To put it most literally, we are the children of light, even if we forget about it for a time.
Light is essential, even when there’s only a little. The color is the messenger of light’s emotions. Admiration for the Sun, which is and always has been a source of our concepts concerning light, has accompanied us for as long as we can remember. Let the Pagan power of light grow, both in the real world and in thousands of imaginary ones. May our small and great universe glorify the Sun. SPLENDOR SOLIS.
At least since Neolithic times – and most probably even further back – our ancestors carefully observed nature and its characteristics, which were later transformed into personified beings that represented certain phenomena in the natural world and in us as well as our relations. The ancient Pagan Gods. As real and as present as you and me.
They are still here, with us, although not as splendid as once, in the long gone Europe. We were all there, in Ancient times, weren’t we? Maybe not all, but those who weren’t should regret. The Gods were there, too – in a much bigger and better company. There were, to be sure, many sins and many adequate sinners in the world. But back then, the greater was their number, the greater was their desire to be purified. It was a different sort of purification – catharsis – than came in the later eras.
Later, in a time of universal deceit, foreign dogmas and their authors were praised and then lynched and then praised again, revised a thousand times to suit the needs. The lying authorities, those in tiaras and those in birettas, were mocked, but forced their rule upon people anyhow. The swindle of fictitious paradise was inflamed and then hissed and then inflamed again. With impunity, whole armies murdered each other and any passers-by blindly, in the name of their new god – the strange Holy War concept we imported from the Middle East with such dire consequences. How did we endure the thirty years war? How did we even survive? And later yet, did you really believe for one second that the Holy Inquisition was about anything other than obliterating the last remnants of Pagan ceremonial?
Overt and hidden wars were going on. One economic crisis was followed by another. It was the full Renaissance! People were down on their luck. The role of pictures was to shade reality. To divert attention from it. To make things more beautiful than they were in fact. We secretly painted, sculpted and wrote our true prayers. Later on, others joined us. Shyly. Then less so. And at last openly and loudly, so as to mark the centuries that had not yet come to pass. Because they made a mistake – all these wars, all these auto–da–fé. So irrationally destructive – and is irrational destructiveness not the primal form of Evil? – but unable to kill the European soul. To kill it, to obliterate it utterly, the last European would have to die.
There’s a most sacred place, near where I live. Monte Silentii – as the latin monks decided to call it – the Silent Mountain. A place of Pagan ritual and worship. A place that gave name to my tribe and land of origin. A place where nature manifests herself in the most fantastic of ways. Even to this day, the sacred mountain draws more thunderstorms than any other area in Europe. Our ancestors lived in the wild nature, and they exalted her fury – but for them, it wasn’t so much a fury, but more of a manifestation of beauty and strength, their true sacrum. Monte Silentii – now doesn’t it sound like someone’s wishful thinking? They covered the stone circle on top, older than time, with their church, in hope that it would work.
It didn’t. There are records of Pagans visiting the mountain, stopping at the sculptures of a Boar, a Lady With a Fish and a Bear and then making their way to the top to light a fire and dance in joy and delight. It was so until at least the XIX century. And why wouldn’t they? The Neolithic European, then the Celtic Boii tribe, then Silingi (a part of East Germanic tribe known as the Vandals) and the Slavic Silesian tribes – they all came here, to this mountain, to witness and pay homage to their Mother – pristine wild nature, untamed by modern ignorance.
It is said to had been a center of Solar Cult for all Europeans that could get here. But I was there. As were you. And we both know that it was in fact a center of common European Pagan religion, chopped up to little pieces by later scholars (i.e. monks) to show how divided Europe was before they’ve shown us the unlight of their foreign god and “united” us under his sign. Or maybe they just couldn’t grasp it, maybe they just didn’t understand?
Perhaps they didn’t – later they called the same Pagan religion a Witch Cult. They denied the circular nature of all life and introduced false and ignorant linearity – a laughable and poor concept that dominates modern minds. They divided all things into opposites – divinity and sensuality, emotions and reason, intuition and knowledge, old and new, right and wrong, good and evil. These rotten devil-angels wandering through sickened minds like parasites. Yes, maybe they didn’t understand. After all, most of them weren’t there – like you and me…
Now the intuitive knowledge, and the natural is still there, the Ouroboros still lives, in the nooks and corners of the modern mind. The subjugated mind, subdued to the world which is invented by itself and is not able to carry its weight. Mentality of a man who believes in his freedom as long as he understands that he has always been imprisoned in entity.
What shall you find, going back to the times of thick forests and minds full of extraordinary clarity? Inspiration? Reproach? Curse? Not so. Inside and outside, you shall find your one and true self, upon which the Sun once shone so brightly. SPLENDOR SOLIS!