immortal

The average citizen living in the towns, gardens, and pastures along the banks of the great rivers probably neither fully comprehended nor vividly grasped the intricate ideals and interrelationships between the gods and men that we have so carefully explored. Imagine, for example, a simple peasant being presented with a sacred image by a priest or chieftain. In his practical wisdom, he might have considered it a horrific fusion of his two most fearsome adversaries, the lion and the eagle, notorious for ruthlessly attacking his livestock, slaughtering his herds, and preying on his lambs. His wife, on the other hand, might have imagined the same image as a fusion of the cunning jackal and the predatory eagle, a horrible combination that instilled fear in her heart as it threatened to plunder her precious chicken farm. The profound mystical allegories that the philosophers of the era had carefully crafted would most likely have been beyond comprehension. Even the bustling inhabitants of Memphis, Nippur, or Susa might have been unable to comprehend the profound implications of this philosophical masterpiece. Yet it is this intricate philosophy, with its interweaving of symbols and allegories, that is the vital lifeblood of the enduring but undeniable concept of the dragon as the embodiment of the soul. Professor Smith, a renowned scholar, expounded on the core of the dragon's power: mastery over water. He asserted that both the benevolence and destructive power of water were attributed to the dragon, who thus embodied the essence of Osiris, the Egyptian god of the underworld, or his powerful rival Set. However, as the attributes of the water god became intertwined with those of the Great Mother, represented by Hathor, the lioness of Egypt, or the awe-inspiring Tiamat of Babylonian mythology, the dragon's identity expanded to include the embodiment of chaos and disorder. This intricate network of symbols suggests that these primordial gods were inherently dualistic, both virtuous and evil, both holy and malevolent. They navigated a complex tapestry of opposing forces, embodying the dragon, the dragon slayer, and the weapons that opposed them all in a single entity. This magical creature, the dragon, traversed the globe, from western Europe to far eastern Asia, and even, according to some radical interpretations, across the vast Pacific Ocean to the shores of the United States. While the dragon's morphology varied greatly from region to region, the basic anatomy remained. Typically, the dragon's core essence was derived from a snake or crocodile, its body was adorned with fish scales, and its limbs and wings often resembled those of an eagle, falcon, or hawk. Typically, the dragon's forelimbs, and sometimes even its head, are modeled after those of a lion. This unique blend of features, essentially unnatural and arbitrary, suggests a common genealogy, a common ancestor of all dragons. Assuming that the dragon's historical footprint takes us back to Egypt and Babylonia, if we can delve into the mysteries of the more distant past, it is necessary to examine how we can explain its presence and diverse evolution elsewhere. Two opposing theories grapple with this phenomenon and other myths, prejudices, and customs that appear similar, if not identical, in geographically diverse areas, often half a world apart. One theory attributes this common phenomenon to a fundamental consistency in human nature and thought processes. This theory holds that despite the lack of direct contact, people under similar psychological and physical conditions will independently come to essentially the same conclusions about the origins and causes of natural phenomena. They will interpret the mysteries of experience and imagination, and they will face the challenges of daily life in much the same way as their unknown counterparts. This is the older view among ethnologists, and it has considerable support in certain widespread traits, such as the almost universal respect for rainfall and the perceived influences that affect this important necessity. From a contemporary perspective, the common view that similar cultural elements in different societies are merely coincidental, arising from so-called universal human nature, has been challenged. This view, which has gained popularity among students who have acquired a wider range of information, argues that these striking similarities are not merely accidental, but the result of the diffusion of ideas and practices. This diffusion, it is argued, stems from the movement of travelers and the spread of knowledge from centers where innovative and influential concepts or useful inventions emerged.

Professor Shi asserts that this theory, while not discounting the possibility that similar ideas and practices occasionally emerged independently, provides the most convincing explanation for the widespread similarities, especially those found in core nature myths. The dragon myth, considered the cornerstone of these myths, is a classic example. The strength of the theory is its ability to illuminate the existence of extensive and frequent mutual exchanges between primitive peoples around the globe, a reality that was previously underestimated. Such mutual connections, much greater than previously thought, existed even in the earliest, indeed prehistoric, periods of human history. Let us delve deeper into this concept by examining the influence of the most advanced communities at the beginning of history: those of Egypt and Mesopotamia (and Elam). These societies, clearly connected by land and sea for four or five centuries before the birth of Christ, provide a compelling case study. By exploring their influence, we can gain valuable insights into the extent to which their cultural innovations permeated the world. Famous for their architectural skills, the ancient Egyptians were equally adept at seafaring. As early as 2000 B.C., they built impressive ocean-going vessels, which they used to trade with distant destinations such as Crete and Phoenicia. These voyages were not only commercial ventures, but also explorations, taking them across the vast Mediterranean. They sailed the Red Sea, delved into the mysteries of the Sinai Peninsula and Yemen, and ventured to the exotic island of Sokota, known for its unique dragon blood trees. Their explorations extended south along the coast of Africa and deep into the Arabian Peninsula in search of fragrant frankincense, which was said to be guarded by small winged snakes. These intrepid sailors even navigated the treacherous waters between the Red Sea and the busy ports of Babylon and Elam on the Persian Gulf. Given this extensive maritime activity, it is not surprising that some of these Egyptian sailors, or those from the area around the Persian Gulf, may have continued their voyage eastwards, eventually reaching the coast of India. In fact, Colonel St. Johnston has proposed an interesting theory that not only the Malay Archipelago, but also the remote islands of the South Pacific, and especially Polynesia, were settled by waves of prehistoric immigrants from Africa and India. He argues that these intrepid travelers crawled along the Indian Ocean coastline, island-hopping in the East Indies, eventually reaching the coast of Australia, and eventually venturing out to the distant sea islands. It is believed that these early settlers carried with them ancient traditions and beliefs about supernatural beings, which subsequently transformed into fish gods and sea monsters, which some ethnologists regard as analogs and descendants of dragons. The prevalence of serpent worship and dragon-like symbolism in the religion of the semi-civilized tribes of Mexico has also been attributed to the influence of Asian visitors to Central America via Polynesia. However, this theory remains a subject of debate, and I will refrain from engaging in that debate, as well as the broader topic of serpent worship itself. For the sake of clarity and focus, I will limit my discussion to the Asian and European continents. The southwestern region of Persia known as Elam was a thriving civilization that coexisted with, if not preceded, early Babylonia. The two cultures were very similar in their level of advancement and religious beliefs, with a vibrant exchange of ideas and goods. The Elamites were a very sophisticated people who established their capital at Susa, a very important city located east of the majestic mountains that separated them from the Mesopotamian valley. Susa was an important hub, attracting merchants and visitors from a wide and diverse geographical area. The most frequent visitors to Susa probably came from the north, from Iran, including the area around the Caspian Sea and the Caucasus Mountains. This region was home to the Aryan people. However, many other visitors came from different places, including Turkic nomads who roamed the Oshir Valley with their livestock and extended eastward to the foothills of the Hindu Kush. Still others came from the eastern plains and coastal areas all the way to the Indus Valley. These diverse populations, each with their own unique cultural customs and traditions, added to the richness of life at Susa, making it a true cultural melting pot.

Imagine, if you will, the nomadic tribes of antiquity, whose lives were ruled by the rhythms of hunting and herding. These were simple people whose understanding of the world was shaped by a primal fear of the unknown. Their worship was a primitive form of fetishism, if you can call it that, driven by a superstitious fear of spirits and magical forces. Only the most daring of these tribes, or those who found themselves forced into slavery, would venture south, into the centers of more complex civilization. There they would encounter a different way of life, one in which the gods were not just phantoms, but characters with stories, with myths woven around their creation. They would hear about these gods, who shaped the world, sent down precious rains, and exercised powers beyond the comprehension of mortal men. They would see images of these divine heroes, carved on monuments and temples, or embodied in small sacred statues. This exposure to worship practices, to the concept of divinity, would leave an indelible mark on their minds, a spark of understanding. When they returned to their own lands, whether the arid plains of Iran, the rugged mountains of Bactria or the barren hills of Afghanistan, these men would share their experiences. Around crackling campfires, they would weave tales of their journeys, of the wonders they had witnessed in the city of Susa, of the strange gods and rituals they had encountered. These stories, spread on the wind, would gradually seep into the minds of their fellow tribesmen, eroding the walls of ignorance and sowing the seeds of more complex belief systems. The same process of cultural exchange would take place on the shores of India, where merchants and sailors, ships of knowledge both secular and sacred, would bring news from the West. Like ripples spreading outward from a stone thrown into a pond, these ideas would permeate inland, reaching even the most isolated corners of the peninsula, bringing with them a glimmer of understanding and the germ of a sense of the sacred. It was from this slow, almost accidental spread of knowledge and cross-pollination of ideas that the foundations of more complex religious systems would emerge. The stories and practices of the South, carried by wandering tribesmen and intrepid traders, would weave themselves into the fabric of ancient faith, shaping the future of faith across large swaths of the ancient world. Meanwhile, a powerful force was reshaping the fate of the people of northern Persia. Soon after our first encounter with the Sumerians, who had settled in the flourishing city of Ur and other cities on the lower Euphrates, we learn that they were conquered by Semitic tribes from the west. These ambitious tribes, driven by an insatiable desire for expansion, established the mighty Babylonian Empire, a testament to their strength and ambition. Yet despite their initial dominance, the Babylonians themselves were doomed to perish before a far greater force. As the tide of history turned, power shifted further upstream, where a new wave of conquerors emerged. The Assyrians, ruthless and powerful, rose, their rule eventually covering the entire valley of the Euphrates and extending beyond, to Asia Minor north of the desolate Arabian Desert. Their conquests were not merely a change of rulers but a profound transformation of the social structure. Ancient gods, revered for millennia, were renamed, their names echoing the rise and fall of empires. Yet beneath the veneer of new names, the essence of the old faith remained. As one of the most representative symbols of power and authority, the ancient and mysterious dragon still stands quietly in front of the palace of the Assyrian king, like an indestructible fortress, silently guarding this land. Its majestic posture seems to announce to the world the tenacity and immortality of ancient traditions, and shows its powerful power that still shines after years of vicissitudes.

Not only that, even the fish god Ea, who once shone on the banks of the Euphrates and was highly respected, has miraculously reappeared on the Mediterranean coast. Time has passed, and the years have changed, but this god has not disappeared, but has been reborn from the ashes and transformed into a dragon revered by the Philistines. It is presented to people in a brand new posture, continuing to inherit the wisdom and spirit of ancient civilization.

But these are stories of another era, and now we must return to the story unfolding in front of us.