A Danish Majority


Recently, the Danish parliament passed a declaration which states that no residential areas in Denmark should ever have a non-Danish majority. The resolution was called discriminatory and, wait for it, racist, by the far left.

To me this is great news. Wonderful, in fact. It means that politicians in positions of power in Western Europe finally are willing to acknowledge and propose solutions to the core problem. It is very encouraging that politicians are finally proposing resolutions that ensure (or at least attempt to ensure) the future existence of their peoples. My hope is that other countries will follow suit. And quickly, before it’s too late.

Long live Denmark!

The Soldier

The Soldier

by Rupert Brooke

If I should die, think only this of me:
      That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
      In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
      Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam;
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
      Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
      A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
            Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
      And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
            In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Thoughts on Reincarnation


Life is split into four, like the seasons of the year. One is born, one grows up, one is adult and then one ages and dies. Likewise, the year has four seasons; summer follows spring, autumn follows summer, winter follows autums. The spring represents childhood and life’s beginning, the summer youth and strength and everything beautiful. Autumn represents ageing and decrepitude. And winter naturally, death.

But what follows winter, if not spring? After the annihilating coldness of winter, nature is rebirthed. Flowers bloom and erupt into colour, trees grow green, and birdsong can be heard once more. Life returns. We can imagine human life in a similar form. We are born, live and then die, are born again and live, die, and so forth.

The belief in reincarnation has been with us from the earliest of religions, even though very few current world religions still have the belief. Reincarnation in the pre-Christian Europe, for instance, is not the same as the belief in Paradise in Christianity. In its essence, in its purest form, the belief in reincarnation is the belief that, after death, you return to this very earth, in a new form, a new body. This happens within the family, in other words through the blood. You share your genetic makeup with your ancestors; how do you know you’ve never lived previously? Are you them?

In the pre-Christian Europe, you were buried with your valuables. This practice has been observed in other parts of the world as well, for instance Egypt. The purpose of this, was the one would, in one’s new shape, would recognize oneself, and remember. If one suffers from amnesia, it sometimes helps to have things at hand that were valuable emotionally to the person in question. One can imagine that the reincarnation process is something akin to amnesia, and so naturally, finding one’s possessions would help in recognizing oneself. There is a possibillity that the custom of naming children after their dead relatives comes from this practice.


Reincarnation fascinates me immensely, and I think it might be a worthwhile basis for a spiritual worldview. In ancient times, reincarnation was used as something of a moral compass as well. If you lived a decent, honorable and worthy life, the chance of being reincarnated would be higher than if you were morally reprehensible. This belief we recognize as Karma, in Buddhism. I think that a widespread return to the belief in reincarnation would be a very positive thing.



The Curious Case of Pathological Altruism


“It is like watching a nation busily engaged in heaping up its own funeral pyre.” -Enoch Powell

Another terror attack has struck Western soil, this time in London. It is, at this point in time, about as shocking as the fact that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, or that water indeed is wet.

Why is this still allowed to continue? Why do we keep eating up the perpetual media cycle that comes with these attacks? We assume that we have not been kind enough or inclusive enough towards immigrants. I would, in fact, go as far as to say that we want to think that these attacks are somehow a result of a failure on our part. We have deep-seated doubts about ourselves, about our goodness, about our fairness; because we want to be these things. We pride ourselves on being just, on being kind and forgiving, and welcoming of outsiders. The mere accusation of being uncharitable is troubling to us. And we assume that everyone else is like us in this regard, or that they want to be. This is simply not the case.

It is my belief that Europeans have evolved to have higher capacity for concern for the well-being of others, and that other peoples know this, and exploit this. We have an inherent altruism that can be warped and taken advantage of.

No goodwill can be abused forever. What these attackers might not realize is that they are prodding a hibernating bear, a slumbering beast. It will awaken. The wrath of the awakened Saxon, indeed.


An Introduction to Fine Tea

“Tea is also a sort of spiritual refreshment, an elixir of clarity and wakeful tranquility. Respectfully preparing tea and partaking of it mindfully create heart-to-heart conviviality, a way to go beyond this world and enter a realm apart. No pleasure is simpler, no luxury cheaper, no consciousness-altering agent more benign.” –James Norwood Pratt


I love tea. It is my favorite drink, and I drink it every day. My love for tea in not just confined to the drink itself, but also to its long history and various intricacies and quirks.

The title of this post refers specifically to fine tea, because I assume that I don’t need to tell anyone how to put a teabag in water, or how to acquire tea from a supermarked. The following article is intended to teach newcomers to this wonderful drink how you can (quickly and not too expensively) brew a nice cup of tea, in terms that are hopefully easy to understand. It will also cover where to shop for higher-quality teas.

In order to brew tea, you really only need (at the bare minimum) water and tealeaves, and some vessel in which to brew these leaves. Of course, you will need some method for heating the water, but for convenience sake I will assume you are not a caveman and have access to a water boiler or a kettle (or a saucepan).

As for the vessel in which to brew, I would like to offer two alternatives. The first is simply to buy a strainer with a handle and brew the tea in a teacup. A strainer is really quite cheap and to be honest you don’t a teapot unless you plan to brew for others. A teapot is nice to have, but they can be rather expensive, and you don’t need one to enjoy high-quality tea. You simply place the strainer in the cup, portion the amount of tea you want (generally one teaspoon is enough for one cup) in the strainer and pour the warm or boiling water (more on that distinction later) over the leafs. Then you let the tea brew for the amount of time specified on the packaging; then you remove the stainer and enjoy.


The second alternative is the buy a gaiwan. If you do not know what a gaiwan is (odds are, if you’re new to tea, you do not), I will try to explain briefly what they are, and how to use one. A gaiwan is a tiny bowl with a lid, and often a saucer as well. The major difference with a teapot is the water/leaf ratio. In a gaiwan you use much more leaf than you would in a teapot, but you brew the tea for a much shorter time period; perhaps just 10 to 15 seconds. Then you can pour the tea into a cup for drinking (by adjusting the lid to just leave a haircrack opening, holding the bowl with one finger on the lid and one finger underneath, on the saucer) or you could just drink from the gaiwan itself. Gaiwans have many advantages compared to a teapot, and are much cheaper. One major advantage a gaiwan have over a teapot is that you can rebrew your leaves. With particularily high-quality leaves as many as perhaps 10 brews will yield good tea, so that is one thing to consider, in relation to prize.


All types of tea come from the same plant, Camellia sinensis; there are also other drinks often referred to as tea which do not come from the teaplant (such as chamomile), but as they are not from the teaplant, they are not technically speaking tea. The differences in the teas come from the level of oxidation and the climate in which the plant is grown. As for different types of tea; there are numerous and naming them would take me probably the rest of the day, so I’ll just briefly cover the major tea categories.

Firstly, there is green tea, which is completely unoxidized. Green tea is the most widely consumed type of tea in the world, and is the most popular type of tea in Asia. Green tea should be brewed using water that is less than boiling, usually between 70-80 degrees celcius. Secondly, there is oolong, which is tea that has been partially oxidized. Then there is black tea, which as you might imagine by now, is fully oxidized. By and large, most varieties of oolong and black tea should be brewed with boiling water. There are several other types of tea, but I will not go into them here, as this is intended to be an introduction to tea for the uninitiated.

As for where to get tea; if you have a teashop near you, by all means use that, as they no doubt will be able to help you with any questions you might have. They will also be able to offer you recommendations on what teas to try. I live in a rural area, and not close to a teashop, so I usually order my tea online. There are often rather exuberant shipping costs to ordering online, but there are purveyors who sell very good teas, so this is one option to consider if you, like me, do not live near a teashop.

I hope this will be of use to at least a few people.

“There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea.”-Henry James

Violence and Art


When I was a teenager, I liked to watch violent films; blood-stained Japanese samurai movies, gory horrors and so forth. I sought out progessively extreme films, until I watched one film in particular that was so depraved and sick that I thought to myself: “OK, I’ve had enough.”

My view on violence in film, and art in general, has changed significantly since then. At first I held a somewhat libertarian position; of course filmmakers should be allowed to make films like this if they wanted to, but I personally wanted nothing to do with them, I wanted to avoid them wholly if possible. I was staunchly against censorship in all its forms. Recently, I’ve come to the conclusion that censorship might in certain circumstances be necessary. Filmmakers and other artist should be challenged on their use of excessive, gratuitous violence and sexual content. I realize that this would result in outrage in our decadent age, from artists and audiences alike.

Of course, violence and the aestheticization of violence, has existed for millennia. The passion of Christ, for instance has been a recurring motif in Western art, and many violent Baroque paintings are quite beautiful, in my opinion. But I would argue that this is not the same as what we see in the art world of late.

What we see today, in the popular television series Game of Thrones, for instance, is something approaching fetishization of violence and gore; I get the distinct impression that the creators recieve some sort of sexual gratification from this. I find this quite disturbing. The godfather, so to speak, of this development, might be Hermann Nitsch, an Austrian “performance artist”. He is the embodiment of this to me. His performances feature crucifixions, performers tearing open animal carcasses and playing with their entrails, and huge amounts of blood.


That is not to say that my view on him is wholly negative however. I find him and his performances strangely fascinating, in a morbid sort of way. He is also an excellent musician. He is certainly more interesting than the rest of his ilk and descendents, who are simply self-indulgent hacks. At best.

This sort of figure appear in a much larger scale in the Hollywood mainstream as well, albeit in a less extreme form. Autistes like Eli Roth and Quentin Tarantino and the countless dime-a-dozen schlocky horror film directors that populate Hollywood.

This is what we crave; excess in all areas of life. Excess of food, excess of alcohol. Excess of entertainment and excess in entertainment. We live in an age of absolute abundance, and yet we always seem to want more. To consume more, to endulge wildly in food and drink, to party incessantly. To have constant stimuli in the form of social media. To listen to music all the time, almost without pause. And our entertainment naturally reflects this worldview, it feeds it to us; of course it does, they simply give the people what they crave and pay money for.

Take a step back; look up from your phone occasionally and see the world around you, truly see it. Take a walk, without music. Walk in the woods or in the mountains, listen to the music of the birds instead of the music emanating from your earbuds. Lay down in the quiet, and look up at the heavens. Look at the stars, and see the world around you.

On Pornography

Pornography is an insidious force. It is one of the majors ills of the world, and a perfect encapsulation of our decline as a society. It encourages masturbation and self-absorbedness, selfishness and indeed loneliness. It encourages you to pursue shallow pleasure instead of fulfilment, it provides a short-term solution to a long-term problem. It makes you docile and complacent, and it gives you a false sense of achievement.

Not to mention all the adverse effects on the brain and your health in general. Among many other things, it has been proven to rewire the reward center of the brain, and cause erectile dysfunction in men.

Stop watching pornography; it is beneath you. It is harmful, and it degrades you. Degrades your confidence and sense of self-worth.There is something deeply perverse in being a spectator to someone else’s pleasure, and then pleasuring yourself, in solitude.

We are, after all, what we repeatedly do. If one spends ones free time  engaging in degenerate behavior, one eventually becomes degenerate. Spend your time doing something worthwhile and productive instead.

“We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.” –Aristotle


“Shall I Compare Thee…”

“Shall I Compare Thee…”

by William Shakespeare


Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
   So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
   So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.




The achievements of the European man are so numerous that they boggle the mind.

In the neolithic period we erected Pagan temples, dolmens and cromlechs. After the spread of Christianity we have built in their stead magnificent churches. We have built great civilizations, we have explored the world. We have made technological advancements we could not imagine the world without. And we have produced art the like of which is unparalleled in the history of this planet; the most extraordinary music, the most inspiring sculptures, incredible paintings, and the richest, most enduring and human literature.

Europe has birthed men and women whose names will echo through the ages. Aristotle, Mozart, Shakespeare. Michelangelo. Bach. Newton, Darwin and Magellan. Queen Elizabeth and Sir Oswald Mosley, Tolstoy and Da Vinci. Brahms. Chopin. Socrates and Hildegard von Bingen. And Vivaldi and Augustus and Tacitus. And so on and so forth.


We have won unprecedented freedoms. And yet, all of our achievements and triumphs really matter very little when regarding our uncertain future. We should worry about our countries, our nations, regardless. We should think about our well-being and survival. At this point in time, our prospects are grim, and so we should worry about what we leave for our children. After all, what we have comes to us through the ages, from our ancestors. From our parents, our grandparents. And their parents and grandparents.

We should look to the future, consider what we could contribute in the struggle for Europe. We should take pride in our past naturally, but at this moment we should really think about what we, as individuals, can contribute (however small or miniscule we might think we are). Our past should inspire in us the hope that in the future we might again reach such heights as we once have.

Can you face your children or grandchildren and tell them that you could have kept the French a majority in France, the Germans a majority in Germany, but were too cowardly or indifferent to do so? Were too afraid of the consequences to yourself. Can you face them and tell them that when they are a minority in their ancestral homelands? Perhaps even a hated and scorned and abused minority.

This is what’s at stake, this is what hangs in the balance.

“Those who march with us will certainly face abuse, misunderstanding, bitter animosity, and possibly the ferocity of struggle and of danger. In return, we can only offer to them the deep belief that they are fighting that a great land may live.” –Sir Oswald Mosley

When You Are Old

When You Are Old

by William Butler Yeats

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.