As christendom and monotheism fades away, and transcendence with it, it is inevitable that the sacred will resurface in one form or another.
It should be remembered that the sacralization of nature constitutes the most primitive and rudimentary spiritual base, the one that comes, so to speak, on its own, and in any Hyperborean society.
Paganism, at it’s very root, is instinctive, organic and draws upon the wilderness because that mirrors the wildness found in the Hyperborean bio spirit and soul.
Heed its call, and embrace your true self.
At every man and woman’s core, they are pagan.
It should be remembered that the sacralization of nature constitutes the most primitive and rudimentary spiritual base, the one that comes, so to speak, on its own, and in any Hyperborean society.
Paganism, at it’s very root, is instinctive, organic and draws upon the wilderness because that mirrors the wildness found in the Hyperborean bio spirit and soul.
Heed its call, and embrace your true self.
At every man and woman’s core, they are pagan.
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Forwarded from Hyperborean Radio (Uncensored)
Allfather Dagda
Warriors! Smiths! Champions! Sailors! Adventurers! Many a God is known for these roles armed with great and terrible powers. But what of the most important role? The one that begins from inception as we lay swaddled in cloth in the arms of the most important man in our lives, our fathers.
The nurturing male, the defender, the one who stands between us and the terror of the unknown, who dabs the tears of the crying babe, who teaches us to dance on his feet, who accidentally drowns the cake or burns the tea. Who leads the men in song and the children in their adventures. The man who stays at home building cottages and tending horses. For this there is that most beloved of Gods, The Dagda. He is for whom we fight.
Our fathers who taught us to fish, to cook, to hunt, to run, to woo, to stand for ourselves and our family. He teaches boys to be men and women to recognize men when they see them. This is The Dagda. The Father we all wish to have and wish to become. The goofy dad jokes, the silly pranks played when our backs are turned, the first beer and the final farewell when we marry.
The Dagda is not a warrior, a wizard or a sailor. He is more than that. Like our fathers he is always the biggest man in the room so that he may stand between those in his care and anything that may deign to threaten them. He cares for the most dangerous of beasts that others would find unwieldy or deadly he knits sleeping caps and tea cozies for. More giving than could be seen as reasonable he'll give you the shirt off his back, the grain from his stores, you'll never leave his hall without a full belly and a pocket full of beer. The Man of the village that all look to for wisdom, for kindness, for compassion, for hope and a helping hand.
No matter the danger, no matter the distractions, The Dagda is always there. A loving father figure to all his people. Even the most frightened and lost of mankind might find warmth and comfort in his jolly embrace.
Are You Fatherly Enough for Hyperborean Radio (Uncensored)?
Warriors! Smiths! Champions! Sailors! Adventurers! Many a God is known for these roles armed with great and terrible powers. But what of the most important role? The one that begins from inception as we lay swaddled in cloth in the arms of the most important man in our lives, our fathers.
The nurturing male, the defender, the one who stands between us and the terror of the unknown, who dabs the tears of the crying babe, who teaches us to dance on his feet, who accidentally drowns the cake or burns the tea. Who leads the men in song and the children in their adventures. The man who stays at home building cottages and tending horses. For this there is that most beloved of Gods, The Dagda. He is for whom we fight.
Our fathers who taught us to fish, to cook, to hunt, to run, to woo, to stand for ourselves and our family. He teaches boys to be men and women to recognize men when they see them. This is The Dagda. The Father we all wish to have and wish to become. The goofy dad jokes, the silly pranks played when our backs are turned, the first beer and the final farewell when we marry.
The Dagda is not a warrior, a wizard or a sailor. He is more than that. Like our fathers he is always the biggest man in the room so that he may stand between those in his care and anything that may deign to threaten them. He cares for the most dangerous of beasts that others would find unwieldy or deadly he knits sleeping caps and tea cozies for. More giving than could be seen as reasonable he'll give you the shirt off his back, the grain from his stores, you'll never leave his hall without a full belly and a pocket full of beer. The Man of the village that all look to for wisdom, for kindness, for compassion, for hope and a helping hand.
No matter the danger, no matter the distractions, The Dagda is always there. A loving father figure to all his people. Even the most frightened and lost of mankind might find warmth and comfort in his jolly embrace.
Are You Fatherly Enough for Hyperborean Radio (Uncensored)?
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Forwarded from Hyperborean Radio (Uncensored)
Walpurgis by Norman Lindsay 1924
On May Eve also known as Walpurgisnacht or The Night of the Witches The Wild Hunt Rides! Their quarry is the goddess Walpurga though she is not their only concern, there are many faces on this Spring Hunt with many things to do. Frau Holda flies across the fields towards the Brocken where gods of yore will wed surrounded by a retinue of Witches and Ghosts. Frau Harke in dove shape flies farm to farm delivering the fertility of the spring.
Yet perhaps the most notable of these many gods and spirits to grace this wondrous season is the Wind Hounds who ride alongside the wild hunt.
As our people are want to do we worry for the poor things; whether they be ancestor in canine shape or simply fertility spirit, as they parade through the night. So we leave out little gifts of Ankenschnitt, or buttered bread drizzled with honey. Keeping their black furred bellies full so as to avoid the inevitable issues that come when a dog becomes a little too peckish in the night.
Happy Season of the Witch From
Hyperborean Radio (Uncensored)
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Complacency is death
Our nature demands conflict.
Evolution itself, both physical and spiritual, are contingent on this fact. Without it, there is no reason to adapt and grow stronger; nothing.
In fact, we will get weaker and wither away. Why? Because complacency kills.
Observe any predator and their prey, and observe their evolution over time; they evolve together, by adapting new ways to outwit and defeat the other after countless amounts of trial and error, costing life after life, to gain a slight advantage.
It is this eternal struggle that makes every species stronger over time.
Since human beings have conquered the planet, we have become our own predator and prey; our tribal nature is what separates us into different groups.
Our nature demands conflict.
Evolution itself, both physical and spiritual, are contingent on this fact. Without it, there is no reason to adapt and grow stronger; nothing.
In fact, we will get weaker and wither away. Why? Because complacency kills.
Observe any predator and their prey, and observe their evolution over time; they evolve together, by adapting new ways to outwit and defeat the other after countless amounts of trial and error, costing life after life, to gain a slight advantage.
It is this eternal struggle that makes every species stronger over time.
Since human beings have conquered the planet, we have become our own predator and prey; our tribal nature is what separates us into different groups.
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This tribalism can take any form: spiritual, racial, political, philosophical, or any possible distinction you can think of. To believe that we can somehow manage to create a global utopia by breaking this innate drive, uniting all these manifestations of division, is extremely naïve and foolish.
Nature doesn't give a fuck what we like. I'm sure none of us like the excruciating physical pain that comes with a serious injury, or the gut-wrenching feeling of losing a loved one, but those moments of suffering serve a purpose; and again, Nature doesn't give a fuck if we don't like them.
One facet of our purpose is to play this game and win, for as long as we can, until our time in this world expires.
None of us can quit the game unless we take our own lives. So if you choose life, then you must play the game of life.
Do not be ashamed of your nature, and what you are designed to do.
Complacency is our enemy, and should be rooted out.
Nature doesn't give a fuck what we like. I'm sure none of us like the excruciating physical pain that comes with a serious injury, or the gut-wrenching feeling of losing a loved one, but those moments of suffering serve a purpose; and again, Nature doesn't give a fuck if we don't like them.
One facet of our purpose is to play this game and win, for as long as we can, until our time in this world expires.
None of us can quit the game unless we take our own lives. So if you choose life, then you must play the game of life.
Do not be ashamed of your nature, and what you are designed to do.
Complacency is our enemy, and should be rooted out.
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The famous annually scheduled Wampelerreiten (Austria), where young men wearing masks and costumes of spirits to celebrate the spring and the exodus of winter.
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