Globalist and Indigenous

The predicament of indigenous “First Nations” peoples in 21st century Canada…

It seems to be a bit of a difficult position to grasp within the prevailing culturo-political paradigm. It is certainly something that requires a bit of chewing, but it is actually quite simple and requires awareness of only a few basic facts…

1) The U.N.’s Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples does not acknowledge ethnic Europeans as being indigenous to Europe.

2) The people that make-up and back the U.N. are a dominant force in the politics of the Western world.

3) The political establishment of Canada, all major parties included, has announced it’s support of what has long been called the “Century Initiative”, which seeks to raise Canada’s population to 100 million by the end of the century.

4) This increase of some 65 million people to our current population of 35 million is to be achieved predominantly via immigration (from non-Commonwealth, non-European nations).

Ironically, depending on how much one knows about European history and the degree to which they “connect” with the history of their own ancestry, present day Europe is the canary in the coal mine regarding the ultimate fate of indigenous peoples in the globalist (aka post-national, aka. colonial) world of tomorrow.

Our First Nations are being tossed bones, strung along with rhetoric, and seeded with racial fear, hatred, and division. And Founding Nations are taking the agitation bait and playing right into the globalist hands. As all of our problems, as Canadians, compound.

Think twice, my friends. It’s a complex predicament, with no clear and easy answers for those who value both their cultural ethnic identity and the cultural diversity that has existed, globally, from time immemorial.

Globalism is rebranded colonialism. Same as ever.

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Freedom

Freedom … it is an interesting word. A word that has been with the various Anglo-Nordic peoples since (at least) the dawning of Proto-Germanicism, which was the only branch of the greater Indo-European tree that developed the notion out of a root (*pri-) that originally meant “beloved”.

This is the same root that we get the word *friend* from incidentally.

One might think of the development of the word free, from “beloved” to “not in bondage”, in terms of, say, who you would have as a room-mate in your home. Or who you would invite to home-sit for you while you were away on some extended trip. In short, in terms of who you would grant the freedom of your home to. And the answer of course is, to one’s beloved, to one’s friend/s, to those who are trustworthy and so can be trusted to conduct themselves as you yourself would; and who are thus free to “act as they will” (ie. in a beloved, friendly manner) within one’s home.

Certainly, one could argue that such a state isn’t exactly “unburdened by constraint”, but it is not a conscious matter of legalities and/or a check-list of criteria either. Friendship and the freedom that walks hand-in-hand with it are mostly organic evolutions, the unconscious attraction of like to like, such that among friends there is not a feeling, much less a manifestation of constraint. Each are acting, unrestrained according to their own habits of conduct, as they please. It’s just that the conduct that pleases one is also the conduct that pleases the other, eg. I don’t have to demand that you wash your dishes because you dislike dishes piling up just like me and act accordingly.

A common thew is shared between friends, between the free; thew being an Old English (and uniquely West Germanic) word that means “custom, habit, morals, conduct” and carries implications of “sinew, muscle, strength”, acting as what we today might call “social fabric”.

One could thus easily say that, like friendship and freedom, thew and freedom walk hand-in-hand; though again one is forced to acknowledge that thew doesn’t necessarily leave the individual “free of constraint” in any universal or objective manner, and contains within itself an implicit set of criteria which, if not organically met, will certainly leave a new-comer feeling constrained, a long-stander ashamed, and in either case, as the odd-one-out.

“Everyone! Look! There’s Johnny!!! He has no clothes on!!!”

Freedom it would thus seem is something of a relative state, that comes with implicit constraints that are most apt to be imparted and enforced socially, organically. Indeed, by the reckoning of our ancestors — in fact by the reckoning of common sense — freedom had no effective existence outside of social interactions and relationships, outside of human society, and was a thing that could only be achieved in relation to one’s fellow man.

To be free meant, to our ancestors, freedom to take part in society; shouldering it’s obligations and benefiting from it’s privileges.

In contrast to the free, our ancestors had, not so much the thrall or slave, much less the young — both of which had no rights under law, but nevertheless benefited from the rights and freedoms enjoyed by their owners or adult relations — but rather the wretch, who, regardless of his degree of self-sufficiency, was left without either law or loved ones to shield him and secure his rights, to care for him in sickness and/or old age, and who was left to contend with the merciless tyranny of nature and any man or group of men that wanted to work ill-will upon him. And who’s line would, at best, end with him, or alternately produce offspring who would be damned to a wretched life of loneliness, hopelessness, and perhaps even inbred dysfunction.

As the rune poem says, “Man rejoices in man”.

This freedom to take part in society as a member of society was imparted by our Anglo-Nordic ancestors at the tribal assembly, the (ahem) “state” assembly, as noted as early as Tacitus, who wrote,

Then in the presence of the council one of the chiefs, the young man’s father, or some kinsman, equips him with a shield and a spear. These arms are what the “toga” is with us, the first honour with which youth is invested. Up to this time he is regarded as a member of a household, after-wards as a member of the commonwealth.”

It can also be gleaned in the respect of the indigenous Germanic state for freedom and thew, as seen in it’s system of crime and punishment. Their system of crime and punishment was itself a manifestation of Anglo-Nordic thew representing one aspect of our shared customs and habits of conflict resolution; a *thew* evolved to deal with the inevitable sprains and tears in thew, which, as such, remained largely in the hands of the people and their locality, to be used or not used as the participants saw fit, and in which the state played little to no role. This led to the (later) characterization of the Icelandic gothar for example as being “lazy” and/or (ahem) “too permissive” in regards to the conduct of their folk, ie. “too respectful” of their freedom. Only in the most severe of cases, such as deeds which threatened to undermine the collective trust, eg. secret killing — which could very well lead to a mob lynching, et al. — was the state empowered to mete out more familiar legal punishments such as flogging, imprisonment or execution. This attitude extended to military service outside of a certain distant from one’s own locality among the Anglo-Saxons. No law could be invoked to oblige a man to take part in his king’s call to muster or force a man to go aviking; though thew might well prompt a man to do so at least once in his youth. Whatever the case, as a matter of both law and thew no man would be forgiven for failing to rise to the defense his own locality and he would be dealt with very harshly, be it by law or mob, and understandably so I would think, by his neighbours within that locality.

It can also be seen in the beliefs and functioning of the Germanic hierarchy as well; in which the free could fall into thralldom (play at dice anyone?), the thrall win his freedom, and being the firstborn of the reigning king vouchsafed one nothing. As the Havamal states, a king’s son, an uppity thrall, none should be so trusting as to trust in these. Unlike the caste structure of our fellow Indo-European belief system, Hinduism, the indigenous Germanic hierarchy was dynamic rather than static, and while ancestry certainly meant something, the ability of the individual was given it’s rightful due. And the right of even a thrall to self-rule (not to mention basic self-sufficiency) under his own roof-tree was recognized and observed (and expected); albeit by thew rather than by law.

The problem with freedom in this post-modern world is a lack of thew, a lack of common identifiers, and the self-regulation that comes with it. And it was toward the notion of thew in general that Tacitus was speaking when he wrote, “good habits are here more effectual than good laws elsewhere.”, and provide the real reason why, among the Anglo-Saxons for example, state executions were so rare (ie. based on an examination of felon graveyards).

Not strong laws, but strong thew.
Freedom flows upward, out of the soil, into the sole’s of one’s feet, and throughout one’s entire being. And only then can it, not so much descend, from “on high” as it were, from the state, as simply turn about, reflect and affirm, that which gave it life and upon which it’s continued vitality relies. Freedom does not come from political institutions, laws, or intellectualized social constructs or ideologies.

Freedom comes from the habits of a people. From thew. Or not at all.

On adversity, loss, and the process of excellence

As first stated in the Eddic poem Lokasenna and later reflected in Snorri Sturlusson’s Prose Edda, “Tyr is no peace-maker”.

Some take this as a negative assertion within the context of Tiw’s (ON. Tyr’s) association with the Thing (legal assembly). And yet, as with war (Tiw’s other popular association), law is fundamentally dualistic and adversarial, with an offender and an offended, each arguing their own case against the other, and ultimately with a winner and a loser.

And true enough, nobody likes losing. Nor should they.

Nevertheless, up until the advent of Christianity in the North, the Thing proved that, whatever lingering resentment might have existed in the hearts of the losers of court-cases, it certainly served the collective peace of the community; even if accuser and/or accused still harboured resentments on an individual level. Moreover, Tiw’s specific role within the context of the Thing was as “divine judge” invoked exclusively in regards to punishments carried out by the state (ie. flogging, imprisonment, execution). And while I’m sure this left the accused quite unhappy, it again served the common weal of the community.

Finally, in the greater scheme of Germanic law, society and divinity, there certainly were deities who were able to weave peace between men, such as Fosite (Forseti) from who’s court all disputing parties came away reconciled, while in the Lokasenna Tiw Himself praises Ingui-Frea, the god of frith (peace), as the BEST among the gathered host of gods.

I suppose some people simply can not see the forest through the trees, the whole for the many parts that comprise it. But forsooth, who can deny the adversarial nature of law? The spirit of mediation in law? The spirit of judgement in law? These things are not exclusive to each other, and all exist side-by-side even within the context of modern law.

It might also be noted that not everyone came away from a dispute settled at Thing with a grudge; as the historical success of the Thing again testifies to. It could have no general success over time without specific successes that both parties involved came to terms with and so left the matter settled. As Tacitus remarked,

“It is a duty among them to adopt the feuds as well as the friendships of a father or a kinsman. These feuds are not implacable; even homicide is expiated by the payment of a certain number of cattle and of sheep, and the satisfaction is accepted by the entire family, greatly to the advantage of the state, since feuds are dangerous in proportion to the people’s freedom.”

But no, it is a truth … Tiw is no peace-maker. Tiw is an glory-maker. An excellence-maker. And adversity is a prime ingredient in the cultivation of excellence. And so is loss … showing us where our weakness lay and so where we need to make improvements if we are to better ourselves, ie. continue to strive for excellence.

This quest for excellence applies universally to all endeavors. As much, as Sturlusson asserts in his Edda, to the hero as to the sage, and far beyond, ie. to the craftsman, to the herdsman, etc. to encompass the great diversity of glory that is the essence of the Heavenly realm.

And so, while no one likes losing, a competitors culture reacts very differently to a loss. For starters, it acknowledges loss, owns the loss, and has come to terms with the loss. And after a certain point in one’s upbringing, if one has lived any sort of competitive lifestyle, indeed if one has lived any sort of life (eg. break-ups, death of family/friends, etc.), the last thing that loss should be is crushing.

If one is striving, if one is reaching, if one isn’t afraid to play the role of “small fish in big pond” and challenge one’s self, to realize in the true Olympian spirit that the only possibility for glory is to be found in the strength of your adversity, then sooner or later, you shall have your ticket punched. And that is not a crushing experience, but rather something to be taken in stride as par for the course and as testament to one’s sense of competition and desire for self-betterment. 

Do not cringe at the prospect of a loss. Rather, accept no competition that does not offer that prospect (unless they insist of  course). And do not dwell on a single loss as definitive, much less blame the winner, as all losers do. Rather, take control of the only thing you can control, the only thing that will actually better your situation — yourself. Embrace the suck, let the loss drive you forward, learn from it, and improve your game, as all champions have done.

“All the Einheriar fight in Odin’s courts every day; they choose the slain and ride from battle; then they sit more at peace together.” — Vafthrudhnismal, Poetic Edda

Heritage, the Swastika and Vilification

swastika

An Anglo-Saxon grave urn. The swastika was, next to the Tir rune, the most common symbol to be found on grave urns.

It would seem that the LARPers of British Columbia Heathenry are up to, well, their same old LARPing. I read a blog posting from their current headman, John Mainer, today that seemed to be in regards to the use of runic symbols on the sweaters of the Norwegian Olympic team and the vocal denunciation of them use as “hate symbols used by the Nazis”. In his blog entry Mainer took what at first appeared to be an admirable stance in defending Norway’s use of the runes. Unfortunately, it all quickly devolved into an entry on “racists” and how “the swastika most certainly is a symbol of hate.
 
Yes, some racists will continue to try to steal the glory and worth of the symbol for their own perverted uses, but it is clear they are trying to pervert something they don’t own. The runes are a part of our heritage. The Swastika is different. We lost that one.
— John Mainer, Swastika and Runes; Heritage or Hate
 
Let’s forget for a moment that this was written by a man who has explicitly stated, regarding an ancestral belief system, that he doesn’t care what the ancestors believed and is happy to selectively use the lore of Germanic belief as a rhetorical veneer to advance his own personal and political beliefs. The same man who falsely accused the Asatru Folk Assembly of trying to speak for all of Heathenry; when in fact AFA headman, Matt Flavel, had explicitly mentioned that his statements were organizationally specific and in reference to the AFA alone. And the same man that waged a veritable flame-war on the co-founder of the organization that he stands as head of, the B.C. Heathen Freehold, for allegedly stealing from the organization, but when challenged on why he didn’t bring the matter up to the police, said that he didn’t want to make (B.C.) Heathenry look bad; because apparently a year+ long flame-war all over the internet doesn’t make (B.C.) Heathenry look bad.
 
But yes, the swastika is lost … because Mr. Mainer said so. For all of Heathenry. Or you’re “racist”.
 
In his blog entry, Mainer states that the swastika, “… was not a major cultic symbol during the timespan our surviving lore was collected“.
 
In fact, the peculiar truth of the matter is that, despite the swastika being clear and present in enough early Indo-European cultures and cults (Hinduism, Buddhism, Persian, Greek, etc.) as to give the impression of Proto-Indo-European origins — and does in fact pre-date the Proto-Indo-Europeans — the only time span in which the swastika was a cultic symbol among the Germanic peoples was precisely “during the time span our surviving lore was collected”. It’s use spanned the 3rd century AD to the Viking Age.
 
He goes on to state,
 
It (the swastika) had been forgotten by Europe, by the turn of the last century, and it was exhumed in a most terrible way, and for a most terrible purpose.
 
And to the extent that this is true, the same could be said for Germanic belief in general, and the runes in specific. And it often is said of the runes and Germanic belief. As such it might strike one as odd that Mr. Mainer wants anything to do with so “historically tainted” a belief system as Germanic belief, but of course, as already noted above, he doesn’t and, not at all unlike our glowing P.M. of Canada, is just playing at fashion and dress-up … and calling people “racists”.
 
As ever, these types are gifted at the art of projection, such as when Mainer writes,
 
Those who are taking up the Swastika now are very much carrying on the vision of the Nazi party, and those working to “reclaim it” are either innocent dupes, or far more commonly, very cold calculating propaganda masters, with an overarching vision of transforming the identity of European descendant peoples through the conscious reshaping of national/cultural symbols and faith.
 
Apparently, it is not enough for people to use the symbol in a form that is not contextually associated with the Nazi party, and so, according to Mainer, such people, rather than being insistent yet sensitive, are “dupes” or, even better, “calculating propaganda masters”, even though it is very clear the Mainer and his ilk are the only one’s possessed of “… an overarching vision of transforming the identity of European descendant peoples through the conscious reshaping of national/cultural symbols and faith.”
 
Nothing could be more apparent.
 
The swastika is still openly and proudly displayed on Buddhist temples throughout the Orient today. Even here in downtown Victoria, they can be found “tiled” into the floors of shops in China-town. It is a symbol that is thousands of years old, within the context of which, the Nazis are barely even a blip on the historical radar. There are those among us however who, for some perverse reason, would like to see that blip turned into a line that extends down through time and into future generations. Oddly, these perverse people are not neo-Nazis, but rather people who claim Asatru as their own; understanding of course that anyone can make a claim.
 
Personally, when I took up the proverbial relics of the gods, lost on Idavoll over the course of our historic Ragnarok, some some 34 years ago, I took up all of my heritage — no, I haven’t performed a human sacrifice … yet ;), but I certainly strive to understand even that on the terms of the ancestors — and not merely those aspects of it that meet with the approval of the politically correct thought police.
(Memorial) Stones seldom stand by the road, unless raised by kin for kin.
— the Havamal

Heathen Hiking and the Beauty of Gerd II

I was hoping to limit this blog entry to (the highlights of) our hikes for 2017, but noticed my last “Heathen Hiking” entry left off in September of 2016 and didn’t included the handful of hikes that rounded out the year. These included a return to East Sooke Park, albeit to the Aylard Farms area in the southeastern section of the park, a trip up Mount Brule in Sooke’s Sea-to-Sea Park, a father-son expedition up the Sooke River with a stop at the old resort ruins, our first trip out to Mary Vine Falls near the Sooke Potholes, and of course one of our most epic hikes to date which saw us on the ferry over to Salt Spring Island in a marathon 40 km hike that carried us up Bruce Peak on the southwestern portion of the island, over to the it’s west coast, and then looping it (which required some pretty crazy bushwhacking at times) north along the coast and finally back around to Fulford Harbour just as the sun was setting and a real west coast rain began to fall. Our thanks to little Domo the dog, who insistently befriended us as we moved into the thick of it and guided us through some of the more uncertain stretches of the hike!

There are so many good images to share from those hikes, but with 2017 still ahead of us, here at two. This first is from my “Sooke River ruins” hike with my son,

sookeruins

And the second is from atop the aforementioned Bruce Peak (elevation 709 meters),

brucepeak

It was cool to be up above the clouds and the fog bank that was rolling in … almost reminiscent of the prairies in that you could see miles upon miles of uninterrupted miles upon miles. But speaking of the fog bank that rolled; it was quite the sight to see and to be honest, as my imagination played on the imagery it presented — in an apocalyptic, natural disaster sort of way — it even frightened me a bit … the sheer magnitude of the phenomenon! But really, you would have had to have been there.

Such was the end of 2016.

In 2017 we went on some 22 hikes that carried us a combined total of 543 km (337 miles); which is about the distance between the city of Victoria on the southern tip of Vancouver Island here to Port Hardy, the last stop as one nears the northern tip! And the year began where it left off; with my (now) fiance and I catching the ferry over to Salt Spring Island to tackle it’s southeastern coast and then onward out to Ruckle’s Park at it’s eastern extreme.

We had spotted a fair share of bird’s of prey over the past year, eagles no exception, but all year I had longed to spot a bald eagle perched a top a tree for a really good picture. This was my “dream shot” as far as eagles went, but right at the beginning of the day, atop Reginald Hill, my fiance spotted two bald eagles about 200′ off, perched atop a tree the apex of which was basically eye-level with us! And you know, it really is like they say, “When something appears to good to be true … it can’t get any better!”

eagles

They have some really BIG trees on the Vancouver island here. This is not one of them.

bigtree

While we expanded our range this year, breaking new ground on Salt Spring Island, heading as far out west as Sombrio Beach and as far north as Mount Provost in Duncan, the hills and mountains north of Sooke are a gift that just keeps on giving. Being a mere hour bus ride and then maybe a 5km walk to the nearest trail head, the place is basically in our backyard and offers a vast expanse of official parkland and “unbounded” back-country to be explored.

sooke

Some bemoan the blocking off and tearing up of the old roads that used to run through these hills — and now serve as speedy hiking arteries for penetration into more remote areas — reasoning that such has limited access for families that might enjoy a day out at some of the small lakes that dot the terrain. I on the other hand appreciate the fact that, while there certainly are some very nice places that families have convenient access to (eg. Thetis Lake), there are nevertheless some places that there is no convenient access to; Sheild’s Lake for example (image below). The lack of convenience keeps those predisposed to convenience, to doing whatever is the easiest as a matter of habit, away, which in turn helps preserve the (certainly relative) “sanctity” of such areas. It makes a difference (IMO) when you have to actually work to get there, cultivating an attitude similar to “pride of palace”.

sheilds

Sheild’s Lake (no, I don’t keep mis-spelling that) is a beaut; nestled high up in the Sooke Mountain area, in fact due norther of Sooke Mountain, and hedged in by hills and mountains that rise up, amphitheater like, on all sides.

Lay the foundation for another Uppsala-style hof anyone?

Seriously though, it is a favourite spot for locals who, first, are actually willing to make the 10+ km hike in, loaded with gear and mostly uphill, and want to enjoy some back-country camping … away from all the rules to be sure, but all things considered, closer to common sense nevertheless.  We would return within the week, loaded with gear, to do exactly that.

sheildscamp

We would also return to Salt Spring Island, my son in tow, one more time in 2017 to explore Mount Erskine; due east of the town of Ganges on it’s western coast. The main attraction was the “fairy doors” that dot the park, built into the sides of random rocks and trees along it’s trails. The hike itself was only 13 km and thus a little on the slack side from what we are used to, but the fairy doors were interesting and in terms of the main viewpoint atop Erskine — looking north along Vancouver Island’s eastern coastline — it paid BIG for relatively little effort.

erskine

Our longest hike to date would have been the epic Bruce Peak (Salt Spring Isle) hike of late 2016 that I mentioned at the beginning of this entry. It measured out to be 39.9 km and carried us to an elevation of 903 meters. It was long. It was grueling. It was filled with uncertainty as the day wore on and the clouds grew ever darker. Man. Did I mention how much I appreciated that dog, Domo, who found us??? We made it back to Fulford Harbour just as the last light of day faded and the heavy rains began to fall; not to mention as the last ferry rounded the bend into the harbour headed towards the docks. Sigh. What an adventure! But in terms of at least distance, it was doomed to be outdone.

Around mid-May we decided to tackle what was less a trail hike and more a roadside marathon walk out to French Beach some 20 km west of Sooke; which itself measured in at 43 km over a 12 hour day. We saw some very nice sights as we hit a number of different points along the West Coast highway that day, but the sweeping vista …

french

The highlight of the day however was completely random and had to be marveled at with the naked eye alone or risk being missed out on altogether.  We were on the return journey back to Sooke and had decided to “pull off” the road and down a trail into bush for a brief rest-stop. A turkey vulture swooped into the trees from the branches above, and then was immediately followed by a golden eagle … within about 100′ of us! And let me tell you, this bird was BIG, making the turkey vulture look like a mere crow in comparison. It’s wing span was well over 6′ and probably closer to 7′! It was SO big that, much like the aforementioned fog bank rolling into Fulford Harbour that day atop Bruce Peak, I actually felt a twinge of fear at the sight! Although unlike the fog bank, no imagination was necessary!

Oh! Speaking of twinges of fear, I mentioned in my last Heathen Hiking entry my confrontation with the Goldstream Trestle and the discovery that I had a fear of heights. Well, I finally made it over the sucker this year! I needed my fiance to hold my hand while I did it mind you (lol), but I made it over nevertheless! The old train-tracks carried on from there for a stretch until we came to a rock on which someone had written the words “turn back”. And so like all of the wise and intelligent people portrayed in your typical found footage movie, we “pressed on”. And soon after we came to a second (daunting) trestle. Word had it that some distance beyond this the tracks would pass through a tunnel, but in all honesty, I was already emotionally drained from my first trestle crossing and, quite simply, was not up to the (further) challenge. Which of course has the merit of leaving me with future challenges (of this nature) to surmount!

We’ll meet again Goldstream Trestles! And you ain’t seen nothin’ yet! 😉

Anyway, while French Beach had been the furthest westward we’d trekked on foot, we reunited with a couple of guys from our Heather Mountain hike of 2016 to hit the old Priests Cabin and from there hike from the seal grotto out to Sombrio Beach, some 36 km west of French Beach.

sombriogroup

As one of our immediate goals is to hike the Juan de Fuca trail — a 47 km coastal hike that stretches from China Beach near the town of Jordan River to Botanicla Beach in the west near Port Renfrew — this hike would give us our first real taste of the ruggedness of the coastal trails.

sombriotrail

While we have had plenty of experiences at this point with trails that turn into creeks with the onset of, ahem, “winter” and the associated mud-traps , the mud traps along this stretch of the Juan de Fuca were quite significant and entirely unavoidable.

Sombrio Beach itself was “recently” featured in a B-movie called “Dark Cove”, about a group of campers who head there for a weekend of fun and wind up with a dead body on their hands. They decide to hide in a crevice, the “Emerald Cavern”, that leads to a hidden waterfall.

Having watched this movie a couple of weeks earlier, it was cool to visit the spot and be, like, “Hey! This is where they hid the body!!!” lol

emeraldfalls

emeraldfalls2

With the opening of the new “Sooke Hills Wilderness Trail” — that runs northward from Mount Wells near Goldstream to connect Victoria with other regional trails further north — French Beach didn’t remain our longest hike of the year; which itself carried us along this new trail to the northern extreme of Shawnigan Lake, and from there east to the coast and then south again to the Mill Bay Ferry and which all tolled measuring in at 44.3 km. That said, the majority of the hike felt very tame, if still fulfilling in it’s own right. It also gave us a taste for exploration even further afield.

This led to a trip up island to the nearby town of Duncan, where we got a hotel room and tackled a hike out and to the top of Mount Prevost on our first day, and then a hike out to and around Stoney Hill Park on the next. The Prevost hike stretched some 31 km (19 miles) and carried us to an elevation of 788 meters (2585 feet) in temperatures that reach up to 32 Celsius (89 F). Fortunately we were sparred the brunt of the sun on our way up, but the effort was certainly worth the reward and it represented our second highest “climb”; though it still fell well short of Heather Mountain. And “Heather Mountain” is not likely to survive 2018 as my fiance and I head out to Valemount, British Columbia for our honeymoon and what promises to be some pretty spectacular hiking!

Anyway, this is Mount Prevost as seen from the outskirts of the town of Duncan …

prevost

And here we are at the top …

prevost2

And a better view of the, well, of the view …

prevost3

Those are the mountains of Salt Spring Island in the distance there, directly ahead of us and stretch off to the left of the picture. The smaller mountain in the foreground is Mount Tzouhalem. We would be heading out to the otherside of that on the ‘morrow bound for Stoney Hill Park; which I had spied on our first trip out to Salt Spring late in 2016. The park sits atop this wall of stone in the background there, which I wanted to go to since first spotting it.

stoneyhill

And now here’s the view from the otherside, dominated by Mount Maxwell with the stretch of shore I’m standing on in the last pic. a little bit further off the rightside of this pic. Erskine is a little further (north) off the leftside of the pic, fyi.

stoneyhill2

This hike stretched for some 34 km, a lot of which was on pavement and which, combined with the previous day’s Prevost hike, had me limping pretty well the entire way back to our hotel room in the 32 Celsius heat of the day!

I boast rather than complain!

Our next hike would see us heading back out along the “Rabbity Trail” that runs along the shores of the Gowlland Tod range back in the Victoria area. This was the site of our first and entirely impromptu over-nighter. This time we came prepared for the night and set up a crude little camp, under the stars, about 3 hours down the trail head from Mckenzie Bight beach and right on the water. Here we were greeted by a pod(?) of seals who could be heard splashing about and snorting as they emerged for the rest of the night. If not for the fire-ban the province was currently under, and a lack of water shoes to protect my feet, I would have jumped in and swam with them. And I might return next year or thereafter to do exactly that!

gowlland

Here are a couple of the seals that were so curious about us and our music. I counted at least 6 in total …

gowlland2

We would spend one more night camping out in 2017, only a few days later at Island View Park on the eastern shores of the Saanich Peninsula, but by that point the smoke from all of the fires burning in the province was beginning to drift over the island, kinda killing the appeal of “getting out there into the fresh air”.

Nevertheless, it was a good years hiking. In fact, 2017 became our year for eagle spottings. And it wasn’t just eagles. While we had an encounter with an adolescent black bear last year, we had an enoucnter with a big momma and her cub just this past November on our last trip out to Mary Vine Falls while heading back in, ie. going the opposite direction wasn’t really an option. Fortunately, it was salmon season and we soon ran into three other hikers who were themselves heading back in, and so mamma bear soon lost interest and wandered back into the bush with her cub.

sookebears

Some of the scenery from that same day …

sooke2

And of course, having mentioned Mary Vine Falls on at least a couple of occasions by this point, here they are …

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Musings on the Vanadis

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It is often said of the Nordic goddess Freyja that she is a goddess of sexuality. While that might very well be the case, the notion is often carried out into the murky realm of whoredom which folk seek to rebut simply by trying to recast “bad” as “good”.  Lending to this notion of “Freyja as whore” folk will cite the Eddic lore that states that she has lain with all of the gods, her own brother included; that she is comparable to the mythic goat Heidhrun prancing about in heat, and of course the tale in which she lays with four dwarves so as to win the fabled necklace Brisingamen. Of course, the first two bits of lore come, within the stories, from the mouths of her detractors (Hyndla, Loki) and can hardly be taken at face value, while one of the Icelandic sagas, Njal’s saga I believe it was, relates how a Christian Icelander was outlawed for calling the Vanadis a whore/bitch. So, all we truly have in this regard, beyond some very questionable hearsay, is the tale of the Brisingamen, the precise nature of which we today are left largely to guess at.

My purpose however is not to disprove Freyja’s association with sexuality or, really, to wax at all academic on the matter. Rather I would simply shake up such conventionally accepted notions as surrounds the goddess and offer a perception of her that is not the product of those out to discredit and undermine her (and indeed out indigenous beliefs themselves as a whole) by an utter reluctance to see beyond the base carnal realities that all higher truth is rooted in.

It is that “higher truth” that we should be interested in.

As with all good lies, there may indeed be some kernel of truth to the words of Freyja’s detractors. Freyja may indeed have been regarded as having a strong sexual component. Rather than casting her as some two-bit mortal whore however, one might be inclined to say that she is the spirit of the passion that exists between lovers. And so that where there are lovers engaged in a “passionate embrace” there is Freyja. Following these carnal lines alone, one might say, in this regard, that highest expression of Freyja would have been more similar to Hinduisms Kama Sutra and certain Tantraic teachings rather than the “Girls Gone Wild” nonsense of the low-minded and uncultured.

Indeed, I have reason to believe that the magical art of seidhR, that is so strongly associated with Freyja, and was so “strongly opposed” by the early Church in Norway, was a cult that taught mysto-magical arts of seduction, ie. the generation of sexual energy and it’s use to manipulate the mind of other beings.

But as the spirit of sexual passion, to refer to Freyja as a whore is to misunderstand and cheapen the fundamental value of sexuality, the intense passion of lovers for one another, and to drive the very spirit of passion itself from one’s bedroom; a passion that extends well beyond the bedroom and into the higher realms of passionate devotion for one another as reflected in the supreme value the indigenous Germanic people placed on monogamy, and mythically reflected  in Freyja’s own longing for her absent lover OdhR (Mental Excitement).

But Freyja is more even than the spirit of sexuality, or even of passion in general, but also of sensuality and what my high school Western Civ. teacher would have called “the aesthetic experience”; which itself was basically a recasting of Plato’s hierarchy of thought. Freyja promotes a fine appreciation of all the better things in life, noting, indeed, relishing in their fine and subtle details, like the brush strokes of a painting, the subtle differences in taste of a fine wine, etc.

A stately connoisseur of beauty. A Lady. A Freyja.

Indeed, I would tend to think that much of Freyja-lore survived, after a fashion, and can be gleaned in Eleanor of Aquitaine and her so-called “court of love”, where the ideas of ideas of courtly love, chivalry and the troubadours were brought together; not so much as a pure expression of Eleanor’s native Germanic spirit, but as a reaction of that spirit to the increasingly rigid structure of NW European society that began with the absorption of southern European culture and the introduction of Abrahamic Christianity.

The knightly notion of the lady as muse, be it in battle, or as found re-expressed in the Renaissance, in the production of art.

The Law of Ymir

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“Not at all do we consider him to be a god. He was evil and all his descendants. We call them rime-thursar.” — Snorri Sturlusson, Prose Edda

By the indigenous worldview of our ancestors the present is an accumulation of interwoven *layers* that set the context of our lives, both individually and collectively (in ever expanding circles of relation out to all of humanity).

We see this in the evolution of the primal realm of Niflheim, formed by the layers upon layers of rime and frost that built up around the primal spring called Hvergelmir (Seething Cauldron), and we see this in the actions of the Great Mothers at the Divine Counsel of the Tivar in Upper-Heaven, as they “lay the layers/laws” (of Divine Judgement) into the holy spring of Wyrd. And of course we see it in the folklore and the appearance of the Little Mothers at a child’s birth who would set the baby’s “orlogR”, the “primal layer/law” or “basic context” of their life … which would of course be deeply influenced — wherever that stops short of “micro-managed” — by the “primal law” of the family, tribe, culture, etc. that they sprung from.

Layers upon (interwoven) layers. Laws upon laws. A veritable three dimensional tapestry.

This is a useful perceptual tool in approaching the “Creation myth” of the Germanic peoples as embodied in the Norse-Icelandic Eddas; that each event along the path to Creation (and forward) represents successive “laws” or “precedents” that set the context of human existence on a fundamental level.

And THE primal law of all existence is, arguably (ie. Ginnungagap), the “Law of Ymir” whose “offspring” it is said are all brutish and hostile, the very forces of hardship and adversity as inherent in nature and natural existence; to which all things, great and small, are and ever shall be subject too (to one degree of another).

There is no escape from this primal law. It is set. Indeed, if one can rely on nothing else in life, it is an undeniable fact that one can always count on hardship and adversity. It shall always be there to hurt you, to make you suffer, to kill you, and then to casually step over your broken form utterly heedless that you were ever even there to begin with.

And this is how it should be; a fact that one can most certainly argue against, in all futility, but which remains a fact nevertheless. And it remains a fact that has and shall prove itself, over and over and over again, and never show itself off as anything other than the cold, hard truth.

No malicious intentions necessary.

There are of course mitigating factors, mythologically speaking, in the form of the All-Nourisher, Audhumbla, the Tivar and of course in the the foundation of the “innangeard” or “in-group/community”. But that combination of adversity (Ymir) and nurture (Audhumbla) is what gave birth to the first of the gods, to glory, and the process of the cultivation of resilience, strength and excellence, of divinity, in which adversity is a key component. And in which adversity remains ever-present, regardless of one’s degree of strength, fortitude, and excellence.

The “Law of Ymir” remains ever in place.

Adversity is a given.

And the best life is had by the those who accept that, who look upon it as a challenge; by those who have an inkling of exactly how adverse life could potentially be without the buffer of the innangeard established by the gods and maintained by our ancestors since time immemorial. And this keen awareness also makes such people some of the most thankful.

“the hardships of the freedman mark the freedom of his condition.” — Tacitus, Germania