The Classical Wisdom Tradition
By god, Socrates, I'll tell you exactly what I think [of getting old]. A number of us, who are more or less the same age, often get together in accordance with the old saying ["God ever draws together like to like"]. When we meet, the majority complain aboutโฆ
This is true for Empire as well. The height of Rome for instance was during the Pax Romana, the era of great Imperial order beginning with the reign of Caesar Augustus until the end of Marcus Aurelius'. Youth may be an idealistic state, but the result of a good youth is that later, in maturity, the ideal is actualized.
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Forwarded from Sagittarius Granorum (Sagittarius Hyperboreius)
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Forwarded from Quantus tremor est futurus - Actaeon Journal
"PANTHEISTS could be here" they thought, "We've never been in this desert before. There could be PANTHEISTS anywhere." The cool wind felt good against their prayer beads. "I HATE PANTHEISTS" they thought. Dies Irae reverberated the horizon, making it pulsate even as the centuries-old Eucharist circulated through their powerful thick Bibles and washed away their (merited) fear of heretics after dark. "With a horizon, you can go anywhere you want" they said to one another, unspoken.
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Forwarded from Quantus tremor est futurus - Actaeon Journal
Nowhere does truth appear with such brutality as in war and justice. In the face of such overwhelming force the individual is cut out from being, divided from the simple movement of himself. The will is driven out into the elements.
In war, there are marching songs, drumming which gives order to thunder โ certainty and direction are formed over and above the will, so that it does not separate from itself too early. Then, at that very moment of the highest decision, the music gives way to silence โ an order appears before which no artistic understanding can express itself. Only fate and judgement remain. The will experiences its second death.
If truth wants to be known, one's perspective will be shaken to the core with the utmost violence, until this violence becomes the entirety of the world, until one is but a fissure within a storm, an earthquake, a collapsing mountain. A slow erosion may be the most forceful of all judgements. This is the essence of tragedy and apocalypse โ the world is reversed, the brutal decision of law imposes itself upon all men until the final perspective can hold out. It is uprooted, freed.
Nemesis โ behind her, the earth a spectre.
In war, there are marching songs, drumming which gives order to thunder โ certainty and direction are formed over and above the will, so that it does not separate from itself too early. Then, at that very moment of the highest decision, the music gives way to silence โ an order appears before which no artistic understanding can express itself. Only fate and judgement remain. The will experiences its second death.
If truth wants to be known, one's perspective will be shaken to the core with the utmost violence, until this violence becomes the entirety of the world, until one is but a fissure within a storm, an earthquake, a collapsing mountain. A slow erosion may be the most forceful of all judgements. This is the essence of tragedy and apocalypse โ the world is reversed, the brutal decision of law imposes itself upon all men until the final perspective can hold out. It is uprooted, freed.
Nemesis โ behind her, the earth a spectre.
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Forwarded from Sagittarius Granorum (Sagittarius Hyperboreius)
Little Kjersti was so young and innocent a girl
~ the brown foal trips so lightly ~
She could not govern her own life.
The rain falls and the wind blows.
Far north in the mountains, deep beneath the rocks the underworld is luring you.
The Mountain King came riding to the farm.
Pรฅl the Goldsmith receives him.
The Mountain King had a silent horse.
He placed little Kjersti on his back
They circled the mountain three times,
And the mountain opened so that they could enter.
They gave her a drink poured in a red and golden horn,
And into the drink they slipped three villar grains.
The third time that little Kjersti drank
The Christian lands were lost to her.
โWhere were you born, and where were you raised?
Where are your virginal shoes?โ
โIn the mountain I wish to live and there I wish to die,
And there I am betrothed to the Mountain King.โ
~ the brown foal trips so lightly ~
She could not govern her own life.
The rain falls and the wind blows.
Far north in the mountains, deep beneath the rocks the underworld is luring you.
The Mountain King came riding to the farm.
Pรฅl the Goldsmith receives him.
The Mountain King had a silent horse.
He placed little Kjersti on his back
They circled the mountain three times,
And the mountain opened so that they could enter.
They gave her a drink poured in a red and golden horn,
And into the drink they slipped three villar grains.
The third time that little Kjersti drank
The Christian lands were lost to her.
โWhere were you born, and where were you raised?
Where are your virginal shoes?โ
โIn the mountain I wish to live and there I wish to die,
And there I am betrothed to the Mountain King.โ
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Forwarded from Dharma Vajrฤ โธ๏ธโก
"All precipitable matter comes from a primary substance, or tenuity beyond conception, filling all space, the Akasha or luminiferous Ether, which is acted upon by the life giving Prana or creative force, calling into existence, in never-ending cycles all things and phenomena." -Nikola Tesla
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Mythologize everything.
Always have the truth in sight.
With every word, never stop singing and composing poetry.
With every action, never stop painting or sculpting, with colors or words or anything you touch.
The art of Life reflects the artistry of the ultimate Truth; it is all the same divine art.
All this artistry: symbolic, harmonic, metaphorical, mythicalโall for what, towards what?
This god or those godsโwhat is the difference?
Those are all dead questions, and they do not lead to their own answers.
The One Living God is alive, and you must be too. Nothing else matters until you are born, again!
Always have the truth in sight.
With every word, never stop singing and composing poetry.
With every action, never stop painting or sculpting, with colors or words or anything you touch.
The art of Life reflects the artistry of the ultimate Truth; it is all the same divine art.
All this artistry: symbolic, harmonic, metaphorical, mythicalโall for what, towards what?
This god or those godsโwhat is the difference?
Those are all dead questions, and they do not lead to their own answers.
The One Living God is alive, and you must be too. Nothing else matters until you are born, again!
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