Walhall Issue 7
A translation of Siegfried Kummer's magazine
Walhall
Hand and Image Writing
for Rune Studies, Mysticism and Prehistory
Editor: Siegfried Adolf Kummer
Letters to Rune Friends for Personal Use, Issued in Printed Form.
Rune Riddle of the Edda
by Dr. Paul Gerhardt Beyer
Flames leap upward from the hall wall to the roof,
tongues of fire glowing fiercely:
Banish the blaze! Whisper sacred, helping runes!
Call forth brand-runes!
Sing the fire-song bravely against the power of the flames:
Soon the terrible blaze
will lose its strength and be extinguished.
When blind, raging hatred threatens
to confuse the heroic minds of battle-ready men:
Call holy runes to them!
Whisper hate-runes, healing runes:
Then you will quickly settle
the senseless strife
and help the heroes
out of need and death.
Sorceress-women glide through the dark air,
down below in Midgard
they maliciously destroy
the peaceful doings of men
with uncanny, ominous power.
Whisper holy runes,
send seidr-runes against them:
The healing power of holy runes
must unfailingly destroy
the unholy desire of the hideous women.
Seidr-runes rob the witches of strength and mind,
and stripped of their protective covering
they must miserably howl and flee.
When your strong ship fights for life and death
on the stormy sea
against the fury of the terrible weather,
against the rage of the dark waves,
brace yourself courageously
against the hostile powers,
break the raw violence
of the raging giants!
Shout holy runes into the night!
Whisper storm-runes, helping runes
that you have wisely and carefully carved
into stem and rudder,
into hull and oar.
Then you will calm the storm
on the surging sea,
then you will become master
of the unleashed powers,
then you will safely steer
your brave ship
through the foaming waters
of the roaring surf!
Before the enemy
prepares and offers you
pernicious poison
from a juicy root
for a tormenting death,
carve holy, healing runes,
carve poison-runes
into the roots:
Then the sap itself will not harm you,
but the evil brewer
of the loathsome potion
will be struck down
by his own malice.
The physician should learn astral runes
if he wishes to recognize illness!
He should whisper holy, healing runes,
he should carve the runes
into the bark and leaves
of trees whose branches lean eastward.
When the cruelly hanged man
high up on the gallows tree
is strangled and silently sways,
quickly carve helping runes into the wood,
whisper wolf-runes,
call them loudly
into the blowing wind!
Soon the trembling corpse
will easily loosen from the rope;
strength will flow again
through the body,
he will step down from the trunk,
and newly revived
he will once more stand before you and speak.
When you go into battle,
sing and whisper shield-rune magic!
Carve holy runes—
healing, helping runes—
into the shining shield!
When you lead your retinue
to glorious combat
on the bloody battlefield,
sing and whisper the shield-rune song!
Then your proud warriors
will never be defeated
in the deadly fight:
healthy and unharmed
the stately host of your retinue
will return home with you
into the welcoming hall.
Carve sleep-runes
and etch them into the sleeping bench
for the resting guest!
Whisper holy runes
and sing the strengthening song:
Holy runes’ healing power
will quietly flow
into the sleeper’s body,
into the slumberer’s soul:
With a joyful heart
and a clear mind,
full of wisdom in his thoughts,
as if newly born
the foreign guest will awaken,
and will gladly and willingly
offer you his thanks.
Only the wise man is knowing—
the priest in the sanctuary:
If he wishes to proclaim and name
to the assembled people
at the holy place
the names and nature,
the works and will
of the high Aesir,
then he must know and whisper power-runes:
the wisdom of holy runes
that the Allfather once granted him
and taught him to interpret,
when he consecrated himself
to the sublime heavenly service.
Consecrate the son
with holy water,
and in honor of the ruling Aesir
choose for him a worthy name
that determines his fate!
For the noble scion
of a noble clan,
carve in the sublime hour of the ceremony
protective runes
into sword and spear!
Whisper to him ever-working consecration-runes!
When he stands grown
as leader of the retinue
on the bloody field,
then Walvater’s shielding hand
will watch over him:
No enemy can fell him.
If restless, unquenchable, hot longing
without rest drives you
to the lovely woman,
and the fair maiden shows herself cold
to your wooing:
Secretly carve holy runes,
secretly whisper love-runes!
You will easily change her mind,
and she will willingly follow your desire.
If you wish to bind her for life,
to hold her in your arms forever,
call upon the power of the runes for help,
secretly carve holy runes,
whisper love-magic runes!
Carve and etch rune-staves!
Call and whisper
the healing power
of the holy signs!
Everywhere, secret runes
work and help,
protect your own kin
and other clans.
Yet you shall keep silent—
though it be hard—
about the secret power of any one rune.
Never let even your most trusted friend
learn it,
neither man nor woman,
neither mother nor maiden.
Only one alone may know and speak of it:
the blessed wife
whom fate has chosen for you.
Thus I heard the High One
whispering about the magic of the runes,
thus I heard the Sublime One
speaking about the carving of the runes,
thus I heard him advising
the riddles of the runes.
And I sat
and watched
and pondered
in the hall of the High One,
and I listened to the lore.
Now the signs and staves are known to me,
and I have become wise
like no other among men,
and I can solve
the riddles of the runes
as the wise Wodan
knew and taught them.
Whoever approaches our village from Helmstedt or Vorsfelde will already see from afar our home village with its church, which stands on a height that drops steeply down to our village pond. Professor Hofmeister from Braunschweig once called our Twülpstedt the “Pearl of the Hasenwinkel.” And indeed, this is a beautiful part of our beloved German fatherland.
“Tius Ulstätte”
Over the course of the centuries, hardly anything has changed here. Even a few centuries ago, the same sight would have greeted the wanderer approaching our village. Twülpstedt and its church are ancient. The village of Twülpstedt is first mentioned in a protective charter of Pope Lucius II in the year 1145, where it is called Tiulpstidi. The name has been handed down in many different forms: Twilp-, Twülp-, Twülpen-, Wilp-, Talp-stidi, -sti-dde, stede.
What does this name actually mean? In earlier times no one attempted an interpretation. The first known interpretation was: “The place at the confluence of two streams.” Gradually other attempts at explanation became known:
Tius Ulstätte goes back to the old god Tiu (later Ziu). The name would then roughly mean “Ziu’s place of knowledge” or “Ziu’s sanctuary.”
“Zwölfstatte” – this interpretation suggests that in ancient times our forefathers held their judicial assemblies here. The Germanic Waltung (district) had twelve offices, headed by the secret duke or Maigraf.
A fourth interpretation derives the name from the wolves as companion animals of the old god Wodan: de Wulpstedde (“wolf place”).
The Bell Pit (Glockenkuhle)
There is much evidence that Twülpstedt was in fact an ancient sacred site of our ancestors. The village lies on a hill between two depressions in the terrain. At the foot of this rise is a lake fed by springs. The church itself stands on the Thieberge – that is, the very place our forefathers chose for their assemblies.
On the northwest side of the hill slope lies the so-called Glockenkuhle (“Bell Pit”). According to Prietze, bells were a necessary part of the Thing sites of the ancient Germans. In his opinion, all place names ending in “-stedt” point to ancient Thing sites. He also regards the stone standing in front of our church tower as an essential part of the holy site. It was discovered during the renovation of our church in 1912, about one and a half meters below the surface of the earth.
Professor Hermann Wirth is of the opinion that it represents an Irminsul, which would fit very well with Prietze’s view.
The Greatest Riddle of the Place
This stone is probably the greatest riddle our village contains. It is doubtful whether its secret will ever be solved. Opinions about it are sharply divided.
The two gentlemen mentioned above see in it a “holy stone” that was already an essential – or even the main – component of the ancient Germanic sanctuary in the earliest times.
Another person assumes it is a stonemason’s mark from the construction of the church, while yet another regards it as a feudal emblem – in our case, a sign of the feudal sovereignty of the monastery of Berge near Magdeburg. “The carvings on the stone, however, are said to be a symbolic representation of human life.” It has also been interpreted as an early Christian gravestone.
Grave of an Irish-Scottish Monk?
One of the most interesting interpretations is offered by Dr. Albert Hansen from Eilsleben. He suggests that our stone is the funerary monument of an Irish-Scottish monk. These monks liked to depict the sun with a halo at the cross instead of the Savior on other surviving stones. If this view were ever proven correct, our stone would be of considerable historical value: it would prove that the Irish-Scottish monks – who brought Christianity to our forefathers in a Rome-free form even before Boniface – had penetrated as far as our region, whereas it was previously assumed that their activity extended only as far as Thuringia.
Professor Hofmeister concludes his treatise on the stone of Groß Twülpstedt with the words:
“The last word on the Twülpstedt gravestone has not yet been spoken. For now, it is neither a Thing stone nor an old gravestone that was brought here from Helmstedt. The secret has not yet been revealed. But precisely for that reason its power of attraction is all the greater. It is worth letting the monument affect you on the spot and, under this impression, searching the homeland for further revelations.”
Afterword:
In my opinion, the rune symbol on the stone represents Allfather’s speaking head within the sun-circle, which whispers to us of the cosmic anchoring of the ancient Germanic primal faith – of the creation of the world, of becoming, being, passing away, and new becoming. The Hagal-rune, the World Tree Yggdrasil, can also be recognized on it. A holy, consecrated stone of our exalted fathers and ancestors – a speaking stone from the high time of our forefathers.
S.A.K.
Numerous grave finds provide such clear information about the appearance and clothing of our ancestors that it was possible to exhibit a reconstruction of a Germanic man from around 1500 B.C. in the Copenhagen Museum.
Germanic Doctrine of Faith
Continuation
by S.A.K.
Wandermut asked: “And what did the ‘Sons of the Reborn’ accomplish, since you believe they were ‘God’?”
The HIGH ONE answered: “There is little to say about that. They took Ymir and carried him into the midst of the Nothing, into the yawning void.
From his blood came the roaring sea,
From his legs the mountains, the trees from his hair,
From his skull the cheerful sky.
From his eyebrows the kind gods built Midgard for the human race.
The clouds arose, storm-tossed,
From the curly brain of the giant’s head.”
Wandermut said: “It seems to me the gods have accomplished great things when they created heaven and earth, set the sun and stars in place, and separated day from night. But where did the people come from who inhabit this earth?”
(From the Edda, after the translation by Rudolf J. Gorsleben).
(Continuation to follow).
Old German Names according to Rune Interpretation
by Dr. Käubler
Albert – from Adalbert. The noble, radiant spirit.
Alberta – The noble, shining one.
Albertine – And … (incomplete in original)
Albin – All-friend or Elf-friend. Compare Alboin and Alwin.
Albine – All-friend (feminine) or Elf-friend (feminine).
Alboin – Elf-friend (Alfwin).
Albrecht – Secondary form of Adalbert. The radiant noble one.
Albrechtine – The noble, shining one.
Alfheid – The beautiful spirit, the beautiful soul.
Alfhild – Spirit-fighter. Hilt = to cherish a living spirit = battle. Compare Held (hero). See also Hildebrand (Hilbo), Hilmar, Hildeburg, Hildegund, Kriemhild, Brunhild.
Schwanhild – Nicknames: Hilda, Hidda, Hilde, Hildo, Hiddo.
Alfred – Anglo-Saxon form for Alf-rat = Elf-ruler, Elf-father, spirit of peace. Fred = to create true, eternal Od (spirit/possession). Compare Manfred (human peace).
Allwill – All-rune-life. Complete will, universal will, very willing.
Almar – Completely man-eagle. Mar is runically Mannaar (reversal of Arman, Ahriman). Later mar means “famous.” Compare fairy tale (Märchen). Names: Alomar, Dietmar, Waldemar.
Almund – All-protector.
Almut – He who has courage for everything.
Alomar – Allodmanar. Living spirit-man. Compare Almar.
Aloys, Alois – Compare Nordic Allwiss, the all-knowing one.
Alwin – All-friend or Elf-friend.
Alwine – Friend of all people or Elf-friend (feminine).
Alwisa – The all-wise. All-knowing one.
Amala, Amalie – The hardworking, diligent one. Nordic Aml = work, runically ar.man.laf = Eagle-man’s life.
Amalfrida, Almfriede – The energetic peacemaker, the hardworking bringer of peace.
Amalgunda – Energetic fighter. Compare Adelgunde.
Alphart – Elf-strong.
Alraune, Alrune – The all-whispering one, the all-magical one. Also all-knowing. Compare Rune, raunen (to whisper mysteriously), Ossruna, Sigruna, Mahraun, Gudrun. Also Bruno, brun, braun, Bräune, Brunhild, Brynhild, Brünne (breastplate), Brunswik (Braunschweig), Brunst, Brunsbüttel, Brunshaupten, Braunan, Braunsberg. Runa means “secret” in Gothic; raunen means to whisper mysteriously.
Ansbald – The divinely bold one, the bold spirit. Compare Baldar, Balduin.
Anselm – Asen-helm (Gods’ helmet, treasure of the spirit).
Ansgar (Oskar) – Divine spear, gods’ spear. Compare Gertrud, the Trude (sorceress) with the Gerte (divining rod).
Answin (Oswin) – Asen-friend, gods’ friend, spirit-friend.
Archibald – Eagle-right, he who cherishes and generates the All-spirit; the arch-bold one, the very bold one.
Aribert – The inwardly radiant eagle (light-spirit).
Ariulf – Eagle in wolf. Compare Wolfram, Rudolf, Adolf, Wulfila (wolf-life).
Arkona – Eagle-woman.
Arman – Eagle-man.
Armania – Eagle-woman.
Armgard – Eagle-woman with the spear (Ger / divining rod). Spiritual, magic-knowing fighter. Compare Irmgard.
Armin – Eagle-man inwardly, spiritually. The i indicates inwardness (Minne, love).
Arminia – The spirit- and light-friend (feminine).
Arno – Pet form of Arnold.
Arnold, Arnwald – The ruling eagle. Compare Answald, Walter, Waltari.
Arnolda – Eagle-ruler (feminine).
Arnolf, Arnulf – Spirit-wolf of need. Compare Rolf.
Artur – Eagle begets the primal.
Arturs (compare Parse) – Giant eagle, thirsty eagle. Witty drinker.
Artus – Secondary form of Artur. King Arthur and his Round Table.
Arwin – Eagle-friend. Distinguish from Erwin.
Arwid – White eagle. Eagle-Ur-rune-spirit. Wit = white. Wise, clever, pure human being.
Arwed = Witar = White eagle.
Atta – like Odo, Ado, Otto, Otho = od.ar = spirit-eagle. Gothic atta = father, the fatherly one.
Attila – Little father. Pet forms: Etzel, Ezzelino.
Azzo – Pet form of Adolf, Adalbert, etc.
Before the Gates of Valhalla
by Dr. Käubler
Loge (Loki), Lug, List – l.o.g., living Od, divine.
Runically, Loki means “living Od-stem, inward.” K = kaun, German Kahn (boat), i.e., a single trunk, a dugout canoe. As a boat, and in transferred meaning: descent, lineage. Related is the Greek word logos, also logic (the doctrine of thought), as well as Loge as a community of secret conspirators.
The Germanic Log is the life-promoting Lug, cunning and primal cleverness that serves self-preservation. Log is the vital force of the spirit, it is the emergency right of the spirit – not the presumptuous right of the lodge.
Even though truth can only be one, in the struggle for life, in the spirit-struggle of reality, cunning is a power that fights against widespread delusion and blinding and helps to overcome them. This must not be confused with the reprehensible principle: “The end justifies the means.” We say: In the spiritual self-defense, counter-blow for blow is absolutely necessary. And cunning is the virtue of the fighter, especially of the spirit-fighter.
The Germanic Einherier must fight in the sense of the world-conscience according to the law of his blood and his conviction. But the mercenaries who are paid for delusion and blinding, for profit and dogma – these mercenaries shadow-fight against the good Od, against the world-conscience.
Wherever Log appears in Germanic legend, it is not the limping devil who appears, nor the dragon that is fundamentally depraved. Where Log appears, there is the versatile cunning, the ingenious invention, the superior, victory-certain human spirit. This is not self-deification in the worst sense; it is the right of life, it is natural law and mother-wit. Just as the right of self-defense is deeply rooted in living nature.
Log fights against the thousand-headed delusion, against manifold superior force. And delusion, blinding, and infatuation are depicted in German sagas as the dragon – the dragon that guards golden treasures. Against this abominable dragon, Log, the more living, watchful spirit, is not nearly bad or depraved enough. For without cunning the dragon will never be slain.
That is why Log accompanies Donar, the thundering, begetting Need-eagle, to Giant-home, into the land of the man-eating dragon, into the enormous realm of the head-hunters of the spirit, the human-traders. The clumsy giant absolutely wants to have the Free One; he wants to possess Od’s Valkyrie, not as a Valkyrie but as a whore, as a maid. He wants to “bless” Freia with bastards, with milk-blooded ones – with bastards who bear the mark of Cain of the beast-men on their foreheads. Just like this giant, who himself is the dragon.
And the clumsy giant has also stolen the hammer of the Thunderer (procreative power, capacity for development). He has buried it eight rests deep under the earth. The resounding hammer that strikes in triple harmony. The wedge has become the trowel of the slave-holders. Log has seen it. Donar is furious. He must get the hammer back. Otherwise the Thunderer would no longer be what he is – he would be unfree, emasculated, sold and enslaved.
And Log knows the way: Donar must disguise himself, must put on women’s skirts. He must wrap himself in dense bridal veils. With Freia’s feather cloak he flies away to Giant-home, accompanied by Log, the never-resting cunning, the healing cleverness. The sharp-eyed Log is disguised as a maid. Thus Log is the helpful spirit, the inventive one, gifted with sharp senses. He helps to burst the fetters of the spirit, to storm the back doors of delusion. Shoulder to shoulder with Donar. They shatter the chains of delusion. And these chains, which hinder sacred life and impede every natural development, are the machinations of the idol-worshippers who erect the gate – the false gate – of slavery for the spirit and declare coercion of conscience to be the highest law. Loge knows the means by which the foolish boor regains his rights.
Thus in Germanic saga everything is wonderful poetry, everything is beauty and superhuman – not all-too-human – goodness. And yet at the same time it is bitter truth. Who today still wants to claim that our hero-fathers had fallen into polytheism? That they were less gifted? – Nonsense. Our ancestors instead erected a proud edifice of poetry and science, even in their language, which is still ours today. A structure of the spirit, more enduring than bronze. They, who knew no temples. They built a miraculous structure that left the idol-worshippers astonished then and still astonishes them now.
A single one of these ancient sagas, if only rightly understood, reliably teaches us this fact. Only boundless hypocrisy and megalomania of the descendants could have failed to recognize this truth. Our rune-language itself teaches us these primeval eternal truths, which no one will overthrow – as long as the divine Od still dawns. But as soon as the twilight recedes, the boor will reclaim his hammer.
Yet the Thunderer does not need to search many rests under the earth for his hammer. Let delusion distort the flashing weapon – the boor carries the wedge of conviction within himself, in his conscience. That is also the great secret why this hammer always returns to the Thunderer’s hand. By the eternal compulsion of spirit- and natural law, in the name of the world-conscience.
When the red signs of justice, written in blood, when the signs of salvation shine again on the white wall – the letters of fire – then the great twilight is over. Then the time of need is fulfilled. A new age rises. And Log helps us toward this as well. For Log also knows the master builder who will erect proud Valhalla anew with its 540 gates, who will turn the earth into a garden. In the sign of Sig-Tyr.
Balder is runically b:al:od:ar – bar the rune of birth, al that of the All (ar:log, eagle-life), od the seal of the Highest, ar the eagle, the Od-son.
To recognize the correctness of this interpretation, let us recall the name Walther, Waldari = u:al:od:ar, the word Father (gotisch fadar, runically f:od:ar = beget Od, the eagle; father the son), just as Od begets Balodar (f the rune of fire-blowing, as well as the word Mother m:u:od:är = man’s Ur-Od-eagle). The Od-rune is almost everywhere obscured by modern spelling, just like the Thorn-rune.
Baldar (Baldur) is the Od-eagle, the light-eagle, the early-shining one, the cheerful, victorious sun. This Baldar is without falsehood, however red and revolutionary he may appear. He is the boldest of Od’s eagles. Whatever is not more enduring than fire burns up against him. And everything is illuminated by Baldar’s clarity. This eagle imposes a trial by fire on all existence. We all must pass through his fire and have already passed through it. And without Balder there is no life in the world, no truth and no clarity. He has not only sometimes blinded us – rather, he has first made us seeing. No wonder that he arouses the envy of his blind brother and the hatred of the dark men. Baldar falls through Hödur (Hader). But he too will be reborn when the darkness recedes. That means: in world history, truth and lies alternate in eternal wave-movements, like ebb and flood.
(Continuation to follow)
Prehistory Becomes History
by Johannes Lang
Painted Pebbles from Mas d’Azil
Through the discovery of the primal script and the primal language of the white humanity, the darkness of prehistory is suddenly illuminated as if by lightning. Prehistory becomes history. We look tens of thousands of years back into the history of mankind.
“Prehistory Becomes History” is a work of fundamental importance, the result of more than 10 years of thorough research. It contains no unproven claims. Every statement is supported by an almost overwhelming amount of evidence. For example, around 200 languages were used for the comparative linguistic studies.
For the first time, discoveries are published here that mean not only a revolution in linguistic research but also in the entire field of prehistory and origin research.
No intellectually interested person should pass by this work! It has an extraordinary amount to offer everyone. Just the prehistoric material collected in it is highly interesting in itself. The presentation, written in concise and clear language, is not dry but extremely lively and exciting. No prior knowledge is assumed anywhere. Anyone can understand and judge the work.
The rich content of the work:
The original homeland of the white race
The Atlantis problem
Race and culture
The monuments of the primal script
The origin of the letters
The formation of words
Comparative compilation of words from various languages
The reconstruction of the primal language
The cause of the sound shift
The history of mankind over the last 10,000 years in the light of linguistic research
List of the 191 languages used in the investigation
(See book review)
The Soul-Builder
by F.O.S.
“What you only have… I have never put much money into our farm. I take better care of my charges than most other farmers. You can see, dear wife, that I get just as far as the others – in some cases even further. The harvests have really been good so far!”
“Dear Hermann Rol, you are right. But you would certainly achieve even higher yields if you gave the crops more artificial fertilizer.”
“Eleonore, listen. It is not artificial fertilizer alone that does it, but the understanding of one’s plants. How often, when I walk through my fields, do I hold intimate conversation with the barley and the oats, the rye and the wheat, the potatoes and the beets – yes, with all the crops entrusted to me.”
“What are you saying?”
“Yes, I hold conversation with my crops, and in doing so my soul speaks to the souls of the plants. There is so much we have to tell each other; they share joy and sorrow, happiness and hardship with me. That is how I know where something is lacking and what I must do or not do. I simply help wherever I can, and the thanks comes to me in the form of rich harvests.”
“That is pure …”
“It is nothing more than that. I simply know where the plants need something and I act accordingly. Many secrets are no longer secrets to me today. I am attached to my plants with deep, heartfelt love, and that love radiates back to me from them. It is a giving and taking, and we rejoice when I wander through the fields. Yes, they literally wait for me. They look at me longingly when I come a little later than usual. ‘Why have you been away so long?’ the plants ask me. ‘Yes,’ I reply, ‘I cannot always be so punctual, because I am often detained longer by you than is pleasing to the other plants. Listen, the others are already calling – I must hurry now. Next time I’ll stay longer.’”
The warm spring sun now shone with full joy through the clean windowpanes into the large living room and brightened the happy faces of the farmer and his wife even more. “Let us rejoice, Leonore. The sun, the giver of life, greets us. Without her we would not exist. – Thank you, source of strength!”
“Ah, now I also understand why you always talk to the horses and gently encourage them in their hard work, and without a whip you get everything out of the animals that is in them. Now it becomes quite clear to me why you are so kind to all our farm animals and let your joyfully radiant eyes rest on them with such pleasure. I have often wondered quietly why the animals thrive so well with you. So you can tell from their eyes where something is lacking, and you make an effort to give them joy and make their lot easier. The animals are grateful to you and give everything they can. It would be good if all farmers acted this way. The harvests could surely be increased quite differently, and the higher benefit from the farm animals would not fail to appear either.”
“With his whole soul and great love a farmer should be active in his sacred profession. Many of our colleagues see in their work only a source of income and try to squeeze out of agriculture whatever can be squeezed. Where has our class come to? A true farmer must also serve his animal and plant charges, and thus he will reap great benefit. Yes, in this way he virtually conjures up everything our people need. Animals and plants have souls and therefore want to be treated accordingly – and they truly repay it richly.”
In the tavern there was a large farmers’ meeting and the guest room filled to the last seat. The meeting opened punctually at 8 o’clock in the evening. The speaker spoke about the most important questions of the day and thus also about the battle for production. Finally, one of those present asked how it could be that the “Soul-Builder” Rol (so called because he spoke so much about souls) had so much luck and achieved such large harvests and his animals yielded so much profit, even though he used far less than the others in everything, and Rol’s cashbox was always full! Whoever could reveal the secret should speak up. – Rol gave a complete explanation and said at the end:
“Turn away from Mammon. Serve the animals and plants with full reverence, try to understand everything. Through your great love and God’s blessing it shall be given to you, for divine love is the great magic power in our so sacred profession. Now go back to your farms and act as you have heard from me today.”
(Whether all of them understood the Soul-Builder Rol?)
Pictorial representation of the sound shift; from the work “Prehistory Becomes History” by Johannes Lang.
Inside: Original sequence of letters in the zodiac.
Outside: All letters are shifted 60 degrees to the left. The letters shown on the outside have taken the place of those inside.
Attention!
To all my friends and readers I hereby announce that in future the continuations of “Sons of the Sun” in “Walhall” will be discontinued.
“Sons of the Sun” will soon appear complete as a special reprint. In its place we will bring, in installments, the exciting Garma novel “The Grey Little Man” by Spiridion.
“The Grey Little Man”
An exciting Garma novel by Spiridion.
I
How beautiful the homeland is! And I am supposed to spend a whole year in the city. My friend Karla says: “You are an enviable creature. Just think — a whole long year away from this wilderness, where day after day you see nothing but fields, meadows, forest, sky, smoking manure heaps, and cow farmers. Oh, how I envy you!”
I look at her and ask: “Does the wonderfully glorious nature really mean nothing to you at all? Don’t you see — how shall I make myself clear to you — through all of this, and don’t you feel the eternity behind it? Don’t you feel the vibration within you that connects you with everything? That lets you recognize that you are a part of the great World-Soul, a part of eternity?”
Karla stretches out her hands defensively, yawns loudly and says: “You are and always will be a dreamer who will one day properly bang her head because she doesn’t take life as it really is, but always rides around in rose-colored clouds with the World-Soul. World-Soul! If only I knew what you mean by that!”
I give her no answer, but let my thoughts spin for a while and look down into the valley at the green lake, on which the evening red lies like soft velvet. What is actually happening in my life? Little. And yet there are so many radiant blue days, so many colorful hues at the sight of which I could almost perish with joy. And then my sweet, strong love for Lothar? Oh, my happiness! — And the glorious morning rides! My white horse and I are such good comrades. He always rejoices with me in what I feel so clearly. Ah, when I lead him by the reins through the park, down the hill, past the ruins, while the birds are still dreamily chirping in the branches and the young day is just opening its eyes, then I feel the preciousness of youth, and my white horse feels the joy too and neighs brightly into the quiet morning. And the Mist-Woman floats over the meadows, wrapping the pasture and the lonely green pond — which mourns because the sorcerer holds the king’s daughter captive in his castle at the bottom — in her veils. God’s breath blows. The virgin Dawn rises from her bath, climbs up between the black edges of the clouds and smiles sweetly at the pale, large-eyed Mist-Woman. A blackbird sends its silver tones into the air. Another answers. In between sounds the call of the cuckoo. Lady Sun rises from her bed and looks through one of the great arched windows of her castle. Her noble maidens, the rays, flit playfully back and forth to serve their mistress. And now she steps forth in full beauty, wreathed with purple roses, into the day. Like an arrow I rush toward her. Before me lies a golden path strewn with rosy blossoms — my life.
“Ruth!” rings out a jubilant tone. Two hands reach for me, and dear blue eyes look at me. I tilt my head back; my green veil floats over my shoulder and for a moment hides Lothar’s face from me. But only for a moment. Then the hat flies to the ground, and I lie on my beloved’s breast. The white horse stands still and looks at us faithfully; in his eyes shines the fire of the sun. And Lothar and I walk on hand in hand…
“Ruth!” calls Karla. “Will you soon bring your thoughts back down to earth?”
I start, come to my senses. Right — Karla Witgenhof is still with me. How could I have forgotten her presence? “Forgive me, Karla,” I say.
“I forgive you everything, you dreamer, but for heaven’s sake don’t infect me with it. For:
Over the churning
And feeding the poultry
Never forget
The poetry.
But if you want to forget one thing,
Let it be the poetry
And not the poultry,
For that one can be eaten.
And thank God I belong to the latter sort of people, and believe me” — Karla looks at me smiling with her round brown eyes — “my life will be easier than yours; for my Ewald is a practical man like me, but your Lothar is soft and dreamy like you. You are through and through people of feeling. But that’s something you two will have to settle between yourselves.”
I do not answer. What does the light-hearted Karla know of my deep, secret love, which is capable of moving mountains? We walk arm in arm through the park, past the ruins of the old Rabenburg, the ancestral castle of our family. We Ravenhorsts are very old; we trace our family tree back to the times of the Crusades. The ivy whispers mysteriously. Evening shadows rise… We enter the old chapel, a still half-preserved remnant. It is ghostly dark inside. To the side, in a niche by a window, hangs the picture of a knight. Legend has it that he had to fight the devil all his life and was finally defeated. The devil appeared to him in the form of a beautiful widow whom he married, and she truly made his life a living hell and finally poisoned him. On his deathbed he swore to destroy the devil even if it were only on Judgment Day. From then on, a great noise arose in the knights’ hall where the picture had first hung. At midnight, and even on gloomy, uncanny days when the storm whistled around the castle, the knight would step out of the picture in full armor — only the frame remained on the wall. He would rage in competition with the storm and utter horrible curses. One day a hermit advised sprinkling the picture with holy water. It was done. And peace returned. But the castle fell into decay, and no one restored it.
Karla cries out: “Ruth, look — the knight is raising his arm and threatening us…”
She pulls me toward the door. I cast a glance at the picture. I see no raised arm, but it seems to me as if I feel eyes resting on me, and a wordless voice vibrates, penetrating into my innermost being, and like drops it falls into my brain: “Is your love really capable of moving mountains?”
What is this question from a ghostly mouth supposed to mean to me? I answer: “Yes, and if the world were my possession with treasures of gold and precious stones, and I had the choice between the world and my Lothar, I would choose my beloved and find my happiness and my home in his strong soul.”
Proudly I tilt my head back and speak the words into the darkness, toward the old picture.
I hear Karla quietly lamenting: “Now she has really and truly lost her mind.” — It does not disturb me. We walk down the hill without speaking, but then she quickly frees herself from me and runs away as if hunted. I watch her go. The village of Witgenhof, named after the manor estate that belongs to Karla’s parents, is enveloped in blue twilight. Thoughtfully I gaze into the distance. Lights begin to flicker — first singly. Here. There. The church tower rises against the sky. It grows dark. Darker. Slowly I walk back. After every third step I stop. Everything now blurs into the evening shadows. The houses, the trees, finally the church tower. Everything is gone. Only the lights glow, filling me with sweet homeland peace, giving me a feeling of comfortable security. Home!
Suddenly I become anxious. Far in the back, somewhere, the city appears; I seem to see it far away on the horizon, and an overwhelming longing for Lothar takes possession of me. It feels as if I must flee to his breast, into his protection. Why? And again it sounds: “Love is capable of moving mountains… moving mountains…”
In the park the trees whisper. The moon rises… And tomorrow Lothar returns from his eight-day journey.
The last day in the homeland. I have the feeling that I am about to sink into a bottomless moor. And yet such a year does not last an eternity. And yet… and yet…
At midday there was green spelt soup. A cozy feeling came over me when Mother lifted the lid from the tureen and the fine steam rose into my nose. Green spelt soup. While eating I lived through the whole process — from the seed to the ear. Brown fallow field. Autumn wind sweeps over it… Plough and seed drill with the thick brown horses do their work; behind them walks the farmhand cracking his whip… Father rides along the fields on his chestnut mare. Drifting clouds. Winter snow, white, woolly. Warm spring with its smell of earth. Sunshine… The tips of the plants peep out of the grey fields… a growing, growing. Weaving. Golden threads spin from heaven to earth… into the longing human hearts… one single vibration of everything — man and nature. Red poppies, blue cornflowers, golden-yellow grain. The ringing of scythes… how the sharp blades flash in the sun. The sheaves of the reaper-women fly. The white shirt-sleeves of the men gleam. A song rings out… the work… the blessing…
“Ru-u-th,” Father raised a threatening forefinger, “it really is time for you to leave. Just look at the girl — she sits there as if enchanted, clutching the spoon tightly in her hand while the good roast mutton gets cold. You were probably out in the fields again? I can imagine. Well, eat your mutton now, and go take a walk in your thoughts in the sheep barn.”
A blush rose to my face. It is often as if Father could feel every one of my thoughts, as if he could look straight into me. But that I am anxious right before going to the city — that he doesn’t seem to see, or perhaps he doesn’t want to notice it. Mother stroked my hair lovingly. She understands me and says nothing.
(Continuation to follow)
Book Reviews
“Prehistory Becomes History” – 10,000 Years of Writing and Culture, proven through the discovery of the primal script and primal language of the white humanity. With 6 picture supplements and text illustrations. By Johannes Lang. [New edition, Verlag Edition Geheimes Wissen, Graz 2015]
An important and interesting new publication in the fields of linguistics, primal script, and cosmology. The author shows completely new ways to explore prehistory. Inspired by the findings of Prof. H. Wirth, Johannes Lang discovered entirely new and astonishing connections in the primal language and primal script. His cosmic, astrological intuition enabled him to uncover facts of the greatest importance and value. He investigated the primal script and primal etymology with exactness and thoroughness, going to the very root, and — unlike other dogmatic scholars — did not shrink from consulting the highest royal science of the Aryan ancestors: astrology, in a comparative manner. His laborious researches, which extend through 191 different languages, brought to light a revolutionary body of facts of the utmost importance for our linguistic science. Of particular significance is his explanation of the sound shift between 6500 B.C. and 4500 B.C.
This standard work on 10,000 years of writing and culture differs from other relevant books in that it avoids all vague half-measures. Lang stands firmly on the ground of Atlantean prehistory, reveals the connections between script, language, human type, and race, and intuitively always hits upon what is right, which he then knows how to substantiate through comparisons with many languages. He is a pioneer in this field.
I cannot share his view that Northern Europe was settled by the Germanic race later than the southern continents, nor that Atlantis was the original homeland of the Aryan race. I regard Atlantis as the first great colony founded by emigrated North-Germans. Nevertheless, Lang’s work is full of astonishing discoveries and findings in the field of linguistics. The book also has the advantage of being written in a popular and easily understandable style. Every one of my friends and readers should read and study this work. The author, combining comprehensive knowledge with keen insight, has managed to discuss his subject in an exciting and convincing manner, so that it is a pleasure to delve into it. I wish the work the widest possible circulation.
S.A.K.
“Tlavatli” – The Story of a Strange Expedition. An exciting novel by Otto Schulz.
A highly interesting and captivating novel. The author, who is himself strongly mediumistic, describes magical and Garma connections that reach from the gray prehistory of the Atlanteans into our own time. He masterfully overcomes the difficult task he has set himself and introduces the reader to the higher spiritual sciences. In a breathtaking manner he depicts the working of Atlantean magical forces and powers and, seen from a Garma perspective, brings everything to a good conclusion. New and higher insights open up for the uninitiated. I can warmly recommend this exciting novel to every reader; take advantage of the favorable price reduction and order it immediately from the publisher.
S.A.K.
“Memoirs of a Non-Idealist” – A study by Siegmey, with illustrations.
A very original study of a man who calls himself a non-idealist and yet is an idealist. It is a delight and pleasure to read this work, which ends with a touch of tragedy and offers insight into Parisian bohemian life.
“Become a Man of Action” – Rebuilding Life through One’s Own Strength. A guide by Eugen Isken.
A path that leads to mastery of life and the heroic rebirth of the personality. From the contents: Is our fate predetermined? Know thyself! Understanding people. What our hands reveal. What our face tells us. The language of body movement. – Language as a mirror of the soul. Graphology. The total personality. – The subconscious and its powers. The path inward. Concentration. Meditations. – Contemplation. – The primacy of the spirit. – Self-shaping. – Harmony. – Affirmation. – Setting goals. – Will and deed – realization of wishes. Success in one’s profession. Perfect health. – Spiritual full breathing. – Man of action and the state. – The high path. – Drying up of the passions. – Serenity. – A life in the spirit. – The great masters of life. – We instead of I.
A many-sided, instructive, and highly interesting work which I can warmly recommend.
S.A.K.
“Fight the Life-Hostile Earth Rays!” – A guide to protecting humans and animals from harmful subterranean force fields and disease rays. By Dr. W. vom Bühl.
I recommend this informative booklet to everyone who is not yet familiar with the life-hostile effects of earth rays.
“How to Become a Child of Fortune and Attain Energy and Success” by Orison Swett Marden.
Dear friend and Runer, read this little book and become a child of fortune.
