Another “Shotgunian” contradiction?
Or maybe I’m just a hypocrite? Let me explain:
When I wrote my post “Why I’m Not an Activist“, I was writing from the heart. I meant what I said there; I don’t want to “win” (whatever that might entail) by taking up the tactics and attitudes of the enemy. They’re alchemists, the lot of them, trying to break men out of their Godly contexts and transcend the very material they’re made from. They’re not content with doing it to themselves, they want to rip us all out of our skins and place us in cold, mechanical “bodies” that never age, have no sex or race, and are free from pesky humanity. And they’re doing it now with their ideologies, hoping the demi-god “science” will catch up to their sick fetishes in the near future. I want none of their fantasies.
But a few days after writing that post, I saw my friends in the Traditionalist Youth Network confront the vile race-baiter Tim Wise in Indiana. I’ve participated in their protesting of the man before, but opted out this time due to pessimism and logistical restraints. Still, when I saw the video of their recent event and saw how it was, all told, yet another victory for them, I was inspired.
Inspired so much, I promptly decided to visit Tim Wise as well. I saw his next stop was here in North Carolina and posted on Facebook that I was thinking of strolling down to Charlotte and questioning the man during his QnA at the University. To my surprise, people got excited and wanted to go with me. The excitement rose and before long, almost on its own, a protest was being formed, and I was the event organizer.
I contacted my Trad Youth buddies and was sworn in as their NC chairman. Within a matter of hours, and despite my post, I had become an activist.
Likely I wouldn’t have let my meager trek evolve into a full-on protest, except that Cambria Will Not Yield has, in his past two posts, seemed to support “activism” (of a sort). The man’s writing has a frightening power in my life – I’ve often admitted that I might not be his biggest fan, but if he ever put out a hit on someone, I’d be the one pulling the trigger.
And why not?
When I read CWNY, I feel like I’m reading an Anthony Hope adventure novel, only one written by someone with a lot more intelligence and foresight than Anthony Hope, and with words directed at our current situation. Not only that, but it seems like Cambria is the last of the European writers. A bard of old Europe; a voice from the past. What would Sir Walter Scott say about our world were he alive? Read CWNY and see.
But even more: his is the last echo of a dying order. I know, because I’ve searched the blogging world and contemporary literature, and I can’t find anyone writing from his perspective. Everyone has their own twist or ideal or object in the past and they harp on it – but his is the only purified wellspring of old Europe. I hope to God there are others that maybe I’ve missed; maybe, in the distant (far distant) future, I might be able to do something similar…but that time is far off and for now, his is an invaluable source of inspiration. And I’m not worthy of it.
I’m a farm boy from NC, not an intellectual or a great thinker, artist, or poet. I’m not an aristocrat. I’m Sam Wise…content to serve Mr. Frodo and the other great lords, and content to marvel at the beauty of their order from the safety of my comfortable little farm in the Carolina countryside (if ever I get one).
But there’s this…we few are the last of old Europe. All the lofty gothic architecture, the marble monuments, the fields of war, the great documents of statecraft and the literature of our people – we’re the last wielders. The great Europeans have passed away, and the Kingdom, with all its great works, has passed to us, worthy or not.
So, like Sam Wise, I’m driven to pick up the Light of Earendil, a talisman too great for the likes of me, but to whom it’s come nevertheless, because there’s no one left to hold it. And like Sam Wise, I’ll become a de-facto ambassador of the glory of Europe…full of wrath:
Sam did not wait to wonder what was to be done, or whether he was brave, or loyal, or filled with rage. He sprang forward with a yell, and seized his master’s sword in his left hand. Then he charged. No onslaught more fierce was ever seen in the savage world of beasts…
The great things of old have passed to we few, worthy or not, and it’s our job now to carry them against the enemy…and we have this promise: That the walls of Hell will NOT triumph against us…
…and lo, He’ll be with us until the end.