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San Francisco, the late 1960s—I’ve been trying to recall the exact site, but all I remember is: Greenland was a beautiful series of cliffs, and then it was a vast uninhabitable ice-plain, the ice crushing 90 per cent of the land. An ancient land, its rocks ravaged by ice, in places nearly four billion years old there was a monument in front of which I realized that I am a Northerner. What was it a monument to? A
few years later, sitting outside a mountain cabin reading the
Old Norse Eddas, for a moment, |
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"Here ‘traveling the straight path’ means straying neither to the east nor to the west; it means, climbing the peak, that is,Stonehenge is the prodigal daughter of a larger, more advanced Hyperborean super-computer which is located at the Hyperborean base at the North Pole, being drawn toward the center; it is the ascent out of cartographical dimensions, the discovery of the inner world which secretes its own light, which is the world of light; it is an innerness of light as opposed to the spatiality of the other world which, by contrast, will appear as Darkness." |
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