The Saturn Theory Overview II
by David Talbott
Vine Deloria, one of the most enjoyable speakers I've ever had the
pleasure of listening to, has provided a catalyst here. I'd like to
respond in discrete steps, to avoid getting ahead of myself.
"As to myth interpretation–if we have some scenario that suggests
unusual physical activities and then find in so-called myths FACTS
that must connect to the storyline we are in good shape. I think basically
that is what Talbott is doing. I only wish it was clearer."
Vine is certainly not the only one. But there's a dilemma here. Unlike
many competing catastrophist models, the "Saturn theory" involves
explicit pictures showing "exactly" what we are proposing the ancients
saw. And the claimed celestial images relate specifically to the
positions of "planets" in the sky, planets that are "named". Moreover,
the proposed celestial forms behave in an incredibly precise way.
Hence, this behavior can be tested against all domains of evidence globally.
A picture of one phase in the hypothesized planetary configuration is
shown on the home page of the Kronia Communications website–The claimed
celestial form is very specific, as I'm sure all will agree.
The problem of confusion comes at two levels, I believe. For openers,
the evolution of the proposed configuration grows highly complex–even
clouded–at certain junctures, particularly periods of instability. For
that reason, I've selected as a starting point for a series of overviews
in the journal AEON the image illustrated on the website. I am simply
taking that picture as a slice of history to show that this precise
image, and attendant parts, was recorded around the world. And each
part had remarkably unified meanings attached to it. From this starting
point I will work forward in an overview of chronology, then eventually
work backwards to the earliest remembered events as well. (Information
on the journal AEON is available at the website address above.)
Readers of this submission who are unaware of the proposed collinear
planetary arrangement are referred to either the video documentary, Remembering the End of the World, or the first
AEON overview article (IV:3).
But there is also an issue of methodology. How can we prove something
we are claiming was remembered and celebrated above all else around the
world? In the methodology I am suggesting, nothing counts as ground
floor evidence except "points of agreement" between widely disbursed
cultures. To follow this methodology religiously is to have–well, a
religious experience. Suddenly, it becomes crystal clear that ancient
races really "did" remember things which, under the spell of the
now-uneventful solar system, we have forgotten.
In terms as simple as I can muster, I'd like to work through some of
these "points of agreement." I listed several fundamental and universal
principles in my first submission, but it occurs to me that, in working
from the general to the specific, I did not start at the "most"
elementary level. For example, Vine asked the question, How many
mythical themes are there? Well, it all depends. At one level–the
most fundamental level of all–there is only one story, told with a thousand symbols.
Here is rough paraphrase of "THE ONE STORY TOLD AROUND THE WORLD."
Once the world was quite a different place. In the beginning, we were
ruled by the central luminary of the sky, the motionless sun, presiding
over an age of natural abundance and cosmic harmony. Creator-king,
father of kings, founder of the kingship rites. And this earliest
remembered time was the "exemplary" epoch, the Golden Age, the standard
for all later generations.
But the ancient order was disrupted and the entire cosmos fell into
confusion, when the Universal Monarch tumbled from his appointed
station. Then the hordes of chaos were set loose and all of creation
slipped into a cosmic night, the gods themselves battling furiously in the heavens.
And yet, from this descent into chaos, a new world emerged, now
re-configured, but with the Universal Monarch himself, rejuvenated and
transformed, assuming his rightful place in the heavens.
Is it really possible that this "one story"–a story so pristine and
elementary–was remembered around the world? Is it really possible that
all of the recurring storylines of world mythology are only a part of
this singular story? Yes, I will swear by this. In fact I am eager for
a challenge to this sweeping and seemingly outrageous statement. (A
challenge will often help me to clarify such statements, in a context of
interest to the one issuing the challenge.)
But remember: I DID NOT SAY THAT I GAVE YOU THE WHOLE
STORY. For example, I did not mention the mother goddess, and I did
not mention the ancestral warrior-hero. Both are inseparably linked to
this one story. But we're going for simplicity here.
Now let's go back to the most pervasive motivations of early
civilizations, a topic I noted in my earlier submission. Is it possible
to reduce the cited motives of ancient cultures to more elementary
principles, without falling into the reductionist fallacy? I think it
is, indeed, possible. There is a singular principle, for example, that
is beyond dispute: the builders of the first civilizations were
incessantly looking backwards. In the first expressions of
civilization, human imagination was dominated entirely by "things
Moreover, two contradictory impulses will be discerned in this alignment
to the past, and neither will make any sense in terms of conventional
assumptions about human history. One impulse is nostalgia, a yearning
for something remembered above all else, but lost. The second impulse
is terror: the pervasive, ever-present fear that something terrible
that happened in the past will happen again. No civilization in the
ancient world failed to express these contrasting motives, reflected in
monument-building, commemorative rites, hymns and prayers to the gods,
kingship rites, ritual sacrifice, and holy war.
How is this to be explained? One possibility has been consistently
overlooked by the specialists: the possibility that celestial events of
an unimaginable scale cast their shadow over all of civilization.
But why do nostalgia and terror exist side by side in such a paradoxical
relationship? A comparative approach will show that this is no
accident, that a unified memory lies behind both of the expressions–the
memory of an ancient "paradisiacal" condition, the mythical "Golden Age,"
giving way to overwhelming catastrophe, universal darkness, cosmic
tumult, and wars of the gods.
Look at the deepest yearning of civilization's builders, and you will
see the yearning for paradise, a desperate longing to recover the lost
Golden Age. For the Egyptians this was the revered Golden Age of Ra,
and for the ancient Sumerians it was the Golden Age of An–a theme
reverberating around the world.
But now look at the deepest fears of the same peoples, and you will see
the Doomsday anxiety, the terror of the great catastrophe. This is not
an isolated memory, but a memory inseparably linked to the theme of the
ancestral paradise. The remembered events were not just catastrophic;
they were the events that brought the Golden Age to an end, when the sky
was overrun by chaos.
Two seemingly incompatible motives trace to a common experience, and
both bring us back to the ONE STORY TOLD AROUND THE WORLD. Hence, the
implication cannot be avoided. Something extraordinary was remembered
by the first sky-watchers, something profound and yet unexplained.
The Saturn Theory Part III