Cosmic Winter Ch.2 Extended Summary
Summery by Lee Vaughn – Myth Of Ends
FORCES OF EVIL
People usually organize what they know into models—ideas or pictures that explain how things work. When new facts show up that don’t quite fit the old model, most of the time the model is just slightly changed to keep working. But sometimes, so many facts don’t fit that the old idea completely falls apart. When that happens, people need to totally change the way they think. The old facts are still true, but now people understand them in a completely new way. To those living through it, it can feel like the truth has flipped upside down—but really, it’s just that their way of seeing the truth has changed.
It’s hard to know when a model just needs fixing and when it’s about to collapse. In fact, scientists can gain or lose their reputations based on how well they judge this. Looking back, it’s easy to laugh at how blind the experts were—but at the time, it’s never so clear. For every successful change in science, there are many more attempts that fail or go nowhere.
Because of this, false ideas can stick around for a very long time—even if they’re completely wrong. There are plenty of examples from history. For instance, people believed for centuries that the Earth was the center of the universe (geocentrism) or that the world was created exactly how the Bible described it (Biblical creationism).
These examples show that people can believe the wrong thing for thousands of years. Human thinking alone isn’t perfect. And unless we constantly test our beliefs with new facts and experiments, we tend to drift further and further away from the truth.
Usually, it takes new evidence to break apart old, wrong ideas. But when that happens, even the older facts have to be looked at in a new way.
Right now, a big change is happening in the Earth sciences. A new idea called terrestrial catastrophism is shaking things up. It says that life on Earth—and even how the Earth itself changes—can be affected by sudden, violent events from space, like comets or asteroid impacts. This idea used to sound wild, but recently it’s started gaining real attention (more about this in Chapters 14 and 15).
Some of the proof comes from studying rocks on Earth. But a lot also comes from new observations in space. For over 100 years, geologists and biologists believed Earth changed slowly, all on its own, with no outside influence. But now, that idea seems to be wrong.
In this book, the authors take those same space discoveries and apply them to human history—not just millions of years ago, but the last few thousand years. They want to show that these ancient “cataracts of fire” (huge firestorms from the sky) didn’t just happen in prehistory—they happened in recorded history too. And they believe old historical texts make more sense when you use this new catastrophist view.
But be warned: this book also talks about things that experts think are already well understood. Many scientists today still think the idea of fire raining from the sky is ridiculous. So the real question is: Are we at the point where the old way of thinking just can’t explain the facts anymore?
The Babylonians, as we’ve seen, were clearly afraid of things in the sky. They described them in ways that show they were serious about the danger. And yet, modern scholars usually brush that off, assuming it was just ancient imagination or myth.
The authors argue that this isn’t just a one-time problem. A lot of ancient writing is now ignored or quickly dismissed—not because it’s wrong, but because it doesn’t fit the modern way of thinking, which was built before these new discoveries in Earth science and astronomy.
And that leads to a deeper question: is it even right for scholars to cling so tightly to old beliefs, only letting go when they absolutely have to?
The Labyrinth of History
So, is it really right for experts to hold on tightly to beliefs that might not be true—especially if doing so could put all of civilization at risk?
Between 7,000 and 5,000 years ago, Earth was going through a mild and pleasant climate phase. These good conditions helped people in different parts of Asia and North Africa start building the first cities. By 3000 BC, three great civilizations—outside of China—had formed on rich, river valley soils:
The Tigris-Euphrates region in Mesopotamia
The Nile in Egypt
The Indus Valley in what is now Pakistan
These civilizations grew, in part, because they were able to produce enough food not only for farmers but also for new groups of people like craftsmen, builders, and leaders. This food surplus likely came from moving farming down from the hills to the fertile floodplains, where they used irrigation to grow more crops.
But around 3000 BC, something changed: the climate got worse all over the world for about 200 years. There was more rainfall, and average temperatures dropped. In places like Canada and Northern Europe, the farthest north the trees could grow (called the treeline) moved hundreds of miles south. At the same time, mountain glaciers expanded, meaning ice and snow spread farther.
In Mesopotamia and Egypt, there were major floods. We know this because archaeologists found silt (mud deposits) under ancient cities in Mesopotamia, and in Egypt, temple locations shifted as the Nile River’s water levels changed.
Other big changes happened too. Forests appeared in new places, while in others, forest fires destroyed huge areas—possibly caused by people cutting trees down for farming during what they thought was a time of growth and wealth.
This shows something strange: when the global climate changes, not everyone is affected the same way. Some places get worse, but others may actually improve for a while. Still, the one thing we know for sure is this: there was change. For some people, it was a time of progress. For others, it brought hardship and conflict.
Even more surprising, this same period—despite the worsening climate—was also a time of huge progress for human civilization. People developed new skills, writing systems, and professional classes, all happening around the same time as these major environmental shifts.
Between 6000 and 3500 BC, Earth went through a long period of good weather, known as the Holocene Climate Optimum. During this time, global summer temperatures were higher than today, and forests grew farther north—especially in the Arctic. Scientists figured this out by studying the movement of the treeline (the edge of where trees can grow), as well as ice cores from Greenland and frost damage in tree rings. These clues show not just steady warming, but also short, possibly sharp drops in atmospheric dust—meaning clearer skies and warmer summers during some brief periods.
This stretch of good climate lines up with the beginning of recorded human history.
After about 3000 BC, people began building massive state projects—things like the Egyptian pyramids and large irrigation systems. These efforts required huge amounts of planning, resources, and motivation. Something had clearly shifted. People suddenly seemed driven to organize, build, and control their environment in ways they never had before.
This raises a big question: Was this new energy connected to the changing climate? Did something frightening or powerful—something tied to the worsening climate—push people into action?
Strangely, modern historians and archaeologists haven’t explored this much. Most experts treat it as a coincidence. They might admit the climate changed, but they usually say it had only a small effect on the rise of civilization.
A hundred years ago, though…
After the Industrial Revolution, and before people had real proof of ancient climate change, it seemed natural to explain the rise of powerful civilizations—like Egypt and Mesopotamia—as the result of shared knowledge and lucky discoveries in farming and technology. Historians thought of early history as a straight line of progress: from the Stone Age, to Bronze, to Iron, with each step giving humans more free time to plan the next great leap forward. This view was strongly influenced by Darwin’s theory of evolution.
But that neat story of never-ending progress started to fall apart when experts discovered that Europeans were already mining and using copper before 4000 BC. If people had advanced that far that early, the old theory didn’t really hold up. Instead of giving up the idea of evolution, scholars changed the focus. They said that technology was just a side effect, and that human progress was really driven by natural patterns of behavior that happen everywhere.
This new idea claimed that all human groups, when given similar starting conditions, would evolve along similar paths. Each group would face internal “social and economic pressures” that would push them forward—from being hunters and gatherers, to nomadic herders, to farmers, and finally into organized civilizations. Over time, this would lead to villages becoming cities, cities becoming empires, and eventually the whole world being shaped by humanity.
So by the mid-1900s, historians had replaced the older focus on tools and inventions with a focus on social systems and human behavior. They made history more about how people organize themselves and dominate one another, and less about how the environment shaped their world.
For example, if someone studies Wessex culture from early Bronze Age Britain, they’re often trying to find out whether it developed locally from trade with mainland Europe, or if it was brought over by invaders. Either answer might show how nations rise, how different groups compete, and how history moves forward—but it still ignores how nature and climate may have played a huge role.
When historians focus only on human behavior, and treat patterns they find as the final answer—without considering changes in the environment or natural conditions—there’s always the risk of creating a version of history that isn’t really true. That’s because those patterns might have nothing to do with the real reasons things happened.
In other words, sociological explanations are limited. And since we usually don’t have all the facts anyway, many questions are nearly impossible to answer. Still, if scholars believe this is the only way forward, they’ll keep following that path—even if it’s not the most helpful one. That can lead to years, even decades, of research that never gets to the real truth.
So the big question is: have archaeologists and historians chosen a path of study that never leads anywhere? With such a narrow focus, they might never get back to the real issue:
Do the rise and fall of civilizations, technologies, and nations reflect the effects of some deeper, hidden force in history?
To answer that question, we need to listen to what ancient people actually said. Up to now, this book has mainly looked at how the people of Mesopotamia thought, and what their astrologers did thousands of years ago. But one of the most surprising things is how seriously these people took their gods.
In Egypt, around 3000 BC, people also believed that their fate—good or bad—was controlled by gods, and these gods weren’t part of some distant myth. They were considered real and active, and they were believed to be fairly new to the scene at that time.
So maybe it’s time we take a closer look at these gods and ask: What were they really talking about? Were these just made-up “weather gods,” symbols for climate changes they didn’t understand? If so, that might explain part of it—but it would also greatly underestimate how seriously the Egyptians took their gods.
From about 3000 BC onward, the pharaohs of Egypt believed their royal power came from a godly ancestor. These gods weren’t peaceful, gentle figures. They had names like Scorpion, Catfish, Fighter, Serpent, and Killer. It’s clear the early kings saw their gods as tough and aggressive, maybe even violent. In time, these gods played a big role in the power struggles between Egypt’s ruling groups.
Over time, the local Egyptian chiefs gave way to a stronger, more powerful ruler—the pharaoh—and Egypt’s society became more grand and royal in style. One of the most important gods in this period was Horus, a falcon-headed sky god. Horus became the symbol of kingship, and the Egyptians saw him as a protective and kind god who brought stability and linked the pharaohs back to the very beginning of the Egyptian state.
Now, following Horus’s story doesn’t mean ignoring the role of climate change—it just means looking at how the Egyptians themselves understood their world and its dangers. They believed Horus was their protector, almost like a savior.
Egyptian mythology is complex because, early on, each city had its own main god. As cities combined into larger kingdoms, their gods also got merged or identified with each other. Most gods had families—some were animals, and later many were given human forms. Still, behind all these different stories, there were ideas that sounded like monotheism (belief in one god) from the very beginning.
One example is Ptah, a remote and mysterious creator god, said to come before all the other deities. Among the first generation of important gods were Osiris and Seth—two “father gods” who had great cosmic power. Osiris was often shown with black skin, Seth with red, and they were said to have created the “Two Lands.”
These lands were:
Blackland – fertile and civilized, representing Egypt and safety
Redland – wild and dangerous, outside the civilized world
According to ancient legends, Osiris built a wall or enclosure that separated Blackland from Redland. But this wasn’t just a physical border—it existed in the cosmic realm, the world of the gods. This same boundary marked the path of the zodiac—the sky route where the Sun-god and other sky gods sailed their boat across the heavens each day.
So, in the Egyptian view, Earth and the cosmos were flat and connected. Temples were even designed like cosmic maps, with their inner walls painted to look like flowing rivers and starry skies. The outer walls marked the boundary between safe and unsafe realms. Redland—outside the walls—was often described as an ocean or outer sea.
This makes it clear that Blackland and Redland were not just physical places, but symbolic worlds, representing order and chaos, safety and danger, heaven and the unknown.
In Egyptian myth, the land of Blackland (order and safety) and Redland (chaos and danger) came from, or rose out of, the primordial waters of chaos—a swirling sea that existed before anything else. These waters were also tied to the birth of Osiris and Seth, two of Egypt’s most important gods.
Inside the sacred enclosure of the temple, at one end, was the Island of Creation. This was believed to be the very place where creation began, and some think it may have once held a meteorite, just like the black stone at Mecca. At the other end of the enclosure—on each side of the main temple entrance—were two giant pylons (gate-like towers). These may have symbolized features that reached beyond the cosmic border into outer space. Later, this temple design likely inspired the twin towers or minarets used in many places of worship. This design reflected a deep view of the universe’s structure, and it’s something the authors say they’ll return to later in the book.
In myth, Seth murdered Osiris, cut his body into pieces, and scattered them around the sacred enclosure. Then Isis, the loyal wife and sister of Osiris, went on a journey to gather the pieces and put him back together. She succeeded and even conceived a child with him after death. That child was Horus.
Horus grew up, trained by his mother, and fought Seth over and over again, eventually avenging his father’s death.
For the Egyptians, especially during the Middle Kingdom, this story symbolized the constant battle between good and evil—not just in the past, but in the future too. Horus became the symbol of Egypt’s protector, and it was understood that evil could still sneak into the land of the good, even under Horus’s watch.
In Egyptian texts, there are mentions of foreign enemies from the sea. These might have represented real people or cosmic threats. The fall of the Middle Kingdom around 1650 BC was sometimes blamed on these invaders. One ancient text speaks of “a blast from God” that left Egypt in ruin, with no king on the throne. A group called the Hyksos, or “rulers from foreign lands,” then took over. They didn’t meet resistance—they burned cities and destroyed temples. They were said to worship Seth, the god of chaos, and were described as brutal and savage.
However, modern archaeologists haven’t found solid physical evidence of this Hyksos invasion. There’s no clear sign of where they came from or what they left behind. It almost seems as if the “destruction” they brought could have come from the sky itself.
Seen this way, the battle between Horus and Seth may not just be a moral or political story—it might also describe real cosmic events, like catastrophic events from space.
The story of Horus and Seth, set in a cosmic environment, actually makes sense when you look at how seriously the Egyptians took it. These stories weren’t just legends—they shaped how the people of Egypt thought about life, danger, and power. It’s not hard to see why they had such a deep and lasting impact.
And it turns out, Egypt wasn’t alone. The same kinds of myths show up in other ancient cultures. Wherever we look, we find old stories about giants or sky gods battling each other in the heavens. These battles often repeated over time and usually ended with good defeating evil.
For example:
In Babylon, the god Marduk defeated the chaos-dragon Tiamat
In Greece, Zeus beat the monstrous Typhon, after the Titans and Chronos fell
In Hebrew stories, Yahweh overcame Satan
In Christian legend, St. George slayed the dragon
In Syria, Baal battled Yam
In Iran, Ohrmazd fought against Ahriman
In Scandinavia, Thor and Odin were heroes in the fight against evil forces
In Medieval tradition, the archangel Michael defeated the Devil
These myths all have a similar pattern: evil comes from the sky, but is eventually defeated by a savior figure. The story often includes a “father-god” or ancestor figure (like Osiris, Chronos, or Enlil) who plays an important role behind the scenes.
So, the fear of the sky wasn’t just a Mesopotamian thing. Many ancient civilizations shared this fear—and they described it as a real cosmic threat, not just imagination or superstition.
That leaves us with an important question:
Was there really something in the ancient sky that people saw as dangerous?
And if so, was there also something—another force—that they believed could save them?
There may have been a real reason ancient people believed the sky was divided into two forces—one harmless and the other dangerous.
Take Osiris, for example. In ancient Egyptian images, he’s often shown wearing a long white cloak. He was believed to have brought civilization and farming to the people of Egypt. But eventually, he lost his power and died. Even so, his spirit lived on in his successor. Each new pharaoh, while alive, was thought to represent Horus—but when the pharaoh died, he became Osiris.
The story goes that Osiris descended into the underworld, then traveled to the Place of Ascension, also called the Island of Creation. This journey was symbolized in real life by a ceremonial funeral march that led to the pyramid—a structure that may have represented not just a tomb, but a real cosmic home, just like the celestial enclosure that separated Blackland (safe, ordered) from Redland (chaotic, dangerous).
Of course, it’s hard to know exactly where the symbolism ends and where real events might begin. But we can wonder:
Could there have been a real object in the sky—something that looked like it wore a long white cloak—which broke apart, lost its former glory, and left behind some kind of temporary island in space… with a closed path that still threatens Earth?
This brings us to Typhon, the Greek version of Seth, Osiris’s enemy. Typhon also has strong cosmic connections. In fact, some ancient writers clearly described him as a comet.
In the first century AD, the Greek philosopher Plutarch wrote about Typhon:
“Even though Typhon’s power is fading and nearly dead, the Egyptians still try to calm him with offerings and feasts. But at certain festivals, they also mock and humiliate him—like in Koptos, where red-skinned men are rolled in the mud and a donkey is pushed off a cliff—because Typhon had red skin and looked like a donkey.”
This story may sound strange to modern people. The image of a red, donkey-skinned, dying god sounds confusing, even silly. But if Typhon was actually based on a once-bright comet that had dimmed, then the description makes sense. A red, crumbling, tailed object in the sky would’ve looked just like that to ancient eyes.
And if ancient people really saw something like that in the sky, it explains why myths all over the world—especially those about evil sky beings—developed in the first place.
Because so many ancient myths talk about the heavens, it’s not surprising that they share similar themes—even across different cultures. If real cosmic events—like fire raining down from the sky—did cause disasters on Earth, including social collapse and chaos, then we should expect to see similar patterns in history:
Empires collapsing at the same time
Massive migrations of people
Widespread wars
New beliefs or religions emerging
A deep fear of what might come next from the sky
Strangely enough, this is exactly what world history looks like (see Table 2). Historians have long noticed these patterns, and some have even lost their reputations trying to explain them.
Of course, this doesn’t prove that comets or cosmic disasters caused everything. But the authors argue that the evidence fits this idea better than people usually think.
If comet impacts or meteors really caused fear and destruction in the past, it makes sense that rituals and traditions would develop in response. People would have tried to appease the sky, even if they didn’t understand it. These rituals could then be passed down for generations, even after the original meaning was lost.
In fact, many of today’s old festivals—especially fire festivals—may come from this deep past. These include:
Bonfires
Parades with flaming torches
Rolling burning wheels down hills
Throwing fire-lit discs into the air
All of these traditions are found around the world, and they may be connected to ancient comet paths or events.
Over the last 10,000 years, Earth’s climate has gone through sharp global cool-downs (called recessions). These periods often match up with increased meteor activity, including small comet fragments hitting the atmosphere. The worst of these events may have caused “little ice ages” and possibly even “dark ages” in history.
In layers of Earth (like peat bogs), scientists have found burned plant remains and microscopic carbon particles from huge forest fires—even in remote places far from humans. This suggests that some of these fires weren’t started by people but by extreme natural causes, possibly linked to comet fragments.
The rise and fall of civilizations is more complicated than a simple chart can show, but these cold periods—marked by glaciers growing, sea levels dropping, tree lines retreating, and changes in plants and animals—often line up with:
Worsening conditions for people
Increased conflict and suffering
New tribes or nations forming, which go on to build new empires
The arrows in the table (not shown here) track the general path of human society, from city-states to empires to a still-unfinished goal of global civilization.
Many traditional fire festivals take place in early November (like Halloween) or mid-June. Long ago, November 1st was even seen as the start of the year in some calendars.
Neither of these dates has strong ties to farming seasons, and Halloween isn’t linked to the Sun’s position in the sky. But both match up with times when Earth crosses the path of a specific comet—a comet that plays a big role in this book (especially in Chapter 13). For now, just keep in mind: the link between these old festivals and the comet’s orbit may be much closer than most people realize.
Whether we look at Egyptian, Mesopotamian, or other ancient traditions, one thing is clear: they all point to a long-term conflict in the sky—a kind of battle that seemed to affect life on Earth. Most modern scholars—historians and archaeologists—have chosen to read these myths symbolically. They believe the gods and sky battles were just metaphors or artistic expression.
We’re not going to argue against them here. It’s true that in modern times, countries fall apart for political or social reasons—not because of comets or cosmic events. So we’re not claiming a direct, one-to-one match. What we are saying is this: there’s enough evidence to raise serious doubts about the purely symbolic interpretation.
If the alternative view—that real sky events caused some of these changes—is correct, then the way we think about history needs to shift.
Usually, we focus on stable periods in history—the reigns of great kings, the building of monuments, the golden ages. But if comets or disasters from space played a role, then the true turning points were the times of chaos and collapse.
In between crises, society may recover and seem peaceful again—but just one sky threat, even if it doesn’t actually strike, could destroy that fragile balance forever.
Take Egypt, for example. Its history swings back and forth between:
Times of city-states fighting, with no central leadership (sometimes called dark ages)
Long stretches of powerful, stable kingdoms where civilization flourished
These golden ages in Egypt match up closely with high points in Mesopotamian civilization as well (see Table 3). But every time, both regions seem to collapse suddenly, and often without a clear explanation.
The approximate start dates for these major shifts are:
3100 BC – end of prehistory and rise of the first kingdoms
2200 BC – fall of Egypt’s Old Kingdom
1650 BC – collapse of the Middle Kingdom
Each of these moments marked a new phase of history, triggered by events we still don’t fully understand.
Table 3 – Egyptian and Mesopotamian Civilizations (in traditional historical order):
Old Kingdom (Egypt, 2800–2155 BC)
Parallel: Akkadian Empire (Mesopotamia, 2630–2150 BC)
Middle Kingdom (Egypt, 2052–1600 BC)
Parallel: Amurru / Old Babylonian Dynasty (Mesopotamia, 2110–1600 BC)
New Kingdom (Egypt, 1554–1072 BC)
Parallel: Kassite Dynasty (Mesopotamia, 1530–1160 BC)
Late Kingdom (Egypt, 570–332 BC)
Includes Sais Dynasty (664–525 BC)
Parallel: Chaldean / Persian (Neo-Babylonian) Empire (626–336 BC)
Hellenic Empire (Egypt, from 332 BC onward)
Parallel: Seleucid Empire (Mesopotamia, from 332 BC onward)
Note: These timelines are only approximate. They’re mostly based on the writings of the Egyptian historian Manetho and the Sothic calendar, which isn’t perfectly accurate.
Let’s look at the four major collapses in Egyptian history:
3100 BC – End of the prehistoric age, marking the beginning of Egypt’s written history
2200 BC – Collapse of the Old Kingdom
1650 BC – Collapse of the Middle Kingdom, triggered by the arrival of the Hyksos invaders
Around 1250–1150 BC – Collapse after Rameses II, when Egypt was attacked by the Sea Peoples
After this last collapse, Egypt continued on in a weakened form, but it never returned to its former greatness. This fall was so severe that even other cultures at the time noticed it.
Continue to Chapter 3 Short Summary or Ch. 3 Extended Summary?
