According to Joseph Campbell, we have always sought to answer metaphysical questions through **myths**. When faced with the vast unknown—our own existence, the forces of nature, the inescapability of death—we have turned not to data, but to **stories**. These myths have evolved over time, shifting with the tides of human civilisation, but their purpose remains unchanged: to **impose meaning upon uncertainty**, to weave order out of chaos, to give us a script for our place in the cosmos. ## The Way of the Animal Powers The earliest of these stories emerged in the upper Palaeolithic, when hunter-gatherers lived in a world where nature itself was infused with divine presence. The **way of the animal powers** was the dominant mythological system. Life was not something separate from the sacred—it was the sacred. The hunt was not mere survival; it was a ritual of cosmic participation. Shamans acted as intermediaries between the human and spirit worlds, negotiating with the unseen forces that governed life, health, and fertility. At the heart of these mythologies was sacrifice—an eternal exchange between man and beast. The animals provided sustenance, but they were not mere prey; they were equals in a divine drama, a cycle of death and renewal. The great hunting animals—bison, deer, mammoths—were revered, their spirits placated through ritual offerings. The cave paintings of Lascaux and Chauvet were not primitive decorations but sacred spaces, attempts to commune with the forces that governed existence. [^1] ## The Way of the Seeded Earth Then, around 10,000 BCE, the world changed. The Ice Age receded, the great herds diminished, and humanity turned its gaze downward—to the soil. Agriculture transformed the structure of human life, and with it, the stories we told ourselves. The **way of the seeded earth** replaced the hunter’s mythologies. Now, the great divine force was not an animal spirit, but **Mother Earth** herself—giver of life, sustainer of harvests. The yearly cycle of planting, growing, and reaping became the dominant metaphor for existence. Life and death were no longer tied to the hunt but to the seasons. The Great Goddess, both nurturing and destructive, embodied this natural rhythm. She was the creator of life, but also its inevitable devourer. The male gods in this system played a supporting role—often as sons, lovers, or consorts of the Great Mother, who were sacrificed and resurrected with the crops. The Egyptian Osiris, the Mesopotamian Tammuz, the Greek Dionysus—each a reflection of the same underlying archetype. Life was cyclical, endlessly renewing itself through birth, death, and rebirth. [^2] ## The Way of the Celestial Lights Then, sometime around 3,000 BCE, a new mythological shift occurred. Civilisation had matured. Cities emerged, kings ruled, and humanity no longer lived at the mercy of the soil alone. We began to look upward. The **way of the celestial lights** took shape, as early astronomers learned to track the heavens and divine meaning from the stars. The movements of the sun, moon, and planets were no longer just lights in the sky—they were part of an intricate cosmic order, a divine mechanism. At the heart of this mythology stood the **Sun King**—a radiant ruler who mirrored the heavens, an earthly reflection of cosmic authority. His rule was not arbitrary; it was divinely ordained, as predictable and absolute as the motion of the planets. Pharaohs, emperors, and god-kings placed themselves at the center of these myths, embodying the order of the universe itself. Their courts became microcosms of the heavens, their cities designed to mirror celestial harmony. The **warrior gods** of this era were no longer sacrificial sons of the Great Mother—they were conquerors, lawgivers, architects of empire. Marduk, Zeus, Ra—their myths told of battles against chaos, of dragons slain and order imposed upon the unruly world. This was a mythology of control, of structure, of divine right. [^3] ## The Myths We Still Live By These myths did not vanish. They evolved, adapted, and embedded themselves into the fabric of our modern lives. Many still appeal to spirits and divinities for fertility, protection, or success. Millions re-enact rituals of death and resurrection. Countless others live under the rule of metaphorical **Sun Kings**—leaders whose power is absolute, their governance orchestrated with the precision of celestial mechanics. [^4] And before you hard-nosed empiricists shrug this off as ancient superstition, ask yourselves: What are you really doing when you read fairy tales to your children? When you tell them stories of magical beings, of heroes on quests, of hidden kingdoms and cosmic battles? What do you enact when you put up a Christmas tree in the darkest days of winter—an echo of the pagan evergreen, the promise of life amid death? What myth are you performing when you place a three-pointed star on the hood of your car, or chase after a life of material success under the radiant glow of a corporate logo? And when you devote most of your waking life to the god of productivity, sacrificing time, energy, and relationships on the altar of efficiency—are you not re-enacting the same age-old worship of celestial order? Myth is not something of the past. It is the unseen architecture of our present. We are all participants in a grand narrative, whether we acknowledge it or not. These myths endure because they serve a function—because they provide a framework for navigating the deepest kind of uncertainty. At their core, they attempt to answer the same unrelenting question: **Who am I? And why am I here?** [[Death|Next page]] ___ [^1]: Campbell, Joesph. The Power of Myth [^2]: Campbell, Joseph. Historical Atlas of World Mythology. Vol. 1: The Way of the Animal Powers [^3]: Campbell, Joesph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces [^4]: Eliade, Mircea. Shamanism, Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy. %% - add economic mythology to the above, cite Ashley Hodgson