Our loss of the wisdom possessed by our earliest ancestors is why we can be ensnared so easily in misunderstandings about our past. When we believe, as we have been schooled to, that man today is the crowning achievement of a creation that has slowly evolved from knuckle-dragging cavemen, it is then a logical next step, in our minds, to conclude that those who built the Egyptian pyramids must have been some sort of super-race of space beings.
In the absence of the advanced knowledge that our prehistoric forefathers had relating to cosmological cycles, sacred geometry and building technologies, there is nowhere else in our minds to go. If only we had been taught the truth – that our Stone Age predecessors were more than capable of great engineering feats that aligned with the stars because they had an inner wisdom that grew out of their perception of their holographic interconnectness with the universe: a perception that has been lost to most of us today.
They knew that …
“Man’s environment is the world as a whole, and the latter’s environment is our solar system. Man is part of the stars — and the stars, sun and moon are all part of man.”Fire-Worshippers of the Southern Bu-Kongo
This perception of the holographic interconnectedness with the universe was once widespread upon the Earth. Storytellers passed on the teachings to underpin these mysteries in metaphorical stories that we call myths. The importance of this interconnectedness was given much greater value then, because the wise Elders of the ancient tribes thoroughly understood how the right narrative, told correctly, could mould the individual into helping them find to themselves and their place in the cosmos, and thrive.
This philosophy is beautifully summed in these few paragraphs:
“When man discovers remote galaxies by the million, and these those quasi-stellar sources billions of light-years away which confound his speculation, he is happy he can reach out to those depths. But he pays a terrible price for his achievement. The science of astrophysics reaches out on a grander and grander scale without losing its footing. Man as man cannot do this. In the depths of space, he loses himself and all notion of his significance. He is unable to fit himself into the concepts of today’s astrophysics short of schizophrenia. Modern man is facing the inconceivable.
“Archaic man, however, kept a firm grip on the conceivable by framing within his cosmos an order of time and an eschatology that made sense to him and reserved a fate for his soul. Yet it was a prodigiously vast theory, with no concessions to merely human sentiments. It too dilated the mind beyond the bearable although without destroying man’s role in the cosmos. It was ruthless metaphysics.
“Not a forgiving universe, not a world of mercy. That surely not. Inexorable as the stars in their courses miserationis parcissimae, the Romans used to say. Yet it was a world somehow not unmindful of man, one in which there was an accepted place for everything, rightfully and not only statistically, where no sparrow could fall unnoted, and where even that which was rejected through its own error would not go down to eternal perdition; for the order of Number and Time was a total order preserving all, of which all were members; gods and men and animals, trees and crystals and even absurd errant stars, all subject to law and measure.”
The above paragraphs are from the Introduction to Hamlet’s Mill by Giorgio de Santillana and Hertha von Dechen, and their words describe perfectly the philosophy of man that I am aiming to help re-establish with my books.
It seems to me that the ancient cosmological understanding that has been left to us in coded myths by our ancestors is the only and ultimate healing antidote to the anti-humanism of this Age, which is leading inevitably to ever greater automation and robotics in which humans will feel even more irrelevant and pointless.
The irony is, though, that our own stories, which we mainly enjoy today in the form of films, use the same storytelling devices and morphologies that those prehistoric storytellers would have employed to entrance and engage the emotional intelligence of young minds. The only difference for us is that we may leave the cinema after watching, say, Star Wars, with a smile on our face, but the good mood does not last for long because we’re not taught how to benefit ourselves from these great heroic comedies and tragedies. We are not taught holographic interconnectness; we are not taught how to find our own heroic centre and face our own dragons.
I blame the religion of Christianity for much of it …although I don’t believe that the original Christians understood the gnostic teachings of Jesus in such a way as “Churchianity” encourages today, under whose aegis we are forever awaiting a salvation from a Second Coming of some sort of super-god, instead of learning how to become strong and empowered in our own right.
In the vacuum left by the absence of such positive direction, we can feel smaller and more irrelevant than even a cog in these great, inexorably- churning mills of the universe, and so we soothe ourselves with distractions that often end up being our ultimate downfall.
With all our champions stacked away, in our cognitive pigeon-holes, as colossal remote super-beings with godlike powers, we can only leave it to them to get on with fighting the fire-breathing dragons while we visit them occasionally in our dreams, or in the darkness of cinemas, as a frivolous diversion from our humdrum lives.
However, the real story of the hero is absolutely key to comprehending our own individual role and purpose on Earth. Once we understand his journey fully, it gives new meaning to our lives today. You will find this all explained in simple terms in my book Stories in the Stars: What our ancestors were trying to tell us.