The magic of the Sovereignty of the Land has long been hidden from us by many means, screens and schemes, and one way of preventing us from dis-covering it has been to change the meaning of words. For instance, let us consider the word ‘history’. ‘History’ actually comes from the 12th century Norman ‘histoire’, which in that language meant ‘story’. Thus, when discussing ancient ‘histoires’ we are dealing with a story that may or may not be true. However, it doesn’t matter for our magical purposes because, as I always say, the only difference between mythology and history is that myths are true, by which I mean that “history” is usually written by the victors who are bound to put a spin on their recorded events, but “mythology” contains deep and eternal truths that always remain true.
And so by engaging with what we believe to be history is, in effect, entering cognitively into the fabric that made up the consensual reality of our ancestors, and no matter how much the transcribers and translaters have, over time, taken that fabric, and cut and tailored it into different suits, jackets and dresses, the mythological truth still remains evident, in the weave, to those who have the eyes to see it. Continue reading
In my last blog article, I described how the “Zionists” had stolen the clothes of the Jews. But I don’t want us to get stuck on that term when it comes to recognising this globalist enemy to the health, wealth and Sovereignty of nations. If we take a more zoomed-out view of history, we can see that they are masters of disguise and subterfuge in which they infiltrate the highest echelons of power in countries, in order to plunder the wealth of the indigenous peoples who they then turn into human shields and battering rams to fight in their war games, sometimes with each other. Their favourite weapons with which to weaken and enslave whole nations are drugs, pornography and debt – in other words, addiction.
These globalists have only been calling themselves Zionists since the late 19th century. They realised then that, although they owe no allegiance to any race or nation, it would be useful to have their own chunk of land from which to launch their expansionist operations into the Middle East, rather like having your own huge, stationary aircraft carrier on the shores of the Mediterranean.
Once we understand the codes in the great masterpieces preserved in the churches, abbeys and cathedrals, then it becomes clear that these symbols are a series of still-life tableaus forming a narrative about the alchemical process of the transformation of metals, with ourselves as the crude lead.
Each metal is assigned a god or goddess to encapsulate their qualities, and we can see these characteristics writ large in the classical Greek dramas featuring the gods and goddesses of Mount Olympus.
Where do we go when all the stories fail?
All the stories are failing. Fewer and fewer want to go and sit in big, draughty buildings with high ceilings – no matter how beautifully fan-vaulted – to hear them anymore. The picture below shows the purpose-made wooden pews of the 12th century church of St John the Baptist in Glastonbury, Somerset. Last week, they went to auction to be sold off to the highest bidder.
To the Druids, long before Christianity, Christmas was about the Birth of the Faery Babe, or Radiant Child. This is the story that I see being played out what other people call the Glastonbury Zodiac on the Somerset Levels, a 10-mile wide circular landscape temple where the “stars have fallen to the Earth” to create 13 giant earthworks – as the map shows below:
Tonight, we enter the Winter Solstice in the sign of Capricorn. To me, this is such a beautiful time when there are unique energies at play from the “Christmas spirits” that can heal the emotional despair and suffering accrued during the previous thirteen moons, and send rejuvenation, fresh hope and inspiration for the coming turn of the calendrical Wheel.
In Earth alchemy and Arthurian legend, the longest night of midwinter, caused by the Sun reaching its furthest point away from the Earth and then returning three days later, on Christmas Day, is symbolised by the death of the Old Wounded Fisher King and the birth of the new King, otherwise known as the Radiant Child. This bursting forth into joyful and victorious rebirth was symbolised by alchemists as the Peacock’s Tail, for which, I think, the aurora borealis is the perfect sky metaphor.
Who was Merlin really? It’s a question I often get asked.
Well, we have to go back to the 12th century, when a school of scribes was appointed by the Norman conquest to win the hearts and minds of the unruly Celts, and they reinvented Merlin from an already-existing native, mythological shaman called Myrddin Wylt.