The River of Ocean
                                       
   by

DWARDU CARDONA

     Dwardu Cardona is Senior Editor of Kronos and Founding Father (in
     absentia) of the Canadian Society for Interdisciplinary Studies.
     His writings have appeared in many publications including Topper,
     The Ubyssey, Pensee, Kronos, The Sourcebook Project, UFO Report,
     Frontiers of Science, C&AH, CSIS Newsletter, Workshop and Aeon.

   1. The Encircling Ocean

   Chris Boyles has stated that:

     "To suggest, for example, that serpents always represent a
     celestial body such as a comet is demonstrably false. Certainly a
     serpent may sometimes symbolize a comet; but it was also used to
     represent the ocean (e.g. the serpent of Midgard), both in the way
     in which the ocean was thought to encircle the land and as an
     explanation of the eternal rippling motion of the waves, so similar
     to that of a snake. Similarly it was used to explain the ructions
     of the earth's surface during an earthquake: snakes live in holes
     in the ground so what could be more logical (to the primitive mind)
     than that the rippling motion of a great subterranean worm was
     causing the surface movement? Snakes can be purely phallic symbols
     on occasion; or merely symbolic of fear itself, as powerful
     unconscious glyphs associated with darkness and chaos." [1]

   This view, as Boyles informed his readers through his reference, is
   based on that of Carl Gustav Jung [2] who believed in a collective
   unconscious that acted as a font of knowledge deposited there in
   primeval times. As preached by him, this primitive knowledge affects
   us to this day, colouring our concept of life and dictating the
   actions wherewith to live it. Jung, however, did not consider cosmic
   catastrophism and one can only speculate what role this would have
   played in his thoughts had he been convinced of the historicity of
   such events. As Immanuel Velikovsky stated of Jung's and Freud's
   thoughts:

     "In the light of these theories, we may well wonder to what extent
     the terrifying experiences of world catastrophes have become part
     of the human soul and how much, if any, of it can be traced in our
     beliefs, emotions, and behaviour as directed from the unconscious
     or subconscious strata of the mind." [3]

   In his reply to Boyles, Derek Shelley-Pearce wrote that it was
   difficult to accept

     "the uniformitarian premise that the serpent represented the ocean
     either in the sense that the ocean encircled the land or because of
     the "eternal rippling motion of the waves". These ideas are modern
     sophisticated literary devices and should not be imputed to
     primitive forms of thought." [4]

   True - but not quite. In as far as 'the eternal rippling motion of the
   waves', and, I might add, 'the ructions of the earth's surface during
   an earthquake', are concerned, Shelley-Pearce is quite correct. These
   are 'modern sophisticated literary devices'. Not so, however, in the
   case of the 'ocean encircling the land'. As Boyles himself noted in
   reply:

     "In Norse mythology (i.e. that of a sea-oriented people) the great
     serpent of Midgard was practically synonymous with the encircling
     ocean." [5]

   Again, and as we shall see, one can say "not quite". But at least
   Boyles had the right general idea. Of course, the fact that the
   Norsemen were a 'sea-oriented people' has absolutely nothing to do
   with it since the belief of an 'encircling ocean' was close to being
   universal. Even so, as I pointed out when I first entered this
   discussion, 'Boyles should also ask himself what "ocean" and what
   "land"... the ancients were referring to.' [6]

   Whether Shelley-Pearce was inspired by my question, which was not
   asked in idleness, or not, he placed his finger on the truth when he
   next wrote:

     "Boyles talks of the serpent of Midgard as being used as a metaphor
     for many phenomena and that it was 'practically synonymous with the
     encircling ocean...' and quite possibly 'occasionally used to
     symbolise a comet or comet-like body'. There is no denying that the
     metaphor developed, but this begs the question why. Metaphors had
     their roots in concrete experience, and the 'encircling ocean'
     would appear most inappropriate as the concrete experience that
     gave rise to the 'Midgard serpent'... unless, of course, the
     encircling ocean ... associated with the Saturnian waters ... is
     intended." [7]

   But what, then, were these Saturnian waters?

   2. Jormungand

   In Worlds in Collision, the serpent of Midgard is touched upon
   briefly. According to Velikovsky, the 'battle of Mars and Venus is
   presented, in the Icelandic epos, as a fight between the wolf Fenris
   and the serpent Midgard.' He gives a short description of this battle
   in which the 'bright snake gaping in the heaven above' clashes with
   'the foaming wolf', during which the fire caused by the flaming
   encounter 'leaps high above heaven itself'. It is also written that
   'the heaven is cloven', the 'hot stars down from the heaven are
   whirled', that 'the sun turns black', and 'earth sinks in the sea'.
   [8]

   This sounds like a classic example of a celestial battle between
   forces of nature in which the heavenly bodies were directly involved.
   And in truth it is - albeit only part of a more extensive fray. Even
   so, a lot can be said against Velikovsky's interpretation of it.

   Not that it matters much but, for one thing, the serpent in question
   was not really called Midgard, as Velikovsky implies when he refers to
   him as 'the serpent Midgard'. He should rightly be called the serpent
   of Midgard; his name was Jormungand [9].

   Much worse than that, as Bob Forrest pointed out [10], while there
   were various other protagonists involved in the fray [11], Fenris and
   Jormungand did not battle one another - they fought on the same side
   against the gods. How, then, could their involvement have represented
   Venus and Mars in near-collision? To be sure, all of the Icelandic
   deities took part in this prolonged drama. If these deities are to be
   interpreted as having being planetary, as indeed they must, we are
   left with a situation, very much like that of Homer's Iliad [12], in
   which all of the planets visible to the naked eye must have been
   involved. This is not what Velikovsky portrayed as having taken place
   during the catastrophes of the 8th and 7th centuries BC.

   Furthermore, nothing is said in the original about 'the bright snake
   gaping in the heaven above'. The line in question, from the Voluspa,
   simply has Jormungand gaping 'to' heaven above [13]. This mistake
   probably stems from Velikovsky's carelessness. Velikovsky, it must be
   noted, copied his material in longhand and it is quite obvious that he
   often misread his own handwriting. This is evident not only from the
   above but also from another line in the Voluspa which he rendered as
   'fierce grows the stream' [14] when, in fact, the original reads
   'fierce grows the steam' [15].

   Although the foregoing may seem like splitting hairs, the error in
   question is not exactly inconsequential. The restitution of 'to heaven
   above' in lieu of Velikovsky's 'in the heaven above', tends to remove
   the fray from the sphere of heaven, as Forrest also correctly pointed
   out [16]. (The falling 'stars' and darkened 'sun' do not necessarily
   imply that the clash took place among them but only that 'sun' and
   'stars' were affected by it. In a mythological sense, this is quite
   acceptable). Granted - the cosmic stage of this gotterdammerung can
   still be inferred through comparison with similar epics from other
   parts of the world, but that is beside the point.

   What, then, is the truth about the serpent of Midgard? Of the
   encounter discussed above, I will say nothing further since this is a
   topic that is best reserved for a separate paper. What concerns us in
   this discussion is the identity of Jormungand. Who, or what, did this
   entity represent?

   [*!* Image: Circular serpent motif on the interior of a food basin
   from Sikyatki in the South-western United States. Reproduced from The
   Saturn Myth [26] with the kind permission of David N. Talbott]

   [*!* Image: The water-enclosing serpent from the Codex Cortesianus
   (illustration: D. Cardona)]

   3. The Encircling Serpent

   Jormungand was called the serpent of Midgard because he encircled
   Midgard. This came about when Odin, fearful of Jormungand's
   ever-growing stature flung, the serpent into the sea that surrounded
   Midgard [17]. There the serpent continued to grow until, like the sea
   itself, he completely circumscribed Midgard 'and was able to grasp his
   own tail' [18]. For that reason the serpent of Midgard also became
   known as the Weltumspanner, which means the
   'Stretcher-round-the-World' [19].

   The first thing we notice is that, as far as this particular myth is
   concerned, the serpent and the sea were different entities. Strictly
   speaking, one can say that there goes Boyles's assertion that 'the
   great serpent of Midgard was practically synonymous with the
   encircling ocean'.

   Secondly, and in keeping with the above, I wish to draw attention to
   the fact that the sea, or ocean, surrounded Midgard before Jormungand
   did.

   Thirdly, it must be noted that 'Midgard' is usually translated as
   'earth' or 'the world' [20]. This, unfortunately, is a trait peculiar
   to mythologists who often ignore the fact that mythology speaks of
   more than one 'earth', as it does of more than one 'heaven', the names
   of which are often individually supplied even though just as often
   collectively glossed over by most translators.

   And fourthly, it is of significance that Jormungand was flung into the
   sea by Odin who, in his origin, was the deity of the planet Saturn
   [21].

   The motif of the encircling serpent, grasping, or biting, its own tail
   is not unique to the Voluspa. We meet with the same symbolism half way
   around the world in MesoAmerica. As Hartley Alexander stated, the
   Aztecs thought of the sea 'as a circumambient Great Serpent' [22].
   Again, this is not strictly true since what the Aztecs portrayed, as
   in the Codex Cortesianus, was an ocean-encircling serpent (once
   mistaken for a rain-containing serpent [23]). In other words, very
   much as in the case of Jormungand, the Aztec serpent and the ocean
   were different entities, the one surrounding the other.

   In view of Shelley-Pearce's statement that 'metaphors had their roots
   in concrete experience', one is led to ask: what is there in the ocean
   that inspires the image of a serpent encircling it with tail in mouth?
   Why should such a bizarre notion be commonly found in such widespread
   and such dissimilar societies? And why would it have persisted well
   into the Christian era?

   The Gnostics were the great synthesisers of the Christian world when
   still in its infancy. They incorporated into the faith of their
   various sects whatever belief was still current in their day. Thus it
   is not unusual to discover in their writings an amalgamation of
   Christian and classical mythological motifs. In the Pistis Sophia,
   Jesus himself is made to state: 'The outer darkness is a great
   serpent, the tail of which is in its mouth' [24]. So, similarly, in
   The Acts of Thomas where a lowly snake miraculously speaks to the
   Apostle, uttering to him these words:

     "I am son of him who girds the sphere about; and I am a kinsman of
     him who is outside the ocean, whose tail is set in his own mouth
     ...." [25]

   Again we notice that ocean and serpent are spoken of as different,
   even though closely related, entities. A serpent 'who is outside the
   ocean' cannot be that ocean. This makes us think that A. J. Wensinck
   was trapped by the symbology, much as Alexander and Boyles were, when
   he presented the 'commonest image of the ocean' among the Hebrews and
   the Arabs to have been 'that of a serpent' [26].

   It was (or should I say is?) no different with the Muslims who declare
   that when the Kaaba was founded, a 'glittering' serpent wound itself
   around it 'so that its tail approached its head' [27].

   [*!* Image: Hindu circular serpent, enclosing the bindu, or central
   sun. Reproduced from The Saturn Myth [26] with the kind permission of
   David N. Talbott]

   [*!* Image: The planet Saturn, 'encircled with a RING, formed of
   serpents,' a plate in Vol. VII of Indian Antiquities by Thomas Maurice
   (London, 1800). Illustration: D. Rohl]

   This last takes us a step closer to the truth. As I indicated in a
   recent paper, the Kaaba was erected as an earthly symbol of Saturn
   [28]. A serpent encircling the Kaaba would then signify one encircling
   Saturn. This immediately makes us think of the ring(s) encircling that
   planet. Was it the ring around the primeval Saturn that was viewed by
   ancient man as a circumscribing serpent?

   Muslim legend also states that 'Allah surrounded [his throne] by a
   serpent ... this serpent wound itself around the throne' [29]. Have I
   not elsewhere intimated that 'the pre-Islamic Allah was also a form of
   Saturn' [30]? Thus a serpent encircling Allah, or his throne, would
   also be symbolic of one surrounding Saturn.

   It seems, then, that we are on the right track and this becomes all
   the more evident when we consider the words of the Greek philosopher
   Epicurus. 'The All', he stated, 'was from the beginning like an egg,
   and the pneuma in serpent wise around the egg was then a tight band as
   a wreath or belt around the universe' [31].

   Let not the word 'universe' confuse the issue. By 'universe' is meant
   kosmos which, in Greek thought, denoted 'order' and 'harmony'. The
   Pythagoreans also believed that the serpent 'lies around the Cosmos'
   [32]. That the 'All' was universally believed to have once been
   contained in the Cosmic Egg I have also documented and there the
   conclusion was again reached that this Cosmic Egg was symbolic of
   Saturn [33]. Note that the pneuma was not only compared by Epicurus to
   a serpent but also to a band, a wreath, and a belt - all apt analogies
   of a ring around a planet.

   I hope no-one will object to the fact that I have drawn upon my own
   work in these last three instances. That the Kaaba, Allah, and the
   Cosmic Egg all stood for Saturn is sufficiently demonstrated in the
   essays referenced above where additional evidence from other sources
   and other authorities is amply supplied. Besides, the reader should
   also ask himself: is it merely coincidence that the serpent was
   believed to have circumscribed these three dissimilar entities which,
   on independent evidence, have all been identified as symbolising
   Saturn?

   [*!* Image: The Cosmic Serpent encircles Hermopolis.

   Reproduced from R. T. Rundle Clark: Myth and Symbol in Ancient Egypt,
   (Thames & Hudson, London, 1959), p. 53. Clark notes that 'Hermopolis
   is here the original state of the world rather than the actual city in
   Middle Egypt.']

   4. Among the Most Ancient of Symbols

   How old is the lore of the encircling serpent?

   Donald Mackenzie wrote that 'in Coptic literature the Apep serpent is
   a monster which lies in outer darkness encircling the world and
   clutching its tail between its jaws, like the Midgard serpent of Norse
   mythology.' [34] In a sequel paper I will explain in more detail how a
   serpentine band once seen encircling Saturn came to be said to have
   encircled the world. Meanwhile we note that Apep did his encircling
   'in outer darkness' which accords well with the outer darkness of the
   blackened night sky when the serpent would have appeared at his
   brightest.

   The Apep serpent, of course, derived from Egypt. So let us turn to the
   lore of that ancient land to see what else we can discover. In Egypt,
   Apep, or Apepi, was the great fiend and enemy of Ra. In a magical rite
   prescribed for the defeat of Apepi 'a man had to make the figure of a
   serpent with his tail in his mouth', stick a knife in its back and
   cast it upon the ground [35]. In Worlds in Collision it is insinuated
   that Apopi, the same as Apepi, symbolised the proto-planet Venus [36].
   But what circumstance could have turned Venus, even in its cometary
   form, into the image of a circular serpent with its tail in its mouth?
   Besides, was not the encircling serpent also associated with the
   Saturnian deity in Egyptian symbolism?

   There are three major Egyptian deities (among others) who, on
   independent evidence, have been identified as ancient personifications
   of Saturn: Atum, Ra, and Osiris [37]. Do we find the encircling
   serpent associated with any of these gods?

   That Atum was associated with the circular serpent is well known. This
   serpent is made to announce: 'I bent right around, I was encircled in
   my coils' [38]. In one of the Coffin Texts, the god himself recalls
   the time when he was still 'in the midst of the serpent coil' [39].
   The Pyramid Texts, through the inscription of which the deceased
   pharaoh aimed to attain unity with the god, state: 'The King lies down
   in your coil, the King sits in your circle' [40]. This, again, more
   than intimates that the encircling serpent was analogous to the god's
   circle or ring.

   Likewise, as David Talbott indicated, Ra was lauded as the 'dweller in
   his fiery serpent' just as he was also deemed the 'dweller in the
   fiery circle' [41]. Here the 'fiery' aspect of the serpent is akin to
   the 'bright' or 'shining' nature of the snake in other myths. The
   analogy to a bright circle of light can hardly be escaped. To this
   corresponds the 'fiery circle' within which Ra was said to have
   dwelled. And does not the very glyph for Ra depict a dot surrounded by
   a serpent? Those who see Ra as symbolic of the Sun have this conundrum
   to explain. If the dot signified the solar orb, what then was the
   serpent surrounding it? If, on the other hand, it was the circular
   serpent that stood for the Sun, what significance did the central dot
   play?

   As for Osiris, mythologists have long recognised that 'in him the
   circle of the serpent was completed' [42]. This god was lauded as he
   who was 'round as the circle that encircles Hauenaba' [43]. As M.
   Howie stated: 'Osiris was thus the serpent (dragon) that, lying in the
   ocean, encircled the world' [44]. Of course, Howie was as mistaken as
   other mythologists in identifying the encircled object as 'the world'
   when, in effect, the myths themselves signify nothing of the sort.
   Mackenzie also saw Osiris 'as the water-confining serpent' [45]. In
   later times, when Osiris was joined to Apis to create the fused deity
   known as Serapis, his image, as depicted on Egyptian tombs, was often
   encircled by serpents [46]. It can thus be seen that the encircling
   serpent is among the most ancient of symbols.

   [*!* Image: Alaskan circular serpent, indicating close relationship to
   enclosed sun. Reproduced from The Saturn Myth [26] with the kind
   permission of David N. Talbott]

   5. The Celestial Sea

   If the encircling serpent is to be understood as the original ring or
   band that encircled the primeval Saturn, the ocean it surrounded must
   likewise have been celestial. More than that, it, also, must have been
   associated with Saturn in some way. What can we learn in this respect
   from ancient lore?

   Actually, the belief in the one-time existence of a celestial sea runs
   the gamut from Oceania to Mesopotamia. In the 'Genealogies of the
   Gods' of Tahiti this celestial sea was the domain of a deity named
   Rua. Among other epithets, this god was known as
   Rua-of-the-ocean-in-the-sky [47].

   Despite the objections that might be raised by etymologists, we shall
   note the similarity between the name of this Tahitian god, Rua, and
   that of the Egyptian Ra whom we have already seen identified as a
   personification of Saturn. That divine names fit a linguistic pattern
   outside the artificial constraints erected by etymologists is also
   indicated by the African names of a pair of primeval deities. A
   Creation myth from that continent states:

     "At first there was no earth. There was Okun, the ocean, stretching
     over all things. Above the ocean was Olorun, the sky. Okun and
     Olorun contained all and possessed all things that there were."
     [48]

   [*!* Image: a. Encircling serpent in China. Shang dynasty: 1600 BC

   b. The encircling serpent, biting its own tail, prototype of the later
   dragon. Shang dynasty: 1600 BC]

   In the names Okun and Olorun we recognise a philological root that is
   also contained in the names of their Greek counterparts, namely
   Okeanos (Oceanus or Ocean, of whom more below) and Ouranos (Uranus).
   In their containing 'all things that there were', we also recognise
   the same principle contained in the myths of the Cosmic Egg to which
   we paid but passing heed above. Of course, if Olorun was the
   equivalent of Uranus, he could not have been the sky. As I have
   indicated previously,

     "etymologically, Uranus has been identified with the Indian god
     Varuna, whom the Rig Veda equates with Agni and thus,
     inadvertently, with Saturn" [49].

   (The name Saturn here refers to the Saturnian configuration which
   included other planetary members. As a member of this configuration,
   Agni might additionally have stood for Mars which was 'embedded' in
   the configuration's polar column [50]). Complementary to this, the
   same Rig Veda informs us that Agni was the sea: 'He only [Agni] is the
   sea, holder of treasures' [51]. Likewise, Varuna was known as the lord
   of the waters [52], these being recognised as having been the waters
   of the sky [53]. Thus it is written:

     "He [Varuna] is an ocean far removed, yet through the heaven to him
     ascends the worship which these realms possess" [54].

   The celestial ocean is often mentioned in ancient Egyptian hymns and
   liturgies [55]. In Egypt, this celestial ocean was deified and called
   Nu, or Nun. That Nun was a celestial, as opposed to a terrestrial,
   ocean is evidenced by the word's hieroglyphic rendition which combines
   the glyphs for 'water' and 'heaven' [56]. It was from Nun that Atum,
   whom we have seen identified as Saturn, was said to have been born
   [57]. If these waters preceded the appearance, or formation, or coming
   to visibility of Atum/Saturn, they could not have symbolised the
   primeval ring around that planet as some catastrophist researchers
   have assumed. The ring, or band, which was later personified by the
   encircling serpent, was formed later.

   In Assyro-Babylonian thought, the role of Nun was played by Apsu [58],
   whose name meant 'one who exists from the beginning'. This meaning is
   in keeping with our belief that the celestial sea existed before the
   formation of Saturn's primeval band. And, in fact, in the myths of
   'beginning' (much too numerous to be enumerated here [59]) that can be
   garnered from one end of the world to the other, the celestial waters
   were said to have preceded Creation itself. In other words, the waters
   existed prior to the Saturnian configuration, with its rings, column,
   etc, that was created from the previously solitary Saturnian orb.

   Back in 1978 I was guilty of presenting these waters as having been
   terrestrial - as having gathered at the Earth's north polar region in
   a colossal tide raised in gravitational response to Saturn's close,
   and stationary, proximity overhead [60]. Thus I mistakenly presented
   the Cosmic Egg as having hovered above these waters rather than having
   floated on them as the myths insisted. I have not quite abandoned the
   notion of a piled-up hydrosphere but it has become quite evident since
   then that the primeval ocean of which the myths so consistently speak
   was truly celestial.

   As Shelley-Pearce so astutely reminded us, 'metaphors had their roots
   in concrete experience'. What, then, was the 'concrete experience'
   that gave rise to the belief in these celestial waters, this ocean,
   this sea? As Roger Ashton indicated in 1981, despite his recent change
   of mind [61], there must have been 'some celestial phenomenon
   resembling shimmering waters, possibly an auroral effect', surrounding
   the primeval solitary Saturnian orb in the darkness prior to its
   flare-up [62]. As he also elsewhere stated, 'part of that assemblage
   must have looked like waters, whose implicitly or explicitly celestial
   character has severally been noted' and that these 'waters evidently
   appeared in a distinct image or pattern' [63]. When the serpent
   encircled the sea, it was this shimmering phenomenon that the newly
   created Saturnian ring enclosed. Whether this 'shimmering', as per
   Ashton, was due to an auroral effect, a fine gaseous outflow, or a
   nimbus created by Earth's atmospheric filtering of Saturn's radiated
   light, is something that has yet to be ascertained. But that something
   of the sort existed there seems to be no doubt.

Apsu as the heavenly ocean

   See cover photograph: stone tablet from Abu Habbah (BM 91000)
   depicting Nabuaplaiddin being presented to Shamash enthroned within
   his shrine. James B. Pritchard: The Ancient Near East in Pictures
   Relating to the Old Testament (Princeton, 1969) comments:

     "Within the shrine are the emblems of the crescent (Sin), sun-disc
     (Shamash), and the eight-pointed star (Ishtar), their
     identifications appearing in the inscription over the top of the
     shrine. Below the entire scene are wavy lines in which four stars
     are set, a representation of the heavenly ocean (apsu)."

   6. Okeanos

   Without wishing to confuse the issue, I must now absolve Boyles for
   having misrepresented the serpent of Midgard as being 'practically
   synonymous with the encircling ocean'. As we have seen, this
   misconception derived from others. Wensinck and Alexander, as was
   stated above, were trapped by the symbology; beyond that, their
   confusion owes part of its cause to language and centres around the
   very word 'ocean'.

   In the Latin version of the Apocalypse of Paul, which is different
   from the Coptic work of the same name discovered in the Nag Hammadi
   Library [64], the Apostle Paul is taken on a tour of heaven by an
   angel. Paul is made to narrate the events and, at one point, he states
   the following:

     "And I set out with the angel and he brought me towards the setting
     of the sun, and I saw the beginning of Heaven, founded on a great
     river of water, and I asked: "What is this river of water?" And he
     said to me: "This is the ocean which encircles the whole earth"."
     [65]

   We notice here that the 'ocean' is described as a 'river of water'.
   This, then, could not be the ocean as we know it. And in fact,
   elsewhere, the Apostle Paul is also made to state:

     "And he [the angel] set me upon the river whose source springs up
     in the circle of heaven, and it is this river which encircleth the
     whole earth. And he says unto me: "This river is Ocean." " [66]

   And there, in effect, we have it. Apart from the now obvious reference
   to the 'circle of heaven', we learn that 'Ocean' was the name of the
   encircling river. It was not the sea. Whence came this idea?

   We have not far to seek. In the Theogony it is told how Gaea and
   Uranus begot a son whom Hesiod described as 'deep-whirling Okeanos'
   [67]. Elsewhere in the epic poem Okeanos is described as a 'circling
   stream' [68], the stream itself being alluded to as that 'of famous
   Okeanos' [69]. According to Homer, it was this stream called Okeanos
   that girdled the world [70]. Robert Graves now tells us that 'Homer's
   myth is a version of the Pelasgian creation story' in which the role
   of Okeanos (also rendered Oceanus) was played by Ophion [71]. The
   Pelasgian Ophion, of course, was our old friend the encircling
   serpent, who was said to have coiled himself around the Cosmic, or
   Universal, Egg [72].

   Here then we have the answer to the confusion mentioned above. Okeanos
   was the name of the stream that girdled what mythologists have termed
   'the Earth' or 'the world'. This stream was equivalent to the
   encircling serpent. If the encircling serpent signified the ring
   around the primeval Saturnian orb, then so did this stream called
   Okeanos. What is ironic is that the very same issue of SIS Workshop
   that carried Boyles's response to Shelley-Pearce, and which contained
   the statement concerning the synonymity of the serpent of Midgard with
   the encircling ocean, already contained a decisive clue. Thus Hugh
   Crosthwaite wrote: 'One is tempted to speculate on what Oceanus
   (Akkadian 'uggina', a circle) originally was' [73]. The answer is
   given in his own speculation: a circle - the ring around the planet
   Saturn.

   The confusion was of course compounded by the rendering of Okeanos as
   Oceanus and even Ocean. Given that Okeanos was the origin of our
   English word 'ocean', mythologists have often been guilty of equating
   the Greek deity with the present terrestrial ocean. Thus the serpent
   of Midgard could be said to have been synonymous with the river called
   Ocean but not with the ocean of terrestrial realm.

   It should also be obvious from all this that Okeanos had nothing to do
   with the celestial sea called Nun or any of his equivalents. Saturn
   was said to have been born out of the celestial sea; on the other
   hand, it was from Saturn that Okeanos was created.

   If not Nun, who, or what, denoted the river Okeanos in Egyptian myth?
   Among other Egyptian names, this entity was known as shen. In the
   Pyramid Texts the hieroglyph for shen is utilised to denote the 'Great
   Circle' or 'Ring' that served as the divine boundary in heaven; and
   yet it was also called the 'Surrounding Ocean' [74]. It was upon, or
   around, this circular stream or ocean in the sky that Ra, who was
   Saturn, was said to have sailed [75]. The same celestial circuit was
   also alluded to as 'the Circle of Bright Flame' [76]. And, to clinch
   the matter, it is elsewhere written that this very same path over
   which the god's bark sailed was the back of the serpent Apepi [77].

   Needless to say, if the primordial Saturnian orb was stationary in the
   north celestial sphere as Talbott, Cochrane and I maintain, it could
   not have 'sailed' around anything. In truth it was the bark - i.e. the
   sunlit crescent of the Saturnian ring - that 'sailed' around once
   daily as the Earth turned.

   [*!* Image: China: the evolving dragon, still shown in his encircling
   form. Han dynasty: 206 BC]

   [*!* Image: The encircling serpent (Shang dynasty: 1600 BC) -
   prototype of both the dragon and the phoenix, symbolising the cosmic
   wind. For the connection between this wind and the Saturnian
   configuration see The Saturn Myth [26], pp.217-219, 22, 225 & 309. ]

   [*!* Image: The Saturnian Configuration. Reproduced with the kind
   permission of David N. Talbott]

   7. Venus and Velikovsky

   In an earlier paper published in SIS Workshop I registered my doubt
   that the first appearance of Venus was ever recorded by anyone [78].
   That was in 1983. Much research has been conducted since then and the
   picture is now clearer even if the Saturnian scenario has become
   somewhat more bizarre.

   As it transpired, it was just a little later that same year when Ev
   Cochrane shared with me a re-discovery that constitutes one of the
   most brilliant insights concerning the history of Saturn's polar
   configuration. According to Cochrane, Venus was first seen plumb in
   the centre of the Saturnian orb [79]. David Talbott, who had
   previously believed Venus to have been positioned behind Saturn before
   it lowered itself [80], has welcomed this revelation [81]. In brief,
   this new, and tentative, unfolding of Saturnian history is as follows:

   Saturn, Venus and Mars seem to have been strung out, in that order, on
   the same line, sharing a rotational axis above Earth's north polar
   sky, in what Frederic Jueneman has jocularly described as a planetary
   shish-kebab [82]. It was thus that, as seen from the Earth, the small
   Venerian disc occupied the dead centre of the Saturnian orb.

   During one of many stupendous catastrophes which beset the Saturnian
   configuration, Venus was ejected from the common axis of rotation. As
   seen from terrestrial perspective, it commenced to circle around the
   centre while trailing an enormous cometary tail in an ever widening
   spiral behind it. As it widened its orbit, Venus was seen to move
   outside the Saturnian orb while it continued to circle its parent.
   According to Talbott, this was the moving image that gave rise to the
   belief in the serpent's banishment into the void outside. This would
   accord well with the flinging of Jormungand by Odin/Saturn into the
   'shimmering' of the celestial sea surrounding Midgard. As Cochrane and
   Talbott developed the theme [83], the cometary tail of Venus continued
   to widen its spiral until it eventually 'congealed' into a toroid ring
   visually seen to enclose Saturn. (This 'torus-cloud' could not,
   however, have been suspended above Saturn as Talbott had earlier
   surmised [84]). Thus Jormungand was seen to grasp his own tail while
   enclosing the celestial sea within his coils. In similar analogy,
   Okeanos completed the circle of his flowing stream.

   The answer to the question posed earlier now becomes clear: the
   serpent of Midgard was a cometary entity; this comet was Venus; it was
   synonymous with the encircling stream called Ocean (but not the ocean
   of the terrestrial realm); as it also was the primordial ring around
   the Saturnian orb.

   Whether this scenario is valid in all its details is too early to
   tell. Personally, having grown cautious with the passing years, and
   not yet having had time to evaluate its various aspects, I can best
   recommend it for further study. And, in any case, at the time of
   writing, the finer details of this scheme are still waiting to be
   divulged.

   If proven valid, the above view would mean that Velikovsky was not
   mistaken when he identified both the serpent of Midgard and Apopi as
   personifications of cometary Venus. Not that Velikovsky had any
   inkling of the role Venus might have played in relation to the
   Saturnian configuration and, if the truth must be known, he was
   emphatic in repudiating the scenario that Talbott and I independently
   reconstructed. It is also noteworthy that, in all of Worlds in
   Collision, he did not offer one iota of evidence in support of the
   Venerian identification of these two entities. How, then, could he
   have turned out to be correct? In view of his entirely different
   theory concerning the genesis of the Venus-comet, one can only surmise
   that he hit these nails squarely on the head through nothing but
   intuition. Even so, as it is often said, intuition is the hallmark of
   great minds.

   Over and above Cochrane's disclosure of the Venerian role in all this,
   it should be stressed that the encircling serpent and the encircling
   stream are not the only, and perhaps not the best, analogies of the
   primordial Saturnian band that the ancient observers of the phenomenon
   passed on to posterity. As evidence of what was once seen in the
   northern hemisphere of the sky, these analogies are but two of a
   multitudinous collection of recorded observations as transmitted by
   tradition. A case for the close proximity of Saturn with its
   encircling ring(s) can hardly be made from just the foregoing, but to
   enumerate all the available data on the subject is beyond the scope of
   a single paper and comes close to being beyond the scope of a single
   volume. Nor must it be assumed that the encircling serpent and the
   encircling stream were chosen as the subjects of this paper merely to
   show where Boyles went astray since that was farthest from my mind. It
   is only that the discussion his statements instigated have afforded me
   a chance to broach this fascinating subject - which I thought to share
   with the readers of this journal.

   [*!* Image: China: the encircling serpent evolving into the phoenix,
   symbolising the cosmic wind, with the Saturnian urbild in the centre.
   Han dynasty: 206 BC]

   References
   1. C. Boyles: 'Velikovsky's Methodology: Accepting the Premise', SIS
   Workshop 6:1 (1985), p. 12 (emphasis as given)
   2. ibid, p. 13
   3. I. Velikovsky: Worlds in Collision, (N.Y., 1950), Epilogue
   4. D. Shelley-Pearce: 'Accepting Which Premise?', SIS Workshop 6:2
   (1985), p. 38
   5. C. Boyles: 'Which Premise?', SIS Workshop 6:3 (1986), p. 33
   6. D. Cardona: 'Planetary Worship', SIS Workshop 6:3, p. 12 (emphasis
   in original)
   7. D. Shelley-Pearce: 'Which Premise - Continued', C & C Workshop
   1986:1, p. 40 (emphasis added)
   8. Velikovsky: op. cit., part II, chapter IV, 'Fenris-Wolf'
   9. M. Oldfield Howie: The Encircled Serpent, (N.Y., 1955), p. 400
   10. B. Forrest: Velikovsky's Sources, part 5, (Manchester, 1982), p.
   350
   11. H. A. Bellows: The Poetic Edda: Voluspa, (1923), in toto
   12. D. Cardona: 'Velikovsky's Sources: Pro et Con', Kronos XI:3
   (1986), pp. 86-87; Cardona: 'Planetary Identities: II - The Mythology
   of Homer', C & C Workshop 1989:1, pp. 4-7
   13. Voluspo: 55
   14. Velikovsky: loc. cit.
   15. Voluspo: 57
   16. Forrest: op. cit., p. 351
   17. H. R. E. Davidson: Gods and Myths of Northern Europe,
   (Harmondsworth, 1964), p. 32
   18. Howie: loc. cit.
   19. R. Brown, Jr.: Researches into the Origins of the Primitive
   Constellations, (Oxford, 1900), vol.II, p. 105
   20. Howie: loc. cit.; Davidson: loc. cit.
   21. D. Cardona: 'Odin', Kronos X:1, (1984), pp. 52-57
   22. H. B. Alexander: 'Latin American Mythology', Mythology of All
   Races, (N.Y., 1964), vol.XI, p. 57
   23. Howie: op. cit., p. 304
   24. E. A. W. Budge: The Gods of the Egyptians, (N.Y., 1904/1969),
   vol.I, p. 266
   25. W. Barnstone (ed.): The Other Bible, (San Franscisco, 1984), p.
   476
   26. A. J. Wensinck: 'The Ocean in the Literature of the Western
   Semites', Afdeeling Letterkunde XIX:2 as quoted by D. N. Talbott: The
   Saturn Myth, (N.Y., 1980), p. 167
   27. A. J. Wensinck: 'The Ideas of the Western Semites Concerning the
   Navel of the Earth', as quoted in Talbott: op. cit. [26], p. 168
   28. D. Cardona: 'The Kaaba', Kronos XII:3 (1988), p. 20, but see
   entire paper for a fuller understanding of the subject
   29. Wensinck: op. cit. [27]
   30. Cardona: op. cit. [28], p. 23
   31. R. B. Onians: The Origins of European Thought, (Cambridge, 1954),
   p. 250
   32. ibid: p. 332
   33. D. Cardona: 'Let There Be Light', Kronos III:3, (1978), pp. 35ff
   34. D. A. Mackenzie: Egyptian Myth and Legend, (N.Y., 1907/1978), pp.
   160-161
   35. Budge: op. cit. [24], p. 272
   36. Velikovsky: op. cit., part I, chapter II, 'The Red World'
   37. ibid: part I, chapter IX, 'Zeus and Athene'; I. Velikovsky: 'On
   Saturn and the Flood', Kronos V:1, (1979), pp. 4,5; W. Mullen: 'A
   Reading of the Pyramid Texts', Pensee IVR III, (1973), pp. 13ff; D.
   Cardona: 'The Sun of Night', Kronos III:1, (1977), pp. 37ff where Atum
   is referred to as Temu; Cardona: 'The Trouble with Aztex', Kronos
   XI:2, (1986), p. 31; D. Talbott: op. cit. [26], passim
   38. R. T. Rundle Clark: Myth and Symbol in Ancient Egypt, (N.Y.,
   1959), p. 51
   39. ibid
   40. D. N. Talbott: op. cit. [26], p. 164
   41. ibid
   42. M. O. Howie: op. cit., p. 24
   43. ibid
   44. ibid
   45. as quoted in ibid
   46. ibid
   47. T. Henry: Ancient Tahiti, (Honolulu, 1928), p. 358
   48. R. Van Over: Sun Songs, (N.Y., 1980), p. 221
   49. D. Cardona: 'Planetary Identities: II - The Mythology of Homer',
   C&C Workshop 1989:1, pp. 4-7, where additional references are cited
   50. D. N. Talbott: Saturn: Universal Monarch and Dying God (Research
   Communications Network special publication, 1977), p. 6
   51. Rig Veda X:5:1
   52. Linga-Purana I:58:3
   53. J. W. Perry: Lord of the Four Quarters: Myths of the Royal Father,
   (N.Y., 1970), p. 121
   54. Rig Veda VIII:41:8
   55. E. A. W. Budge: Osiris and the Egyptian Resurrection, (N.Y.,
   1911/1973), pp. 63, 158
   56. E. A. W. Budge: The Gods of the Egyptians, vol. I, (N.Y.,
   1904/1969), p. 283
   57. B. van de Walle: 'Egypt: Syncretism and State Religion', Larousse
   World Mythology, (London, 1972), p. 30
   58. M. Vieyra: 'Empires of the Ancient Near East: The Hymns of
   Creation', in ibid: pp. 58, 65; W. F. Albright: 'The Mouth of the
   Rivers', American Journal of Semitic Languages and Literatures XXXV:4,
   (1919), p. 167
   59. But see D. Cardona: 'Let There Be Light' [33] for some additional
   material on the subject
   60. ibid: pp. 38-39
   61. R. Ashton: 'The Unworkable Polar Saturn', Aeon I:3 (1988), pp.
   39ff
   62. R. Ashton: 'The Age of Purple Darkness' (unpublished), MS p. 8
   63. R. Ashton: 'Saturn, The First of the Gods' (unpublished, 1982), MS
   p. 17
   64. W. Barnstone: op. cit. [25], p. 538
   65. ibid: p. 542
   66. As quoted by W. F. Warren: Paradise Found, (Boston, 1885), p. 261
   67. Hesiod: Theogony, 116-146
   68. ibid: 209-242
   69. ibid: 271-299
   70. R. Graves: The Greek Myths, (Harmondsworth, 1964), vol.I, p. 30
   71. ibid
   72. ibid: p. 27
   73. H. Crosthwaite: 'Some Notes on Catastrophism in the Classics', SIS
   Workshop 6:3, (1986), p. 8
   74. R. T. Rundle Clark: op. cit., p. 127
   75. P. Renouf: The Egyptian Book of the Dead, (London, 1904), pp. 86,
   193
   76. E. A. W. Budge: The Egyptian Book of the Dead, (London, 1901), p.
   411. (NOTE: This information is not available in the earlier, 1895,
   edition and its 1967 republication)
   77. ibid: pp. 297-298
   78. D. Cardona: 'Saturn's Flare-Ups', SIS Workshop 5:1, (1983), p. 9
   79. E. Cochrane to D. Cardona, phone conversation, October 1983
   80. Privileged information
   81. D. Talbott: 'Mother Goddess and Warrior-Hero' Part One, Aeon I:5,
   (1988), pp. 38ff
   82. F. B. Jueneman to D. Cardona, Feb. 29th 1988, private communique
   83. D. Talbott & E. Cochrane: 'The Origin of Velikovsky's Comet',
   Kronos X:1, (1984), pp. 26ff; Talbott & Cochrane: 'On the Nature of
   Cometary Symbolism', Kronos XI:1, (1985), pp. 23ff; Talbott &
   Cochrane: 'When Venus Was a Comet', Kronos XII:1, (1987), pp. 2ff
   84. D. Talbott: 'Guidelines to the Saturn Myth', Kronos X:3, (1985),
   p.51
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