Note: The word Thuleans in this essay refers to all white people who have awakened to their racial heritage. It’s based on the mythos of our spiritual homeland: Thule.
In the year 2000 I was communicating by email with a young lady who called herself Dahlia. She asked what holidays or holydays Thuleans celebrate, and I replied that we honor the Equinoxes, Solstices, and Cross-Quarter Days. When Christmas came around she sent me a card, and wasn’t sure what greeting to inscribe on it. She settled for “Happy Winter”, which seemed to reveal that she was not aware of the spiritual significance of the Solstice. And so I did my best to explain it to her in this wise:
For thousands of years before the time of Jesus, our ancestors celebrated the birth of God on Earth at the Winter Solstice. God is the Sun. He gives his light evenly all year round to the tribes who live in the Tropics, so they have no need to keep track of the cycles of the year, and did not even know of Solstices and Equinoxes until people from the North came into those lands.
The farther north you go on the globe, the more drastically does the Sun recede as winter approaches, until at the Arctic Circle he disappears completely and darkness reigns. But the people happily discovered that God the Sun dies and is reborn on the same day, namely the Winter Solstice, when the movement of the Earth in her orbit brings the tilt of her axis back toward the south, and the days begin to lengthen once again, and darkness gradually begins to recede from the land. And so they celebrated the return of the Light ~ oh Light, the Light Divine!
The oldest civilization known to postmoderns is Egypt, and this high culture was founded by Thuleans, a remnant of those who fled the fall of Atlantis. The Pharaoh was the Son of the Sun, named Horus, a divine incarnation of the Father-God, Osiris. Horus was born of a Virgin, the Mother-Goddess Isis. The icons you know of Mary and the infant Jesus were modeled on Egyptian statues of Isis and the baby Horus.
When Classical Graeco-Roman civilization reached the point of the cycle for a divine (re)birth, there was a veritable influx of contending Avatars. In what by today’s reckoning would be the Year Zero, the most popular Son Of God was Mithras, a deity who presided over a mystery cult which held sway amongst the Roman Legions and the Patrician nobility. Mithras had seized the imaginations of the educated elite because he transcended the primordial pantheons of the old traditions. Zeus reigned on Olympus and Jupiter on the Capitoline, but Mithras was a breakthrough to a new layer of deity: he was a Universal God, who held sway over all creation. This included notably the starry sky, which was *Heaven*, before a later dualistic notion clove Heaven in twain twixt an invisible realm of ghosts and the celestial dome that we see with our naked eyes. The initiates of Mithras ascended to the planets and stars in their rites of passage, in preparation for the final passage after death. Only the souls who had received this chrism of Mithras could go to the heavens; the rest descended into the underworld of Hades. I’m sure this sounds fairly familiar to you by now; but as an afterthought let me just add that Mithras was born on the Winter Solstice, which on the calendar in use at the time was December 25th.
Of course as we know a cult that originated in Palestine carried the day, and its Messiah thereby acquired the fiat as the *one and only* Son of God ~ or at least the only one known to the multitude ignorant of history. In fact the latecomer overtook Mithras precisely because he spoke to the multitude, and overwhelmed the aristocratic Avatar by force of numbers. In the recurring cycles of epochal time, all that matters is that there is an entity to carry the archetype, and allow the people to realize that God is endlessly reborn in the heart of humanity.
The Germans in their forest fastnesses were among the last to be converted to the all-conquering cult of the Christian Avatar. They clung the longest to the ancient Thulean custom whereby the Winter Solstice opened a magical interval marking the difference in length between the Solar and Lunar years, which is twelve days. A month, as you may know, is a “Moon”; in antiquity the Solar and Lunar calendars were coordinated, so that every month began and ended with a Full Moon, and the 15th day in the middle was the Ides or Dark of the Moon ~ which is why that New Moon in March was so inauspicious for Julius Caesar. But in such a calendar there are twelve days left over at the end of the last Moon ~ they are not part of any month, and even the days of the week do not apply. Therefore the custom was to celebrate this as a temporary respite from the cycle of time, and allow the people to revel in atavistic fantasy, which was nevertheless heavily o’erladen with a cast of the sacred. The Romans called it Saturnalia, because Saturn (or Chronos) was the God of the Golden Age, and these twelve short days were a nostalgic return to that blessed realm.
Though moderns have mostly forgotten these orgins, their calendar still reflects the olden interval, as the New Year begins twelve days after the Winter Solstice. And practically no one in Western Civilization remembers why there are Twelve Days of Christmas. . . except perhaps the Germans, who did not adopt the term “Christ’s Mass” for the occasion, but rather kept the more ancient word “Weihnachten”, which means “the Sacred Nights”. Thus the plural became singular under the new custom of a single day for the celebration; but the Volk-soul remembers the twelve days and the sacred nights, even though the conscious minds of the individuals may have long since forgotten.