As I write this the sky is a flat grey. The last storm has cleared but the midday sun shines weaker and hangs lower every day. The nights are longer and colder. The new life of spring is still months away. Those who have worked hard and prepared themselves will survive to see it. The idle will be carried to their graves. There are few better analogies for the state of the Occident than winter.
Winter is a fitting moment to ponder our own mortality, but meditating on death is something we should do routinely, and incorporate into the rituals of the small and independent Reactionary brotherhoods we are forming. Continue reading Meditating on Death