Growing, unfurling, expanding endlessly into the horizon, an unstoppable tide of unbridled Aryan ambition let loose onto an empty continent ready to receive us forever, or so it seemed; but after the untamed land of America came under European domain from ocean to ocean, what was to be done with the spirit of our ancestors? The last addition to the continental United States was made in 1853, and after that, much territory still needed to be settled, making the country still feel empty in many ways. A man could strike west and enter untamed land with opportunity only limited by his ambition. We lived off of that momentum for a time—the same basic spirit existed in the post-WWII period, but with one problem—there was no where left to go. America was basking in the glow of manifest destiny, and impressive though it was, the never-ending ambition that brought us to that point was lost.
Here we are, only a few decades later, with nowhere to go. The feeling of exhaustion hangs in the air, not from using all of our energy in filling up the continent, but from being confined and tied down. A body always at rest feels constantly tired, while a body always moving generates boundless energy. This is the state of the American today. I say "the American" and not "America" because of the wedge that has been driven between the American nation and the so-called country he now inhabits. This feeling does not apply to the non-White usurpers of America. They are now exacting their own form of manifest destiny on our land. They are able to expand uninhibited into America, gobbling up massive amounts of territory, even faster than the founders of the nation. The "new Americans" have a great advantage as well. Not only are there no enemy combatants to contend with in their conquest, the infrastructure is already built for them—no labor required. What's more, the creators of the previous nation are willfully giving up resources to these settler colonists, creating the unprecedented phenomenon of welfare colonialism, by which the host nation subsidizes the acquisition of its territory by hostile foreign parties.
But here we are, Americans, completely exhausted from inactivity. America as a nation has not accomplished anything great, or even anything that is in its own interest since perhaps the 1960s. The moon landing was a monumental accomplishment, not for its direct usefulness, but for the awesomeness of the feat. However, four years before that, a law was passed that has come to haunt America—the Hart-Cellar act. Now, Americans are in a double-bind. Not only does no one seem to want to accomplish anything in the name of the American nation, but because of changing demographics, such an accomplishment has been rendered nearly impossible.
We are exhausted from inactivity. We are exhausted from diversity. We are exhausted from all the forces working against us. Instead of sprinting into a never-ending horizon, we are trapped in a shrinking room, the walls slowly closing in upon us from all sides. Before, we attacked the frontier for own benefit, each generation building upon the last to create something truly great, then we turned to a new frontier—the attempt to make the races of the third world equal to our own. Countless resources have been wasted with no payoff, only making our lives more cluttered and crowded. Our land is becoming crowded, not with the people who built it, but with a brown mass that is sapping the potential of America completely.
So what are we to do in our current predicament, a situation which we have largely wrought upon ourselves? The first step in our self-improvement must be the rediscovery of the spirit that built America, a rediscovery of the energy that was used to strike into the frontier. The longer we are inactive, the harder it will be to tap into that energy, and the fewer resources we will have. The America that caused us to become complacent in the 1970s and 80s no longer exists (that great space all filled up —mission accomplished!). The new frontier, at least in the beginning, is the same as the old frontier. The walls are closing in, but only if we let them. We must always remember this time without a frontier—this meaningless, contracting existence. The new frontier cannot be the last. Destiny is eternal. We must regain the American spirit—and more.