Adolf Hitler: The Ultimate Avatar – 2nd Edition

Adolf Hitler: The Ultimate Avatar By Miguel Serrano – 2nd Edition (Unabridged English Translation) NOW AVAILABLE! For payment & delivery details please contact: hermitage75@yahoo.com.au

For other publications and available titles go to Hermitage Helm Corpus page.

ProjectUAcoverfinal (Hardcover, 7in x 9in, 969 pages)


The White Gods

Extracts from The White Gods – Part III: THE OTHER POLE, from the unabridged English translation of Miguel Serrano’s ADOLF HITLER: The Ultimate Avatar.

“Since the days of Hyperborea, the Nordic Viras reactivated their chakras, their runic centres, from above to below, the reverse of the Yoga of Patanjali that goes from below to above. They searched for the way out through the other Pole, thus availing themselves of SHE-HE, the feminine element, so to speak, of Maga-Priestess, Valkyrie, Woewre, at the South Pole.

In some way this repeats the extra-cosmic Drama and involution of the Yugas. The Foreign, Exiled, entering into the material Universe of the Demiurge through some hole, window or fold; by Sunya, the Black Sun, Window of Venus. His mantra is HAMSA. The Stranger is made prisoner of the Eternal Return and the involution of Demiurgic Yugas. He now repeats the process of reactivation of his chakras, in search of the Way Out that will free him. From above to below, from the Golden Age to the shadows of the Age of Iron. Thus one might think of a certain coincidence between Yugas and chakras. The Satya-Yuga or Golden Age coincides with the Sahasrara chakra whose mantra is SAHAM and plane the spiritual Other Sky; the Treta-Yuga or Silver Age with the Ajna chakra whose mantra is OM and plane or heaven the realm of mind; the Dwapara-Yuga or Bronze Age with the Visuda chakra whose mantra is HAM and plane or heaven the aether; the Kali-Yuga or Iron Age with the Anahata chakra whose mantra is YAM and plane or heaven the air. The last chakra coincides with the cardiac plexus. And we have thereby the truth that all this Dark Age has been ruled by the Judaic counter-initiation of the “Heart of Jesus the Jew”.

The circuit is completed when the exit, Sunya, Void of the Black Sun, with its mantra HAMSA, actually comes down here below, on the Other Pole, polus antarcticus, wedding the opposites. The Vira has become round. He is a Divya.

In Nordic Hyperborean Yoga the Rune Chakras are more numerous, and thereby able to coincide with the Sandhya and Sandhyansa, as well as with several sub-Yugas. The Manipura Chakra coincides with this interlude where, after the end of a Yuga, the “Expiration” and Will to Power finds its balance, goes through its Rechnung (See my book Nietzsche and the Dance of Shiva) contemplating itself: the Sandhya and Sandhyansa. The Manipura Chakra is like a Sangham, or rather a point of reunion of the rivers of the soul, in the solar plexus. Its mantra is RAM, its plane or heaven fire. And it is water and fire that put an end to a Yuga, to an Age. In the language of the Runes this centre is called Bebe-Brucke, “Rune Bridge”, “Quaking of the Runes”.

In the Runic Book of the Zohar fundamental importance is given to the Goten, or Goths. This word comes from Guie, “good” comes from God; Gut comes from Gott. The origin of the Goten is unknown to us (like the derivation of the Vanir and Aesir). We only know that around the year 800 BC they descended from the regions of south Sweden, from Jutland in Schleswig-Holstein and headed towards the eastern regions of Germany. History goes back to the island of Gotland (Land of God, of the Goten). But the Goths came from submerged Hyperborea, the true fatherland of God, of the Gods. They belonged to the most sacred tribe or community of the German Aryans. Their Twin-Kings conquered all of Europe and settled for centuries in Spain, coming now from the East, divided in two branches: Ostro-goten (Ostrogoths), Bright Gods, relucent like the South Pole, and Weisgoten (Visigoths), Wise Gods, like a God.

Between the years 150 and 484 of our Era the Goths conqueared and colonized the regions of Russia, southern Turkey, Austria, France and Italy with their Twin-King, Alarich. And finally in Spain. Languedoc was Visigoth land. Their Twin King, Geiserich, crossed Spain and went towards Africa where he founded a kingdom that succumbed with King Gelirrier, led the Wandalen, or Vandals.

The Goths, Weisgoten, carried a Treasure with them, a mysterious Stone on which was engraved the Law and Wisdom of the ancestors, a Luminous Tablet, a strange Power: the Gral. This Treasure was always taken safely through their battles and their defeats. Yet it never fell into the hands of the enemy. It was the Treasure of Hyperborea. Together with its secret guardians, it was never found. Until the SS recovered it in the caves of Sabarthe, near Montsegur, placing it into safekeeping on the Gralsburg of Berchtesgaden, where they were able to decrypt it. But that Treasure was only a part of the Gral. The most secret wisdom was transported, in so remote centuries, to the Other Pole. Now found again in the possession of the Esoteric Hitlerists, the present-day Weisgoten….

…America, Huitramannaland, Albania, their most ancient names, has always been the traditional home of the defeated, Luciferians, Hyperboreans, crushed by great cosmic catastrophes, or by the enmity of animal-men. She was their true Ark of the Flood, with the destruction of Lemuria, Gondwana, Atlantis, Hyperborea. Some White Gods followed in the footsteps of others, always suspecting their forbears had discovered there impregnable refuges, perhaps the entrances into the Hollow Earth among the Oases of Antarctica. First came the survivors of the destruction of the visible remnants of Hyperborea (those islands submerged in the Arctic according to professor Wirth), then Blond Libyans, Trojans, Vikings, Templars and recently the Esoteric Hitlerists. Survivors of the ultimate Great War. Their predecessors received those who arrived last. But only the initiated Guides could reach the secret shelters. Only the immortals would be received by the immortals. The remainder would have to remain on the surface, disintegrating in the slow and excruciating agony of inevitable miscegenation, what professor De Mahieu has entitled The Agony of the Sun God. His first book was called The Great Journey of the Sun God.

The work of this extraordinary French researcher, based in Argentina, has been echoed in Germany, certainly, but has had no deep resonance in our America, or in the countries said to be Latin. In Spain his work is unknown, as in Chile also unknown. This is no accident, of course, obedience to a conspiracy directed to ignore every honest investigation, since his work endangers hundreds of years of systematic destruction of the traces of Hyperboreans in America and the invention of autochthonous indigenous cultures that I call “clutter from the slaves of Atlantis”. In addition to this drivel about the cosmic race of Vasconcelos, or the racial armpit of an Antenor Orrego, professor De Mahieu, an anthropologist, gives us indisputable evidence to support his claims, I identify with his struggle because since I was very young I have also been driven to find the traces of the White Gods, in open war against the oppressive atmosphere that surrounds us in this Brown America, as it is called by the apologists of the miscegenation and Mulattoism, the believers in the existence of  “indigenous cultures” and in the greatness of a civilization of hodgepodge, born from the detritus left behind by the slaves of Atlantis…

…This noble man and warrior, faithful guardian of the symbols of the Hyperborean Gods of yesteryear, and guided by them in Atlantis and then in Vinland, Huitramannaland, has been annihilated by the Great Conspiracy, robbed by that Conspiracy of their sacred land, destroying their spiritual cosmos as C.G. Jung also discovered, massacring them physically and morally with the Jewish Bible in one hand and a gun in the other.

The Eagle on the front cover of this book is Aztec, a symbol of the Black Sun, Polar, also engraved on the furniture of the Chancellery of the Third Reich. Hitler had designed it there, knowing the symbol will be the Fourth Reich, which will come on an Other Earth regenerated by Wakan-Tanka, the Thunderbird, after the victory over the powers of evil and darkness, when the power Wakan-Wotan has imposed order and justice in a spiritual extra-cosmic sense. And the Ultimate Avatar of the Fuhrer returns mounted on the Eagle of an Other Light, the Bird of Thunder…

…Think of those Germans who arrived in Chile, a little more than one hundred years ago, to colonize the south on the frontier with the Mapuche Indians. Even without mixing with the natives, their race has disintegrated. Because blood, that mysterious fluid, absorbs the chlorophyll of plants in a given region of living beings that is the Earth, the radiation of its minerals, the animal energy. That powerful and demonic potency, that acts on the Land of the demiurge, ends up defeating the purest Aryan blood if this has not been twice-born, passing through Mystic Death, becoming a true Aryan, a White God, in Paititi. Thus the Vira will be devoured by the “climate of the soul” of the world of American colour. The liver, Leber, in German (life = Leben; love = Lieben) transforms the energies of the nutrients in the blood: Blut, in German. Here is the origin of “type” and “race”. Racial continuity becomes possible, imprinting its seal, its “I”. But Blumen is also flower. Blood is the Flower of Race. An Ultimate Flower, delicate, easy to destroy. from its foliage, its leaves, its petals, the soul is fed, the “memory” of Initiate Hyperborean Race. Thus the “I” is incarnated, that “end of a golden string: only wind it into a ball and it will lead you in at Heaven’s gate” as Blake would say, and that will accompany the semi-divine man in his terrestrial exile. The mystery of the will also originates in the Hyperborean, Aryan Blood. The Hitlerists build a new world on Blood and Soil, if the soil changes, then little by little the blood will change, the blood memory. The Divine Hyperboreans, immigrants to the Other Pole, could only preserve the Flower of their Divine Blood, their inheritance of the Green Thunderbolt, within the Secret Cities of the Immortals, within the Andes, or within the Antarctic Oasis. Only there too could Hitler and his own keep the Sang-Real (the Royal Blood); they will preserve Grail until the return of the Wildes Heer.”

215-c98fe8ae24

 

 


Fever Poem

Fever Poem VII   by  Knut Hamsun

 

Now howls the autumnal wind

like a rain soaked dog against my

window,

Within my blood there stirs a frost

colder than the winds outside.

It unfolds within me

And reeks of poisonous blossoms.

The odour seeps out into the weather

from my nostrils.

It blooms in the garden of Hate.

It boils, it boils. I try

to no avail to fall into slumber,

I hear the flag line eternally

chattering and chattering against the

pole,

It staggers by doors, sneaks

on its toes, steps along the passage,

My pulse beating in barks

like a baying hellhound.

It boils, it boils, it boils.

 


On The Heights of Absurdity

Following on with our current theme, not exactly sociable or cheerful, but our current alienated state of being is not sociable or cheerful. A nod to Cioran’s ‘On The Heights of Despair’, kind of the last word on depression and her equally ugly handmaidens – despair and insomnia. Cioran makes his fellow countryman Eugene Ionescu appear positively upbeat, there is humour and folly in Ionescu, with Cioran, at 23 mind you, a Romanian Sturm und Drang, a creative barbarian of the Iron Guard of Archangel Michael, is writing about old morbid depression coloured black and grey with despair and insomnia, loss of appetite too I might add. Profoundly serious, he felt extremely vexed at the Democratic induced disintegration of Romania. And all this intrusive Vexation of the Spirit also. Emile Cioran the youthful philosopher of the Iron Guard, an Angel of Romanian Transfiguration and Nationalism.

“But how can those who violently experience hatred, despair, chaos, nothingness, or love, who burn with each passion and gradually die with each and in each, those who can only breathe on heights, who are always alone, especially when they are with others – how can they grow in linear fashion and crystallize into a system? All that is form, system category, frame, or plan tends to make things absolute and springs from a lack of inner energy, from a sterile spiritual life. Life’s great tensions verge on chaos and the madness of exaltation. Rich spiritual life must know chaos and the effervescent paroxysm of illness, because in them inspiration appears to be essential for creation and contradictions become expressions of high inner temperatures. Nobody who does not love chaos is a creator, and whoever is contemptuous of illness must not speak of the spirit. There is only value in that which bursts forth from inspiration, which springs up from the irrational depths of our being, from the secret centre of our subjectivity. The fruit of labour, effort, and endeavour has no value, and the offspring of intelligence is sterile and uninteresting. I delight in the barbaric and spontaneous elan of inspiration, effervescent spiritual states, essential lyricism, and inner tension – these things make inspiration the only reality of creation.”  –  Emil Cioran – ‘On The Heights Of Despair’

In real deep Depression one cannot write like that, one cannot write at all, but in your mild garden variety depression it is quite a therapeutic mental exercise. There is a vanity to youth which with age turns to acerbity, reduced to acerbity. Vanity may be a welcome counterpoint to vexation but over time vanity is eroded and all that is left is acerbity and a deeper more mature vexation. Youth can afford to be vain and vanity is a costly luxury that few can afford whether young or old. Vexation of the spirit however is freely handed out by Nature. A Nation can offer resistance to this, insulation, but when Nature hands out with equal measure her vexation on an individual, the result is severely shocking in its extremeness and senselessness, shocking in the unfairness. What once an entire Nation coped with, unfair in itself one must admit, vexation unlike vanity is never fair; what once an entire Nation endured, now an Individual must endure, but the vexation is dealt out in the same measure! Nature is profligate with this, she is a spendthrift when it comes to Her vexation, She delivers it equally and mightily on either Nation or Individual without consideration for either! Vanity could be said to be reliant on good favour and fortune, even the more rare healthy forms of blessedness, but vexation is as common as grass and flies and humans, vexation is everywhere even more so! Vexation is amazingly abundant… Grass, flies and humans could be said to be just merely parenthetical in the Great Vexation! Vanity is related to hope – what beautiful, young, healthy adolescent is not hopeful? Vexation has a zillion ways to outcompete such hope. Vexation will come up trumps every time, if you don’t believe me just wait awhile, Nature will soon see to that. Adolescence and youthful beauty and vigour are rare, oh so rare, and frightfully costly to boot. Youthful beauty is rare and quite aristocratic, if I may put it that way, epistemologically I think I can, yes quite aristocratic; rare things that are paid for both in advance and with interest later. Vexation however is not rare, although it can be delivered to you with special exquisite rareness whether you like it or not, definitely not aristocratic in the sense that it is liberally applied to all and sundry free of charge. You don’t have to be special to receive a bad dose of malicious vexation, but you can be given a special dose all to yourself, in fact Nature delights in special extra bitter doses of vexation willy-nilly, dealt out to individuals in unequal measures haphazardly. Humour or folly or pain and death may result, or whatever, the point is Nature is not discerning in such mighty matters of Her Great Vexation powers. Vexation is not rare nor particularly aristocratic in this unfashionable way of Hers. And it costs nothing to Her, but it may cost you greatly! Or not. Because it may also come for free, like I said, but it is capricious like that, vexation, it costs, but not in the way you would reckon it would, Nature does not have an accountant. Nature’s books are absurd, She makes Heinrich Schliemann look honest…. She does not have to account for Her vexation, She is abundantly rich in vexation, and She is more than willing to use Her riches at any place and at any time. So remarkable is Her delivery of vexation at times that one wonders if She really is just doling it out willy-nilly, one cannot even be sure of that. She is secretive like that, She has one set of books She shows you  and then She seems to have another set of books that She does not show you, at least She provides you with the illusion that She might have another set of books that are not so haphazardly arranged or absurd. Either way She keeps silent. And Silence is the ultimate form of aggression, remember, I’ll repeat the aphorism for you; ‘Silence is the ultimate form of aggression.’

Yes, it is certainly bankable, Nature is willing to serve you up vexation, no deposit required, She will bank it on your behalf, no questions asked. She has Carte Blanche, and you don’t have to be present for the reading of the Will, She will deliver to you. She has many heirs but She never dies, Samson, come solve my riddle, it’s so lyrical. At the end of the day – vexation, guaranteed, disillusionment comes for free, makes one so much more sensitive to vexation of the spirit. They call this Wisdom. And it is. I am not being metaphorical in this instance; disillusionment IS what makes one wise. The vanity of Nations disappears with youth….the vanity of Individuals disappears with youth….What once Nations felt collectively, what once races felt collectively we now feel Individually, with the profound emergence of the ‘I’…

Oh, yes, She will give you vexation, whether you want it or not, for free, and unlike beauty and healthiness and youth, which are qualities that Nature is unbelievably stingy with, She is a real “tight-arse” when it comes to that, but vexation, oh well She always dishes out in alarmingly liberal doses, and overdoses! Whether one wants it or not and unlike beauty and healthiness and youth and the vanity that goes with such rare blessings, vexation is a feeling that nobody wants! It’s not in demand, and Nature in all her undying experience is blissfully unaware that Her Great Vexation is not in demand. If it was a product, there would be no buyers. Yet vexation is Nature’s most abundant asset, why so much of something that is so undesirable? I don’t know the answer to that, at least not at this moment, but out of the chaos of inspiration I am sure that the words will eventually come to me, all lyrical and metaphorical atop the heights of Absurdity.


Sermons from Mein Kampf

“During those months I felt for the first time that Fate was dealing adversely with me in keeping me on the fighting front and in a position where any chance bullet from some nigger or other might finish me, whereas I could have done the Fatherland a real service in another sphere. For I was then presumptuous enough to believe that I would have been successful in managing the propaganda business… But I was a being without a name, one in eight millions. Hence it was better for me to keep my mouth shut and do my duty as well as I could in the position to which I had been assigned.”  –  Chapter VII – The Revolution, Mein Kampf.

Think about what He is writing here. He is writing that He was one in an army of Eight Million! Eight Million of the best equipped, most advanced in all aspects, healthiest, best educated, best armed, loyal, most highly organized fighting force on planet earth at that time! He was but one member of the greatest army ever formed at that time! The greatest class of men, with the greatest tradition, the greatest nobility, the highest loyalty, and so on. He was part of the PRUSSIAN MILITARY! I can’t imagine what that was like, well maybe I can imagine, I can only imagine, none us today can really know, we can only imagine with what remains of our memories of the blood, so faint and distant as they are. The greatest Nation on earth, with an army of men Eight Million strong! United, willing to die and follow all commands to the death! I can only imagine, we can only imagine, we don’t have an army, we don’t have a nation, how can we know what it meant to be part of such a thing? We can’t. We can only imagine. He writes that for the first time that Fate, he felt the hand of Fate, was dealing with Him adversely – “during those months”. Months, a matter of months, Fate dealt Him the first hard blow. We have been dealt the hard blows of Fate since the first moment we were pulled from our Mother’s wombs. Fate was waiting for us with the cruellest weapons she could devise the moment we crawled out upon this miserable earth! And she has been ever since, all our lives, not just a few months, all our lives we have been dealt with adversely. And we don’t have no Eight Million armed men to protect us, the enemy aint on the other side of the walled border, oh no, the enemy was in our own homes, the enemy was our friends, the enemy was our own family, we were brought up by the enemy, we went to the schools of the enemy, we slaved for the enemy, the enemy was all that we knew! Fate was cruel with us from the beginning. It wasn’t just some stray bullet from a nigger we had to worry about, we have had niggers clutching at our throats our whole lives, wanting to do us in! And “Fatherland”, we don’t have no Fatherland, we don’t even have Fathers, our own fathers abandoned us, our own mothers knew us not, our brothers betrayed us, not even our own sisters loved us! We were hated and despised by everyone. And it is a God damn miracle if any of us a still alive! We should be dead, we often dreamed we’d be better dead; went to our beds at night, strangers to the world and ourselves, dreamed of our own funerals, envied the dead, we woke up alone, strangers to ourselves and the world again, and again, and again, and again, night after night, month after month, year after year, decade after decade…..

He said that when the Great War was over that the democratic and liberal nations would receive the Germans as colleagues in the League for World Peace. And that this “would be done the moment Prussian Militarism had been finally destroyed.”  Well, Prussian Militarism has been destroyed a long time ago, and the Germans are colleagues in the “League for World Peace” which we know very well to be a Orwellian double speak. So that was it, Prussian Military collapsed, Germans now belong to the United Nations, and they are all colleagues in “World Peace” as they call it…..And not only do we not have an army, let alone the Eight Million strong, mighty Prussian Military, we also don’t have any “propaganda business”…I am writing here now because there are only a few men in the world who can comprehend what I am writing! Men of Individual genius are hard to combat. Inward limitlessness is difficult to comprehend with outward limitations. It is difficult to place outward limitation on inward limitlessness. Even if they controlled all physical limitations, that would correspond to controlling no inward limitlessness. Infinite potential cannot be confined by finite means. God too was once confined, God too was once without a name, God too once did His duty in silence, God was once a Man! Well look at Him nailed on the Cross, is not that an image of Limitation? Is He not limited? Outwardly? Whether He wanted to be a carpenter by trade, or an architect, or go into the propaganda business, he was limited, for this is a World of Limitations, and God is Limitless. The Fatherland, and the Son, and the Spirit of the Reich! Oh Father, why have you abandoned us? We who remained Faithful through all.

Sieg Heil Astral Reich of the Dead! Armanen-Rig


Wagner’s Ring

The prophet of Adolf Hitler and German National Socialism was Richard Wagner, and we commemorate this day as his birthday.

The Ring of the Nibelung

Siegfried, Act 1, Scene 3:

Mime –

“Once my brother forged

a bright shining ring,

and in it he worked

a powerful spell.

That shining gold

will belong to me,

soon I will control it.

I’m master now!

Alberich too,

who made me slave,

will bend his knee

and beg for my grace;

as Nibelung prince

all will obey me;

That Niblung band

will bow to me!

And the dwarf they despised

they will treat as king!

All the heroes and gods

will respect my gold;

the world will cower

when I command;

they’ll beg my favour

fearing my frown!

I’ll work no longer;

Mime will rule.

For me they’ll labour

to make me rich.

Mime the conqueror,

Mime is king now,

Prince of the Niblungs,

lord of the world!

Hi! Mime, you fortunate smith!

Oh who could believe such luck!”

 

Siegfried –

“Notung! Notung!

Sword of my need!

You are fixed again firm in the hilt.

Snapped into two,

once more you are whole;

no stroke again shall ever smash you.

You broke when my father

was doomed to death;

his living son

forged you again:

for me now you laugh and shine,

and your gleaming edge will be keen.

Notung! Notung!

Sword of my need!

To life once more I have waked you,

You lay there

so cold and dead,

but shine now defiant and fair.

Let every traitor

quail at your gleam!

Strike the false one,

strike at the rogue!

See, Mime, you smith:

So strong is Siegfried’s sword!”

excalibur_1981

 


Music Break

 


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