The Importance of Community (?)

I have trouble with this blog. I have trouble generating content for it. The trouble isn’t a lack of material so much, but in overcoming ego. See, this blog wasn’t intended to be my usual soapbox, I humbly created this to learn. What that means is that, either by just writing my way through the knots, or through feedback from followers – I’m presenting to you what I do NOT know. Not always my favorite subject. I do, however, have much to learn about myself and my people, and I intend to make a stronger effort to do just that. I’m going to start by considering community – a construct I have some frustrations with.

A sense of community is both something I have lacked and longed for in my life. I’ve always had a few close friends, but largely I am a loner. I seek people out when I need their numbers for an activity or to engage in some endeavor that I find interesting – but if I’m honest about it, I long for no one. That’s not to say I don’t care about people, I just don’t feel a particular need to be near them all that often. And that’s not even to say I’m entirely anti-social; I also have a side of me that likes to be part of a team, tribe, clan, brotherhood, whatever you want to call it. I attribute this to a desire to have common cause; it’s the endeavor itself that interests me in this instance, not the participants. Yet I realize, for all my failings in inter-personal relations, I’m not necessarily the weak link. I feel the problem isn’t my inability to participate with or appreciate the people I know, it’s that I know the wrong people. We do not share values or beliefs. We do not live by the same codes. We do not have the same interests. These are not my people. How could I form genuine bonds with them? And I feel like that’s why America is so flawed: we don’t have a true sense of community! We are reaping the sickly harvest of multiculturalism. It’s all acting, posturing, pretending. Appeasing expectations. For someone so inexperienced with it, I do feel like a have a solid grasp of the concept of community. Perhaps a better grasp than those whose livelihoods directly interact with their own (ie: politicians, policemen, teachers). I know what it should be, and maybe that’s exactly why I shun the imitations I see all around me.

So, what then does one do when they find themselves on a cultural island? It’s an informative and occasionally productive effort to seek connections through internet forums with like-minded people, I suppose, but I’ve never felt any kind of personal connection that way. I have no need for penpals. Moving somewhere to find a place where more people might think as I do is a roll of the dice – and I would certainly not be better off separated from my blood and soil. The strangest thing about hearing the call of your ancient ancestors (my “lure of Hyperborea”) is looking around to find that no one else can hear it! I cannot forge a community among people who do not hold similar beliefs as me, I’ve tried and the results are always disastrous. Yet I feel community is critical to the heathen way of life.

I use familiarity to determine the inherent value people have to me. This idea is best illustrated as concentric circles, with the family being the smallest and most important unit. Family at the center, then extended family, then community, then folk, then nation, then culture and finally race as the largest unit. Yet I live in a reality where I wouldn’t waste a swig of beer to put my neighbor out if she were on fire. That’s sick, but I don’t give a shit about that lady! She sucks, her dog shits in my yard, she smells like cat-piss and she sits around watching TV all day. She happens to live next door, but we share nothing. She is not a member of my community. I don’t like it that way, I’ve just come to accept it.

This has become part journal / part rant, which really isn’t productive or worth anyone’s time, but I am interested in hearing some feedback on how others grapple with trying to live a heathen lifestyle in a society where our community is shattered. I don’t have any answers. I simply long for the presence of my people. I long for the familiarity. I long for our ways.




Every few years or so I create a blog and subsequently forget the password. I pour my heart into one post, then forget it ever existed. Such was the case with this page, until I recently took the time to reset my password and log in.

A bit of history: I created The Lure of Hyperborea in 2013, with the intention of documenting my journey of discovery into the lost ways of my distant European ancestors. While the subject has always interested me, I admit that it was generally peripheral. I never gave it the time nor the effort necessary to reap the benefits of living a more fulfilled life, informed by the nature of my people. You see, I live in the United States. This is a place where it is very easy to get distracted. Further, beyond just the flashy commercial materialism that defines American culture, I found no inspiration among my family or peers. I have no sense of kinship for those that share my heritage, yet forsake it. Sad as it may seem, it’s not easy to be reverent when you see nothing of value. My intentions were good: I knew I was at a point where, in order to become the person I knew I should be, I needed to establish a firm connection to my roots – roots that grow deeper than the shallow traditions I was brought up with. I needed to eat better, get stronger, and think more clearly. It was at this point of taking a first step, with genuine intent, that I created this page. It was intended to by part diary, part grimoire. The story of one man’s journey back through hidden history, while at the same time a ritual to draw in the spirits needed to repair a damaged soul. Unfortunately, despite all my good intentions, I was also entering my final year of college. Any and all efforts I had been making to become a better person took a back seat to analytical chemistry and fluvial geomorphology (which sounds a lot cooler than it is). And thus, like the long forgotten paths of my ancestors, The Lure of Hyperborea was overgrown and lost.

That said, I didn’t abandon my efforts to learn entirely, I’ve just done a fucking shit job at documenting them. As I move into new stages in other aspects of my life I find myself in a better position to reset this page and begin again. I look forward to unearthing topics both directly related to Germanic Paganism and completely off the topic, in order to see them through wisening eyes. I know there are those of you out there who subscribed here years ago and I hope that you engage with me on these matters as well. One major ground rule: I will not tolerate any support of Abrahamic faiths in the discussions to come. I want to be clear right now that I am not interested in discussing any false virtue that you may perceive among them. One day I’m sure I will make very clear my feelings on it, and though I enjoy debate, this is one matter that if you feel the need to argue, fuck off and make your own blog.

I will leave it at that for now.

Hail the echoes of wisdom in our blood. Hail the strength and honor buried in the distant European soil. Hail Odin.