Vinland Shore



A ‘National‘ Anthem, undergoes a gendered change…

One hundred fifty years of the existence of Canada, my family has been here for two hundred fifty. Long before there were settlements, long before there were roads. Long before this place was known as such. They set out from Europe, laid their claims on land and sea. They fished, they hunted. They wrought from the earth an existence on this harsh island I still call my home. My ancestors fought the Ottomans under the British flag, and my Grandfather fought his brothers under that same Union Jack.

After the Second World War, my island was consigned to Canada. An incredulous referendum. Not for the people, but for those who saw fit to sell this island. There are many now who still contest it. However it was not for them to decide; burned ballots. Despite the title of Democracy that is placed on such a government. The illusion which does not delude the minds of the people who still remember the poll. Many of them are still with us fortunately…

There is no such thing as a Canadian as I see it. It is a ‘Nationality‘ of nothing, a lineage that anyone can lay claim to. An ambiguous chaos of unlikeness in every way without significance, nor of any quality. Once great in ambition now cheapened by charlatans, engineers of insipid uniformity under a shelter of diversity. The once great life blood of the men and women who poured their salt & blood into the ground for debased weeds to root noisome in the dust of our ancestors graves.

I have never been Canadian, I had no choice into what I was born. I have no choice in the direction of this Nation, so why should I abide by it. What joy could one take laboring under the delusion of decision. It makes me stomach sick…if we traded currency as we valued cultural identity we might well use shit, for gold is much too hard to find…in a time it would shine over those pine covered hills with each morning. Now the sun rises over a mire, colourless and void…


In Defense of Sanity


This ubiquitous topic is going to continue to be a very disputed subject. However some articles, videos I have seen recently, have drawn this issue to the forefront of my thoughts. There are groups of people who would advocate for young men to disassociate from the company of women all together…

So called mennists or men’s rights activists would argue adolescent men, young men should go their own way. The importance of the influence of women in the life of a man is crucial in many aspects. Rather some would suggest that men don’t need women. That modern women especially are worth less than the time they are allotted. Only a sore spot that could potentially wholly avoided. Worth much less than the difficulty of maintaining a relationship, family goals, and should be altogether avoided.

In turn men should only focus on their own goals, objective success and career taking a backseat to other hobbies which largely revolve around culture of consumption, and largely degenerative behavior in the form of worthless hobbies, and literature and film without substance or objective value. If perhaps these people advocated for the gradual progression of skills that were worthwhile. Such as mathematics, language, history et cetera…instead focus almost entirely on hedonistic activities. Mostly it seems out of spite for the perceived actions of the modern woman. Disregarding completely more advantageous or beneficial activities, both in health of the body, and of mind.

I don’t discount some of the relevance of these perspectives, given the rise of modern feminism which is as a whole toxic. Yet just as toxic an influence that modern feminism and other movements are. Young women seek to find an identity just as all young people this is just another that is easy to grasp it’s also very popular. Which can aid in mobility in social, and peer groups. So of course is it attractive to attach oneself to such ideals. Yet! any and all that would seek make a divide between man and woman must be viewed in the same context. It can only be a negative to form such a barrier between the two sexes. The desire to only burn away with life-wasting hobbies a particularly vexing to my eye.

It’s no doubt that it is increasingly difficult to find someone who you can associate with. Especially in the opposite sex; specially if you are a person who has largely conservative views. In this world polluted with propaganda against such views. Propaganda against traditionalism, tribalism, homogeneity…There are good women out there, and if you listen to these children speaking about sour grapes. Completely removing themselves from the prospect of having a future, then you too will be forgotten. Your spirit will find it’s end in you, not only your spirit but that of your ancestors too.

prometheus falling


The adolescent or young adult, as I once heard a man say goes through a series of progressions in attempting to find knowledge. That is knowledge of his/her own place in the world, and what direction they might take. As a result of this the first thing often done is to grasp onto a system of ideals. Without a proper sense of identity in turn…perhaps falling into one of many cliques that they will remain in for sometime.

They will discover, perhaps a character or movement that they might believe is suitable to them. Sometimes simply to provoke, other times to gain some form of social acceptance. As that in itself is quite the commodity, and has been for some time. Social climbing, by moving from person to person to gain something. Whether it is financial, or as I mentioned the previous form social currency.

In the eyes of many they might seem a desirable person to surround one self with. Someone who is well socialized can be seen as trustworthy, while someone who excludes or remains often isolated will seem too the group to be suspicious in the least. As well others in the larger group other so called climbers will have nothing to gain from associating with such a person.

Of course there are those would never become aware of the fact that the superficial interactions they share are only that. They either vehemently deny the possibility they could be so narcissistic or ignore it. I can’t say for certain because I don’t believe I could go on acting in this manner before it became nauseating. It’s like your whole personality is a massive fraud. Not just your interactions, but you. You’ve become at this point a counterfeit person, all your interactions charming charismatic and all together seated squarely on the precipice of deceit.

The only one deceived is your own purpose. The morals and objective social goalpost relevant now are self-serving. Though people would appear benevolent towards the causes of others, and the greater good. They are only concerned truly with how they appear to their peers, and consequently their peers to them. It’s quite a contrived apex of perjury of character.

Maybe a man can step outside the infinite regression of egoism, to put aside their desire for satisfaction, and the satisfaction for desire. Of course this is nothing new to man. The constant moral upmanship will not die any time soon…

“The truest mark of having been born with great qualities is to have been born without envy”

– François de La Rochefoucauld

Through the eyes of Juvenal


Thoughts for me are much more clear at night. I suppose at the end of the day I’ve had time to collect myself and examine the events of the day. As well it’s much quieter at night, there’s less to distract, less noise. My town is quite small, and it seems to fall asleep rather quickly. It’s the time I also write the most often…

Winter has long since set in, and the air is crisp and austere. It’s invigorating and makes me feel alive. I’ve tried at late to pay much less attention to what’s trending so to speak. What’s happening politically and socially. It quickly overwhelms me to attempt making people understand my objective position on nearly anything. I feel as though I’ve wasted my spirit and compromised my vitality on those who would be compelled to dismiss anything that doesn’t adhere.

It might sound as though an incredibly self-indulgent; per contra I feel as though I’ve been much too benevolent towards people who don’t care to improve. There have been movements or perhaps opinions that have become the good thing to do, at least the good thing to been seen saying. Emerging so quickly over the past few years it’s almost mind-bending.

Of course none of this is new to any of my readers, yet I’m exhausted from lending my ear, exhausted from letting it get under my skin. I have better things to work towards, better things to lend my presence and most of all my time too. I doesn’t mean that I don’t care about these issues ever-present, but it feels as though I’ve been wasting my time in trying to defend common logic and reason over feelings of any and all minority group that is screaming oppression.

This isn’t a resolution in the New Years sense. I believe a positive resolution to make a positive change doesn’t need to be justified by a calendar date. Nor do any political statements need to be judged by something as abstract as a date. I think this is a year to be selfish, and by that disregard the things that only bring me grief and anger. The things that make me question the pillars on what western civilization were established and the current torrent; the insufferable deluge of idiocy! full of the rhetoric that is disintegrating the very foundation of it all.

Le mal du pays, nostalgie


In the middle of the night I awoke, and began to frantically scratch down notes about something I wanted to discuss. A dream that I had died. In my dream I was outside my self, and I was following my body throughout my daily mundane activities…

I quickly noticed banal repetition, and not fear nor anxiety did I feel of being in this state. Instead I was in despair,  I felt as though I wasn’t working hard enough. Had I actually died at this point and I really was watching my life from some point beyond how satisfied would I have been with it. It was a constant thing on the edge of my mind throughout that day. I began to think of the things I had done. I dreamt at long in nostalgia of the things I have seen, the places and the faces that I recall.

Sometimes these day dreams were beautiful, and other times painful as I recalled loss and absence of things I once held dear to me. All of these things create through fondness, and through pain the desire to do more, to see more and to live better above all else. I feel as though sometimes when I’m at a particular moment I can know that this moment in particular will be one that I will look back upon. It’s a beautiful and saddening thing because it above all crimson stark and all at once pale the brevity of life itself.

I don’t know if I am depressed, or perhaps I’m more in touch with my surroundings but I notice these things a lot. It’s as if my senses are always set to very high. I can’t help it, but it sometimes is overwhelming. I have to keep pushing myself, and reclaim the lost ground.


Crop Failure

This video got me to thinking about young people, about the older generation. Mostly the parents and grandparents of my generation. I feel strange saying young people as I myself am not that old; this is my twenty-fourth year. I was younger still when I started writing here on Vinland Shore, but I don’t feel that my mind has changed on this subject. It’s plain and correct that we’ve had a generation of parents who have lived for the moment. They lived for the moment because it was known their lack of efforts would cause the inevitable collapse of the economy. They lived for the moment because it was ‘liberating’ but most importantly they ‘lived for the moment’ because it was easy.

How then are we able to raise the spirit of the youth? They themselves were raised by a generation that taught them to live for today? Just because something bad will inevitably happen, throw away any preparation, any planning, any semblance of structure or effort away because it’s essentially, to them “not worth the effort”. Bad things will happen, crops will fail, a fox will get your chickens or your roof might leak, you didn’t cut enough firewood for the winter. However rather than prepare they would prefer to sit in brief luxury even if it means inevitable destruction than face one detestable moment of discomfort?

“The secret of realizing the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment of existence is: to live dangerously! Build your cities on the slopes of Vesuvius! Send your ships out into uncharted seas! Live in conflict with your equals and with yourselves! Be robbers and ravages as soon as you can not be rulers and owners, you men of knowledge! The time will soon past when you could be content to live concealed int he woods like timid deer!”

– Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

It’s an absolute disregard for any kind of strength of character. For any type of strength at all; these are the people who raised the current generation. This lackadaisical approach to life; apathy has been disguised as virtuous by our parent generation. Our nations aren’t poor, and we have much wealth in people however…There has never been more poverty of character than there is currently, and that’s exactly what it is! The seeds that they have sown with this ideology has created a generation not only weak in practical skills, but weak in spirit as well. A generation of anarchists, and directionless idealist youth.

They have no idea what to fight against so, they will revolt in any way that will give them respect and attention. In today’s media its beneficial to be what amounts essentially a suicidal level of altruism. That is the reaping of our parent generations crop, a world of self-centered communists. Blogging on their Apple computers, and drinking fair-trade coffee. Slapping each-other on the back for disowning, tramping on the works of their ancestors, spitting on the ground there forefathers bled and died on and giving it away. When the inevitable economic collapse does arrive, when not if there won’t be enough paper in their propaganda bound university textbooks to keep them warm on the night.

The New Renaissance

1896 Oil on canvas, 98×163 cm City Art Galleries, Manchester, England Digital restoration: Dale Cotton, 2010:
Perhaps Renaissance is not the first term, imagine if you will with ever synonym you wish. Resurgence, revival, renewal, what ever you desire its name be…it is a new dawn. If you’ve at all been aware of recent events, and I should not need to explain my meaning. We’ve come to an apex; a culmination of years of trial to have the message heard. Although, refusing to accept what we would offer in kindness, and out of the goodness of our hearts and minds. After a long enough time people would begin to wake up, and slowly, inevitably it is happening.

The events are unfolding in such a manner that it cannot possibly be ignored any longer. Perhaps we have contributed with wisdom, if people would listen. Perhaps my words have gone unread by only those who are eager and fascinated to see. Now it’s as a clap of thunder, the clouds have rolled back, the river bed has dried revealing the bottom to everyone who could stand at those banks. Only the willfully blind could still stand in ignorance to the truth we have known all along.

I don’t know if the world is ready, but I am ready. For all the brothers and sisters of Europa everywhere; to be together and stand shoulder to shoulder against what can no longer be ignored. I have found more happiness recently than I have in many months, I am glad to be here.

Outside of Past & Present

Our fathers might be the first God a child is known to. In our childhood, our parents appear to hold the knowledge beyond all estimation. We might stand at the foot of the mountain at youth, our parents, elders are moving towards the summit. They look down, and they see in us as children reflected in themselves. They try to nurture and create a person better than themselves with their wisdom; to give an advantage. To safeguard against the mistakes of the previous life. To make their own children’s journey a better one; less flawed than their own…

Might that same fear of failure, that inflexible aberration to ensure absence of failure. Might it be the one thing that keeps us from success? That failure is the building block of evolution, destruction is the foundation of all the cosmos. It is the foundation of us and all existence. The true Gods of man would celebrate in combating the balance and surmount. The broken bones, the scars, the failures that make a man what he is. This is the foundation of all paths, and ultimately we cannot walk the same path. We’re all climbing the mountain, we are all our fathers and all our sons.

You are all your sons, and all your fathers are you…

Ēostre or Ostara; The Germanic Easter Goddess?

Ostara by Johannes Gehrts

Ostara by Johannes Gehrts

You’ve probably yourself wondered why eggs, rabbits are symbols of Easter and the origin of Easter itself. Long before the Christianization of European tradition and other cultures there was celebration for the rite of spring. Before Christianity (Ēostre or Ostara Old English: Ēastre, Old High German: Ôstara, and Austrō in Proto-Germanic language) itself derives from prefix of the Proto-Indo-European root *aus-, meaning ‘to shine’. Linguists have also connected this name to one of the most important goddesses of reconstructed Proto-Indo-European religion. She is the personification of dawn named Hausōs in reconstructed Proto Indo-European.

The first reference to such a goddess is attributed to Eostre is written by a Christian Monk by the name of Bede in Monkwearmouth, Northumbria, England. His book The Reckoning of Time (De temporum ratione) (725) when discussing the English months.

“Nor is it irrelevant if we take the time to translate the names of the other months. … Hrethmonath is named for their goddess Hretha, to whom they sacrificed at this time.  Eosturmonath has a name which is now translated “Paschal month”, and which was once called after a goddess of theirs named Eostre, in whose honour feasts were celebrated in that month.  Now they designate that Paschal season by her name, calling the joys of the new rite by the time-honoured name of the old observance.  Thrimilchi was so called because in that month the cattle were milked three times a day…” (Bede .53-54)

So it can be inferred that she is a literal personification of the first light from the rising of the sun in the spring equinox, consequently light, and fertility. The month of April or Ōstar-mānod (Ostermonat, Easter month) on the Germanic Calendar; the goddess the very namesake of the month. Of course this conclusion is not exempt from some conjecture. Whether or not she was indeed simply a fertility goddess, or rather a goddess of sunrise. I think it’s abundantly clear that she is the latter, as even her name is the akin the direction of dawn. It’s then unavoidable to be associated with the sun, growth, fertility.

The connection for rabbits to the old tradition is also often contested by scholars on the subject. Charles J. Billison in Folk Lore Vol.III (1892) cites that there are many references to folk customs in Northern Europe during this period involving hares…

“whether there ever was a goddess named Eostre, or not, and whatever connection the hare may have had with the ritual of Saxon or British worship, there are good grounds for believing that the sacredness of this animal reaches back into an age still more remote, when it probably played a very important part at the great Spring Festival of the prehistoric inhabitants of this island. It appears likely that the hare was originally a totem, or divine animal among the local aborigines, and that the customs at Leicester and Hallaton are relics of the religious procession and annual sacrifice of the god.” ( Billison. 448)

Rabbits as well have always been a strong symbol of fertility, and fecundity. Prolific for their reproductive ability, even being able to conceive one litter of offspring while still being pregnant with the first. Eggs of course are laid by birds in the spring, and the Easter Rabbit or Easter Hare goes about in a literal way giving new life and birth, in a symbolic representation of the goddess. German immigrants brought the Easter Hare to Sweden in the late 19th century, However, due to a misunderstanding of the Swedish word for the Easter Hare, Påskharen, which sounds very similar to Påskkarlen, meaning the Easter Man or the Easter Wizard, the Swedish tradition of the Easter Wizard. The Easter Wizard was seen a suitable symbol for the pagan Easter traditions of Sweden (which I think is pretty neat) where still today children dress up as witches at Easter.

Whether or not it’s clear that there ever was a goddess in Europe dedicated alone to the celebration of the spring Equinox. Tacitus described in Germania or (De Origine et situ Germanorum) (98) that the early Germanic peoples only celebrated three seasons equivalent to spring, summer, and winter. Although much of what the Romans wrote about the Germanic peoples is considered with prudence. Íslendingabók or (The Law Book of Iceland) states Germanic Icelanders divided the year into only summer and winter. (I believe this could however be related to the geographic conditions of Iceland itself.) 

Whether this was an actual deity goddess that was worshiped by early Germanic peoples is under a lot of conjecture; very littler is written in reference to her. As well much of what is written could have been done so to create an image of the pagan Europeans from the perspective of Christians. So rather than give definitive answers; instead you can yourself look on it critically as I myself do, and I encourage you draw your own conclusions on the subject.

The Fairy That Disappeared


Lately I’ve been feeling disenchanted; perhaps disconnected from the life I want to lead and too tied to the one I have to lead. We’re presented with a world of choice with no freedom; a world of security with no privacy. The birthright to distinction of choices we never in reality made, but from which we must choose. No alternative; apparently failure to choose is not the same as choice.

I suppose it could be said that being aware of a discomfort can be the first step towards some sort of identification of the visual noise, like radio static buzzing constantly. Recognizing this nauseating dissonance, and associating it with society at large. The way a whole city resonates with a buzz like the deep wheezing breath of a dying beast. Struggling for air even as it’s lungs fill with blood despite an inevitable oblivion…

The world that’s been laid before us, the world we’ve been brought into aggravates me to no end. It constantly grates against me, every sound and sight and feeling brought on by the circus of this civilization is absolutely maddening to my senses at the best of times. We peer out of roomed towers stretching to the horizon standing like tombstonesliving in a dungeon without chains, doors or locks. A psychological confinement a false independence…

Is it exactly this simple, is it more honorable to struggle indefinitely against impossible odds? We should consider that without struggle, our existence would be without significance. The universe being reduced to an interstellar meat-grinder. The honorable man has always been the one who surmounts, the one who survives. It is that our whole culture is based upon; that is lost wisdom.

How can we reattain this when spirit is repressed when everything that encapsulates our archetypes, our forebears,our blood is demonized and spat upon. It may seem disheartening, but it is the only way I can imagine it. Once you struggle for so long and suddenly things are easy; then comes dissatisfaction and apathy. I know it, and maybe you too know it yourself. It’s apart of our nature and it’s indivisible from ourselves, and that is an encouraging thought.

συμποσίον ἀκταῖος κατακηλέω

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