Most of the things I do which matter to me, since childhood, are difficult for me to put into words. Especially words that make sense to other people, and even more difficult, that actually translate a meaningful amount of my real motivation, intention or sense of things.
It is, essentially, why I write. And why my non-fiction is generally peppered with footnotes and references, as well as being rather verbose, though generally I am not thought of as boring despite the usual length of my non-fiction works.
In part it’s because in each instance, each book is pretty much a conclusive reference work for the whole topic and covers it holistically and as fully as anything can be covered. You can see this in each of the three topics I covered so far, each of which has behind it a few decades of interest in one way or other, though that is not always immediately obvious to those who don’t know me personally.
The Face on Mars covered not just the anomalies on Mars, but antigravity technology, human history, Egyptian pyramid details and history, solar system history, Biblical history, Tesla’s work, astronomy in general, and gives enough basic science and historical space exploration information that would allow anyone even only partially interested to have many jumping off points.
Systema: The Russian Martial System was written to both de-mythologise some of the cults of personality that were building up around Systema, as well as the quasi-cult aspects crediting supernatural aspects that in reality are purely scientific and have a very sound foundation in advanced human performance science, which —admittedly— the Russians (Soviets to be precise) developed and have knowledge of far in advance of the West. As a result, it initially upset the status quo initially but to date has generally been quietly accepted by serious practitioners and remains the most comprehensive work of its kind. It succeeded indeed in explaining the little known aspects of military science that are the basis on which Systema was developed, as well as introduce how to apply such principles in ways that will benefit any physical endeavour (with concomitant psychological benefits). So much so that people who practice martial arts unrelated to Systema that have read the book and apply the lessons in it, experience jumps in ability at their chosen martial art that surprise both them and their training partners.
Reclaiming the Catholic Church exposes the deception of —and details the heresy present in— Vatican II, while detailing also who did it, why, and how. And how actual Catholicism is diametrically opposed to the usurping, fake, and literally demonic, current Novus Ordo “Catholic” Church, run by that arch-enemy of mankind, Bergoglio. And how it has been this way since 1958, making Sedevacantism the only Catholicism left. Responding to every single objection that has ever been raised against Sedevacantism. It also lays out the original virtues of actual Catholicism, the courage and infinite faith of its practitioners, and the simple historical fact that they forged, and ultimately created, all that is best about Western civilisation; a fact that no honest historian can deny, regardless of their specific religious beliefs, the best case in point being Rodney Stark.
In my fiction, the path is much easier, there I just need to describe a story, and my imagination was always good in this regard, I routinely won essay competitions at school based certainly not on my grammar but the ideas in the stories.
I mention all this, not to boast, but, as is my nature when trying to explain one of those difficult to verbalise concepts, to provide enough evidence that, hopefully, an objective observer can satisfy him or herself that I am telling the demonstrable truth, without hyperbole or exaggeration.
I have found this to be necessary in my life, though it was only in my early 40s that I realised the reason was the IQ gap, and that an easier way to get along with most humans was to simply avoid the issue altogether or to dumb it down to a point that it may as well be better to keep silent. But what would be the point of that? After all, the point is to share some useful or interesting consideration for the benefit, interest or entertainment of all.
One of the benefits of blogging is that I do not need to interact endlessly with each person that raises the usual objections (which in 99% of cases have already been addressed in the very points I make, if only they considered them before reacting in usual “But…” fashion). And I can simultaneously reach many more people. They can choose to ignore, disbelieve, dismiss my thoughts, experience and factual presentation of objective truths without disturbing me further, and those who instead are interested (always a minority) can continue to interact in a mutually fruitful way.
While concepts of astronomy, human history, martial arts and models of reality that best serve humanity might be sometimes difficult to explain in words, they are, approximately, like explaining the two times table instead of advanced calculus when compared to trying to explain the mechanism of my internal processes.
I do not need to explain anything important to myself in words. Since as far back as I remember, and I remember being younger than 2 years old, before my brother was born, my internal processes have always been instinctive, wordless, fully formed, and essentially not often mistaken. My internal ability to process, or perceive, the natural and good path of what I can only describe as the numinous, has always been good. My personal decisions may not always be wise, correct, or in any way “safe”, especially for me, but my sensing of the path of what I might call “light” for lack of a better word, is seldom ever wrong, though I obviously cannot give you satisfactory evidence for this. Whether I always take it or not is another topic.
I would say that almost all of my important life decisions have been made with that internal sense inside me. I think of it as the instinct of my heart, leading me sometimes down impossible pathways and dangerous, uncharted territory, but always that being the only way I see to hold true to myself and my sense of the numinous I mentioned. And that sense of the numinous embodies all sorts of concepts for which words are such a miserly approximation as to make them insulting, were it not for their being the only way we have to try to transmit the concepts across. It embodies, in shifting eddies of importance based on the specific situation or event: honour, the holding true to yourself, the truth, putting loved ones before your very life, holding the line even in the face of terror, death and a hopeless battle with infinite enemies of Love. Justice, related to honour, and more, duty. Law and order for all, the steel wall of truth in the face of lies. Strength or fortitude, the will to hold on when there is nothing left in your flesh to do so and your spirit is broken, tired and defeated. Beauty, that necessary balm to allow you to survive the duties of honour, justice and strength or fortitude, and hidden most, in the deepest centre of it all, Love; without which, nothing at all matters.
Such is my engine, and my eyes and my motive force, and my faith in it is yes, my own, but also far more than me. It is rooted in the ultimate truth that without this truth, all is nothing and all is meaningless and as it clearly is not that, God is. And God is Love.
So.
Sometimes —most times— I will not be able to explain it to anyone else. Some, a few, may be able to sense it at times. My son, my daughters, my wife, a friend, my father, my brother. Maybe. But in any case it will not matter nor alter my course, for ultimately, my service, my duty, my absolute devotion, is to that truth. That Love. That which most men, without having anything but the faintest of ideas of what He really is, call God.
Which brings me to the point of this particular entry, and for which, I am sure, this introduction will be deemed overkill by most. Especially anyone who ever appended the title “editor” to their name.
The Valley of the Saints. Why do that? What’s it really for? That sticky post at the top there, what’s it all about? Isn’t it just a way to raise money? Surely.
Sure. In the material world of things, that corrupt travesty of reality we all inhabit, the dominion of the adversary, you can see it as just a cynical way to raise cash. Especially if you are a secularist with little to no belief in actual Catholicism. But if you think that is the main reason or purpose it was created or came into being, you’d be wrong.
I cannot explain the intent, the origin, or the impetus for doing it, other than it is a tiny, almost imperceptible, yet unstoppable, undeviating force that comes from my centre though it is rooted outside of me.
Wordless to me, and as such, largely unknown to my conscious, word-filled brain, but absolute and eternal to my cells and heart and bone marrow.
And now, that you who have done so have put your money and your intention, and your own hearts and motive force in motion towards this too, I have proof. Not that I needed it for myself, and not that I can transmit it satisfactorily to anyone else, but perhaps, in the telling of it, a shadow of its light will reflect and be recognised within you too.
The naming of trees after saints or loved ones passed on, and even one archangel so far, the prayers I offer to them and the people who do the naming, they all join together somehow, like invisible lines of force on the spiritual aether, and more rarefied and subtle than even Maxwell’s equations, they resonate, invisible to the human eyes and the stunned and fooled human heart, but all-perceptible to those hearts that still sense their connection to God, whose word for Him: God, is such a truly tiny, almost entirely meaningless scribble that it would be an obscene blasphemy were it not for His infinite Love, that makes it humorous to Him even as I write these pitiful words to try to explain my ever-fallible attempts at listening to Him and acting for His glory, extremely aware that most times I just muddy His name by associating it at all with myself in any way. And yet He loves me. And He loves you. Yes he does. You specifically, in detail, and the Saint you want to honour, and the loved one you miss or care about or revere. And what is more, what is the real miracle, is that he knows you. He knows me. He knows us in all our pettiness, weakness, disloyalty, viciousness, unworthiness, and still, and yet, He truly Loves us.
I still struggle with that, and most days I put it out of my mind, for such Love hurts. It hurts in a way that heals us. Having that Love radiate at you is like having a force squeezing all your impurities out of you, like a fever of sweating out all your evil deeds and thoughts and perversions and weaknesses. It hurts like it hurt me to walk around Venice at night, alone, in 2016. It hurts like looking at a painting of Michelangelo or Leonardo da Vinci. It hurts you with infinite Love, like the pure and innocent smile of my blue-eyed baby daughter, or blonde-haired son, or the knowing, cheeky smile of my happy, relentless little daughter number three, the forceful hug of my stepdaughter, or the gentle one of my eldest.
But this small valley I watch over now, is slowly and surely, inexorably, changing and becoming somehow brighter. That light of the numinous that no one can define but all who have felt it recognise. And with each named tree, each prayer made, each thank you written and thought and whispered, somehow, we all of us grow. And that light begins to spread in ways we cannot know, and touches others and helps them too. Helps them reach and feel and know, find and sense, that Love. That Love that hurts. And that we, all of us, need so much.
Thank you all who have contributed and who continue to do so and will do so in the future.
I don’t know how, exactly, even if I sense it, and I cannot explain it to you, much less with worldly proofs to satisfy the lost, but somehow, you are helping create a power, a sense, a light, that creates a peace over the valley I watch over; not as “owner” but merely as guardian for a time. As long as I can, while here. And I promise, my prayers for your Saints and your loved ones and for you, are as true and good as I know how to make them. And in the doing them, you better me. You help push me into that light, that Love that hurts. It is for this I thank you. And I pray, I truly pray, that each of you fees some of it too, that you can sense at least as much of it as you are helping me feel. And hopefully a lot more too. Truly, thank you, every one, with all my heart. May God bless and cleanse and help every one of you feel His Love.
Valley of the Saints Update
Most of the things I do which matter to me, since childhood, are difficult for me to put into words. Especially words that make sense to other people, and even more difficult, that actually translate a meaningful amount of my real motivation, intention or sense of things.
It is, essentially, why I write. And why my non-fiction is generally peppered with footnotes and references, as well as being rather verbose, though generally I am not thought of as boring despite the usual length of my non-fiction works.
In part it’s because in each instance, each book is pretty much a conclusive reference work for the whole topic and covers it holistically and as fully as anything can be covered. You can see this in each of the three topics I covered so far, each of which has behind it a few decades of interest in one way or other, though that is not always immediately obvious to those who don’t know me personally.
The Face on Mars covered not just the anomalies on Mars, but antigravity technology, human history, Egyptian pyramid details and history, solar system history, Biblical history, Tesla’s work, astronomy in general, and gives enough basic science and historical space exploration information that would allow anyone even only partially interested to have many jumping off points.
Systema: The Russian Martial System was written to both de-mythologise some of the cults of personality that were building up around Systema, as well as the quasi-cult aspects crediting supernatural aspects that in reality are purely scientific and have a very sound foundation in advanced human performance science, which —admittedly— the Russians (Soviets to be precise) developed and have knowledge of far in advance of the West. As a result, it initially upset the status quo initially but to date has generally been quietly accepted by serious practitioners and remains the most comprehensive work of its kind. It succeeded indeed in explaining the little known aspects of military science that are the basis on which Systema was developed, as well as introduce how to apply such principles in ways that will benefit any physical endeavour (with concomitant psychological benefits). So much so that people who practice martial arts unrelated to Systema that have read the book and apply the lessons in it, experience jumps in ability at their chosen martial art that surprise both them and their training partners.
Reclaiming the Catholic Church exposes the deception of —and details the heresy present in— Vatican II, while detailing also who did it, why, and how. And how actual Catholicism is diametrically opposed to the usurping, fake, and literally demonic, current Novus Ordo “Catholic” Church, run by that arch-enemy of mankind, Bergoglio. And how it has been this way since 1958, making Sedevacantism the only Catholicism left. Responding to every single objection that has ever been raised against Sedevacantism. It also lays out the original virtues of actual Catholicism, the courage and infinite faith of its practitioners, and the simple historical fact that they forged, and ultimately created, all that is best about Western civilisation; a fact that no honest historian can deny, regardless of their specific religious beliefs, the best case in point being Rodney Stark.
In my fiction, the path is much easier, there I just need to describe a story, and my imagination was always good in this regard, I routinely won essay competitions at school based certainly not on my grammar but the ideas in the stories.
I mention all this, not to boast, but, as is my nature when trying to explain one of those difficult to verbalise concepts, to provide enough evidence that, hopefully, an objective observer can satisfy him or herself that I am telling the demonstrable truth, without hyperbole or exaggeration.
I have found this to be necessary in my life, though it was only in my early 40s that I realised the reason was the IQ gap, and that an easier way to get along with most humans was to simply avoid the issue altogether or to dumb it down to a point that it may as well be better to keep silent. But what would be the point of that? After all, the point is to share some useful or interesting consideration for the benefit, interest or entertainment of all.
One of the benefits of blogging is that I do not need to interact endlessly with each person that raises the usual objections (which in 99% of cases have already been addressed in the very points I make, if only they considered them before reacting in usual “But…” fashion). And I can simultaneously reach many more people. They can choose to ignore, disbelieve, dismiss my thoughts, experience and factual presentation of objective truths without disturbing me further, and those who instead are interested (always a minority) can continue to interact in a mutually fruitful way.
While concepts of astronomy, human history, martial arts and models of reality that best serve humanity might be sometimes difficult to explain in words, they are, approximately, like explaining the two times table instead of advanced calculus when compared to trying to explain the mechanism of my internal processes.
I do not need to explain anything important to myself in words. Since as far back as I remember, and I remember being younger than 2 years old, before my brother was born, my internal processes have always been instinctive, wordless, fully formed, and essentially not often mistaken. My internal ability to process, or perceive, the natural and good path of what I can only describe as the numinous, has always been good. My personal decisions may not always be wise, correct, or in any way “safe”, especially for me, but my sensing of the path of what I might call “light” for lack of a better word, is seldom ever wrong, though I obviously cannot give you satisfactory evidence for this. Whether I always take it or not is another topic.
I would say that almost all of my important life decisions have been made with that internal sense inside me. I think of it as the instinct of my heart, leading me sometimes down impossible pathways and dangerous, uncharted territory, but always that being the only way I see to hold true to myself and my sense of the numinous I mentioned. And that sense of the numinous embodies all sorts of concepts for which words are such a miserly approximation as to make them insulting, were it not for their being the only way we have to try to transmit the concepts across. It embodies, in shifting eddies of importance based on the specific situation or event: honour, the holding true to yourself, the truth, putting loved ones before your very life, holding the line even in the face of terror, death and a hopeless battle with infinite enemies of Love. Justice, related to honour, and more, duty. Law and order for all, the steel wall of truth in the face of lies. Strength or fortitude, the will to hold on when there is nothing left in your flesh to do so and your spirit is broken, tired and defeated. Beauty, that necessary balm to allow you to survive the duties of honour, justice and strength or fortitude, and hidden most, in the deepest centre of it all, Love; without which, nothing at all matters.
Such is my engine, and my eyes and my motive force, and my faith in it is yes, my own, but also far more than me. It is rooted in the ultimate truth that without this truth, all is nothing and all is meaningless and as it clearly is not that, God is. And God is Love.
So.
Sometimes —most times— I will not be able to explain it to anyone else. Some, a few, may be able to sense it at times. My son, my daughters, my wife, a friend, my father, my brother. Maybe. But in any case it will not matter nor alter my course, for ultimately, my service, my duty, my absolute devotion, is to that truth. That Love. That which most men, without having anything but the faintest of ideas of what He really is, call God.
Which brings me to the point of this particular entry, and for which, I am sure, this introduction will be deemed overkill by most. Especially anyone who ever appended the title “editor” to their name.
The Valley of the Saints. Why do that? What’s it really for? That sticky post at the top there, what’s it all about? Isn’t it just a way to raise money? Surely.
Sure. In the material world of things, that corrupt travesty of reality we all inhabit, the dominion of the adversary, you can see it as just a cynical way to raise cash. Especially if you are a secularist with little to no belief in actual Catholicism. But if you think that is the main reason or purpose it was created or came into being, you’d be wrong.
I cannot explain the intent, the origin, or the impetus for doing it, other than it is a tiny, almost imperceptible, yet unstoppable, undeviating force that comes from my centre though it is rooted outside of me.
Wordless to me, and as such, largely unknown to my conscious, word-filled brain, but absolute and eternal to my cells and heart and bone marrow.
And now, that you who have done so have put your money and your intention, and your own hearts and motive force in motion towards this too, I have proof. Not that I needed it for myself, and not that I can transmit it satisfactorily to anyone else, but perhaps, in the telling of it, a shadow of its light will reflect and be recognised within you too.
The naming of trees after saints or loved ones passed on, and even one archangel so far, the prayers I offer to them and the people who do the naming, they all join together somehow, like invisible lines of force on the spiritual aether, and more rarefied and subtle than even Maxwell’s equations, they resonate, invisible to the human eyes and the stunned and fooled human heart, but all-perceptible to those hearts that still sense their connection to God, whose word for Him: God, is such a truly tiny, almost entirely meaningless scribble that it would be an obscene blasphemy were it not for His infinite Love, that makes it humorous to Him even as I write these pitiful words to try to explain my ever-fallible attempts at listening to Him and acting for His glory, extremely aware that most times I just muddy His name by associating it at all with myself in any way. And yet He loves me. And He loves you. Yes he does. You specifically, in detail, and the Saint you want to honour, and the loved one you miss or care about or revere. And what is more, what is the real miracle, is that he knows you. He knows me. He knows us in all our pettiness, weakness, disloyalty, viciousness, unworthiness, and still, and yet, He truly Loves us.
I still struggle with that, and most days I put it out of my mind, for such Love hurts. It hurts in a way that heals us. Having that Love radiate at you is like having a force squeezing all your impurities out of you, like a fever of sweating out all your evil deeds and thoughts and perversions and weaknesses. It hurts like it hurt me to walk around Venice at night, alone, in 2016. It hurts like looking at a painting of Michelangelo or Leonardo da Vinci. It hurts you with infinite Love, like the pure and innocent smile of my blue-eyed baby daughter, or blonde-haired son, or the knowing, cheeky smile of my happy, relentless little daughter number three, the forceful hug of my stepdaughter, or the gentle one of my eldest.
But this small valley I watch over now, is slowly and surely, inexorably, changing and becoming somehow brighter. That light of the numinous that no one can define but all who have felt it recognise. And with each named tree, each prayer made, each thank you written and thought and whispered, somehow, we all of us grow. And that light begins to spread in ways we cannot know, and touches others and helps them too. Helps them reach and feel and know, find and sense, that Love. That Love that hurts. And that we, all of us, need so much.
Thank you all who have contributed and who continue to do so and will do so in the future.
I don’t know how, exactly, even if I sense it, and I cannot explain it to you, much less with worldly proofs to satisfy the lost, but somehow, you are helping create a power, a sense, a light, that creates a peace over the valley I watch over; not as “owner” but merely as guardian for a time. As long as I can, while here. And I promise, my prayers for your Saints and your loved ones and for you, are as true and good as I know how to make them. And in the doing them, you better me. You help push me into that light, that Love that hurts. It is for this I thank you. And I pray, I truly pray, that each of you fees some of it too, that you can sense at least as much of it as you are helping me feel. And hopefully a lot more too. Truly, thank you, every one, with all my heart. May God bless and cleanse and help every one of you feel His Love.
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