The First Eden


The First Eden?     The Face of the Deep                         According to Boyd Price


It is remarkable how many creation myths have nearly identical beginnings. They begin with tales of a primordial chaos, and that chaos is usually symbolized by the element of water. For the Babylonians, the goddess Tiamat (“the bitter ocean”) represented the chaos which spawned all things. She took as her husband Apsu, the god of the fresh waters. This union of bitter ocean and fresh waters is certainly suggestive of a flood, and this idea is borne out by the fact that their son Ea equates with the Sumerian King Ia, who was known to history as “the Lord of the Flood.”


The Egyptian story of creation also begins with water and chaos. Before the gods there was only a dark, watery abyss called Nun. Within its chaos, Nun contained the potentiality of all things and the latent divinity of the creator. At the dawn of the world a primeval mound arose from the waters, providing the first deity with a place to come into being. Finding himself alone, he created the world and peopled it with gods and men patterned on his image. This first deity became the Sun God who brought light and order to where darkness and chaos once reigned.


These are but a few examples out of many. Most are not incredibly dissimilar to what is found in Genesis, where it says: “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 o the waters.” (Emphasis ours.) Like the Egyptian deity, Jehovah also created order out of chaos, brought light into the darkness, and created man in his own image. Virtually identical stories are told by cultures existing in parts of the world far distant from these. The striking similarities between so many creation myths cannot be explained as mere coincidence. They have to represent a shared primordial memory of some sort. We think they do. We think the symbolism of chaos and a vast watery abyss is related to another of man’s most widespread myths - that of the Flood.


Nearly every culture recounts the tale of a global flood. Nearly every culture has a Flood hero who survives the Deluge, along with a remnant of humanity, to repopulate the Earth. We believe that the Flood represents the true starting point of our current historical epoch, and that it represents the end of the previous epoch - one referred to by many cultures as “the First Time.” Plato records that the Egyptian priests told Solon the Earth was far older than the Greeks thought, and that it had been ravaged by fire and floods repeatedly. Each time there was enough of a remnant left living to start anew. Could this be the reason why, in the first chapter of Genesis, God says to Adam, “ fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth”? The commandment is fairly unambiguous. Though contrary to the storyline, God is clearly telling Adam to be fruitful, multiply, and repopulate the earth.


The story of Eden is a highly symbolic account, containing elements of both truth and fiction. Those aspects that reflect the most historical accuracy are the various names involved, which can be shown to relate to very real figures in the Sumerian king lists. “King Ia” is Adam, his son “Kin” is Cain, the third king “Enu” is Enoch, and so on. But the king lists may also contain clues which shed light on the fictional aspects of the Eden story. The Sumerians also had an antediluvian king list, which is generally regarded as a work of fiction. It purports to document a glorious pre-history of Sumer - one that stretched back 241,000 years into the past. Some of the kings included on the list were said to have lived exceedingly long lives, a few to the age of 30,000. Sumeriologist L.A. Waddell was able to demonstrate that this antediluvian king list could be patterned upon names and alternate titles of figures in the post-Flood king lists, and that the fabrication had probably been an attempt on the part of the Sumerians to reconstruct that part of their history which had been lost or forgotten. Authors of the Old Testament, using the Sumerian prototype as a guide, started their tale with the post-Flood figures, later inserting the story of the Flood out of sequence. We find support for our thesis, yet again, in the strange figure of Enoch.


Central to the lore of Enoch is the notion that he preserved the lost wisdom of the antediluvian world. The question such an idea naturally raises is this: How could a figure who vanishes from biblical texts before the Flood (not to reappear thereafter) be expected to have accomplished such a task? Even in The Book of Enoch, he dispatches his “antediluvian” wisdom well before any suggestion of a coming deluge. Enoch’s story only makes sense if Noah’s story didn’t happen in the way it is presented. And evidence exists to suggest that this is precisely the case.


As unorthodox as such as idea may seem, there is evidence indicating that Enoch and Noah were really the same figure. In some ancient texts the name “Noah” is rendered as “Noach”, while elsewhere Enoch is presented as “Noach.” Joseph Riess, author of Language, Myth and Man, believes that Noah, Noach and Enoch are all alternate names for the same figure. L.A. Waddell, citing different evidence, also believes Noah and Enoch to be one and the same. According to Waddell, Enoch was sometimes called “Hanuk”, and in certain translations of Genesis Noah is called “Hanuk” as well. Also, a tradition exists among the Chaldeans specifically linking the third Sumerian king Enu (Enoch) to the legend of the Flood. Enu’s son bore the royal title of Ia-patesi (“Priest-King of God Ia”), which Waddell believes is preserved in the name of Noah’s son, Iapeth, or Japeth. Waddell even states that, “Enoch... is regarded by Biblical authorities as being identical with Noah of the Flood myth.”1 If such an idea was in currency with the Biblical scholars of Waddell’s time (the 1920s), it doesn’t seem to have taken hold. And yet it is immanently logical. If Enoch piloted the Ark, it would explain how it was he who was credited with preserving the secrets of the antediluvian world. In The Book of the Cave of Treasures, it is said that one of the most sacred things taken aboard the Ark was a text containing “the most ancient secrets of the church” - the very secrets synonymous with the legend of Enoch.


Presuming that Enoch piloted the Ark necessitates a complete rethinking of the chronology contained in Genesis, and would require viewing the events described as history told in highly symbolic terms. It is altogether possible that this may in fact have been the intent of the original authors, and that they have left enough clues for us to read between the lines. Comparing the details of Genesis with the traditions from which it was derived provides further clues still.


Let us start with a simple hypothesis: Could the story of Adam’s expulsion from Eden be emblematic of a previous Golden Age empire coming to an end? And could the ensuing banishment to a wasteland symbolize the condition of a planet left devastated by a flood? Virtually every culture had a legend of a “Golden Age” sometimes in the mythical past. Perhaps the most well-known of these is that of Atlantis. Like the stories of Genesis, Atlantis is intimately connected with ideas of a fall from grace, divine retribution, and a flood. The history of Sumer begins with a flood; the story of Atlantis ends with one. Many mainstream scientists and experts now concur that such a flood did in fact occur. Is it a tale rooted in history, and not myth? Could it be possible that Atlantis was the first Eden?


Let us take a closer look at the most pertinent details of both stories. Both take place in a primordial paradise of perfection, a place whose “soil produced a wealth of roots, wood, gums, flowers and fruits, the sweet juice of the grape, and corn, all desirous... vegetables... shady trees sheltered it’s happy people, and diverse fruits appeased their hunger and thirst... in a word, there was to be found ... everything which could satisfy the body, the spirit, and engender piety towards the gods.” The foregoing description, so evocative of the Biblical Eden, is in fact Plato’s description of Atlantis. It wholly reflects the popular conception of Eden, though in The Book of Genesis Eden is never described with such a vivid wealth of detail.


In both stories, the end of the idyllic paradise is precipitated by a rebellion against the gods (or “God”, as the case may be). Divine punishment ensues, and the Golden Age comes to an end. Perhaps the oddest theme to be shared by both stories is that of giants. In both stories, giants are the result of miscegenation between gods and mortals - or more precisely, between gods and mortal women. Could such startling similarities be pure coincidence, or do the stories of Eden and Atlantis have a shared origin? Are the Watchers of The Book of Enoch synonymous with the antediluvian gods, perhaps the survivors of the island’s destruction?


The White Gods


The stories of the Watchers, of Dagon and Oannes are, as we know, not unique. Nearly identical tales are told in virtually every corner of the globe. The only explanation that seems to make sense of such stories is surprisingly simple and straight-forward: they represent the interaction of peoples from radically different cultures. Imagine for a moment that people fleeing the destruction of a high civilization turned up in a society incredibly less advanced than their own? What might the local inhabitants make of them? How might the natives perceive a group of strangers possessing technology wholly unknown to them, possibly a people who looked, dressed and spoke differently than themselves - a people of perhaps far greater stature than any with whom they’d ever come into contact? Very possibly, they might be looked upon as gods.


When Spanish conquistadors arrived in South America, the indigenous population though they were witnessing the return of the white gods who had visited their people in antiquity, promising one day to return. There were in for an unpleasant shock. In our own time, we have the phenomenon of the “cargo cult.” During WWII, pilots used a sparsely populated island in the Pacific to set down their cargo planes. To ensure the peaceful cooperation of the native populace, they gave them food and gifts. The locals assumed these people were gods, and when the visitors had left, ritualistic runways were constructed in their honor, and wooden fetishes shaped like planes became objects of worship. The example of the cargo cult is probably not altogether different from the sort of interactions that spawned the mythologies of so many tutelary deities: the wise teachers (or ancestor gods) who appeared to so many peoples “at the dawn of time” to bequeath their wisdom. We can choose to believe one of two things about these figures: either that they were really gods who enjoyed sharing the secrets of geometry, astronomy, agriculture and architecture; or that there was in fact a race of men at that time who had this knowledge. We can at least assume that that tales told of them constitute some form of truth, because any people fabricating their own history would surely concoct something far more self-aggrandizing.


If these cultures had developed geometry, astronomy, etc. on their own, they would surely take pride in that fact, and take credit for it in their own history. If they hadn’t developed it themselves, yet produced artifacts that clearly demonstrate a knowledge of it, then it stands to reason that they must have learned it from someone else. Not only are the stories of tutelary deities nearly identical, often even the names of the figures are incredibly similar.


In short, it seems highly unlikely that such stories are mere myths or fabrications. Orthodox historians would dismiss these tales, because they fall outside the parameters of our conventional view of history. At the same time, historians seem to be at a loss to satisfactorily explain away the stunning similarities found in such myths as the following, from virtually every corner of the globe:


In Islam, it is said that the angels “Harut” and “Marut” descended from Heaven on a golden rope, then taught men writing, math and astronomy.


In Tibetan Buddhism, it is said that some 18,000 years ago, “Mura” descended from heaven on a coiled rope and taught man the “wisdom of the universe.”


In Southern Afghanistan, the creator god is “Imra”, and is said to be the dynastic ancestor of all tribal chieftains. He positioned the Sun and Moon, and was known as the teacher of mankind. He is also called “Mara.”


In East Africa, the creator god is known as “Imana.” (He may equate Imra.) He created the first man, who descended to Earth on a rope.


The Aztecs also claimed a god who descended on a rope to serve as “the shepherd of mankind.” He taught them to read, write, plant, harvest, and construct buildings.


The ancestral god of Japan’s Shinto religion was known as “Ninigi.” He too came to Earth from the heavens to rule Japan, and is thought to be the ancestor of that country’s imperial dynasty.


There is a Western Semitic mountain god called “Amurru”, who was depicted as carrying a shepherd’s staff. His consort was “Athirat”, a variant of “Asherat” or “Asarte.”


The Mesopotamian god “Martu” is thought to be related to Amurru. He was a tutelary god who taught his people knowledge.


The Northern Arabian god “Marnas” is another tutelary god. His cult is thought to have replaced that of Dagon (a.k.a. “Muru.”)


In Sudan and Zaire, the god “Tule” was said to have descended from the sky on a rope. He brought the people seeds and the tools of civilization.


The Mesoamerican creator god and sun deity “Atl” appeared after a cataclysmic deluge in which all of humanity was turned into fishes.


Some of the names of these gods reveal specifically Atlantean connotations, while a full two-thirds of them contain root words relating to water or the sea. The name “Tule”, for instance, is all but identical to the Northern European designation for Atlantis, “Thule.”2 In some ancient cultures the word for the sea was phonetically pronounced “tl”, which serves as the root for “Atl.” And “Atl”, in turn, can be found in both “Atlas” and “Atlantis.” Over half of the names on this list contain the root words “Mer”, “Mar”, or “Mur”, all of which relate to the sea in numerous languages both ancient and modern. A connection also seems evident between these figures and the story of the tutelary god already discussed, Muru, or Maru3 (Dagon). He is identified as the second Sumerian deified king, Kan, the biblical Cain. His “Maru” title is of special interest, because it ties into our thesis relating the legend of Atlantis to the place remembered as Eden.


According to L.A. Waddell, the Sanskrit word “Maru” has the same meaning as the Sumerian word “Etin”, or “Eden.” Plato has made evident in his Criteas and Timeaus that the name of Atlantis (and those of its gods) had been rendered into Greek, so as to be more comprehensible to readers of his native land. But other traditions relating the story of Atlantis give it the name of “Merou.” So if Atlantis is synonymous with Merou, and Maru is synonymous with Eden, might it be possible that Atlantis (Merou) and Eden (Maru) actually refer to the same place? We believe so. We have already presented evidence supportive of the fact that the figures of Enoch and Noah can both be traced to the third Sumerian king Enu, and that in the Chaldean flood legend it was he who piloted the Ark. Further support for this is found in the Sumerian king lists compiled by the Erech dynasty, in which his title is given as “Shepherd of the Vessel.” Might not such a title easily be interpreted to mean “pilot of the Ark?”


If Eden was Atlantis, and Enoch piloted the Ark that preserved the remnant of its populace, it is very probable that two of the passengers on that vessel would have been his father and grandfather; that is to say: the first two kings of Sumer - the biblical Adam and Cain. As we explore the myths of the tutelary deities from the new world, the foregoing thesis will begin to seem less and less like some wild fantasy, and increasingly like a credible possibility. We will demonstrate what appear to be tangible links between the figures in these tales, and those central to both Genesis and early Sumer. Though these myths are virtually identical to those already discussed, there is a fundamental difference: the indigenous peoples assert that these gods arrived following the destruction by flood of their sacred homeland - an island.


Foam of the Sea


In the highest peaks of the Andean mountains lie the ruins of Cuzco, a cyclopean city built of massive stones weighing many tons each. In the region, it is said that a “white god” who was “very tall” had built this city in ancient times. He had come from across the sea, and thus was given the name “Viracocha”, meaning “foam of the sea.” These peaks are widely separated from the sea, and so seem to support the idea that in ancient times a flood had occurred which had made them more accessible. Other ancient cities on the continent remained undiscovered until the 1980s, because they rested on peaks so high that they were shrouded in clouds. There is a good possibility that other such cities exist in South America, atop great mountains surrounded in fog.


In The Royal Commentaries of the Incas by Garcilaso de la Vega, it is clear that the beginning of their history coincides with the Flood: “After the waters of the Deluge had subsided, a certain man appeared in the country of Tiahuanaco... .” That man was known as Viracocha, Manco Capac, Illa, and to the Aztecs, as Quetzalcoatl. The author continues:


“In the life on Manco Capac, who was the first Inca, and from whom they began to boast themselves children of the Sun... they had an ample account of the Deluge. They say that in it perished all races of men and created things insomuch as the waters rose above the highest mountain peaks in the world. No living thing survived except a man and a woman who remained in a box and, when the waters subsided, the wind carried them... to Tiahuanaco, where the creator began to raise up the people and nations that are in the region... .”


This, of course, tends to reinforce our theory that the Flood represented the true genesis of our current epoch. But there are even more intriguing correspondences. The name of Manco Capac’s descendants, the “Inca”, has more than a passing resemblance to Cain’s Mesopotamian title, “Enki“. The story being told is very much the same, and so too are many of the names involved. Viracocha is the Andean name for this figure. In the Yucatan he was called “Noach Yum Chac.” He was also known as “Illa”, which equates with the Chaldean “Ila”, and the Mesopotamian “Ellu” - “The Shining One.” Even the name “Andes” seems to allude to the Mesopotamian god-name of “An.”


It was said that Viracocha could call down “fire from the heavens.” If he caused this fire to consume a huge rock, that rock would become “light as a cork”, and could be easily be used for such constructions as can still be seen at Cuzco. In Andean legends, it is asserted that this Cyclopean city was built in a single night.


Like Dagon and Oannes, Viracocha taught the people to read and write, how to plant crops and till the field, and various magical arts. But there is an even more tangible link between the figure of Viracocha and the Sumerian fish gods. A statue of Viracocha exists which depicts him as a white man with a long beard. From the waist up he is normal in appearance, but from the waist down he is covered in fish scales. It would appear, then, that Viracocha was not merely a figure whose story happened to resemble that of Dagon - he was Dagon. He was in fact the very same person who appeared “from out of the sea” to impart his wisdom to the Sumerians. In some versions of his saga, he left the people and went back out to sea, promising one day to return. This is a very common element to this tale wherever it is told, and it is told all over the globe. The American Indians even have a version of it in which a fish man leads their people out of Asia and into North America. Sabine Baring-Gould describes it in Myths of the Middle Ages:


“... The people of our nation were much terrified at seeing a strange creature much resembling a man riding on the waves. He had upon his head long green hair, [and] a beard of the same color... from his breast down he was actually a fish, or rather two fishes, for each of his legs was a whole and distinct fish. And he would sit for hours singing to the wondering ears of the Indians of the beautiful things he saw in the depths of the ocean, always closing his strange stories with these words: ‘Follow me, and see what I will show you.’ For a great many suns, they dared not venture upon the water; but when they grew hungry, they at last put to sea, and following the fish-man, who kept close to the boat, reached the American coast.”


A related tale is told by the same author of Mexico’s “Huchucton-acateao-cateao-upatle, or Fish-god-of-our-flesh... [who] somewhat resembled the Noah of sacred writ; for... in a time of great flood, when the Earth was covered with water, he rescued himself in a cypress trunk, and peopled the world with wise and intelligent beings.” This figure may or may not be the same as Quetzalcoatl, the “white god” who came to the Aztecs and erected a series of massive ziggurats. Though often depicted symbolically as a feathered white serpent, Quetzalcoatl was said to have been a bearded white man who “was very tall.”


Could it be possible that all of these stories are describing various people’s encounters with the same person? Perhaps a more appropriate question would be, “What is the likelihood that they are not? The details of the stories, though mythic and seemingly improbable, all seem to correspond to one another. What are the chances that people so geographically remote from one another (the Middle East, North America, and South America) would all contrive the same tale, unless it really happened to them?


What elevates such tales from the realm of mere comparative mythology is the fact that that they are connected to physical evidence which attests to their truth. The cities said to have been built by these “mythical” figures still exist, and defy all explanation. On the shore of Lake Titicaca there is a dock carved of solid stone which weighs 440 tons. In Mexico there is a ziggurat dedicated to Quetzalcoatl that has a base of forty-five square acres - larger than the pyramid of Khufu. In Sacsayhuanan, North of Cuzco, there are gigantic walls made of stones weighing between 100 and 361 tons. Whoever created such works had powers and abilities which modern man, with all of his technology, is at a loss to replicate. It is easy to see why the so-called “primitive” peoples of these regions may have viewed the creators of these monuments as gods.


Viracocha and Cain


In some versions of this story, Viracocha wasn’t just the flood hero. It was his descendants who were called “the Viracocha”, and he was called “Con” (or “Con Ticci”/“Kon Tiki.”) Yet again, we see a clear etymological link to the figure of Cain. This same figure was also known as “Sinan.” The words “Sin” and “An” both have Sumerian origins, and are both related to the Sumerian deified kings. What are the odds that two peoples half-way across the world from each other would coin these two identical words, and then use them in conjunction with one another, as the title of one of their deified kings? Quite simply, the odds in favor of it are downright astronomical. Add to this the fact that most of the other titles applied to the same figure have Sumerian equivalents, and that they all appear to relate to Cain (or his son), and the likelihood of it all being a strange coincidence starts to look very negligible indeed. Let us review the primary correlations:


“Kon/Con”: This is equivalent to the Hebrew “Qin”, the Sumerian “Kan”, and the Biblical Cain


“Inca”: This seems to equate with the Mesopotamian Cain figure “Enki”


“Atl”: He resembles Atlas, the son of Poseidon


“Sinan”: This sounds like “Caanan”, another son of Poseidon


“Ila”: This coincides precisely with the Chaldean “Ila, and nearly so with the Mesopotamian “Ellu.”


“Noach Yum Chac”: This equates with “Noach”, considered to be interchangeable with “Enoch”, “Noah” and “Oannes.”


Keeping in mind that these people had an oral tradition, it comes as no surprise that the pronunciation of some of these titles would understandably have become somewhat garbled with the passage of so many centuries. But considering that circumstance, they are actually remarkably similar, and have undergone little more metamorphosis than did the same titles in the neighboring nations and city-states of the Middle East. Given the fact that these names are connected to legendary episodes thought to have taken place perhaps five thousand years ago (maybe more), they seem to have survived pretty much intact.


And what of the strange name of “Quetzalcoatl?” A simple perusal of key Sumerian words seeming to have the same phonetic qualities gives us a series of words that not only sound similar, but make sense in the context of this figure. They are well known terms which figure in many royal titles, and which when spoken as a single word, not only sound very close to “Quetzalcoatl”, but mean “King, God, Lord of the Sea.” Such grandiose titles were not uncommon for Sumerian kings. In fact, there were quite the norm. It was far less common to find such kings whose titles were in any way understated. The most telling syllable in Quetzalcoatl’s name is “tl”, or “atl.” As James Bailey explains in The God-Kings and the Titans:


“Mexican mythology especially belonged to the Nahua-speaking predecessors of the Aztecs. In Nahua ‘atl’ means ‘sea’ or ‘water.’ Thus ‘Atlas’ would be a reasonable Mexican title for a man who knew the sea in all its depths (Odyssey) and was the son of the sea-god Poseidon (Plato). In fact, I believe that ... there is an identity between the Greek Titan Atlas and the Mexican culture-hero Quetzalcoatl, both having a common root in Berber, the remnant of the ancient Mediterranean language of the white Africans, in which the root TL means ‘water.’”


Returning to the story of the god from across the sea, we shall examine the Mayan deity of “Kukulkan”, or “Kinich Ahan.” Both of these titles bear root words relating to “king” or “Cain” (“Can” and “Kin”, respectively.) As one might expect, he is again depicted as a white man with a beard. The beard is not an insignificant detail, as the native peoples had no facial hair. According to the Mayans, this figure came to them from over the sea “to escape the flood.” Kukulcan was the Mayan Quetzalcoatl, and was similarly depicted as a solar deity of reading, writing medicine and mathematics. His most well-known gift to them was the so-called “Mayan calendar”, reputed to have fixed the exact date of the world’s end. James Bailey writes:


“The Mayan calendar required a sophisticated mathematical system; it even included a number for zero. The Mayans were thus able to use large numbers, infinitely large. The only other peoples at this date with that skill it is said were the Babylonians and Assyrians, from whom the Phoenicians are said to have borrowed a large part of their mathematics. The Mayans calculated the solar year with marvelous accuracy as 365.2420 days by comparison with the modern calculation of 365.2422 days. This invention, along with their mathematical skills, seems to have appeared suddenly amid primitive people... .”


Indeed, that was not all that “appeared suddenly” amongst these people. A good many cylinder seals were found which resembled those used by the Sumerians and Akkadians. Other artifacts indicate a later, perhaps Phoenician influence. Author Pierre Honore cites a possible Phoenician influence in his book In Search of the White Gods, in which he states that:


“[The names of Mayan letters] are indeed very like the names of the ancient Phoenician and Greek letters; some, in fact, are almost identical. Here are a few instances - giving the letters in Greek, Phoenician and Mayan in that order:


Alpha, Aleph, Ahan.


Beta, Bejt, Baaz


Gamma, Gimel, Ghanan


Epsilon, Eh, Eb


Iota, Iud, Ik


Kappa, Koph, Queh


Lamda, Lamed, Lamat


Tau, Tav, Tihaz.”


While this is compelling evidence, it is not the whole story. There are a good many symbols used by the Mayans that are virtually identical, and often precisely so, with those in the (as yet untranslated) “Linear A” alphabet of Minoan Crete. But if Kukulkan is indeed the same figure as the other “white gods” of South America, and is, as we suspect, synonymous with the Sumerian Kan and the Biblical Cain, it would fix the date of his appearance in the New World to a period far earlier than Minoan Crete.4


Given the supposed relation between the Greek, Phoenician and Mayan languages, it is interesting to speculate on a possible meaning of the name “Kukulkan.” The “Kukul” part of the word sounds very similar to the Greek word for “circle”, “Kuklos”, which could render the title as “King of the Circle”, or “King of All.” When Viracocha came out of Lake Titicaca, he proclaimed himself “Lord of the Four Quarters”, meaning the four corners of the world. Many such figures used identical titles. Later they would be shortened to the more straight-forward “King of the Earth” or “Lord of the World”, both titles eventually bestowed on Lucifer himself. Kukulkan’s alternate title, “Kinich Ahan” easily equates with a simple Sumerian title. “Kinich” is “Kin-ash”, “The Lord Kin.” “Ahan” appears to be rooted in “Aha”, a title meaning “the Warrior”, and a word that was virtually the same in ancient Sumer, Egypt and India. It was part of the title of Menes, son of Sargon the Great, and the first dynastic pharaoh of Egypt.


Osiris and Cain


Some authors (such as Graham Hancock) have posited a connection between South America’s white gods and the Egyptian Osiris. Once again, their stories share a good many things in common. Osiris, like Viracocha, Quetzalcoatl, Kukulkan, et. al., appeared to his people and taught them the arts of civilization: healing, farming, astronomy, writing, and so on. He gave them their first law code. Like his South American counterparts, Osiris is associated with a high civilization that seems to have come into being all at once, at a very high level of culture. And like in South America, we have monuments, artworks, and inscriptions that attest to the existence of that high culture, yet nothing to indicate what came before it, or could have conceivably given rise to it. Nothing, that is, but the testimony of the Egyptians, who tell us that a single figure brought it all to them. Sound familiar? This is the same story told by the Sumerians in regards to Dagon, and by the Chaldeans in regards to Oannes. But the Egyptian story has an interesting twist: after founding Egypt, Osiris took his leave for a time, going over the waters towards where the Sun vanishes beneath the horizon in the West. He informed his people that he would return, but only after traveling the world to spread his teaching.


Is it even conceivable that the South American tutelary figures, all of whom “came over the waters from the East”, might not represent the same person just described? But for the difference in a few eccentric mytho-poetic details, the story of Oannes is the story of Osiris. The story of Osiris is the story of Viracocha. And as you’ll recall, Viracocha is depicted as part-man, part-fish, just like Oannes. Egyptian scholar E. Wallis Budge had this to say:


“Of the earliest phases of the cult of Osiris in the predynastic period nothing is known; it is probable that Osiris was not his original name, for the view that the name of Osiris is of Babylonian or Sumerian origin has much to recommend it.”


Indeed, the name “Osiris” is rooted in the Sumerian “Asar”, a title applied to this deity in pre-dynastic times. “Asar” is the root of “Assur” and “Ashira”, both variants of the same figure in neighboring nations. And “Asar” is a title meaning “Son of Sar” (a.k.a. “Sag” and “Zag” or “Ia”). This definitely links Asar/Osiris to the Sumerian Kin or Kan (Cain), whose alternate titles were “Asag”, “Azag”, and “Asar.” The importance of this connection will be revealed in due course.5


Though the art of Egypt and South America is vastly different in style, there are similarities of content which are incredibly striking for the time at which they were done. In many depictions of Osiris, it is plainly evident that he is a foreigner. His skin is not merely pale, but pure white, and his eyes a pale blue. Those who surround him resemble what we would imagine Egyptians of old to look like, but he clearly looks nothing like them. So too the depictions of Viracocha, “the white man of august presence, with blue eyes and a beard.” His associates are clearly Mayan or Andean, and he is obviously not. His queen was called “Mother Egg”, because, it was said, “her flesh was as white as an egg shell.” These people were evidently far paler than the subsequent peoples known as “Caucasians.” This, again, accords with the description of the offspring of the Nephilim, whose skin was so pale that it seemed to glow. Was Viracocha one of the Watchers, a fallen angel? Or was he a man who inherited the lost wisdom of the antediluvian world, who undertook great journeys to the four corners of the Earth in order to preserve that knowledge and promote its widespread dispersal? The story is told repeatedly that when he took leave of his people and vanished back across the seas, he promised that one day he would return. It’s perhaps a token of the high esteem in which he was held that the peoples to whom he had made this promise awaited his return with great relish - for millennia.


Could it be that he did in fact return - and repeatedly, but that with each return, he appeared to another people and reenacted the same scenario yet again? It would appear so. From place to place and people to people, while the stories of this figure are incredibly uniform, the monuments he left behind and the people’s description of him seem to differ greatly. Always he is a tall white man with pale blue eyes. Yet sometimes his hair is reported as dark black, and other times it is said to be white. Could it be that the various populations are describing the same personage, but at different stages of his life? Possibly so.


Most of the stories of this figure, though kept alive only in oral tradition, are seemingly very precise in detail. Take, for instance, this description of how Quetzalcoatl’s disciples were clothed, as chronicled by Juan de Torquemada:


“They were men of good carriage, well-dressed, in long robes of black linen, open in front, and without capes, cut low at the neck, with short sleeves that did not come to the elbow... These followers of Quetzalcoatl were men of great knowledge and cunning in all kinds of fine work.”


Assuming a given people (countless centuries later) could remember such concise details about how such people were dressed, the length of their sleeves, and so on, would it not follow that their recollections as to hair color, etc. might not also be trustworthy? Supposing this man went to one region early in his life, to another later, and another still later, would not the remembrances of him both differ and show similarities, as did his architecture? Of course they would. But could any person have traversed such expanses as these, and have impacted so many people in a single lifetime? Given certain circumstances, perhaps.


Odin and Cain


Some people believe that in ancient times, men had far longer lifetimes than they do presently, and that they may have lived a thousand years, perhaps longer. This, at first, sounds fantastic. But consider the facts. In the 1700s, the average lifespan was twenty-five years of age. In the 1800s it was thirty-five. In the 1900s it was sixty-five. And people born today have an average life expectancy of seventy-seven years. This means that our lifespan has virtually tripled in just three centuries. Given this evolutionary advance, where will we be a century hence, or two, or five? We couldn’t begin to guess. Nor could we begin to hypothesize the possible life spans of those who may have been survivors left over from the antediluvian world. But one thing is certain - the most ancient chronicles of antiquity are unanimous in their assertion that people once lived for incredibly long periods of time. As Josephus tells us:


“...all those that have written antiquities, both among the Greeks and barbarians... relate that the ancients lived a thousand years... .”


Josephus lists the legendary chroniclers whose works confirmed this thesis: Manetheo, Berosus, Heironymous the Egyptian, Hesiod, Hellanicus, Acusilus, Ephorus, Niclaus, and others. He then goes on to say that the good use to which the ancients put their longer lifespans is demonstrable in their advanced knowledge of astronomy and geometry. Such knowledge was demonstrated by South America’s visitors as well. James Bailey writes that:


“West of the Maya were the tribe called Tyendal, whose white culture-bringer was Votan. [He]... invented hieroglyphic signs, taught them how to cultivate maize and cotton, and collected them into villages. Votan... is also said by them to have measured the Earth.”


Those familiar with Nordic mythology will be struck by the similarity between “Votan” and “Wotan”, the father god of the Northern European pantheon. The pronunciation of both names is in fact identical. He is also known as “Odin” or “Wodan.” Sumerian scholar L.A. Waddell has this to say about Wodan:


“Wodan is regularly represented as ... a Chaldee priest, and latterly sometimes mythologically as a serpent... .”


This is significant because the South American Votan was also symbolized as a snake. So too were Ityamana, Quetzalcoatl and Kukulkan.6 The figure known as “Noach Yum Chac” even wrote a text entitled Proof That I am a Serpent. In it, he asserts that he is “the third Votan”, a descendant of Chan, and - of course - a serpent.


Wotan/Odin, like Votan, brought his people the arts of civilization. He is credited with inventing the runes, both a form of writing and a powerful system of magic. The Nordic Eddas tell us that Odin descended from Heaven and enthroned himself as King at “Urd.” This reflects the Sumerian record which says, “Kingship from heaven was made arise. At Urdu City, kingship was made... [and] the king reigned.” The texts also call Odin “The Etil, the first leader of men.” This word “Etil” (or “lord”) the root for a number of key words. It is a royal clan title for the Nordic gods (the “Asa”, or “Aesir”), and is the basis for the “odal” rune, a symbol found in runic as well as Sumerian pictographic writing.7 But perhaps the most extraordinary link provided by the title “Etil” is the clear connection to another South American deity - “Atl.” And “Atl”, as you’ll recall, was a word meaning “lord”, but it also meant “the sea”, or “the waters.” So “Atl” could mean, “Lord of the Sea”, or “Lord of the Waters”, both of which echo the first Sumerian king’s title “Lord of the Flood”, or “Lord of the Deep Waters.” “Atl” is also, as we’ve said, a root word found in “Atlas”, “Atlantis”, and “Quetzalcoatl.”


Odin was revered by the ancient Nordics as the inventor of mead, a wine-like alcoholic beverage that was made from honey. (Remember that the bee was the royal emblem of the Merovingians.) Interestingly, certain of the South American white gods are accredited with the production of alcoholic honey drinks. Noteworthy among these was “Acan”, the Mayan god of wine. The name “Acan”, besides bearing an obvious relation to both the Sumerian Kan and the South American “Con” (or “Con Tiki”) reveals an even more explicit relation to Cain, in that the latter was renowned for the cultivation of grapes and the invention of wine. Acan added the bark of a tree to this honey brew (called “balche”), and to this day the tree is called “the balche tree.” The word “balche” seems to echo an alternate title of Cain in the Edda, where he is called “Bauge.” And in Sumer, an alternate royal title of Cain was “Bakus”, upon which is rooted the name of “Bacchus”, the legendary Greek god remembered as “the Lord of Plants and Wine.” This connects him yet again to Osiris, who was known as “Asar-Bakha” (or “Osiris-Bakha”) when represented as a bull.8 Osiris was also “Lord of the Vine”, and the putative inventor of wine. Before moving on it is also worth noting that the name “Acan” could carry the Sumerian meaning “Son of Kan/Kon”, representing Cain’s son Enoch, who would have undoubtedly learned the winemaking arts of his father.


Names relating to Enoch also show up in a South American context. An alternate title of Enoch in the Sumerian king list called The Kish Chronicle is “Naksha.” This finds accord in the Peruvian place-name of “Nazca.” In East Indian king lists, the tile of Enoch was “Nahusha”, and one of the principle early languages in ancient Mexico was named “Nahua.”9 Is this an indication that Enoch too journeyed to South America? Cain obviously named a number of cities in the Middle East after members of his family, and he may have done the same in South America. Take for instance, Cuzco. Ia, like all the early Sumerian kings, was known by many titles, a few of which were: “Sag”, “Zag”, “Dur”, “Dar”, and “Ukuzi.” The last one simply means “Lord Kuzi.” Could “Kuzi” and “Cuzco” be related? It would appear so. The “U” of “Ukuzi” has the same solar connotation as the “O” of “Odin.” Both prefixes share the dual meaning of “Sun” and “Lord.” If the “o” at the end of “Cuzco” has the same meaning, then “Ukuzi” and ‘Cuzco” could very well represent identical titles. And Cuzco was said to have been built by a race of sun-worshippers.


Ia/Ukuzi’s alternate titles of “Sag” and “Zag” reveal a connection both to the Nordics and the Greeks as well. The name given to the Nordic rune of victory was the “Sig” rune, an S-shaped zigzag resembling a lightening bolt. The Greek god Zeus is derived from “Zag”, and his weapon of preference is the lightening bolt. His son Kronos is the Greek version of Cain. The figure of Zag brings us full circle, for his son “Azag”, known by such numerous titles, is shown yet again to be the pivotal character whom we’ve examined in so many guises. Going back to the fallen angels of The Book of Enoch, L.A. Waddell has this to say:


“Further confirmation of Cain... the artificer in bronze and iron, is supplied by The Book of Enoch, which, originally written in Hebrew or its sister Aramaic script, is now arbitrarily classified as ‘apocryphal.’ It states (Chap. VIII.1): ‘And Azaz-el taught men to make swords, and knives, and shields and breastplates, and made known to them the metals and the working of them, and bracelets and ornaments.’ Here, significantly Azaz-el, which is not a Hebrew word, except the suffix ‘el’, which means ‘Lord’, is disclosed as the Sumerian title for the second Sumerian king (Gun or ‘Cain’), namely Azag... Thus Azaz-el, or ‘Lord Azag’, the inventor of metal working of the Hebrew legend, is identified with Cain.”


Thus, too, is Cain linked explicitly to the figures known in the West as fallen angels. Consequently, we can see that all of these stories are indeed the same story. The mysterious race, whether called “sons of God”, “white gods”, or what have you, are all one and the same. And they were all lead by a single figure who, despite his plethora of names and titles, equates with the biblical Cain. Because of this man’s seemingly superhuman, or even supernatural powers and abilities, he and his entourage were perceived to be angels or gods. And despite the fact that, even today, we remain incapable of understanding the exact nature of those powers, there is every likelihood that these beings were just men. The notion that they were something more than mere mortals has prevented our understanding of their saga for millennia. Central to their story has been a rebellion against “the gods”, and a flood sent in retribution. Thus we envision “the gods” in question ensconced in the clouds, atop Olympus, or in some faraway Valhalla. But what if these gods were flesh and blood beings living alongside those they ruled? What if they were a ruling elite whose level of evolution was so much more advanced than those they governed that they were perceived as gods and not as men? Then the story becomes much more straightforward. Having interbred with those they governed over for a long enough period of time, a new class would have eventually emerged - a class sharing the attributes of both the ruler and the ruled. The inevitable rebellion of this class “against the gods” can be seen, therefore, as something not the least mythological. Rather, it would have constituted a mere example of class war, described in mytho-poetic terms. The retribution taken against the insurgents was undoubtedly far more direct than a flood. In fact, the Flood had no cause-and-effect relationship with these events at all. The story of the Flood was attached to the tale of rebellion to serve as a cautionary warning, lest post-diluvian peoples ever entertain such thoughts. Remember, a key element of this story, in most of the places it is told, is that the gods intermarried with the ruling dynasties, taking the daughter of the king or tribal chieftain to wife.10 In this way they were laying the foundation for a future global empire, mixing their genes with those of royal dynasties across the planet, so that in time the rulers of every people and nation would be their blood relations. This kind of “genetic imperialism” would inevitably lead to the emergence of a ruling class who would be perceived as descendants of the gods, and establishing the notion that they possessed the ability to bring forth a cataclysmic flood undoubtedly went a long way towards insuring that the rank and file would be on their best behavior.





The Decline of Civilization





If indeed the white gods were preparing the way for a worldwide empire, it was a plan doomed to failure. Though they may have had the power to impose civilization where none previously existed, perhaps they failed to take into consideration that not every people wants, or in fact needs civilization. While their efforts in the East and Middle East met with success, South America and Meso-America were another story. Though the Mayans, Incas and Aztecs seem to have flourished for a time, observers seem to be at a loss to explain why the once-thriving cultures simply shut down. Some say that the Mayans inexplicably vanished (a story also told in relation to the Mycenaeans, Cretans and Philistines). Others say that conquistadors arrived and killed these people “by the millions”; but whatever the excesses of the conquistadors may have been, it seems highly unlikely. Firstly, there is nothing to indicate that these cultures could have supported “millions” of people. And if there were millions, the logistics of a handful of men killing nearly all of them are unimaginable.11 A far more likely thesis, perhaps, can be found in Plato’s statements about the descendants of the gods in Critias:





“... when the divine portion began to fade away in them, and became diluted too often, and with too much of the mortal admixture... they [became} unable to bear their fortune, [and became} base, and had lost the fairest of their precious gifts... .”





In other words, when the ruling class lost its ability to deal with the burden of civilization, these peoples probably abandoned their magnificent cities and returned to their native ways. They undoubtedly retained those things which were beneficial to them and bade good riddance to a good many aspects of civilization which had never been relevant to their daily lives. To this day, some tribes of Native South Americans still make boats of reeds in the style taught to them so long ago by the strange visitors. But what need does a man struggling just to survive have of geometry, astronomy, complex calendars, and the like? It is probably as utterly irrelevant to him now as it was at the height of Mayan civilization. Like many indigenous peoples, they were self-sufficient, with cultures that were organic and self-contained. The Mayans did not vanish - they just got back to basics. But at the end of the day, what ultimately became of these cultures is outside the scope of our own inquiry. We are less concerned with how they lost their culture than with how they attained it to begin with. And all of our sources tell the same story: a story with which we are well-acquainted from so many other places throughout the world.





The Atlantean Hypothesis





When we first began to research the mystery of Rennes-le-Chateau full-time, we could not possibly have conceived that our inquiries would lead to the lost continent of Atlantis. We were familiar with the writings on Atlantis by Plato, Ignatius Donnelly, and others, but we considered the story to be little more than a curious (though fascinating) episode from mythology. Over the course of a number of years, however, our researches would repeatedly point back to the lost island kingdom. Following the evidence to where it lead us, we began to compile a compelling array of material in support of the Atlantis hypothesis, much of which has already been discussed. In the years that ensued, we began to find it increasingly plausible that Atlantis could very well play a key role in this whole mystery. In time, we would come to have our suspicions confirmed - and confirmed by the most unexpected source: the Priory of Sion itself.






1 For those desirous of further proof connecting Enoch with Noah, Waddell refers readers to the 1920s edition of Encyclopedia Britannica, page 623.





2 This also shows a correspondence with the Islamic “Allah”, who was originally known as “Tualla.”


3 Short for “Marud” or “Nimarud”, alternate titles of Kan.





4 The discovery of such artifacts as a doll bearing a Roman inscription, and dated in the thirteenth century AD indicate that people must have come to this place after a period of many centuries. The Phoenicians and Minoans could well have known of this site from the legends of an ancestor who had visited it far earlier - the figure remembered by the Mayans as Kukulkan.








5 The names “Oannes” and “Osiris” have nearly the same meaning. The “es” and “is” at the end equate with the Sumerian “Ash”, meaning “Lord.” The “an” in “Oannes” means “god.” The “sir” in “Osiris” equates with the Sumerian “Sar” or “Sha”, meaning “king” or “god.” It is from this root that we derive “Shah”, the aristocratic title of “Sir”, and the royal appellation of “Sire.” In many ancient languages an “o” or a “u” meant “sun”, and can be seen in the titles of numerous solar deities. So both “Oannes” and “Osiris” are titles very much consistent with those used by South America’s deified kings, albeit perhaps somewhat less verbose.





6 In the elder Norse Eddas, Wodan was represented as a Galdur, a word synonymous with “sorcerer.” But Galdur’s real meaning was simply “Chaldee” or “Chaldean.” Remember that the Church of Joseph of Arimathea in Glastonbury was called early on the “Culdee Church.” And it was said that the first followers of Christ in England, “were the pure Culdees [Chaldeans.]” Remember too that certain Biblical patriarchs were Chaldean Abraham, for instance was from the Chaldean capital of Ur. There is an Indian tribe in South America called the Uru, and even orthodox scholars can’t help but comment on the seeming connection between the words Ur and Uru. But few dare comment on the similarity between Votan and the Northern European Wotan. Those who do, do so only in passing, and then only to dismiss the possibility of any apparent correlation. Their logic seems to be that the same figure couldn’t conceivably play a role in two separate and distinct cultures. But their logic is faulty.








7 The same ideogram has been found in Egypt, Crete, Etruria, Brazil, and on various pre-historic megaliths.


8 It is interesting to note that the word “apis” means “bull” in some ancient languages, and “bee” in others.


9 There is also a native American tribe in the region called Aymara, suggestive of Amaru or Amuru, descendants of Muru (Cain.) Furthermore, the East Indian king lists record that Enoch/Naksha had a grandson named “Puru.”








10 Mythology (particularly Greek mythology) abounds with tales of gods seducing or raping queens and princesses. It is a major thematic element.


11 If the number were even 2,000,000, to kill them all would take a year’s time, even if 230 were killed per hour, 24 hours a day, every single day.













The first Eden