Like much of history, my research has shown me that Atlantis never actually existed in a time and place, and that it is mythical. However, like all the best myths, its fictional story is far more useful to us than just a mere account of political events in the past, because those who tell it, such as Plato, Edgar Cayce and Rudolph Steiner, give us fascinating insights into the human condition and how “what goes around, comes around.”
The story’s originator, Plato, was a philosopher and a playwright. Like all great storytellers from time immemorial, he knew how to use prose, poetry and song for the purpose for which it was originally intended. Far from being just a means of fluffy light entertainment, the purpose of all great art was, and still is, to help others to face and integrate their Jungian shadows, to find parts of their lost fragmented selves in the mythological Wonderlands being presented to them, and then bring them back into the surface world, to reintegrate them, to become whole again.
So Plato’s tale of Atlantis, as he recounts it in Timaeus, takes us on an inner journey of the imagination in which we meet archetypes suffering from being trapped in their own shadows. Resonating with these characters and their situations, and watching how they deal with them, helps us to realise when we’re experiencing something similar today.
If Atlantis had ever existed, and there had been survivors from its cataclysmic downfall, then maybe it would be their descendants who are currently running Silicon Valley. Because just like in Atlantis, there is presently a fight going on over the Tuaoi Firestone that gave the Atlanteans their power over a good chunk of the Earth – except we call it today Artificial Intelligence, or A.I.
In Atlantis, it was the Children of Amelius who wanted to use the stone as an aid to gaining greater knowledge about the meaning of human life via guidance from other dimensions. Today we call this shamanism. But the Children of Belial wanted to use the stone to gain power for only themselves so that they could achieve hegemony over the whole world. Today we call these people ‘globalists’.
We all know how the story ends. The Belial lot fired up the Tuaoi Firestone to such a capacity that it exploded and blew up all three islands of Atlantis.
I’ve got everything crossed that we can learn from this myth, and that the Amelius guys will prevail this time. But I can’t help suspecting, sometimes, that we’re living in a simulation that’s been scripted … and called history or ‘his story’: words written in the third person. If our own scribes were composing our own history, then it would surely have been called ‘ourstory’?
Anybody else feel the same way? I’d welcome your comments below.
The Dragon Whisperer’s Son recounts the rite-of-passage to manhood adventures of the child of Gwyddion and Arianrhod. The very name ‘Gwyddion’ means ‘wise one of the forests’, and so who better to turn each walk in the countryside into a magical mystery tour to a dragon’s cave of esoteric treasures? As we follow his son through the trials and challenges designed to help him develop the cunning and the wisdom he will need to fill his father’s shoes, we also benefit from the teachings he receives on bird magic, flower magic, tree magic, star magic and weather magic. In this way, we undergo a similar metamorphosis. So we are not the same person that we were when we first entered this forest and we may even begin whispering to dragons ourselves.
Annie Dieu-Le-Veut 
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