Apart from taking Bible studies (still ongoing), from experiencing a monastic lifestyle and from engaging for several years in the National Socialist scene, promoting revisionism where and when I could, I also spent three years working on a rural farm/stable. While only a few minutes away from my home, this farm was surrounded by an immense wood and could only be reached by a singular road that was home to a few other farmers and beautiful naked fields.
I would wake up in the morning, around 4:30am, sometimes a little later, and would travel with my bicycle, breathing deeply in the cold and fresh air of the morning. Sometimes the stars would still shine timidly in the sky, accompanied by a heavily saturated crescent moon, bathing in the first colors of the horizon. I would arrive and prepare the fields for the releasing of our thirty three horses that were still sleeping in the dark stable. It was also my duty to go in the old haunted second floor of the stable where we had stored thousands of square hay bales. I would drop them down the window, in complete solitude for hours, watching the sun rise, bathing in the first golden rays… I had a view over the complete settlement and at that time, there was always such a numinous presencing. It felt like the ghosts of the imagination of men were vanishing. No more threat from the darkness of the old attic where I was so accustomed to be.
The owls in the forest would stop their sinister echoes and would be replaced by joyful birds, swirling all over. Horses would awaken and neigh respectfully as to tell me it was time to eat. Cats were running here and there, hunting for small preys and our three dogs would be released by my eighty three years old boss that was eating his breakfast inside. I was surrounded by the sounds of nature, surrounded by animals, by insects, by hauntingly majestic sights.
Frequently during the week, me and my old boss would leave with the big truck and would go get a shipment of a few hundreds, sometimes thousands square hay bales. It was one of my favorite moments for we were in a field so large it nearly felt eternal and I would stand atop the barn and throw each squares of hay down so my boss and helper could place them on the truck. The wind, in such heated days, was succulent and we would often come back to a freshly prepared meal and would nap outside in the grass or on the top of the stable (which made my boss furious).
My job varied, sometimes I would go in the woods to make sure the trails were clean, sometimes I would go away chop woods for an installation, some other times it would be needed of me to scoop gravel for hours but everyday I would always clean the boxes of the thirty three horses in both the small and the big stable. A task that would take me four hours everyday if not more during winter.
Despite the fact I worked in the harshest temperature, hot and cold. Despite the fact that I was often standing in excrement’s and dirt, despite the fact that I would sometimes be damped by the rain or covered in sweat and sawdust, I was completely ecstatic. I learned there to work with my hands and become a man and handle hard work.
But most important of all, I discovered what my soul was responding to, what my φύσις was and after diner, I would sometimes wander off and go mediate in the wild or feed a fox with the rest of my lunch (mainly tuna and eggs) and then sit on a rock and read certain MSS about the Rounwytha way and it would all become so clear. I was living that life at that very moment and I was absolutely pleased, absolutely filled and contempt in all this harshness, this natural and empathic lifestyle. Nothing more was needed, everything was appreciated, everything was mystical, everything was numinous…
It is only a matter of time before I return to this calling, to this world where words are indeed, absolutely not needed and where superstition in otherworldly forces still prevails.
-Beldam 128 yf