Author: aarontherunningfool

A video a year in the making, set to music that begs for images that match its intensity. I could not be more pleased.

Thanks to Jamie at Willson A.V. and to Thomas for his brilliant editing.

From my forthcoming , The 3 Realms, A MANIFESTO:

Ask yourself Aaron:

What would serve you in the coming days?

Stories of hardship and struggle, of victory and might.

Images of war and conquest, of courage and glory.

Tales of battles and losses, of death and grief.

Visions of heroics and self-overcoming, of power and honor.

I pity a world where a man hesitates to shake another man’s hand.

Let’s reject that shit, with public acts of masculine embrace, fearless engagement, and mocking laughter… like a FUCKING MAN.

If you reject my hand, you won’t get it again.

As I’ve written about here, the Deadlift is a Masculine Tool par excellence.

Below is a video of the greatest physical feat of my 53 years. A 505 lb Deadlift. Smashed. Next will be 530 lbs, 10 lbs for every year of my life.

I’m looking for acts of strength, courage, honor and skill, in these weak-ass degenerate times.

I don’t know why the fuck it looks upside down, at least it plays right side up.

Further to my last post found here….

A man must always be looking for ways to strengthen his Narrative using Mythological symbolism, epic analogies and ferocious descriptors. Write it down and make it a project to refine and improve for the rest of your life. The more brash and heroic the better.

As the Warrior-Artist creating my own Mythic Narrative:

Soon I will guide my woman through the forests, Lochs and Glen’s of my Motherland to pay homage to my ancestors and celebrate the Celtic ways of fire, stone and peat…

There, on the ancient cliffs of Portree I will bind our hands together, the sea and the stars our witness… my knee in the dirt and my face to the sky…

Until then I will continue to color and stain my Life-art with blood and bile and ash… training for a time when my tongue will start wars and end lives.

The Days of Degeneracy is upon us and woe to those men who are soft of flesh and weak of spirit. Train to be strong. Train to be deadly. Train to prepare to defend your life and your lands, as our world is being bought and sold by traitors, thieves and men who are absent of honor.

Year end is a powerful time for a man to take stock, review his year, assess his progress and reimagine his future. It’s also a prime time for a man to look closely at the story or narrative he is living.

All men, whether aware of it or not, tell themselves a story about who they are, what their role is, what their life means and what they hope to accomplish. We could call this our personal myth.

Most men imagine themselves as living a banal, shallow and meaningless myth and define themselves in the weakest and most uninspired ways possible. For example:

I am a 50 year old husband and father of 2.
I work as a teacher making $60,000.
I’m a tax payer and a citizen of Canada.
I take a yearly vacation, I have a mortgage and am saving for retirement……

This is what I call ‘the myth of degeneracy’ (doesn’t even deserve capitals), the story that each man is fed by society, free of any nutrients such as inspiration, depth or meaning. In short, men are taught to define themselves in ways that keep them small, weak and dimensionless, like cardboard cutouts of cartoon characters without significance or purpose…

I say, fuck that.

As men we should rewrite our myths in brash and colorful heroic terms, full of struggle, self-imposed trials and soulful tribulations.

We should fill our lives with battles against enemies, wars against ideologies and engage in missions that test our character and our grit with the possibility of failure or triumph.

We as men should weave together images of deep symbology and rituals of blood and ash and bone into our daily existences, while wrestling with the dark forces that seek to denigrate, degrade and distract us as we press toward greater and greater versions of ourselves.

As men we should be defining ourselves in ways that enlarge our hearts and set fire to our minds, reimagining ourselves as the main character of a great epic myth that will be spoken of long after our passing from this pathetic shitty world.

If you as a man imagine yourself as a mere citizen, a tax payer or even as simply a man, I suggest you steer clear of me with that weak myth of degeneracy, lest you find yourself at the end of my battle-axe as I push forward my own Myth of Self-Domination….

I’ve recently noticed that one of my favorite brief writings of Jack Donovan has disappeared from his website and the internet entirely. Here it is, well worth a read in these degenerate times…

Lions and Lambs
by Jack Donovan

Wanting to be good at being a man means wanting to be a lion, and despising in yourself and in other men the nature of the lamb.

Is this truly hatred – to despise the lamb in yourself and in the men of your tribe?

Placing the virtues of the lion above the sentimentality and vulnerability of the lamb is called hatred today.

When applied to women, it is called misogyny.

And yet, men who want to be lions always love and make themselves protectors of the lambs close to them. The hero sacrifices himself for the vulnerable loved one, the one who is not as strong. This is often his weakness, his undoing. He loves the lamb, and would die for the lamb, but he doesn’t want to BE the lamb, and can think of no greater dishonor than to be seen as a lamb.

Is that hatred of the lamb?

Men are frustrated with could-be lions who would rather be lambs – because it is easier to be a lamb. They are frustrated with “flamboyantly effeminate” men who reject, despise, and denigrate the virtues of the lion.

But men love those who are in their protection, so long as they show some appreciation, so long as they don’t denigrate the role of the lion, so long as they recognize that they are lambs and not lions.

This idea that what you love is often the opposite of what you want to be is a central paradox of masculinity.

A man should clash with his limits, many times a day.

He should live on the edge of his capacities, dangerously and recklessly.

A man should live like he’s about to be murdered and he’s approaching his last deed, his last word, his final moments.

A man should walk as if on a battlefield, on point for his brothers, pushing into enemy territory.

He should use everything in his life to create a living, bloodied artwork, full of passion, horror and awe.

Either that, or he should kill himself. By kill himself, I do NOT mean literally, but metaphorically and symbolically.

If a man is not on fire and setting fire to all around him, he should find a way to symbolically light his own funeral pyre and lay down upon it so that he may be reborn.

Men. Listen up.

Have I explained to you how my shower is an arena that I train within?

I doubt it.

Every shower I ever have, ends cold. Sometimes colder than others (the science of cold showers is in. Google it fuck)

I train to adapt to it.

When I feel my life is weakening (lol), I imagine myself surrounded by good men who will observe my endurance (don’t be gay). I turn it to its coldest.

I show nothing, as THEY are watching my performance, although it is the most difficult thing I do.

Pleasure is easy, discomfort sucks!

But in front of my brothers, it’s all the same. For honor it’s easy.

From Spartacus:

“You must discover your purpose. That which you fight for.

To grasp the heavens you must fight for something greater, something beyond mere survival.”

****

Those are words to fashion a masculine soul. This is what is lacking in our weak world. This is the key to regaining a world that makes sense.

So I say verily to all men with self-doubt, all men who need to be called to account:

If this is not the truth of your existence, then pity is all I offer and it best that you pass quickly from this world.