This is a good way to start my day! Copied from the inspirational and wise words of Strider’s Column in the UK Tabloid
Strider Issue 55 - Autumn 2009
As Jack Frost threatens to stretch his icy fingers across the meadows and woodland of Albion, the red squirrel races across the patchwork of crisp and variously hued leaves, collecting all that he needs to survive the forthcoming winter.
A great burden is upon him. Danger fires him into action and forces him from his warm and cosy dray. The peril comes on multiple fronts; there is the death of winter around the corner and there is grey squirrel - a strong, alien, aggressive character who out-breeds and out-consumes red squirrel. Then there is the destruction of the woodland where red squirrel makes his home. And in the skies there lurks the Harris Hawk - a predator escaped from the non-committed falconer.
But still red squirrel steps out into the breaking dawn, not despite the dangers he faces but in spite of them. For the only thing he knows is nature's most important law of survival, which is:
If one does not fight to survive, all is lost.
No other season gives red squirrel the urge to survive like the season of autumn. At no other time in the year is danger more imminent. Like anything that lives, he knows that at some point he will die. Nature's cycle of seasons has taught him that. But never does red squirrel submit. He has to eat, he has to breed and he has to be active.
The children of Albion could learn much from red squirrel, for his life is our life. The dangers he faces are the dangers we face. The season of autumn is upon us too, and we must respond both to the real dangers and the analogical dangers which the philosophy of autumn represents.
Danger and death are not the same things. Danger is a pre-warning of death and not death itself. Autumn is the seasonal adrenaline which makes us fight towards our death and not shy away from reality. And death itself takes two different forms. Firstly there is eternal death and secondly there is the life-death-rebirth concept which our ancestors held dear.
A great naturalistic example of eternal death can be found in the story of the Dodo. He did not react to danger; he did not fight to survive. He became comfortable with that which would ultimately destroy him and thus he died never to return. The natural world lost a little piece of its diversity and the Gods mourned for an eternity.
All the children of Albion know of the Dodo's plight, but who among them converts this knowledge into wisdom? That knowledge and wisdom are not the same thing should be obvious but even that mere morsel of understanding has been lost or deliberately obscured, it would seem. The men of the West know that they are being colonised and genocided out of existence by 'grey squirrels'; the men of the West know their natural habitat is being destroyed, but who among them can convert that knowledge into wisdom? That we plod to our death whilst simultaneously knowing what is killing us is a tragedy which might lend a playwright infamy, yet this is not a work of fiction from the pen of Shakespeare or the tongue of Homer - it is a reality as cold and harsh as the coming winter.
Mother Nature - oh how beautiful and vicious is she! Her conscious, intelligent, magical spirit permeates all living things, caring not for the weak and caring neither for the death of a species. She is without compassion and more powerful than even the Gods of the North. She would see our bright folk disappear in an instant and shed not a tear if they can not find the will to fight for their own existence. And with the Northern folk's demise comes the death of the Northern Gods.
Yet as the autumn of our race progresses towards an unyielding winter, a tiny whisper blows through the boughs of an ancient oak tree, taking the last few leaves with it. To the tree, the whisper speaks of death, and death comes to that tree the moment those leaves hit the ground. Yet to a few noble children of Albion that whisper says something different. It carries the sound of Heimdal's horn; a sound inaudible to a stranger folk, but as clear as a crystal stream to those who have surpassed mere knowledge and ventured into the realm of wisdom. The distant, whispering horn-call carries an ancient message which speaks directly to the soul. It speaks not of a pathetic death but of glory and renewal. It speaks of ancestors and successors. It speaks of past ages and also of a bright new dawn. It speaks of a million things but can also be condensed into three words - a little piece of wisdom which holds the key to life itself. The phrase of great naturalistic wisdom is:
"Fight, Struggle, Survive!"







