I remember remarking to Lana Lokteff (gratuitous name drop) the first time we met, that if anyone in this day and age was truly possessed of the notion of the “white supremacy” which the MSM relentlessly and wrongly applies to advocates of racial realism, I could disavow them of the notion instantly and forever by taking them with me to Walmart in my small town on a Saturday morning. Actually at any time there one can see an exhibition of dysgenics that makes the Theozoology of Jorg Lanz worth reconsidering. And while it is true that our “current” civilization, that which is just now passing, was constructed almost entirely by Whites, it is also undeniable that most of the Whites I know are not much more capable of maintaining, much less rebuilding it, than the representatives of the brown races by whom we are currently being outbred, and who are being used by the earth’s true rulers, the Archons, servants of the Demiurge, to smash the remaining structure of our civilization to make room for their slave world.
It is an undeniable fact that we are, all of us, depraved and degenerate beings. More and more, our functions are usurped and externalized by our technology. Our homes heat and cool themselves; our cars begin to drive themselves. My memory is no longer in my head but at my fingertips and my catalog of thoughts is controlled by those who subtly and not-so-subtly alter the contents of the cloud as it suits them. I can no longer repair my car.
The words required to speak the truth are no longer available. They have been removed from the language, prohibited, banned, censored. What one cannot say, past a point, one cannot think. Our thoughts are not our own.
And yet, none of this is new. The dumbing down of man began long ago. We are far from the Golden Age. These days people post memes on the internet of rooms full of people staring at their portable devices, ignoring each other. Reading their iPads at the dinner table. Yet how long ago, and for how long, have we done the same with books? We think of literacy as an accomplishment, a gift. We think the Rig Veda, one of the oldest known written records of man, may have been written down as long as five thousand years ago. Yet for how long before that was it carried only in the minds of men?
We began to read and write when we could no longer remember. And before that, we began to speak when we could no longer communicate without words. The process of decline has been a long one. And as the development of each new lower level occurs, we view the old one, the previous degradation, with nostalgia.
I laugh when the argument occurs, where did man originate? As of a few weeks ago, the supposed advocates of my race argue that man originated in Europe, as opposed to Africa. These arguments are based merely on the oldest physical and material evidence that can be found, at the moment. They tell us nothing of the true history of man, which is far older and far longer than any shreds of evidence we are likely to find on earth.
To define the origin of Man, one would first have to define what “Man” is. And I have long suspected, feel with some certainty, that “Man” as we know him, had not one but many origins, and that “Man” as we know him today is a sorry amalgam of other species, from many places, some of them not of this earth.
Some have speculated that the Annunaki, mysterious visitors from Aldebaran, made the current humans as slaves to mine gold, by mixing their own genes with those of the animals they found here. That may be correct, to some extent. I find much intuitive truth in Blavatsky’s doctrine, whatever its true source, that we are one, perhaps the fifth, of a series of races to walk this earth, in declining ages. The greatest innovation of her doctrine, as echoed in the factual and fictional speculations of other like Tolkien, was that the first race upon the earth was not fully material as we know it. From this I have extracted a feeling that all of the world’s structure is indeed in free fall toward materiality, hardening with much less breath toward our Age of Lead. This is the teaching of the Puranas and of all of our traditional doctrines that have not been tainted or replaced by the Lies from the desert.
On my recent trip to London, I visited, on the advice of friends, three venerable occult bookstores, Atlantis where Crowley met George Cecil Jones, whence the Golden Dawn emerged; Treadwell, where I had a tarot reading which correctly advised me that it was time to evolve from the analytical to the mythic in my thought and speech (to recover that lost existence), and Watkins. All were excellent and had books not found elsewhere. And yet I bought nothing, because I had waiting for me in the States, newly arrived just before I left and unread, a book I correctly anticipated would make these others obsolete, unnecessary: Miguel Serrano’s The Golden Thread, which I imagine, in those societies without the free speech protection that we here are doing our best to throw away, they would fear to carry or to sell.
It is indeed Serrano who supplies the answers to all of these questions to the races and origins of men. He speaks mythically, poetically, in words truer than prose. In all of my almost sixty years I have found no truer voice. I have spoken previously of the need for those of us who are capable of obtaining our own Gnostic vision. These visions are best obtained after training or trauma which must be tailored by Providence to the unique karma, needs and abilities of the particular seeker and cannot be devised by formula. As such, they will vary in expression and perception according to the dristi, the perspective of their holder. And mine varies surprising little from Serrano’s. He has divined, expressed and compiled more succinctly than I ever could, from his much richer life experiences, a view of the world upon I cannot improve or expand. We would differ, were I capable of rising to his level otherwise, only with regard to the prominence of the El/Ella in his work, the quest to re-obtain the divine feminine; I suspect that might be to some degree an expression of the differences of our cultural roots, his Latin among others, which influence (and interest) is lacking in mine. I prefer to see the intended spiritual merger as a reunion as that of my “self” and an Other lacking in gender. Yet that is small, a matter of style and taste, I believe.
And Serrano speaks, in The Golden Thread, in The Ultimate Avatar, and Manu and The Resurrection of the Hero, among others, of the Blood, as a golden elixir which is more spiritual than material – and I believe that it here we must begin, and which consideration we must hold in mind as we consider the origins of men. Because it seems to me that there is a blood, a golden non-physical blood of eternity that flows through spiritual vessels in us of which the veins and arteries are but material analogs. And it is this golden blood, and other streams of blood that are silver, or copper, or of other baser materials in the alchemical sense, that is in fact beyond the blood of heroes and is the true metagenetic record of Divine Man. It flows in minute qualities in the veins of some of us.
None of us today are those greater men in whom the Golden Blood, the blood of the gods, flowed more abundantly. We are not the men even our grandfathers were. much less our ancestors of days beyond recall or record. The record of the crossbreeding, the miscegenation between gods and men is everywhere, even in deteriorated, debased form in the Bible which is the plagiarism of the Jews.
It appears to me that the Golden Race, the source of the Golden Blood, came here from afar, long before the Ages of Man. The curse of our limited perspective as men is its brevity, its anthropomorphism, its limitation to the dristi of this planet and relative time, in this deteriorated, material Age of Lead. It is so hard for us to even obtain the realization that the Occult War in which we are involved originated long before and far away from this limited battleground of a planet. And the War has been here for ages before our recorded memories or even unrecorded ones which would be recognizable to us as human. I think the Golden Ones were here, and the Silver Ones, and the others. And yes there were animals here, who were raised by them, or not, and with whom they shared their genes, in multiple ways and for multiple purposes.
And most of us, Black, White, and Brown, are the embodiments, expressions of the mixed and deteriorated genes from these other races and the animals of the earth. The multiculturalists, the Universalists, the unwitting advocates of the Archons who tell us that we are all mutts and that there are no pure races, are correct to some large extent. There is no pure White Race. There are no Aryans walking the earth. That was indeed the genetic failing and the impossible quest of the SS in the Third Reich, so isolated, hopeless, brave and sad here near the end of time. We are indeed drowning in a sea of mud. The Golden Blood was interbred with the Silver, the Silver with the Copper, and all encased in the DNA of the animals. Those of us who retain the seeds of the blood differ otherwise in our genetic makeup, only by degree.
There are some few being walking this planet in whom the Blood has some chance of awakening, and it is our mission to awaken it. All of the other missions we are given are false, and hopeless. The misled urge us to try to breed, to brood young in competition with the numbers of the animal men, and that cannot be done. Do we really need more Walmart shoppers?
The only true mission of the Awakened is to remain Awake. To awaken other does not seem possible; at best we can be there to greet them when their eyes are opened by Providence, by their own internal spiritual dynamic – or both.
I do not mean by this writing to denigrate or deny the efforts of those who try, to the best of their ability, to preserve the best blood of the races, to preserve the class that builds rather than destroys or merely maintains – who follow their best and most natural instincts to build their families, their kin and their tribes. Their impulse is noble, and mostly importantly, their effort is necessary. Without that effort, not only is there no hope that the coming End of Age can be averted, or ameliorated or even delayed, but there would be no hope of survival into the next. And throughout all of the surviving mythical records of the beginnings and endings of the Ages of man, there has always been some survival, some continuity. Beyond that, the only memories are indeed of the Blood only, which is not nothing – which really is everything.
I merely wish to advise, to those who advocate and pursue the Right-Hand way, that it is not the only way. And that the way of the Wanderer, the Spirit and the Ghost who walks the face of this earth and the path of the Fathers, is also necessary, and is Just. And that it is in, to some extent, the Vison of the One-Eyed Man, the Hanged God, that eternity is best reflected, in the light of the Black Sun, which leads to the Green Thunderbolt, from which myth and existence begins anew, in this very breath.