There is an excellent article on taboos and their differences in different races and cultures, it is truly a good piece, so I suggest you read the whole thing.
I want to focus on one aspect of it that I witnessed myself in extreme context when I was only four years old, but I remember absolutely clearly.
First, a piece from the article for context:
Taboos in Africa where Schweitzer served were not (always) the same for every person, like they are in our culture. In Schweitzer’s society, taboos were created at the individual level, whereas for us they are usually more general. All whites now are forbidden certain speech here, for instance.
Schweitzer says, “There is nothing in life that may not give occasion to a taboo.” Taboos originated in any number of ways, holders often inventing them for themselves, and also desiring to do so.
One instance: “In the neighborhood of Samkita there lived a woman whose taboo was that she must never touch a broom but do all her sweeping with her hands.” A more important example:
During my first stay, a tragic taboo affair happened at Samkita. A boy at the Mission school there had as his taboo that he must not eat plantains, and must even be careful not to eat any food out of a cooking-pot in which plantains had been cooked immediately before. One day his schoolfellows told him that he had eaten fish from a pot in which there had been remains of plantain. He was immediately seized with cramp and died after few hours. A missionary who was present gave me an account of this perplexing affair.
The modern European will seek for a scientific, medical explanation. A pastime of historians is diagnosing figures from the past from tenuous clues, so strong is the urge to put everything into accepted medical bins. In this case, the modern European will surmise that the boy had a serious allergy, maybe, and the chemical reactions inside his body brought about by eating the plantain caused his death.
This proves, as do the actions of the unfortunate boy himself, that it is not unusual to try to fit the round pegs of observation into the square holes of theory that culture provides.
But notice, and notice carefully, that there is no indication that the pot had any plantains in it! The other boys only said there were. The taboo killed the boy.
If you’re not sold by that story, realize there are many, many other similar ones. They are anyway well known, or used to be. And not restricted to Africans. Fahrenbach tells us Comanche life was in most respects ruled by strict custom enforced by taboos, which we discussed before.
What’s important to us today is the causative effect of the taboo. Taboos caused illness and death. There is no doubt of this. Just as other forms of magic gave health and preserved life. There is no doubt of this either.
Europeans call the health-giving properties of magic the “placebo effect”, to make it sound like science, as all things must. Giving a thing a label is sufficient to put it into a bin, so we can more or less forget about it, as if the label has explained something. It’s not surprising that this label-explaining happens most in psychology. Theories on causal mechanisms abound, but there is no consensus, and many contradictions.
Interestingly, no magic-oriented culture would quail at prescribing magic readily, whereas our science-oriented culture has many long hang-wringing debates over whether prescribing placebos is ethical. We desire to cure people, but we don’t want anybody to stray too far from science.
Taboo translated into science is nocebo, a more recent coinage than placebo. It took a lot longer for science to acknowledge the causative evil effects of taboo violation. Yet nocebos are just more label-making: nothing has been explained. But the acknowledgement is a step forward.
The above paragraphs are absolutely correct. I covered some of this in my posts that included commentary on Maxwell’s equations, the aether and scalar potentials and energy transmissions. I touch on the subject of various “paranormal” phenomena and how to be able to do them yourself in my book Systema, which literally teaches you how to do things like short range telepathy, sensing of various things, from colour to intent and so on, but I want to describe an event I saw with my own eyes when I was four years old in Nigeria.
First, let me state that I have always had an excellent memory right from age two or so. I mention this because a lot of people find that unbelievable, at least as unbelievable that they can’t recall anything prior to age seven or in some cases even later, which to me looks like either retardation or traumatic emotional damage. Perhaps my Asperger’s helps in that regard for I was not short of significant emotional events in childhood, but I recall them all clearly. Anyway, on to the thing I saw.
The Fulani are a semi-nomadic tribe that in Nigeria in 1973, when I was there, for the most part acted as guards. they were honest and didn’t steal, so people used to hire them to guard building sites at night, their homes and so on. Where we lived there were two western style houses, one in which my family, composed of my dad, mom, brother and myself lived, and the other where my dad’s boss, Vincenzo Valsesia lived. They were two bedroom places with one toilet and a lounge/dining area and a veranda enclosed by mosquito netting where windows would be. The kitchen was separate from the lounge/dining area and was accessed via a short covered walkway that linked the kitchen to the dining/lounge room. Giant jumping spiders an inch or two long would run along the walls and jump from one corner to the other, toads, frogs and scorpions were ever-present and so was the occasional rabid dog that would come charging out of the surrounding jungle with literal foam at the mouth and that my dad would invariably dispatch with his shotgun. Once this happened directly at us on a day he was home, though when the workers mentioned one was about my dad would return home and guard us. We had a radio that kept in touch with the site he worked as, managing the construction of Army barracks in an otherwise sparse jungle location with clearings only for our houses and a bit further away the house of another expatriate company, I think it was Costain.
The Fulani had some of their huts not far from our home, roughly between ours and Mr. Valsesia’s place. Their leader lived there and sometimes played with me, using his warrior sticks they used as weapons and giving me a smaller stick to teach me how to fight with them. He was a gentle and kind man, but he had the lean body of a runner and he led his men wisely and strongly. He was not afraid not weak in any way and my dad often jumped in his land-rover with the Fulani chief in the passenger seat to go chase some thieves that had tried to raid one of the building sites for materials.
I remember one day he was playing with me, showing me how to strike with the sticks, he was using his own real weapon-like staves —he had a longer and a shorter one, using both simultaneously— and I had just a small one I was using as a tiny samurai in two-handed fashion. At one point I struck his main staff and it split down the middle breaking in two with a long crack going lengthwise up it. The chief looked astonished. Looked at his staff incredulously then shook his head and just walked away without another word to me. At the time, I was unsure if his staff had really broken or if he had intentionally substituted it for one that he knew would break to maybe make me think I was a great “warrior”. I was unsure of this second hypothesis though, because the staff he was using was a well-worn one and as far as I knew was the one he always had, and secondly, his reaction. He did not congratulate me or do any of the usual good-natured speaking he did (in a language I didn’t understand of course, as he didn’t understand mine either). On reflection, though, in hindsight, his reaction I am sure was genuine, and probably went something along the lines of these white devils being so powerful in their magic that even one of their little boys could destroy his main weapons with a single good blow. I say this because of the other event I witnessed around the same time.
The Fulani chief was I think nominally Muslim, and as such they had up to four wives, him being a chief he had four, and I recall he explained to my dad once that four wives was really the limit, in theory you could have more, but if you got a fifth one, you should “fire” one of the others.
His wives were ranked by age, and the older one was the leader-wife, and in descending order of age came the other three. One of the younger wives, I think it was the second-youngest, did not get along well with the chief wife. The women washed their dishes and pots religiously, every day, in sight of our home, as their camp was only a few dozen metres from us and my brother and I would roam the area, playing, looking for bugs, frogs, and generally doing whatever we wanted without anyone worrying unduly about the occasional snake, scorpions, or wild rabid dogs that infested the area. Such is the way GenX was raised.
I therefore was a prime witness to the older chief-wife washing all the pots and pans and then the younger wife throwing dirt on them and running away laughing. The older wife cursed at her a bit then washed them again. This happened more than once. I was fascinated because even at age four, I did not understand why the older wife did not simply beat the younger one, or, just leave the pots dirty and tell her husband when he came home. Being a little older now I guess that the reason was that the husband, as chief, had his hands full all day with various things and the last thing he wanted to do was come home to dirty plates and arguing wives. Possibly, each wife also had set chores, so the pots being clean may have been the responsibility of the chief-wife and, rightly, any excuses for not having it done would be seen in extremely poor light. So, after the third warning that the older chief-wife gave, and the third time the younger one threw dirt on the cleaned plates, the older wife got a very determined look on her face, grabbed a small piece of baboon skin, said a few mysterious words and then began chasing the younger wife around the courtyard, which was really just bare reddish earth with no fence or wall at all until it reached the untamed jungle. The younger wife ran away screaming and sort of laughing, in that kind of genuine fear that however things you will escape, but the older wife, though not as young, was crafty, and anticipated the turns and swirls that the younger one made, and soon caught the back of her T-shirt with her left hand and shoved the piece of baboon skin down the back of her shirt/dress combination.
Instantly the younger wife threw herself on the ground and started screaming and twisting and rolling about. It looked straight out of some exorcism film in reverse. She screamed and jumped and twisted on the floor like something possessed, then seemed to pass out in a fever and just lay there. The older wife I recall, stood watching it all and when the younger one lapsed into her moaning fever-coma she turned away with a satisfied smirk on her face and went back to washing her plates for the last time today.
The other wives, helped by some friends carried the malingering younger wife into their hut. The woman could not walk or talk and they had to carry her. Shortly thereafter my dad returned home in his Land Rover with the chief beside him. The Fulani had a system where they would shout out and from one to the other they would soon reach wherever the chief or thieves at a building site where. So the chief was soon aware he had to come home and he had asked my dad to bring him home to get there faster.
The chief went in to see the semi-comatose wife and my dad went along to see what was up. I followed them and tried to quietly tell my dad what had happened, but my dad, being a Westerner and thinking probably that his four year old son was unlikely to be able to solve what he assumed was a malarial fever (except they didn’t get it like we did) or some other disease, wasn’t listening to me very much, worried about the woman.
When we were all next to the woman lying on her bed and moaning softly, my dad felt her forehead and knew she did have a real fever, which was partly why he wasn’t listening to me. He tried to explain to the chief she was ill and tried to find out how long she had been feeling ill. It was only when the chief managed to explain that it was some Ju-ju that he finally listened to me. Ju-ju was the word for black magic. At that point my dad finally looked at me and asked me what happened. I still recall what I told him at the time in Italian:
“there is nothing wrong with her dad, she was running around and laughing today, ask the other people here. But she was throwing dirt of the other woman’s cleaned plates, so that one got upset and chased her with a piece of baboon skin and threw it down her shirt. After that she rolled around on the floor screaming and just lay there.” My dad pointed out that the woman had a real fever though, to which I said, “I know she has a fever, but it’s all in her head dad.” My father probably wasn’t sure if I had really understood the situation, I was four after all, but he asked the other people there and despite the language barriers, realised I had summarised what had taken place correctly.
He thought for a bit, then went home with me and when alone double checked with me exactly what had happened, which I repeated to him. he then took a couple of aspirins, and crushed them into a powder. We then returned to the chief and my dad explained that this powder was a powerful white man Ju-ju that would heal his wife and she would sleep and be fine in the morning. they mixed the white powdered aspirins into a bit of water, which made it bitter, but all the better for the Ju-ju I guess, and slowly made the woman sip it. She had been in her semi-comatose state but had heard everything my dad had explained laboriously through the half-english, half-fulani, half-italian and not good with fractions explanations. As soon as she drank the medicine the woman fell asleep snoring. And the next morning she was up and about physically fine but with a much subdued and morose affect.
There was literally nothing wrong with her other than her mind, culture and belief system told her there was. that piece of baboon skin would have had zero effect on me. And not because I was a magical small white warrior-king that can destroy the chief’s main weapon with a common stick I picked off the ground, but because I didn’t believe that shit.
That said, I was a teenager when I learnt that I too was susceptible to the same wrong way of belief. As a kid I used to get sick very easily, especially with sore throats, flus, as well as gut-folding stomach aches. I also got regular nose-bleeds but they didn’t bother me beyond staining my clothes if I wasn’t careful. I was so ill that at one point I missed about three months of school, being in bed with fever, cough, sore throats and so on. When I finally returned to school I was physically weak from having been in bed so long. On the walk home, a thundershower of the type you get in Africa suddenly drenched me. You can go from sunny to torrential rain in seconds and I was wet through all my clothes, just a few hundred metres from home. As I shivered in the cold rain I realised the rain and being cold this way was a certain reason that I would be ill again. All I needed to catch a cold was to literally get cold or rained on and I would be sick the next day or within hours. I had literally just spent three months in bed, had had one day at school and now I was going to get sick again. I felt an absolute rage rise up inside me and I determined right there and then that I would not get sick froths stupid rain and I would not get sick again.
From that day on my incidence of flu and so on disappeared back to what most people would call “normal”, And I was not sick the next day or for a long time after. I still get the occasional man-flu, but I did not get sick at all for most of my life after I realised the power my mind had on it. Even my stomach issues which have a basis in Gilbert’s disease, a genetic disorder of the liver, have much improved as I applied this lesson to them. It is true that covid really did knock me on my ass and pneumonia nearly killed me in April of last year and I had a recurrence in November and that I have been a bit far from perfect health for a while, but I do think there are external factors too. That said, the lesson is still in there and I have been better lately even as I take steps to reduce the external factors, like mould, diet, and next some way to avoid the worst effects of the chemtrails, which I am researching, but above all, mindset counts far more than you think.
I am now in the process of consciously applying the positives of the “placebo” effect, which I wrote about on this blog before, in as many aspects of my life as I can. And it is indeed having results already.
There is a link between “positive thinking” (which is mostly a con-job sold by grifters in the format it is most often presented in) correct prayer, and the right mental attitude of responsible creator instead of “powerless victim”, but finding the right balance and applying correctly is a fine balancing act. Or maybe I just think it is. Either way, positive results are happening gradually but continuously, not just for me, but also for those that have asked for help in changing their minds in this fashion.
I hope you will consider your own placebos, nocebos, taboos and superstitions and alter them as required to produce better effects in your life.
The Fighter’s second most important asset
Community.
You can have the best mindset, the best geography, the best weapons, but if you are alone you will eventually be taken out.
That said, there are some important points that can be counter-intuitive, which one needs to understand so as not to give in to the black-pill despair they are trying so hard to force upon you (which goes to mindset, covered in the previous post).
Community goes to mindset (for most)
It is a fact that human beings, even misanthropic ones like myself, are creatures that require others of their kind to feel good and thrive. Ultimately, my misanthropy is a function of my IQ, which tends to “price me out of the market” in most cases. A common faith that is absolutely hot or cold, and not lukewarm churchianity can and does bridge the gap, because loyalty trumps intelligence in human affairs, and honesty (translated as genuine commitment) trumps numbers (of lukewarm “compatriots”). I specify these points about myself only because they hold true for all human societies that are civilisational (see previous post for the difference between civilisational societies and other types which are stagnant or parasitic).
For most people, community goes to (serves) mindset. That is, if you have a community of loved ones and friends around you, it makes life more bearable and keeps you in a more positive mindset than if you are alone, have no one that loves you and no one for you to love.
Those who have an intrinsic, fundamental warrior’s mindset, however, can make mindset go to (serve) community. In fact, that is the essence of a warrior. The word Samurai meant servant. Because a warrior’s ultimate aim, in the depths of his soul, is to protect the people he loves and bring honour and justice to the society he lives in. The stolen valour of the idiots that think wearing a uniform as a policeman or soldier automatically makes them “warriors” is just more of the fakery and plastic lies that have been fostered upon the planet by the parasites that run Hollywood and infect the general zeitgeist through lies in mass media, lies in schools, lies in entertainment, in film, in books, in the arts. Wearing a uniform does not a warrior make. Being one is the only way one is one, and paramount in a warrior’s way of being is a very refined sense of justice; which includes virtues like fairness, honour, honesty and courage, but above all, in the centre of the flame in his heart, at a warrior’s core, is sacrifice. His aim is to serve those he loves, to protect them and look after them. Not with words, not for glory or any fame, but because it is his nature. He would do that even if he would be covered in infamy.
Because of this peculiarity of mind, soul, intent, a warrior’s mindset can create community.
While normally community bolsters mindset, and this is true for everyone, a sufficiently strong mindset can create a community. It is, of course, a usually harder road, but can produce excellent results.
It is a path I have explored several times in my life, and also the one I chose presently. When I moved here, purchasing the land and home we are now in, I had no idea what the people around here were like and I did not care. I assumed the general mild personalities that one expects in most of Europe, and generally this is true of most places, but it did not concern me.
The core of my community is my wife and children, and everything beyond that, I will form myself by being the hub around which my type of community naturally wants to form.
Communities arise from chance and opportunities in most cases, but like any organic system, they can be engineered. The pedophelic parasites running things are demonstrating that daily, with shaping societies to accept all sorts of vile and absurd rules, taxations, forced toxic serums into the bodies of their children and themselves, limitations on what food and of what type you can eat or grow or have, and on and on and on. They are absolutely engineering society by brute force methods from the outside in, to the point that the Zyklon generation may have as many as one in five that believes the total fiction and counter-to-objective reality that the sex of a human being can be changed or is “fluid” or a “social construct”. In short, you have proof positive before your eyes that a community can be socially engineered to even reject objective facts and undeniable reality.
Just as you might think the ancients were foolish for believing in Zeus, yet you think it’s normal to accept homosexual “marriage” and adoption of children, seeing no possible evil consequences to the last two. While possibly understanding that worshipping fallen angels masquerading as gods is bad, you might accept that eating genetically modified foods that don’t produce viable natural seeds is required or even a net “good” because you have bought into the next narrative of “climate change” while ignoring chemtrails and HAARP geoengineering.
I point these things out merely to show you that not only can community be engineered by outside forces, and, that in fact it has been and is being engineered (to your personal detriment) but also to show you that you, yes you specifically and individually have also been subjected to this and still are in at least some areas. It is inevitable. We have all been lied to from birth and the process of seeing reality as it is while shedding the lies is far from easy, especially if your mindset is not that of a fighter (see previous post). Bit aside from all of these points, which are necessary for you to know about and see in order to see the bigger picture, the main point of this section is this:
A warrior mindset can be the core about which a community develops. In short, while most will try to move to a place they feel ties to, from cultural to familiar to faith-based and so on, a warrior can carve out a piece of land and say:
Here I stand.
And others will gather around him and follow him and create a community around him.
I chose this path because of two main reasons:
Firstly, I have done it before in several contexts in my life and always achieved it, initially doing so without the intent, only sheer bloody mindedness that I knew my way was true and good and screw anyone else that didn’t see it. Later in life I learnt I could do that and not even need to be so combative about it.
And secondly, I was (and remain) unaware of a community of people that sees things as I do and that are also hardcore sedevacantists. While I know quite a few Sedes, many of these are overseas now, and their situations and geography does not permit them to be near me now, and my remaining there would not have permitted me the creation of the type of community I sought either. So my choice was easy: pick a place that is geographically sound and that permits certain social realities, then, the community will come.
And this is indeed now beginning to form at the level where people are actively looking to purchase property within walking distance of mine, precisely so we can become a community of like minded people that help each other and create the type of society we want.
The point is, while most will feel it’s easier to simply join an existing community, and it is true, the type of communities we will need in the coming years and that our children will need in the future, do not currently exist in any kind of large number, so, we have to create them.
And that means someone has to start and be the focus of one. In short, take on the role of leader in some form or other, not for the glory, the gold, the concubines or anything other than the sacrifice of service for the safeguarding of the future of our children.
Which is why I say, if you already have such a community of, say, Appalachian mountain rednecks that think anyone who doesn’t marry their cousin is suspect, well, if they are your people, go for it, I hope you have a fetching cousin is all I can say. Is that the best solution? Not by a long shot, but anything that will actively resist the coming plans they have for you, short of cannibalism and first degree incest, is probably a better bet.
Personally I think a community that has the same Catholicism that the people who went on the first Crusade, in 1095, like Bohemond, Tancredi, and so on, or who defended Malta in 1565 like the Catholic knights there and their indomitable leader, Jean Parisot le Vallete, is not just the best solution, it is, the one true solution, because THAT Catholicism has been proven historically impossible to defeat; which is to be expected if you understand that our Lord Jesus Christ said he would be with is to the end.
Of course the Church has been infiltrated and the Vatican is a hive of pedophiles and Satanists, and yes, there has not been a valid Pope since 1958, but the remnant remains, Sedevacantism IS Catholicism, and the only one left and the only one that is as it always was, with proper ordination, proper sacraments and the true mass.
All those who investigate this issue honestly cannot escape the facts, which is why the short book I wrote a mere few years ago has helped more than 100 people to convert, get baptised and become Sedevacantist Catholics. (NB: the paperback is always more up to date than the kindle version in all my books).
And why those who wanted the details and the roadmap to how to reclaim the actual Catholic Church from the impostors that now usurp it also went on to read Reclaiming the Catholic Church. And why now they are beginning to make plans to move here nearby. And make trips here first to visit and help me on the farm. And get married in church to Sedevacantist women, and go on to make children, living as proper Catholics, with no divorce and no contraception.
Sure, the creating of a community is harder than the joining one, bit the beauty of Catholic communities is that within one generation we have multiplied in number several times.
I have five children and started only late in life, the last three are four years old, two and a half, and the last one is only five months old, and I am 53. There are newly wed couples in their early or mod twenties who are just starting out. Three such couples getting married just this year and yes they all found their way to sedevacantism theough my work, be it the books linked above or the YouTube channel, or Kurgan TV, where others also have contributed to a site that educates you about the reality we actually are in, the way to learn independently, and the real history of humanity, as well as other important skills.
I am but one man, and no, I am not especially important or to be glorified, God is. And yet look, in time, this place I chose will become a community of Sedevacantists and out children will play and learn with each other and grow in a place that is safe and true and men are men and women are women, truth and beauty and justice are present always and if others try to make it unsafe, we will repel them and make it so.
My point here in summary is this:
Mindset is the foundation (see previous post), and community is the first cornerstone, and if you can find a ready made one, great, but be careful because the kind of community you need to be part of to survive and thrive in the future has not existed for several centuries. We have to create them. And while the foundation of them are indeed to remain unchanged (real Catholicism) the current and future requirements are unique to our times. Yes the basis is the same, but the way they play out in the technology, defence, energy generation, communications and so on, we have to design.
And yes. I do have a plan. And yes, I will build it. And yes, they will come. They are already coming here. It’s no field of dreams. It’s fields of real men and real women, with real families, and, as the song says:
…beautiful fields lie just before me
Where God’s redeemed their vigils keep…
So, find your community, create one, or join us.
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By G | 22 May 2023 | Posted in Ancient Technology, Believe, Catholicism, Christianity, Farming Life, Increasing Happiness, Reclaiming the Catholic Church, Relationships, Sedeprivationism, Sedevacantism, Social Commentary, Systema, Zombie Apocalypse