• by Natural Selectionist Worker

I recently took a week off work to spend part of it helping out on a friend’s homestead and the rest building community with my folk. It was surprisingly refreshing to get away from not just the pressure of the work week, but the stifling atmosphere of city life.

The drive to the homestead was almost as long as my normal workday. As I passed between major cities, I noticed that even on the major highways, the countryside looked and felt quite different from the cities. The big white fluffy clouds I remember from my childhood seem rare in the city these days, replaced by smaller and wispier clouds and, all too often, the streaks of chemtrails.

On the first major stretch, the clouds were still small and sparse. As I approached one major city, the sky darkened and turned to a pouring rain once I entered the city limits, a downpour that did not let up despite the intensity and the lack of clouds outside the city. As soon as I reached the edge of the city, the downpour turned to a light sprinkle and disappeared a few miles later, replaced at first by a clear sky and then by the big fluffy clouds I remember from long ago. The further from major cities I got, the more natural the clouds looked. Perhaps the weather control programs are more focused on the cities, or perhaps crossing state lines brought me to a region that isn’t hit as hard by chemtrail manipulation.

I finally reached my destination and pulled up the gravel drive to see my friend’s kids happily running around in the evening sun, jumping into piles of leaves and chasing each other through the trees. Their oldest remembered me from a year prior but the younger two did not, though all three of them were excited to show me the baby chicks the family had recently acquired. Each of them had a favorite, but the youngest – a boy reaching the end of toddlerhood – was a bit rough and clumsy with his, and unfortunately it did not survive the visit (though I can’t say for sure that his handling of the chick was the cause). The rest of the chicks are still quite healthy and growing fast.

I spent a few hours each day helping dig out a large pit so the family could build a greenhouse. After the first few inches, the ground turned to clay and rock – common for the earth in that area. The pit was needed to place the foundation for the greenhouse and replace the clay with healthy topsoil so they could grow enough to feed their family and at least a few neighbors, friends, and relatives should they need to. They also have a large fenced off pasture where they plan to put a couple cows next year and a strip of land where they plan to put some fruit and nut trees. Rather than a septic tank or sewer leading to a water treatment plant, their sewage dumps into a small lagoon where the local bugs and bacteria simply break it down and return it to nature (surprisingly, there was no noticeable smell from 20 feet away). Bug & Bacteria Breakdown > Build Back Better, bitches.

Although I had a brief pang of guilt when we started digging up mother earth, I knew we were reshaping her for the worthy cause of helping people separate themselves from the far more destructive globo-corporate agribusiness companies that destroyed family farms for corporate factory farms. My friend, the patriarch of the family, was a responsible and forward-thinking man who wanted to be able to pass the land down to his children, and he would be a far better steward of the land than the imported workers of a company whose shareholders only care about squeezing all the wealth they can get out of our people.

The work was fun – the ground was hard, but the front-loader was strong enough to dig into it with a running start and shave a few inches of clay away. The rocks took longer to dig out – some of the rocks were bigger than my head, and one was bigger than my friend’s kids! But reshaping the earth let new life grow is sometimes part of a man’s job, and doing it to help a friend feed his family was far more satisfying than doing similar work for pay, even at a small business. Another friend arrived a couple days after I did, and one of the first things he did was bring up the pictures we’d sent of us digging out the foundation and beg for a turn playing in the dirt with the big toy.

In some ways, it felt like being a child again – digging in the dirt (even with a purpose, it felt like play), letting his kids lead me around and show me all their favorite places to play, pushing them on the swings, and sitting around a fire at night just talking and relaxing. Once the kids were in bed, my friend, his wife (a wonderful hostess and loving mother, gracefully feminine without the need for the empty vanity of city women), and I would sit out there, talk for a while, and eventually just stare up at the stars, soaking in the sounds of nature. The energy of the countryside is so different from that of the city – just sitting there under the open sky, away from the noise, the lights, the hum of machines and revving of engines, the flow of current and currency that controls our lives – there was an aura of peace and harmony that can hardly be found within the limits of the cities.

We talked of the situation our people are in, the events that are coming, the people planning them behind the curtain. But out there away from it all, the problems facing us seemed deceptively far away. The environment – both the natural and the social – was so healthy, you’d think there wasn’t a global conspiracy to poison our minds and bodies. And yet, the proof of it was still right there the moment we went back inside and turned on a screen. We discussed the psyops of the recent and distant past, the signs of things that had happened as they had been foretold by the people who planned them, and the signs of what was coming. My friend had moved his family specifically because he knew what was coming and how important it would be to get his family away from it all, but now that they had escaped from the city, it was almost too easy to be lulled into a false sense of security and forget about the looming darkness, losing one’s self in the bustle of farm chores and energetic children.

The drive home was bittersweet. My friend is fiercely spiritual, and though we have different beliefs, I find myself impressed by the aura that emanates from him. His faith seems to give him the power to calm the waters around him, so to speak, making it safe for his wife’s warmth and nurturing energy to move freely through their space. The first time I spent time in their home, before they moved out of the city, the feeling I had from being there for just a few hours was so intensely positive that it was hard to force myself to leave when the time came. This time, I was a bit more prepared for it, but the combination of their happy home, the beauty of nature, and the rightness of our cause were even more powerful. I had time to get used to the feeling, which made it easier when the time to leave finally came, but as I left it felt like I was leaving the hallowed ground of a man whose faith was strong enough to affect the world around him. Their children are fortunate to be able to call it home, and I hope they inherit the willpower of their parents.

Despite the grueling drive there and back, I can’t wait to find another excuse to head back out there and help him out some more. Though I selfishly tell myself that I’m doing it to secure a place to stay and food supply if and when the cities become uninhabitable, I can’t deny that the strength of a man and woman who understand their roles and compliment each other as nature intended have created a place that is such a wonderful escape from the city that I long to return to it for far better reasons than the mere material ones.

I spent one night at home before heading out in the opposite direction to meet up with some Asatrus, a Nordic Pagan faith whose beliefs align nicely with my naturalist beliefs and my growing understanding of the importance of family and tribe. We rented a cabin outside a town of roughly 25k people over an hour from the nearest suburb. Although many consider the tribalist right to be a very masculine-oriented political movement, this Asatru gathering had almost twice as many women as men – perhaps the spiritual side of the movement should be a bigger focus if we want to attract more women and save them from the horrors our modern dystopian society inflicts on them.

Though the event was a religious gathering, it had the feel of a group of friends getting together for the weekend. Some of us were new friends, but it was good to be among people of a similar mindset, and the more time we spent together the more comfortable we became with those we’d just met. There was somewhat of a planned schedule of events going into the weekend, including a few times that the group broke up by sex for different things – the women crocheted for an hour or two chatting about whatever women chat about while us men burned runes and sigils into wood and talked about guns, Gods, work, politics, and the beauty of nature.

There were multiple religious ceremonies planned, but due to everyone driving in at different times (some came from about as far away as my friend’s homestead a few live along the way there) and it being the organizers’ first big event, we didn’t get to do everything we’d planned. Everything we did get to went well, and we had great food (both traditionally European and not) and good conversations.

The main ritual was a ceremony invoking Freyr and Freya, twin brother and sister who we called upon for strength, fertility, and the new beginnings of spring. Ostara was also recognized, though some of the group had performed a ceremony for her a few weeks earlier, near the equinox. As we walked into the ritual chamber, we spaced ourselves out with each man being between two women (some of the women had to stand next to each other because of their numbers, something that was likely common in the old days as well since men were more likely to be stuck on business away from home and risk dying younger then as we are now.

We stood around an altar with a male on one side and a female on the other, each of them giving a devotional prayer to their God. Then three off the men and three of the women took turns reading out prayers on behalf of the elders, parents, and children, and waved sprigs doused with mead in front of each of us to bless us with virility and prosperity.

I’m less familiar with the twins than with Wotan and Frigga, my main go tos aside from mother Gaia, and I’m far from understanding all the esoteric symbolism associated with their stories, but it was a nice introduction to the rest of the pantheon of the faith I’m exploring. It was quite different from the mainline protestant ceremonies of my youth, more participatory, though also on a much smaller scale. The symbols of nature – flowers, plant sprigs, antlers, and such were far more abundant and more clearly tied the natural world to the spiritual than any church service I’ve attended.

I found the explicit focus on family refreshing. I was raised by leftists who rarely spent much time discussing the importance of family – my mother went to Berkeley and studied Chinese, and my father was a hippie turned computer programmer. They were so feminist that my dad took my mom’s last name and kept it after the divorce, though my dad at least instilled the ideas of free speech and critical thinking in me. As a result, none of us cared that much about building family bonds with each other, but as an evolutionist who’s forced to admit the importance of heredity and the utility of family and tribal bonds, I have a pretty good idea of what I’m missing out on. It hit harder having just spent a few days seeing firsthand what a healthy family that knows how important that bond is looks like, and seeing it again in the loving ties between mothers and daughters, fathers and sons in the Asatru group. If I ever find someone to start a family of my own with, it will help to have a community that can help communicate those values to my kids.

Rather than a collection plate, they auctioned off some donated and crafted goods. There was a hotly contested Swedish cookbook, won by a grandmother who probably already knows more recipes than every non-grandmother in the room combined, but who wasn’t going to let that stop her from learning more. The big seller was an ornamental drinking horn with gold inlay resting on an antler, won by the one friend there that I met prior to exploring Asatru – a working class punk rocker who I met through the same dissident right group as my homesteading friend. He’s overcoming some challenges that the Gods are testing him with while keeping his kid from succumbing to too much of Weimerica’s degeneracy. I picked up a couple silver coins stamped with Yggdrasil and other symbols of the Asatru faith.

The matronly leader of our local group kept my punk rock friend, his sassy and fun lady, and I from getting into too much trouble while her husband and patronly leader got us talking about good bands of the movement (No Remorse has some great songs, check them out if you like punk). A laid back young woman that I probably picked on too much shared some funny songs too. There was a young couple there who were ridiculously in love and channeled it into exercising together (both physically and spiritually, it would seem); I was tempted to join their morning pushups, but three’s a crowd. Some of them were about as new as me (the current social situation in our nation seems to be contributing a bit to their growth) but some of them had been in it for years, having figured things out years before I did and raising their kids in it.

There was some talk about the political climate and coming events, though I wish I would have started a few more conversations to get more of a feel for the group. It seems each of them listens to different people on the dissident and edgy mainstream right, which is mostly a good thing, though some of them listen to people that are almost definitely controlled opposition (but hey, we all fall for something sometimes – they produce too much bullshit not to). Most of them seem to have at least some idea of what’s coming, though some of them are just conservative and patriotic Pagans looking for a healthy community.

Overall, it was a great Ecofolk week. The homesteader who loves his land and wants to leave a healthy farm for his children and the families that are trying to return to the healthier and more natural ways of our ancestors are both living out the Ecofolk lifestyle in their own ways. They want a community that fits their values of homeland and heritage, both respecting the past and starting anew when necessary to grant a home and heritage to future generations. They deserve it, but they will have to work for it, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

This is exactly the kind of thing Pax Deorum wants to encourage. Whatever your heritage, wherever your homeland, build a better community locally than what the elite are forcing down our throats. We do not all have to want the same kind of community, but to secure the right for different kinds of people to live differently and the local autonomy needed to allow us to remain different, our many different kinds of communities will have to unite – at least in spirit, and at times in action – to resist the elite.

It may seem counterintuitive to unite for our right to maintain our differences, whether cultural or hereditary, but it is the perfect oppositional tactic to counter our enemy. The twin control schemes of global corporatism and global communism claim to want to unite humanity, either with equal rights or equal outcomes for the worker class (and unequal rights and outcomes for the elite), but they use divide and conquer tactics to pit individualists, localists, and nationalists against one another while imperialists and globalists unite to control us. Everyone who wishes for the right to their own home, their own community, and/or their own nation of like minded people, rather than our dystopian clown world of forced mixing and pressured transitioning to hollow out and dilute our populations, must be willing to unite even with those who want to live very differently from them for the right to maintain our own communities, and we must unite against the forces that are trying to destroy uniqueness and diversity while pretending to promote it.

However, we must also encourage each home, community, and nation to care for its own people and land, to remove themselves as much as possible from the control schemes of the enemy that force us to bear the burdens of those who don’t share our burdens. We must be willing to reciprocate help and cooperation with those who help and cooperate with us, but those who prove unwilling, unreliable, or untrustworthy must be held accountable as well. We must respect the borders and boundaries of those who respect ours – and only those who respect ours. The people I met this week seem to understand this principle on a deeper level, whether they have ever put it into words or not.

This is the way. Good luck to you all. Stand for your Land, stand for your Folk.