I have repeatedly referred to the concept of universal cycles whereby, over time frames longer than most of us can contemplate, the universe as a whole goes through cycles of emergence from ‘nothing’ followed ultimately by reabsorption back into ‘nothing’. I have also indicated that any attempts to apply this profound philosophy at the mesocosmic level, to particular species such as humankind on particular planets such as earth, are relatively late distortions to what was originally part of a more ‘universal wisdom’ – albeit that some of the more complex aspects of the surviving traditions may well be better understood as planetary subcycles involving groups of souls in the ethereal as well as physical realms.

But is it likely that this sort of wisdom was originally possessed by our forgotten race, and passed on by the more enlightened survivors of the catastrophe so that it could be reinforced in the modern epoch? Well, what if we were to establish that it seems to be prevalent in the most ancient and revered traditions of virtually every culture around the world, once the inevitable distortions and contextual differences are removed? Would that not be strongly indicative that they all came from a common source after the catastrophe?

Incredibly, this is what I found when I carefully traced, examined and compared all the ‘origin myths’ from around the world. Even more incredibly, it became apparent that orthodox interpretations of these almost always ignore the fundamental esoteric wisdom that lies behind them, concentrating instead on what the gods in these ‘myths’ supposedly represent, and other more prosaic aspects – all of which in my view are ‘regressive’ or ‘devoluted’ distortions introduced by people who had lost any understanding of the original message. One consistent distortion is that nearly all these traditions appear to be describing the origins or creation of the earth, but it should soon become clear that they are in fact echoing a universal esoteric wisdom concerning the creation of the universe as a whole out of nothing. Thus in my view it is more appropriate to refer to them as cosmogony traditions than origin myths.

In the Beginning

Let us first remind ourselves of the biblical narrative at the very beginning of Genesis:

1. In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.

2. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

This continues by describing God’s separation of heaven and earth from the waters – but if we transpose the specific terms ‘heaven’ and ‘earth’ into the more general terms of ‘the ethereal planes’ and ‘the physical plane’ we may be somewhat closer to the original message. The second verse is clearly describing a time when there was a formless void that had connotations of water, depth and darkness, and which contained the spirit of God. This undoubtedly sets the tone for the other traditions that we are about to review, many of which are older and more explicit. Indeed, the Hermetic and Gnostic texts – which are more or less contemporary with the biblical traditions in terms of both time and location – expand on this theme considerably, and to such an extent that I will have to leave them for the next chapter.

Mesopotamia

Unfortunately, the Mesopotamian texts are again somewhat deficient in this area, revealing only the faintest traces of original wisdom. In part this may be explained by the fact that the only real origins tradition that survives is the relatively late Epic of Creation that I referred to briefly before – although it is likely that the missing opening to the earlier Sumerian text, the Eridu Genesis, would have contained something relevant. In any case, the following are the opening lines of the former:

When skies above were not yet named

Nor earth below pronounced by name,

Apsu, the first one, their begetter

And maker Tiamat, who bore them all,

Had mixed their waters together,

But had not formed pastures, nor discovered reed-beds;

When yet no gods were manifest,

Nor names pronounced, nor destinies decreed,

Then gods were born within them.[i]

All we can really extract from this is that at one time there existed only the primeval waters of Apsu and Tiamat, and that nothing else was manifest until the gods were born from them. As to the remainder of this text – which, as I noted in Part 2, has been used by Zecharia Sitchin and others as the basis for fantasies about stray planets and comets – we will return to it later.

Egypt

A summary of ancient Egypt’s cosmogony is provided once again by John Baines and Geraldine Pinch in their essay in World Mythology:

Before the gods came into existence there was only a dark, watery abyss called the Nun, whose chaotic energies contained the potential forms of all living things. The spirit of the creator was present in these primeval waters but had no place in which to take shape. . . .

The event that marked the beginning of time was the rising of the first land out of the waters of the Nun. This primeval mound provided a place in which the first deity could come into existence. He sometimes took the form of a bird, a falcon, a heron, or a yellow wagtail, which perched on the mound. An alternative image of creation was the primeval lotus, which rose out of the waters and opened to reveal an infant god. The first deity was equipped with several divine powers, such as Hu (‘Authoritative Utterance’), Sia (‘Perception’) and Heka (‘Magic’). Using these powers, he created order out of chaos. This divine order was personified by a goddess, Ma’at, the daughter of the sun god. The word Ma’at also meant justice, truth and harmony. The divine order was constantly in danger of dissolving back into the chaos from which it had been formed.

The first deity became conscious of being alone and created gods and men in his own image and a world for them to inhabit. Deities were said to come from the sweat of the sun god and human beings from his tears. The power of creation was usually linked with the sun, but various deities are also named as the creator [Ptah in the Memphite tradition, Ra-Atum in the Heliopolitan, and Amon-Ra in the Theban]. At the temple of the sun god in Heliopolis, the Benu bird . . . was said to be the first deity. Depicted as a heron, the shining bird was a manifestation of the creator sun god, and brought the first light into the darkness of chaos. When it landed on the primeval mound, it gave a cry that was the first sound.[ii]

As with the Near Eastern traditions we see that the concept of waters is to the fore, here with connotations of an abyss. In addition, we explicitly encounter the idea of order being created out of chaos, which is a regular theme in many translations of ancient origin myths. I believe that to some extent this theme has been misunderstood since the classical Greek era, because under the Orphic system the god Chaos – from whose name we now derive the word for ‘disorder’ – in fact represented ‘the yawning void’.[iii] To that extent this theme surely conveys the idea of creation of an ‘order’ of energy and life forms out of a ‘chasm’ of nothingness. This interpretation, and the assumption of the cyclical nature of the universe as a whole on which it is based, is reinforced by the clear symbolism of the primeval lotus – a flower that closes its petals at night and draws back into the water, only to re-emerge and unfold in the dawn – and of course we saw in Part 1 that the ancient Egyptians did have a cyclical worldview. On the other hand, we will find in a later chapter that this theme of order competing with chaos has a far more complex side to it as well.

Moreover, we encounter here the other fundamentally important ideas that the waters contained the potential for all forms of life, and that the first deity was equipped with the gift of ‘authoritative utterance’. The latter is clearly intended to convey the idea that the Word or thought of the supreme deity is sufficient to trigger the emergence and creation process.

But we can also see here the way modern commentators tend to concentrate on somewhat distracting descriptions of the various guises that the gods took – the various bird forms in the extract above being a fine example. Nevertheless, if we desire confirmation of the underlying themes from an original text, and in particular of the idea that the supreme deity originally created a variety of nonphysical ‘forms’ out of nothing, I have been fortunate enough to locate one that is rarely mentioned and that perfectly illustrates the point without undue clutter. The following is an extract from the Book of Knowing the Genesis of the Sungod:

The Master of Everything saith after his forming:

‘I am he who was formed as Khepri.

When I had formed, then only the forms were formed.

All the forms were formed after my forming.

Numerous are the forms from that which proceeded from my mouth.

The heaven had not been formed,

The earth had not been formed,

The ground had not been created

For the reptiles in that place.

I raised myself among them in the abyss, out of its inertness.

When I did not find a place where I could stand,

I thought wisely in my heart,

I founded in my soul.

I made all forms, I alone.

I had not yet ejected as Shu,

I had not spat out as Tefenet,

None else had arisen who had worked with me.

Then I founded in my own heart;

There were formed many forms,

The forms of the forms in the forms of the children,

And in the forms of their children.’[iv]

India

Moving farther east, I suggested in Part 1 that the original Indian Vedas are some of the finest philosophical texts known to humankind. Nowhere is this more clearly demonstrated than in their conception of cosmogony, which is described with great eloquence in the Rig Veda:

1. There was neither non-existence nor existence then; there was neither the realm of space nor the sky which is beyond. What stirred? Where? In whose protection? Was there water, bottomlessly deep?

2. There was neither death nor immortality then. There was no distinguishing sign of night nor of day. That one breathed, windless, by its own impulse. Other than that there was nothing beyond.

3. Darkness was hidden by darkness in the beginning; with no distinguishing sign, all this was water. The life force that was covered with emptiness, that one arose through the power of heat.

4. Desire came upon that one in the beginning; that was the first seed of mind. Poets seeking in their heart with wisdom found the bond of existence in non-existence.

5. Their cord was extended across. Was there below? Was there above? There were seed-placers; there were powers. There was impulse beneath; there was giving-forth above.

6. Who really knows? Who will here proclaim it? Whence was it produced? Whence is this creation? The gods came afterwards, with the creation of this universe. Who then knows whence it has arisen?

7. Whence this creation has arisen – perhaps it formed itself, or perhaps it did not – the one who looks down on it, in the highest heaven, only he knows – or perhaps he does not know.[v]

Could we ask for a finer description of the creative power of the ineffable, unnamable, unknowable, infinite, immanent, and transcendent life force of the universe, which slumbers in the ‘night’ void that contains nothing and yet – at the same time – the potential for everything?

China and Japan

This theme is expanded in the following particularly philosophical extract from one of the Taoist Essays from Huai Nan Tzu, from which I have already quoted in Part 1:

(1) There was the ‘beginning’: (2) There was a beginning of an anteriority to this beginning. (3) There was a beginning of an anteriority even before the beginning of this anteriority. (4) There was ‘the existence’. (5) There was ‘the non-existence’. (6) There was ‘not yet a beginning of non-existence’. (7) There was ‘not yet a beginning of the not yet beginning of non-existence’.[vi]

This is followed by a commentary that forms part of the original text:

(1) The meaning of ‘There was the beginning’ is that there was a complex energy which had not yet pullulated into germinal form, nor into any visible shape of root and seed and rudiment. Even then in this vast and impalpable void there was apparent the desire to spring into life; but, as yet, the genera of matter were not formed.

(2) At the ‘beginning of anteriority before the beginning’ the fluid of heaven first descended and the fluid of earth first ascended. The male and female principles interosculated, prompting and striving among the elements of the cosmos. The forces wandered hither and thither, pursuing, competing, interpenetrating. Clothed with energy, they moved, sifted, separated, impregnated the various elements as they moved in the fluid ocean, each aura desiring to ally itself with another, even when, as yet, there was no appearance of any created form.

(3) At the stage ‘There must be a beginning of an anteriority even before the beginning of anteriority’, Heaven contained the spirit of harmony, but had not, as yet, descended: earth cherished the vivifying fluid, but had not ascended, as yet. It was space, still, desolate, vapoury – a drizzling humid state with a similitude of vacancy and form. The vitalising fluid floated about, layer on layer.

(4) ‘There was the existence’ speaks of the coming of creation and the immaterial fluids assuming definite forms, implying that the different elements had become stabilised. The immaterial nuclei and embryos, generic forms as roots, stems, tissues, twigs and leaves of variegated hues appeared. Beautiful were the variegated colours. Butterflies and insects flew hither and thither: insects crawled about. We now reach the stage of movement and the breath of life on every hand. At this stage it was possible to feel, to grasp, to see and follow outward phenomena. They could be counted and distinguished both quantitatively and qualitatively.

(5) ‘The non-existence’ period. It was so called because when it was gazed on no form was seen: when the ear listened, there was no sound: when the hand grasped, there was nothing tangible: when gazed at, it was illimitable. It was limitless space, profound and a vast void – a quiescent, subtile [sic] mass of immeasurable translucency.

(6) In ‘There was not yet a beginning of non-existence’, implies that this period wrapped up heaven and earth, shaping and forging the myriad things of creation: there was an all-penetrating impalpable complexity, profoundly vast and all-extending; nothing was outside its operations. The minutest hair and sharpest point were differentiated: nothing within was left undone. There was no wall around, and the foundation of non-existence was being laid.

(7) In the period of ‘There was not yet a beginning of the not yet beginning of non-existence’, Heaven and Earth were not divided: the four seasons were not yet separated: the myriad things were not yet come to birth. Vast-like even and quiet, still-like, clear and limpid, forms were not visible.

Although the chronological order of these commentaries is somewhat confused, they nevertheless represent a highly subtle attempt to describe the way in which the universe emerges into its various forms. In particular, they try to describe the different vibrational energies that go to make up the various stages of the emergence process, and which also differentiate the various dimensions – both ethereal and physical – and the forms they contain. Moreover, another essay provides us with the following:

. . . the divinities Yin and Yang were separated . . . the hard and soft being mutually united . . . creation assumed form. The murky elements went to form reptiles: the finer essence went to form man. Hence, spirit belongs to Heaven and the physical belongs to Earth. When the spirit returns to the gate of Heaven and the body seeks its origin, how can I exist? The ‘I’ is dissolved.[vii]

Whether or not the attempted differentiation between reptiles and humans is useful, this passage emphasises an important new concept – the idea of the unity of our ethereal souls in the highest dimensions. In other words, true wisdom is gained when we realise that at these higher levels, we are all one, all part of the pulsating universal energy that goes to make up the entirety of the universe on all its levels. Which, of course, is what we would expect if all things living and supposedly inanimate, material and ethereal, come from the same original source, and are ultimately reabsorbed back into it.

On the other hand we also see in this passage, with its mention of Yin and Yang, the fundamental principle of duality that underlies so much esoteric thinking. They represent opposing but also in some senses complementary principles that have to be balanced – such as male and female, positive and negative, and light and dark. In this context the implication is that during the night of Brahma the void remains completely undifferentiated and unitary, whereas at the commencement of the day of Brahma – or ‘year’, or ‘life’, the terminology really does not matter – the first thing that the creative power does is split into two, which is why the emphasis on duality is so all-pervasive in the universe. In many traditions this is represented as the supreme creator recognising that he is alone, and becoming so frustrated that he creates one or more companions for himself.[viii]

Meanwhile, we find that Japanese cosmogony is entirely consistent with this view. Their two most sacred ancient texts, the Kojiki or ‘Record of Ancient Matters’ and the Nihongi or ‘Chronicles of Japan’, were compiled in the early part of the eighth century with similar content. The opening lines of the latter are as follows:

Of old, Heaven and Earth were not yet separated, and the In (Yin) and Yo (Yang) not yet divided. They formed a chaotic mass like an egg which was of obscurely defined limits and contained germs.

The purer and clearer part was thinly drawn out, and formed Heaven, while the heavier and grosser element settled down and became Earth.

The finer element easily became a united body, but the consolidation of the heavy and gross element was accomplished with difficulty.

Heaven was therefore formed first, and Earth was established subsequently.[ix]

This passage again emphasises the idea of the different levels of vibrational energy on the different planes of existence, with the physical earth, or more generally all suns and planets, representing the ‘grossest’ or most dense level.

Greece

In Greek cosmogony we find that, while many accounts contain the somewhat prosaic distortions we have come to expect, traces of the original wisdom still shine through in places. For example, the following view is provided by Ovid in the opening lines of Metamorphosis:

Ere land and sea and the all-covering sky

Were made, in the whole world the countenance

Of nature was the same, all one, well named

Chaos, a raw and undivided mass,

Naught but a lifeless bulk, with warring seeds

Of ill-joined elements compressed together.

No sun as yet poured light upon the world,

No waxing moon her crescent filled anew,

Nor in the ambient air yet hung the earth,

Self-balanced, equipoised, nor Ocean’s arms

Embraced the long far margin of the land

Though there were land and sea and air, the land

No foot could tread, no creature swim the sea,

The air was lightless; nothing kept its form,

All objects were at odds, since in one mass

Cold essence fought with hot, and moist with dry,

And hard with soft and light with things of weight.

This strife a god, with nature’s blessing, solved;

Who severed land from sky and sea from land,

And from the denser vapours set apart

The ethereal sky; and, each from the blind heap

Resolved and freed, he fastened in its place

Appropriate in peace and harmony.

The fiery weightless force of heaven’s vault

Flashed up and claimed the topmost citadel;

Next came the air in lightness and in place;

The thicker earth with grosser elements

Sank burdened by its weight; lowest and last

The girdling waters pent the solid globe.[x]

We can see that this passage contains the idea of the undifferentiated nature of the void, and makes an admittedly somewhat distorted attempt to describe the different levels of energy vibration on the various planes of existence.

Moreover, once again we find that Plato provides a great deal more information, which we will consider alongside the Hermetic and Gnostic texts in the next chapter.

Polynesia

If we now turn to native tribal traditions from around the world, Roland Burrage Dixon provides the following entirely consistent overview of Polynesian cosmogony in The Mythology of All Races:

. . . the essential elements of this form of the myth may be stated as follows. In the beginning there was nothing but Po, a void or chaos, without light, heat, or sound, without form or motion. Gradually vague stirrings began within the darkness, moanings and whisperings arose, and then at first, faint as early dawn, the light appeared and grew until full day had come. Heat and moisture next developed, and from the interaction of these elements came substance and form, ever becoming more and more concrete, until the solid earth and overarching sky took shape and were personified as Heaven Father [Rangi] and Earth Mother [Papa].[xi]

So, for example, one Maori tradition reported by Dixon begins as follows:

Io dwelt within the breathing-space of immensity.

The Universe was in darkness, with water everywhere,

There was no glimmer of dawn, no clearness, no light.[xii]

Another is even more revealing:

From the conception the increase

From the increase the swelling

From the swelling the thought

From the thought the remembrance

From the remembrance the consciousness, the desire.

The word became fruitful:

It dwelt with the feeble glimmering

It brought forth night;

The great night, the long night,

The lowest night, the loftiest night,

The thick night, the night to be felt,

The night touched, the night unseen.

The night following on,

The night ending in death.

From the nothing, the begetting,

From the nothing the increase

From the nothing the abundance,

The power of increasing, the living breath;

It dwelt with the empty space. . . .[xiii]

Meanwhile, the cosmogony traditions of the Society Islands, for example, are highly similar 

He existed. Taaroa was his name.

In the immensity

There was no earth, there was no sky,

There was no sea, there was no man.

Taaroa calls, but nothing answers.

Existing alone, he became the universe.

Taaroa is the root, the rock’s foundation.

Taaroa is the sands.

It is thus that he is named.

Taaroa is the light.

Taaroa is within.

Taaroa is the germ.

Taaroa is the support.

Taaroa is enduring. . . .[xiv]

We can see that these Polynesian traditions in particular emphasise the nature of the creative power in the void, and how it contains the potential germ or seed of all things that will eventually emerge.

America

How do the native traditions of the Americas compare? First, let us hear once again from the Hopi Indians of the north:

The first world was Tokpela (Endless Space).

But first, they say, there was only the Creator, Taiowa. All else was endless space. There was no beginning and no end, no time, no shape, no life. Just an immeasurable void that had its beginning and end, time, shape, and life in the mind of Taiowa the Creator.

Then he, the infinite, conceived the finite. First he created Sotuknang to make it manifest, saying to him, ‘I have created you, the first power and instrument as a person, to carry out my plan for life in endless space. I am your Uncle. You are my Nephew. Go now and lay out these universes in proper order so they may work harmoniously with one another according to my plan.’

Sotuknang did as he was commanded. From endless space he gathered that which was to be manifest as solid substance, moulded it into forms, and arranged them into nine universal kingdoms: one for Taiowa the Creator, one for himself, and seven universes for the life to come.[xv]

We can see that this tradition tends to anthropomorphise the nature of the powers in the void right from the outset, by personifying them as a ‘supreme creator’. But we can also see quite clearly that this does not prevent it from containing the same fundamental message as the other traditions we have reviewed, especially in terms of the nature of the void and the creation of multiple universes – or, as I normally refer to them, dimensions or planes.

Meanwhile, the Mayan traditions described in the Popol Vuh contain similar themes:

Now it still ripples, now it still murmurs, ripples, it still sighs, still hums, and it is empty under the sky.

Here follow the first words, the first eloquence:

There is not yet one person, one animal, bird, fish, crab, tree, rock, hollow, canyon, meadow, forest. Only the sky alone is there; the face of the earth is not clear. Only the sea alone is pooled under all the sky; there is nothing whatever gathered together. It is at rest; not a single thing stirs. It is held back, kept at rest under the sky.

Whatever there is that might be is simply not there: only the pooled water, only the calm sea, only it alone is pooled.

Whatever might be is simply not there: only murmurs, ripples, in the dark, in the night. Only the Maker, Modeller alone, Sovereign Plumed Serpent, the Bearers, Begetters are in the water, a glittering light. They are there, they are enclosed in quetzal feathers, in blue-green.

Thus the name, ‘Plumed Serpent’. They are great knowers, great thinkers in their very being.[xvi]

The Mayan tradition continues by describing specifically how ‘the earth arose because of them, it was simply their word that brought it forth’. Thus again we find an emphasis on the creative powers being exercised merely by the thought or Word of the supreme deity.

Africa

As Roy Willis points out in his essay on Africa in World Mythology, many of its native traditions tend to contain the idea of a ‘cosmic egg’ that is also found in other parts of the world. But what does this egg contain? The Dogon, whom we discussed in Part 2, describe it as being ‘the seed of the cosmos’ that ‘vibrated seven times, then burst open’.[xvii] Meanwhile, Willis also indicates that their neighbours the Bambara have one of the most philosophical cosmogonies in Africa:

In the beginning emptiness, fu, brought forth knowing, gla gla zo. This knowing, full of its emptiness and its emptiness full of itself, was the prime creative force of the universe, setting in train a mystical process of releasing and retracting energy. . . .[xviii]

The consistency of these traditions with those of the other parts of the world hardly requires emphasis from me.

Missing the Point

I have deliberately selected only those origin traditions in which I believe at least some of the original esoteric wisdom comes through, but as we can see we have still amassed evidence from pretty much every part of the globe. Even then, a number of the traditions that I have quoted continue by describing how either the supreme deity – or various other deities created by him – proceed to separate heaven and earth from the waters, place the stars in their proper positions in the sky, arrange the seasons, and so on. A fine example of this is the Mesopotamian Epic of Creation, which goes on to record how Tiamat is cut into pieces to form heaven and earth. The folly of Zecharia Sitchin’s interpretation of this as an account of the destruction wrought by a stray planet winding its way through our solar system is demonstrated by the similarity of the other traditions in which a god is sacrificed so that his body can be broken up and used to create heaven and earth. This also happens, for example, to P’an Gu and Ymir in Chinese and Scandinavian traditions respectively, while we have already seen that the Mesopotamian conception of the creation of humankind has a similar theme.[xix]

Moreover, this failure to appreciate the broader context seems to extend to orthodox interpretations of Mesopotamian cosmogony, in which scholars suggest that they regarded the earth – Ki – as a flat disc that was separated from heaven – An – by the atmosphere – Lil – with the whole ensemble immersed like a gigantic bubble in the primeval waters of Tiamat.[xx] Not only does this interpretation fundamentally ignore the esoteric significance of the primeval waters – which may or may not be a fair reflection of the Mesopotamians’ own understanding – but it also appears somewhat at odds with the advanced astronomical skills that we saw they possessed in Part 2.

In any case, these are the relatively prosaic or exoteric aspects that only serve to demonstrate how much the original wisdom had become lost or distorted by the time these traditions as we now have them were composed. And, as I suggested at the outset, it is on these that scholars of mythology have always tended to concentrate, instead of properly examining, distilling, and comparing their highly consistent underlying content and placing it in its proper esoteric context.

It is perhaps to be expected that modern encyclopaedias and compendia of mythology should follow this route – they are, after all, aiming at a broad audience.[xxi] They also tend to insist on a clear distinction between ‘creation myths’ that involve a supreme creator who inhabits the void, and those that describe the powers within it in more philosophical terms. But we have seen quite clearly that this is a somewhat misleading distinction that ignores the consistent fundamental message in these traditions – irrespective of the extent to which they anthropomorphise.[xxii]

However, it is somewhat surprising that the more in-depth studies of experts such as Joseph Campbell and Mircea Eliade should similarly fail to appreciate the true esoteric message of these traditions; and yet this is indeed what we find. For example, in The Masks of God Campbell suggests that all except the ‘most rarefied’ origin myths involve a creator, and that this is a by-product of the simple childhood response of regarding everything as being created by someone. Moreover, he appears to dismiss the ‘power of names’ – for example, the pronunciation of the name of God or YaHVeH in Qabalistic tradition, and of the supreme Word AUM in Indian tradition – although this concept is fundamental to much esoteric thought, not least because of its link to the creative power in the void. Campbell prefers to explain it as a by-product of another simple childhood response by which the name of an object or animal is intrinsically tied up with its very being.[xxiii]

So what does Campbell have to say about the ‘more rarefied’ origin myths? He does not specifically tell us which these are, but it is clear that the more esoteric native traditions from around the world are not included. For example, the only American origin myth that he covers in any detail is that of the Apache Indians of New Mexico, which is one of the more prosaic versions anyway.[xxiv] He does not discuss the far more philosophical Hopi and Mayan origin traditions in any of the four volumes of his masterwork, and the African and Polynesian traditions that we have reviewed are similarly ignored. Moreover, for all that on occasion he appears to respect the highly philosophical content of ancient Indian and Chinese traditions – and despite the fact that he discusses their general themes at some length – nowhere does he discuss their origin myths or cosmogonies in any detail.[xxv]

All that we are left with, therefore, are Campbell’s deliberations on the cosmogony of the ancient Egyptians. He begins with something of a contradiction to his earlier more general remarks noted above, by appearing to praise the philosophical leap made by the Memphite priests of the Old Kingdom in according to the deity Ptah the power of creation by the Word. He then compares this with the Heliopolitan tradition in which the deity Atum’s creative powers tend to be represented in a more physical and far less psychological way, in that the other gods come into being as a result of his ‘taking his phallus in his fist’.[xxvi] However, this is as far as he goes, and we are left uncertain about his real views on the degree of esoteric wisdom possessed by the ancient Egyptians, and indeed other ancient cultures – and about whether or not he believes their worldviews to be nothing more than artificial psychological constructs. Although we must clearly accept that Campbell’s aim was not to concentrate on origin myths per se, as I am here, nevertheless I found these omissions somewhat dispiriting after devoting days of study to his extensive but intricate work.

Eliade’s most relevant work, Myth and Reality, is considerably shorter, so he can perhaps be rather more excused for failing to examine the esoteric consistency of the various origin traditions. In fact he does devote a whole chapter to them, but he concentrates entirely on their magic and prestige in tribal cultures: for example, how they are used to reinforce and celebrate any new act of creation – the birth of a new chief, or the initiation of a young adult – by reference back to the original creation; or to assist in healing the sick or the passing on of the dying.[xxvii] To my knowledge, in none of his various works on mythology does he investigate the more esoteric aspects of these traditions, or of those of the more advanced ancient civilisations.

Conclusion

It would appear that while various scholars of mythology have noted certain similarities between certain origin traditions, they have nevertheless concentrated on the more prosaic aspects of them at the expense of the esoteric. As a result, they have in my opinion completely failed to appreciate their real meaning and importance.

In every part of the world these traditions contain a number of esoteric themes that are repeated regularly, even if every tradition does not contain full details of every theme. My interpretation is that, although they contain varying degrees of distortion, they clearly derive from a universal stock of ancient esoteric wisdom that almost certainly emerged long before the catastrophe, and can be summarised as follows:

·  During the night of Brahma the universe remains completely dormant. In the more philosophical traditions it is conceptualised as a void, although it is often more prosaically described as a chasm, as an abyss, as the deep or as the primeval waters.

·  The dormant creative power within the void is described in the more philosophical traditions in abstract terms such as the One, the All, the Universal or the Absolute, although the more prosaic traditions anthropomorphise it into a supreme creator deity.

·     This power contains the potential germ, embryo or seed of all forms that will be created in the universe when a new day of Brahma commences.

·     At this latter point the potential is actualised by the mere will or Word of the creative power. The energisation process can perhaps be conceptualised as the blow of a hammer on an anvil, which scatters sparks and energy waves in all directions. Descriptions of light emerging from darkness are attempts to convey the same concept.

·      The energy that is initially dissipated by this cosmic trigger then starts to coagulate into a variety of vibrational states, creating the various dimensions and the forms that inhabit them. Some remain ethereal – which is what is meant by the concept of the heavenly dimensions – while over time others solidify fully into the dense physical forms of galaxies and solar systems, and ultimately planets like the earth with its innumerable inhabitants.

·      At the highest levels of the ethereal dimensions there is no sense of individuality, only a sense of belonging and totality. This is because the ethereal constituent of everything and everyone is a tiny integral part of the pulsating universal energy from which it emerged – and back into which it will, ultimately, be reabsorbed.

In the next chapter we will see just how well these concepts fit into a broader esoteric worldview that has been handed down by enlightened initiates throughout the modern epoch. In the meantime, we should recall that it is these depths of esoteric insight in the various cosmogony traditions from around the world that support my view, expressed in Part 1, that to completely write off as superstitious nonsense the accompanying traditions regarding our forgotten race – which were in many cases recorded by the same authors in the same documents – is far too simplistic.