An absolutely epic review of our edition of the Poetic Edda. I had a similar experience with exactly the same stanzas Marcus talks about. Reading the alliterative poetry, in the original meter of the Norse done into English, I felt the voice of a 1,300 year old skald come roaring back to life, speaking directly to me as though no time had passed at all. A mystical experience. The words of the High One.
I've spent the majority of my adult life contemplating the questions I discussed in the previous post, and they've defined my identity for decades. It was past time for me to share it with the rest of you.
I want to thank Arthur Powell for inspiring me to write this post.
I hope that our unique experiences can help our brethren better contextualize their own path.
Please visit Arthur's exceptional channel on Telegram:
Someone once told me I have one foot firmly planted on two continents. Another person said I'm a unique bridge between Europe and the US. Perhaps they're correct, but it's a burden I don't wish upon anyone.
My parents fled Hungary after the Hungarian Uprising of 1956. They left separately but met in the US, married, and established a family. For countless Hungarian refugees, including my parents, the West was merely a temporary station until the oppressive Communist regime in Hungary collapsed, and they could finally return home. Unfortunately, this temporary situation lasted several decades, and the daily realities around these refugees changed. With few exceptions, later generations of Hungarians born in the West assimilated further and grew more distant from their ancestral legacy. Many don't speak their forefathers' language and posses a vague understanding of their ancient legacy.
Since my parents were young when they arrived in the US, they could seamlessly adapt to the New World. Despite the need to assimilate, they retained their ancestral identity and raised their children as Hungarians in America. My parents wanted my siblings and I to immerse ourselves in our Hungarian culture and decided to send us to a Hungarian school in Europe. Since Hungary was still under Communist rule, my folks sent us to a boarding school in West Germany established by Hungarian refugees. My parents aren't wealthy, and they dedicated their lives to their children, so this decision was a huge burden both financially and emotionally. Despite everything, they believed it was the right thing to do. I remain eternally grateful to them for making this sacrifice!
I spent a little over a decade in West Germany before I returned to the US to complete my studies. As a result, I was at home in American, German, and Hungarian cultural milieus. After the fall of the Iron Curtain, our family often talked about returning, and I had made numerous attempts to find work and settle in Hungary. But my goals unfortunately never materialized as I had hoped. In the meantime, my life had to move forward.
Now, I feel trapped between three worlds. Fortunately, these worlds connect through the greater brotherhood of the European man, but it's a precarious circumstance for any true nationalist. My heart longs for the moment I can permanently plant my feet firmly on my native Hungarian soil, and I still hope to achieve this goal in my life.
Our collective survival depends on building, defending, and supporting our ancestral nations. We must go back to where we all belong, and only our hearts know where that place is. Never leave your homeland unless you have no other choice. If you do, make sure you can return to where you belong.
We live in spiritual poverty when we're not organically and physically connected to our native blood and soil.
The days of pioneering are over, and it's time to make a stand!
Remembering English writer J. R. R. TOLKIEN, today on his birthday. Thanks for Middle Earth, for elves, dwarves, ents, the Old Forest, Galadriel, Farmer Giles of Ham, lembas bread, Tom Bombadil, Radagast, and, of course, Hobbits.....