Dissident Learning: A Gentle Introduction
More than just a new knighthood, but a new story
It is the current year and we have learned nothing.
In our age, nothing ever truly feels learned, but rather swept up into some compartment for it to ruminate until stale. On the outside of that very same compartment lie people who truly suffer at the evil hands of manufactured morality. As of now, I watch as people make war over mindless matters that deserve few words, while the vast canon is neglected; And Yesterday, I saw a man who was so sick, but cloaked himself in the wonderous science, only to trip and have the needles lodge deeply into his flesh; And tomorrow, I will no doubt open my pocket portal, only to see hungry men on the city streets surrounded by the opulence of grease.
Imagine seeing all that and being asked, “Are you that deeply grieved? Would you not find death preferable to life? How does this affect you personally?”
I state in defiance that I refuse to live outside of ‘true’ civilization, no matter how large and luxurious the offered pod. All the glass castles and ivory towers are of no comfort to the soul. I choose to live with the source of truth and to force others to live so as well because if there is anything we have learned is that dogs living elsewhere always come back to bite. Even if I were to die in the desert trying to drag a dog from his mirage, it would be better to die there as a man, rather than to decay as a bug, as a bug man in a hallucinated society; At least there will be a laugh to it!
Therefore it is necessary to open up these wind-swept compartments and correlate their very contents, even if that means to be mad. I wish to have ‘true’ civilization, even if it intends on dying, alive in its fundamental vital form. This civilization is not mine, but rather a form that has been passed on from generation to generation and so I cannot allow myself to be gay at its wake; I will not have a wake at all, god-willingly.
However, these compartments are heavy and unlabeled, with their documents stretched upon an endless floor and the great men around me juggle them, from hope to despair and back again. For all the great prose that has been put to paper about reinvigorated authorities, It is obvious that none of it has been digested. The signals of mind have not emanated to the body. They are confused in virtual insanity with ‘near’ being replaced with ‘far’ and ‘through’ being made into ‘out’.
The very virtual interfaces that we interact with have cobbled together signals that distort our very vision and organization; For what the dissident gains in testing from far-flunged peers, he loses in distractions. Even so, it is not possible to go without these devices, because it is doubting that a dissident would be able to even receive honest wisdom outside of them; Most dissidents exist in the ruins of once great places or outside of knowledge (power), how else can they now be refined?
It is not that our goal is not ‘just’ and ‘fulfilling’: to devour leviathan from fin to fin and bone to bone, freeing mankind from its tyranny, but rather that the dissident sphere is stitched together in opposition and disorganization. There is probably something to be said that this is what comes from an introverted civilizational movement, but I believe the problem goes deeper; The historians among us will find that enemies of enemies could work well as friends in the past. The issue is that coalitions against modernity need more than just opposition, but rather some organizational principles, which can only be foisted through education.
There is a need for these principles to guide specialization and agreement; After all, We must each figure which piece of the dragon’s flesh shall be ours to devour. Without some organizational principles, the reality of our dreadful circumstance is that dissidents will dissent both friend and foe alike. If we cannot guide that dissent then all will be left without any morsels as involuntary veganites.
To illuminate, the dissident sphere is like a herd of angry cats, each concerned with putting their claws to the flesh of their swampish mark. Death by a thousand cuts and cats will take out their overseer, but they cannot scratch because they are unable to agree on how to be. “If Leviathan doesn’t rule us, how will we will rule”, asks Calypso, the cat; Caligula the cat answers "with an iron paw”, whilst Cicero, the cat, answers “with optimism”. Cats are not meant to be ruled by fish, yet they manage to be because they are uneducated of each other. If all the cats were to agree to have the left eye given to Cicero and the right unto Caligula then the scratching could commence with their victory won based on sharp wit and hearty force.
Each dissident is uneducated of the others with language being some mumbo-jumbo brought to them daily by some big steamer. The various conversations jump from call to call with the only successfully shared culture being the madness of trying to read the shadows. This is not to be taken as a complaint that the dissident sphere is “hard to follow”, but rather that there is no obvious road to En-Dor for mothers and yearning wives. Each reference that I write is only the surface of works much greater, though the reality is that no longhouse will inform of what anything that I say means.
Amongst the vastness of our sphere’s thought, few are educated enough to add with everyone else engaging in self-study to catch up; My position being the latter rather than the former. Thought leaders cannot have their men build or take on institutions because the organizational principles are not there; If they are, who then can recount them? Are we a new crypto-knighthood, spiritual revitalism, eccentric barbarians, or peasant revolt?
The graves of heroes that we rob such that we too may have the ‘Chestplate of Alexandria’ will have been needlessly disturbed if we are not able to connect nerves from mind to body and body to mind. We can only support a thoughtful lower caste if we have some way to educate them on the realms they protect and where they can sit in Valhalla; And without educated, loyal men under them, who among us can claim to be noble?
It must be said that the task of educating dissidents can not be done in a single year, nor by a single person, but it most certainly has begun. The very observation that I have language to describe our problems and my peers is evidence enough. I can only say what I say because I have heard what I have heard. What is needed is a new work in the style of ‘mirrors for princes’, some experiential guide or course that when completed and known will allow maneuver and strategy. Of course, we must protect ourselves from the copy-paste mentality of technique that is the very tail of Leviathan. For dissidents, the only option is Folklore.
Folklore, as lore, requires “being there”, which excludes the great Cthulhu, who lies in R’lyeh, Virginia. No darkness can enter into the campfire’s range, whilst the voice of the forest shouts down evil insights. The duality of Folklore, being folk and lore, allows for dueling readings whose interpretive lens sorts men into their respective houses, while giving them a shared identity of “lore” enthusiasts. The folk has the all-important aspect of stopping the lore from disrupting god’s domain, whereas the lore provides the needed barrier from the dull-minded. The smallness of folklore is memetic, but it does not lend itself to ‘just a meme’.
The greatness of folklore is also its ease of discovery. In my short life, I have taken many a promenade and come across many instances and coincidences, these echo of miraculous inspiration; Taken together, the story and lessons can be imparted into the Terroir; A Noble’s harvestmen, as great crops, are born of the Terroir.
Folk Lore has all the makings of Dissident Education.
What remains, though, is the question: how do we properly till the soil and place inspiration to build a new folklore?
Join me sometime soon for the first lesson, where we will learn from reading; What is old is new.
Check it out now:
