I lived my life for more than a decade without clarity in my identity and my Knowledge; without much of any thoughts about ideals or truth, for forced upon reasons. I might as well have been dead. I did not have any kind of ideal in mind at all and to explain away this would be insulting to the current and normal low-life; if that could be insulted, for I did not find much in anyone or anything I could admire, or just find any kind of “respect” for.

The ideals that I now hold, again, since close to nineteen years back, are based on what I recall from past life’s experiences: Truth, honour and my name. With side dishes as gladness, strength, knowledge, intellect, you know the drill. All values that can be found high and tasty will make the plate. I will true that it’s much less costly to just live inside these ideals and not walk around as too much of a “normal weirdo”. But, the strength to live these; for a real human quite average ideals, when personal will and lust for anything readily available in the current society is made into brainwashed garbage is nearly impossible.

I hate this controlled, fake and sick society that our foes control more than anyone can imagine. And, I would rather cave in than feed it in any way. We all had to live in this period just before people will get their minds back, and we sure do have problems now with the collective mindset… Should I make a list for you? Many listen to the tune of; “Others think this and that”, and are thus led away to become accepted as part of being “normal”, and since a long period ago it is a killing joke. Also, when blindfolding Life to never see or live beyond what words can hand over within them to feel or understand, then there is a huge problem. Reacting strongly to these words, or not at all? That really is of no concern. Truth is always pretty and everything we got. Know it. Go and live it. Words are nothing if never lived, as I’m sure you know.

I am from Uppsala, which is the strongest place there is for identity in this world, being the place of Odin and the Gods since way back in time. But, as everywhere the identity “on the street” is taken from days and times gone by. When I visit or live in my hometown, every now and then, I see people that wish to have their identity shared in some way; most notably have some part of the Viking Age and walking around in “Old Uppsala” to gather strength and honour from the last time real humans could be the normality. Any strength and honour shared from a past that would transfer without having any strong and active belief in the Gods; or even knowing what bloodlines, or even down to what Folk they are part of, is unlikely to give much. (Some of us of course know from other sources where we belong.) Anyway, this kind of identity reminds me a bit of the “We went to the moon-thing”. I remember hearing this motivational reminder a lot in school when I was younger, so we all had to think back sitting in Apollo 11 and looking out the window back to earth and then stepping around on the moon… Do you remember doing that? “We” invented all culture and all inventions; “We” even invented our own forefathers the Gods… “We” are really great then. I wish. To take identity from the highest and greatest imaginable is nice, if you truly know what that is, and you actually have a real part of it… “We as humans”; and that is a quote, have what we are and do.

I met this woman that had been acting as a völva, sadly in some seriously warped belief in how a völva was supposed to act, at some tourist spot up north. After that she had “understood” that she actually was a reincarnated völva. This is nothing to doubt. People are helped to find other reincarnated people they can give or get help from in the Oddest ways. Ideally and in reality a völva is a holy woman that is kept pure and untouched by people, her inherited gifts are to foresee time and make remedies from herbs, and other things to help. We met once and walked around a few hours, with a mutual friend, and visited old burial mounds, a cave and some other places up north. These women spoke about these places as if it was their ancestors in the burial mounds. It was mostly Sami and Scythian remnants, which people that live there now tend to “forget”. Not that it matters greatly today as all the old “northern” tribes are a bit mixed. That is what spitting in the same bucket would mean. She told me that she did not really like Odin, influenced by propaganda in a book or two, and was all for “Jord”, that is sort of “Mother Earth” in some warped sense of a “Goddess” that is “the soul” of soil and rocks… Jord is another name for Frigga, and she is not soil and rocks, I have met her a few times. It was more of a thing that this “völva” wanted to identify with a “woman”, not knowing the very basic fact that a völva, like a valkyrie, is a follower of Odin… That type of deranged thinking from this low time when some try to become what is imagined to be closest to your ego to identify with is pitiful. That “thinking” has no place in Life at all. Identities are too often taking a share of credit where there is none to be taken.

Moving on…

I would hate to be young again and only have my youth as a fake resource handed down as a present for my identity from the junk-society to live on. Being “young” is currently an excuse for behaving immature and retarded, and anything past twenty years of age can absolutely not be called young, so do not be fooled. We have all been told that; “Everything is in the mind.” I understand it my way. I see people that do nothing good at all and still hold a belief that they are important and all wrongs they do can be traced to the fault of others, and they sure can be right about that. It happened to me. Others believe that dragging others down is making them bigger and better somehow, without putting any real effort into making something of value for Life. (Do not wonder where this deranged thinking in society comes from…)

I recall that I was told to think that my productivity and producing was equal to my life. “What I do is who I am…” Naturally, any kind of productivity is just a survival tactic. I really didn’t work that hard on producing most of the time…Anyhow, I don’t want anything in life for my ego other than maybe to walk in the forest alone and feel good from rain or sunshine, write a tiny bit. That would be my egoism in full, to get by with. And, I am not alone with having a humble and modest need. Any grander thoughts I have to spell out here and there, as the slightly unrehearsed modern day shaman that I am, is for love and protection; good against evil in Reality. I do not want much for myself, and I really do not care enough to get “a common good life down in the lies”. I can easily have that. But, it is worth nothing if the world is rotten to the core.

My life is not normal by any standard; it is greater in all valuable aspects and at the same time it’s been made into a horror of bitterness. Well, to do anything right in a world that now is so wrong in most aspects, if not all aspects, takes Knowledge and a lust for life. Anything else is of course futile; a time-consuming nonsense. We need to fight the Illusion. Just clean it out and find your identity: Your Life.





Lever blott i mina Höstlöv, vattendrag och moln,

som en kysst skörd draget av längtans tystnade löften,

som ett ovilligt tigget, (hårt nattblommat och slitet)


Skogen solstrimmade (drömd i livets vindsnara),

medan regnet lutade i långsamma, tvekande steg


(Ser tinandet, hektiskt droppande under Vårsolens makt)


I stenlä kommer snart violerna ställas hägnade här igen

och blekna, (sedan skyggt slokna under nattsträckorna)


(Nog om det.)


Stegade upp en dagsled och hann bli vacker med skymningen

och när sedan regnet varsamt somnade trött intill gryningen

nedan räfsande skogstopparna under de gråspräckta skyarna

åsågs Vårmarken hemvända till att kargt (och sakta) dricka tö

Blickade milsvida omkring över halvt snöfläckade kullarna

där fårade åkrar stod stilla likt frysta, stannade havsvågor,

medan Vindarna slog, tog fart från fyra sidor, sen plötsligt!:

I precis rätt stund bryter sig strålar av Solen in över trakten


Vårljuva ljuset tändes följsamt (värmde i fjolårsgräset)

och små skuggor bläddrade sig kvickt över bäck och å


Har ögonsmekt barrbäddade markers allra fagraste dagar

innan nattliga sjöröken stigit runt mjukaste skogsskuggor

Nedan regngranars droppande hälsat synen blygaste blom,

tillsammans med regnen slitits ner med brustnaste grenar


Tåliga grödan på rara skogstegar, var kvar.





Skänkte i några värmande glimtar till rara minnen

att bära iväg, ynket bort förbi, hägna detta fridlysta,

ännu få känna vätade Sommarängarna smeka benen,

fånga stiltjen invid den vita husknuten i mitt Kyrsta



blir härnere överallt kallad en drömd


En gömd,

inuti tvekan, årstiderna håvar mig svunnen


Skymtar av Livet dröjer kvar mot bittrande skarnet

och gästar ägorna som om detta liv ännu var vid liv,

som om en okänd imma hängde vid Livet övergivet,

som vore mitt liv ännu kvar i Livet som mitt eget liv


Köldklart. En halvt avhakad trägrind gnisslar vind,

öppnad in till en glömd gård vars rester kan skymtas


Lutad över trälårar bräddade med sättpotatis och morötter,

doftande i fyllda kassar med mjöliga äpplen i farstukylan

vilket räckte så långt Vintern förmådde spä sitt tillstånd


Frostslaget. Grusgången glimmar sina sköra isflak,

småstenarna fastkilade i frusna sanden blänkte stilla


Är snarad sorgvis, grätten, mildögd och mycket bräcklig

likt sista äpplet lyst igenkänd grenat kvar sin Vintergren

synande årets skörd av Höstlöv vackert rullade i frosten


Står slut,

ensamt kvar oförställd inför overklighetens rusk


Kliver upp längs med den av trakten bortglömda kolmilan,

och tänker på vännernas svärd dragna från åkern nedanför


Nedan mörkret,

nylagda snödrivor i blåbleka Vinterkvällen.




Bryggd eftersken;

döda stjärnors ångerklagan i natten

att under glimtvist dröjande dagbräcken förbli ― Onåbar