BC Neanderthal Mindset
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Civilization comes at a cost.
The price is steep, all things good and mighty surrendered, virility, wildness, risk. It costs our Strength, our Courage, our Wisdom, our mastery of self and most of all our honor and nobility.

BCNMindset@proton.me
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In Galicia, dolmens, menhirs etc. are usually attributed to A Vella (the hag), an ancient goddess similar to Gaelic Cailleach.
She is said to carry these wide stones on her head (sometimes on her apron), while she spins on a spindle.

Photo by Gustav Henningsen, 1967
‘Eric of the Windy Hat' was a Swedish King, who could change the direction of the wind merely by turning his hat in the direction he wished it to blow. Eric achieved this by summoning a weather spirit/entity that did his bidding.
The Alchemist in Search of the Philosophers Stone (1771)

Joseph Wright
The Lia Fáil, known as the Stone of Destiny, sits atop An Forradh at the Hill of Tara.
It was one of four mysterious objects brought to Ireland by the gods, the Tuatha Dé Danann.
"The Farnese Atlas", 2nd-century AD Roman marble sculpture.
The Father Rhine altar from Argentoratum (Strasbourg), the only known reference to the Rhine river as father (of many tributaries).
The dedicator is Oppius Severus, commander of Legio VIII Augusta under Hadrian (122-134).
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Tyrfing is the magic sword that Svafrlami extorted from two dwarves, who crafted it with such skill that it would never miss its target but that would also afflict its wielder with three distinct and awful incidents.

Illustrations by Lorenz Frølich and Jenny Nyström
"The women of the Celtic tribes are bigger and stronger than our Roman women. This is most likely due to their natures as well as their peculiar fondness of all things martial and robust.
The flaxen haired maidens of the north are trained in sports and war, while our gentle ladies are content to do their womanly duties and thus are less powerful than most young girls from Gaul and the hinterlands."

Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, Emperor of Rome, 161-180 CE.
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"Here the women met then holding swords and axes in their hands. With hideous shrieks of rage they tried to drive back the hunted and the hunters. With bare hands the women tore away the shields of the Romans or grasped their swords, enduring mutilating wounds."

Plutarch
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"A whole band of foreigners will be unable to cope with one Gaul in a fight if he calls in his wife... least of all when she swells her neck and gnashes her teeth, and... begins to rain blows mingled with kicks, like shots discharged by the catapult."

Ammianus Marcellinus
"A Celtic woman is often the equal of any Roman man in hand-to-hand combat. She is as beautiful as she is strong. Her body is comely but fierce. The physiques of our Roman women pale in comparison."

Roman Soldier (unknown)
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La Regina della Luce della Luna (The Queen of the moonlight)
By Lente Scura
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Channel photo updated
October is upon us, as the year yawns and its eyelids grow weary before turning in for the winter.
It is a time of celebration, and of family, quickly approaching the time of year when the barrier between the physical and spiritual world grows weaker.
It is this time of year where we can feel closer to our ancestors, and be in each other’s presence.
One way of respecting the passing of loved ones, offerings can be made.
Something from the heart to say they are missed and are remembered, or if you are not into ritual, keeping them in your thoughts.
Regardless of how you celebrate this time of year or not, family is the focus.
For those that are with us and those who have passed on.
Poem of the soul
Louis Janmot
Baba Yaga
By Rima Staines
Forwarded from Hyperborean Radio (The Final Episodes) (T.L.K.)
The Burning of Old Bartle

The Burning of Old Bartle or "Owd Bartle" is an ancient ceremony from Yorkshire, England. It involves the parading through the streets of a scarecrow effigy, while drinking and singing a song before burning the effigy of Old Bartle. The tradition takes place in August around St. Bartholomew's Day.

The Burning Bartle Song:

On Penhill Crags he tore his rags

Hunters Thorn he blew his horn

Cappelbank Stee happened a misfortune and brak’ his knee

Grassgill Beck he brak’ his neck

Wadhams End he couldn’t fend

Grassgill End we’ll mak’ his end

Shout, lads, shout!