By Joscelyn Godwin
ISBN-10: 1594772622
ISBN-13: 9781594772627
Looking to resolve many of the interpretations of Atlantis and its kindred myths of Lemuria and Mu, Professor Joscelyn Godwin indicates how the legends of Atlantis pass hand-in-hand with the idea that of cyclical background, reminiscent of the Vedic approach of the 4 Yugas, the Mayan calendar with its 2012 end-date, the theosophical process of root races, and the precession of the equinoxes.
This examine completely reports the rationalist and occultist writings on Atlantis together with the paintings of G. I. Gurdjieff, Julius Evola, Edgar Cayce, Dion Fortune, and Rene Guenon. It additionally examines the similar themes of reincarnation, human evolution, the origins of race, and disaster theory.
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Extra resources for Atlantis and the Cycles of Time: Prophecies, Traditions, and Occult Revelations
Sample text
So I say, to myself, Girlfriend, get a grip on yourself, and you say, What’s Hawai’i got to do with anything? It’s where my parents live, I reply and remember going to my mother’s favorite Japanese restaurant, the one with the fishpond in Kaimuki. My brother’s there, too, and his son, like an Easter chick with his closely cropped blond hair, my mother picking at her food, as usual, and I notice how much we all look alike, which is kind of wonderful and hideous at the same time. While we have pupus and drinks, Tommy and I discuss the sushi menu, quail eggs, octopus, mahi mahi, sea urchin, a California roll or two, futomaki, and it’s raining torrents, seismic undulating sheets of water from the sky, tsunamis of rain, as if the world were ending, umbrellas useless, and I remember another restaurant, another storm, vivid as life, a man across the room abandoning this world, the space between us parting like a curtain, paramedics extricating his body from the tangle of chairs, his friends yelling, and the world plodding on, while everyone we love is zipped into the cool black plastic cocoon of death.
My brother’s there, too, and his son, like an Easter chick with his closely cropped blond hair, my mother picking at her food, as usual, and I notice how much we all look alike, which is kind of wonderful and hideous at the same time. While we have pupus and drinks, Tommy and I discuss the sushi menu, quail eggs, octopus, mahi mahi, sea urchin, a California roll or two, futomaki, and it’s raining torrents, seismic undulating sheets of water from the sky, tsunamis of rain, as if the world were ending, umbrellas useless, and I remember another restaurant, another storm, vivid as life, a man across the room abandoning this world, the space between us parting like a curtain, paramedics extricating his body from the tangle of chairs, his friends yelling, and the world plodding on, while everyone we love is zipped into the cool black plastic cocoon of death.
9, and as we walked every man we passed turned to stare, as a boy in Lecce pivots to gawk through thick glasses as we walk into town to take our seat on the Piazza Sant’Oronzo to watch the passegiata: hulking boys in black leather, girls in short architectural skirts, grandmothers in black strolling arm in arm with stooped husbands. People pass, we drink our aperitivi, and the moon rises like a spotlight on the amphitheater excavated in the twenties, littered now with used syringes, tufts of wildflowers, the effluvia of Fiats, la vita moderna, which we share with such terror and relish and to which we’ll soon return in Udine or wherever it is we live.
Atlantis and the Cycles of Time: Prophecies, Traditions, and Occult Revelations by Joscelyn Godwin
by John
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