Well, Christmastime is upon us. It has been a very swift year, very quick; energetic. A lot has changed in these brief few months; some good things, some bad things, but nonetheless all things important. I have planned in a couple of weeks to meet with several friends — a moment of reality amid our virtual-flavoured lives, a chance to feel a handshake, an embrace, an honest word. Friends who respect eachother and wish eachother the best, friends who genuinely have a concern and connection with one-another beyond merely having the same political views or opinion on obscure history. A moment of earnestness.
I tend to recoil badly from these moments, though. I have a habit of putting so much thought and energy into my relationships whereby once a meeting is over I slink down into a mode of hyperintroversion and selfcentricity. After my trip to London, the main “event” being a relaxed few hours with friends over beer, I withdrew into nearly a month of depression and melancholy, not having the energy even to speak with certain friends for weeks. Perhaps my awareness of this problem this time around will render me more prepared and able to navigate my parachuted jump from the mountaintop. The jolly season should assist, also. (Our tree this year is not very impressive, but it is important for reasons I shall not explore here.)
I was reminded of friendship today, though in a more disappointed and frustrated way. When one has established a certain respect for another, to the point where it is taken that disagreements, arguments, issues, are explored face-to-face, man-to-man, blood-to-blood, it is quite startling that such a space is suddenly ripped apart in a moment of irrationality and bitterness. Grudges and shoulders a’chipped must be laid bare and talked-about, worked-through, not hidden or ignored. The main lesson for today was that good intentions simply are not enough in some instances. One can approach another with a good heart and to genuinely have an interest in their wellbeing, but if the other does not reciprocate that, or even want to understand or accept it, then one has only done one’s best. I do not like the idea of “moving on” from such situations, of “turning pages,” because that does not solve the problem. When there is a miscommunication or whathaveyou, it must be corrected — indeed, it is a mark of maturity and respect (both for the other and oneself) to take one’s relationships seriously and to want to correct mistakes and so forth. I am not angry at the other person whom I am referencing here as much as I am disappointed by them; I expected better of them; I expected for there to be a level of honesty and straightforwardness, but instead I am met with sudden noncommunication and hidden, cowardly bickering. Utterly pitiful. I can only hope and pray that they change in due time. Not having the strength to be honest with one’s friends is a serious issue — and it is a matter of strength. Telling people the truth and wanting to succeed in spite of difficulties is a sign of strength, of resilience and of endurance. I sincerely hope that the person whom I am referencing cultivates that strength in due time, for not only is it imperative for forming strong friendships, but also is it a mark of confidence and steadiness within oneself.
Anyways, enough of that. Do not take me not naming the other person in this dispute as a sign of anything ignoble, but, rather, as a fact of keeping certain matters in-house. Also, the fact is that such disagreements are a perennial issue, and I do hope that other people do not experience what I have today. We are human beings, and at the present time such a term has lost a great deal of its meaning, and with that has been lost a great of the knowledge surrounding friendship and respect. Going on about people can indeed become catty and gossipy, but speaking of persons who have an effect upon our lives, how we experience our Earthly days, and wanting to understand both these persons and ourselves, is not something comparable to schoolyard rumours, but, rather, the unravelling of the scroll of the human experience, life as a being made in the image and the likeness of God.
This is why God came to us as Christ, because the mysteries and truths of this universe are no good to us as an abstract “force” or piece of hard “data,” but they, rather, must be understood through the prism of our mortality and through our forms as sentient, thinking, breathing, imperfect creatures. Even in polytheistic traditions, man is made from the stuff of gods and demigods — indeed, we English are descended, in part, from the divine twins Hengist and Horsa, sons of Wōdan, the lifegiver and slayer of the foul Ymir, that venomborn beast whose flesh was fashioned by Wōdan, Vili and Vé to form the Earth. The Divine is circular both in the sense that it encompass all and also in the sense that it returns to itself eternally. The mysteries of God are the mysteries of man at but a “higher vibration,” as the Hermeticists say, and that vibrating is what we call the inner life, the spiritual life. Those who choose not to take seriously their worldly lives and how they treat their fellows cannot then take seriously their superworldly lives and how they treat themselves. The Holy Land will be restored externally only once the Holy Land is restored internally, as we know.
An unpopular but regardless vital fact to remember, to bring this meditation to the sphere of politics, is the fact that so-called “white people” at the present time simply do not, generally-speaking, deserve to be alive, which is why they seem bent on destroying themselves. They want to die, for the evil and downwards energies of this world operate in a gravitational manner. If one does not wish to live, then one will not; if one does not wish to die, then one will not. What is true on the microcosm of individuals is true also on the macrocosm of their social organisations, and the nihilism our fleshly brethren are presently undergoing can only be bested when it is wanted to be bested, when an alternative is thrust into their peripheral domain. If the Church wishes to die, then it shall; if the family wishes to die, then it shall; if you wish to be manipulated by bourgeois Semitism then so shall you be! The world is as it is willed. If you do not want your life, if you do not deserve your life, then it shall be snatched from you. The solution to this muddle, as we know, begins individually and on the most basic and assumedly quaint of plains: in the sphere of our sociality, our selfconception and so forth. You cannot build a house with broken bricks and watery cement.
This is why, to repeat myself, the domain of our social interactions is so important and deserves such attention and care. How can we arrive at political change if politicians are whores and thieves? How can we arrive at religious change if the Church is full of dullards and massmen? How can we arrive at cultural change if artists and writers are dry, perverted con-artists? If there is one thing I would urge of people this evening, it is to be the change in the world that one wishes to see. If the world is presently abound with moronic simpletons pretending to be things which they are not, then clearly more of the same is quite unnecessary.