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Skirrid Fawr (III)

When I lay in the hollow on top of Skirrid Fawr, I looked at the blue sky and the clouds and I felt immense space on every side—it went on and on forever, and within it every face I had ever seen and every person I had ever known appeared and disappeared.

And I knew it was a space that went on and on, as the faces melted into insignificance—and I felt this great emptiness in my belly, this great longing, this great sadness.

As I looked up, every belief disappeared—every conviction, every ideal.

All dissolved to nothing—there was no Christianity, no Islam, no socialism, no liberalism.

There was the blue, the clouds, the sun—and then the great emptiness.

Robinson Jeffers spoke about the “man-devouring stars” that would eat any religion or ideal.

And how we shelter from them with our ideas—like clothes made from wrapping paper.

There is nothing substantial to them—we cling to our beliefs to protect ourselves from the immensity that would tear us apart, pull us to nothing.

We are like men in a shipwreck who cling to the wreckage—some men cling to parts of tables, others to chairs, others to life belts.

And yet they are still in the sea—a sea that stretches from horizon to horizon.

You think your race, your nation, your idea, your philosophy can protect you from that emptiness.

But it is like a child’s safety blanket clutched to the chest—it cannot protect you from what I have seen.

Skirrid Fawr is also related to Arthur—because they speak of Arth Fawr, so says a website I had multiple synchronicities with connected to Woden’s Folk.

I asked a star that moved by itself a few questions, but I only remember one question.

I asked it if all the problems came from the Jews and the Freemasons, or if there was some “third force”, as Evola suggested.

I asked it to move up for “yes” and down for “no”: it moved up—so there is just Judeo-Masonry.


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