they stood in silence for a while and as the farmer was about to ask what the strangers wanted the one in front of the other two raised his arm and pointed to the mountain and said “go move that mountain.”

The farmer put down his tools and walked to the mountain, he looked it up and down and dug his feet into the ground, and he leaned into the mountain, and with every fiber of his being and all the faith in his heart - he pushed.

Every morning before the sun rose the man would make his way to the mountain and look it up and down, dig his feet into the ground... lean into it... and push.  With every fiber in his being and all the faith in his heart.  With all the strength he could force out of his body and all the passion of his soul... with all the will and determination of his mind... he pushed the mountain before him.  With grunts and groans and the howls of a madman, in between whispered prayers... he pushed... everyday before the sun came up until far after the sun went down and the stars came out... he pushed.

The farmer would make his way back home at night with a calm mind and a sore body. He ate a simple meal and rested - for the next day was another day of attempting to move the mountain -
“if only just to silence the voice in my head and keep the vision of strangers out of my field” he would tell himself before drifting off to sleep... but in a secret place in his heart, he wanted to move that mountain.

Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months and the farmer had abandoned his field and his animals ran wild looking for food.  The farmers wife grew a small garden for the little food they had and was forced to sell what animals she could round up for money, she had to endure insults and jokes from the people in the village and her husband was now a punch-line, and as the story of the foolish farmer trying to move a mountain spread  to other villages, people would come around  to witness his fruitless efforts and throw rocks and insults at him... but the farmer pushed with grunts and groans and howls of a madman... in between whispered prayers... he pushed... and the months turned into a year... and the farmer pushed.

His back had become wider... his shoulders rounder... his hands were so rough now that he could no longer feel the gentle hands of  his wife... they only could recognize the stone edges of the mountain.  He stopped caring about himself and his hair grew out and his beard was unkept, he had forsaken the comfort of his bed, of his home, of the fire in his hearth. He was a man with a purpose, as foolish as it may seem, and though he had lost the respect of the people of the village, his life had a meaning  and he could not turn his back on it now - for it was all the honor he had left in the world.

One morning as the farmer was walking to the mountain he came upon the three strangers and they stood in silence for a while and before the farmer could ask what they wanted the one in front raised his arm and pointed to the mans field.  The man lowered his eyes in shame... and bowed his head in defeat... he turned around and returned to his field.  When the sun came out his wife looked out the window of their home and cried.  By the end of the day the farmer had replanted his crops and gathered up his lost herd... the weeds were dug up, his tools were cleaned and sharpened and he started the repairs to his crumbling roof. The villagers showed no mercy for the poor fool who tried to move the mountain for a year and their jokes and insults only became worse, and when the sun went down, the farmer, defeated by the world and his mind, betrayed by his faith and his heart, slept on the floor of his front room... alone.

The farmer was working in his field one day when he looked up and saw a crowd of strange people coming up the road and the people of the village carrying what they could on their backs - an army was coming, devouring what they could and leaving only the ashes of the towns they destroyed behind... the farmers wife looked at the rounded shoulders and the bruised hands of her husband and  then calmly packed a basket with all the food she could carry and blankets for the two. The farmer slung his quiver over his shoulder with his bow and they followed the villagers up the road... behind him he could see smoke rising from a village beyond his own... the invaders would soon reach his home.

The road they followed led them to the mountain, to a path up the noble ancient structure that led to a pass carved out by time through it - to a valley that would take them to the sea, but when they cam to the pass the crowd stopped in their tracks, for a boulder had fallen from the side of the mountain and blocked the way though to safety.  The women cried and the men cursed, some of the young men tried to climb up the side of the mountain but could not... they were trapped between a rock and an invading army. 

The farmer and his wife, who were walking at a gentle pace, made their way to the front of the crowd to the boulder.  One of the village elders said to the man “we have no time for your foolishness” to which the farmer responded to by shoving the elder into the crowd knocking the weeping, frightened villagers down.  The farmer looked at his wife and gently stroked her cheek with the back of his rough, callused hand and turned to face the giant rock... he looked it up and down and dug his feet into the ground... he leaned into it and with a heavy grunting sigh, he pushed at it... and it moved...  He took a step forward and the boulder took a step back... another step forward and the rock retreated and surrendered... and the crowed watched in silence and followed slowly behind the farmer one step at a time as he pushed the boulder back and out of the way to let the people through the pass, and when the last one was through the farmer pushed the boulder back into place to give the people time to get to safety. After  securing the piece of stone in tightly he turned to find the crowd had cleared a path for him and his wife, some women had brought them little bits of their food - bread and fruit for the couple... an old man had brought them a young lamb that he was carrying on his shoulders as a gift... the village elders could only offer their silence and the farmer and his wife, walking at a gentle pace, made their way through the parted crowd and led them into the valley.

Lonely are the brave
(I do not know the artist)

Friday, September 23, 2016

Three Faces...

(that can knock me on my ass...)
Stephanie Seymour

Caterina Murino

 Magali Amadei

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Building our own Nation

 This was first posted as a comment under this post 
  Separation In Place  on April 20, 2015

“They are preserving their traditions, their faith, their customs and fashions in a society that is losing all of that. This then, working within the system but separate and against it, and for ourselves, is what we should be doing.”

But what are the traditions of this new society that we are fighting to preserve?

What are the rituals and the costumes and the believes we are bringing with us to pass down to our sons and our daughters?

How are we to dress our selves to distinguish our society from the heathen horde around us… that we can proudly stand apart from the rest… that we can distinguish our women and children from the unfaithful… what is the religion that units us and binds us… what is the one unquestionable belief of our culture that gives us common cause that strengthens us and is the fire of our unshakable will… 

What are we taking with us? we already know what we are leaving behind.

shall we have rituals of manhood that our sons must partake in – tests and challenges for them to overcome before they are given a name by the tribe – for it sounds like what you wish to build – a tribe… and I am all for it… a tribe… a clan of common cause… but the tribe can not pass down the traditions (whatever they may be) and its values to our sons if there are no mothers to give us sons… we will have to import our wives from other tribes… gather them up from women of tradition and values… western women are few… who are willing to leave the herd.

Will there be young warriors dancing around a fire as young girls chant and beat on drums songs to our ancestors to guide us in the direction of righteousness… will we gather in the park to hear the elders tell stories of the long crossing to find the promised land… will we erect statutes and holidays for those that fought for our freedom…

A long time ago in America a tribe was a Chiefs family – his wives and children and grandchildren with perhaps his brothers and sisters and their children and that tribe would be surrounded by other tribes lead by the chiefs cousins or uncles an other brothers or members of his family – you could travel from village to village without fear because you were surrounded by your family – your extended clan – united by blood and a common beliefs. and you were distinguished from other families or tribes of another clan by your dress and the way you wore your hair and even dialects… depending on how far away you strayed from your own clan into the territories of another far removed from your own that you would find yourself in more danger… but the clans and the tribes survived until they were invaded by those who wished to take away what was theirs and replace it with something new and modern and corrupt to the natural ways of the tribe…

I do not wish to impose my beliefs on anyone and I do not want anyone to force their beliefs on me – I do not wish to conquer a people and displace them or hide them behind a wall… but I have no problem purchasing land and paying tribute to one who will allow me to live the way I chose on my land and have my beliefs and simple way of life protected by my host country… if I am not harming anyone or trying to impose my ideas on those around me…I should just be left in peace. 
 Sundays in Deringerville - wish you were here!

I have read this post on “Separation in Place” a couple of times and it is something I have thought about many times before. I have even considered going to Russia – a big enough country where one could purchase land and build a village of like minded Christians… I have even considered Iran – a very conservative country where Christians and Jews are left alone and everyone lives in peace together – they are all for the most part conservatives – the capital is a beautiful city that glows under snow capped mountains, no crime, no feminism, no bullshit… they are a people of strong traditional values that simply want to be left alone – they are a peaceful people and I do believe if I wanted to go to Iran and buy some land and be left alone that I could…


Christmas in Tehran

but if you are building a tribe, Simon, we need a home of our own and a belief that binds us… and traditions to preserve… we need to believe that we were chosen to save the world from the chaos – with the passion of Zionists… we need to raise our children to believe that the tribe comes first – that they are the chosen ones, that they were born for something great. they have to have something to stand for, something to live for, something to fight for – this is as you said – the dangerous talk of madmen

I have too many ideas and thoughts running through my mind at the moment and perhaps I have not been able to articulate them as well as you might… but I wanted to get them down – as chaotic as they may be – many years ago I came across the works of W. G. Hill and Harry Schultz – and though I have no problem with living the libertarian gypsy lifestyle they write about – I do need and want a place to call my own in a country that wants me there. I think you are on to something here and I will promote your site – because I believe what you write should be spread to other men (and women) – but there are questions to be answered here… I am not looking for a manifesto – but something akin to a constitution – a resolution… a scripture equal and compatible to my Christian Values and traditional (Latin) beliefs.

I will admit – I am not much for groups… I don’t join protests or any organizations and I hold no licenses… I have never voted and have never registered to vote, in fact, I am not registered for anything – never had a permit for anything in my life and have never had a drivers license…. never… I do not have a cell phone – I do not twitterr and am not on facebook… never… I am not much for draconian institutions… I have always been this way. I come from a long line of military men but I chose not to join… and I am happy with that decision – I have much respect for those who have and sympathize for the ones that have come to the same conclusion as your self…

Thank you.

On this last trip back home I found a perfect place for our community.  I can't give out details right now but I can say that there is already a village there - a small community of traditional families, I am looking at purchasing land in this region and will be inviting others to join me - it wont be easy... we will be building everything ourselves from the ground up... It is in frontier country... it gets very cold there... but it is beautiful, remote, and far from the modern world... if we build it... will they come?

Sunday, September 18, 2016