Edgar Cayce's Cautionary Reading on Human Origins and the Demise of Atlantis
Lessons of Potential, Progress, and Pitfalls from Prehistory
Few could doubt that so many of the stimulating and profound ideas expressed by esoteric thinkers and gurus seem as intriguing and otherworldly as they appear to be baffling to reconcile with conventional life as we know it. The more wise and enticing the words sound, the more removed they seem from our daily existence. And this jarring inconsistency also applies to what we read of many witnesses and contactees of UFO phenomena. Without question, being taken from one’s home on board some alien ship is not a natural thought, in any possible context. Yet the seemingly incommesurable realities expressed in these two viewpoints - the philosophical-esoteric and the experiential-esoteric - can be found to have common origins if we read certain texts and experiences carefully.
The sources of such information that I personally favor are those offered or channeled by “less well known” contactees and mediums, especially because their words have not been diluted or distorted by a raft of successive interpretations by any number of historians, journaliists, or critics over the years. If there is to be truth in what is uttered or passed along, it is to be found in the origins of the words themselves, even if, as in the case of UFO contactee Betty Andreasson or the trance readings of Edgar Cayce, the words are difficult to summarize into a coherent picture.
But with Cayce in particular, the careful analysis of the readings which he provided over decades, in trance, provide us with great insight into something far beyond the physical. I’ll take several readings in the next essays as examples of this unusual insight. The Cayce readings are numbered by the Association for Research and Enlightenment, a requirement imposed by the fact that there are more than 14,000 of them.
One of the most salient and cryptic readings – I had to read it four times – concerns the origins of human existence and its evolution into the mythical Atlantis. It is reading 346-6. Its information, delivered in a trance-like state on a February afternoon in 1932, is a heady brew of ancient history, esoteric musings, and metaphysical ruminations. As one wades through its labyrinthine passages, there emerges a vision of humanity that is both profound and disconcerting—a vision where the physical and the spiritual are inextricably intertwined, and where the fate of entire civilizations hinges on the delicate balance between these realms. The reading comprises several parts, as discussed in corresponding sequence below.
At the heart of this reading lies the enigmatic figure of Amilius, a being of preternatural significance, who precedes the more familiar Adam. Amilius, who is mentioned in numerous Cayce readings, is not merely a precursor but a symbol of a primordial state of existence—one where the spiritual essence of humanity had not yet been influenced by the desires of the flesh. It is with the advent of Adam and Eve, according to Cayce, that the human experience takes a decisive turn. The knowledge of physical desires, of sex and its attendant charms, introduces a fear and a separation from the divine, marking the beginning of humanity’s long and troubled journey through material existence.
Cayce’s narrative in this reading then takes a curious turn, bringing us to the figure of the Virgin Mary and the birth of Christ—a moment he views as the crystallization of spiritual purity within the material world. This event, he suggests, was not merely a miraculous birth but a re-consecration of humanity’s lost divine connection. The Virgin birth represents a moment of redemption, offering humanity a way back from the moral and spiritual decay that had set in since the days of Adam and Eve. The first reference to this information in the reading is indeed mystifying:
Were this turned to that period when this desire, then, becomes consecrated in that accomplished again in the virgin body of the mother of the SON of man, we see this is then crystallized into that, that even that of the flesh may be - with the proper concept, proper desire in all its purity - consecrated to the LIVING forces as manifest by the ability in that body so brought into being, as to make a way of escape for the ERRING man
But the spiritual source that speaks through Cayce in this reading does not allow us to linger long in the light and bliss of angelic intercessors. Human will is imperfectly drawn to high and low places, and so, Cayce’s source reminds us that history is cyclical, and throughout the ages, periods of moral decline have necessitated spiritual renewal. He speaks of free love and the desecration of sacred truths—an echo of the very fall that brought humanity into physical existence. It is a familiar, ancient pattern, where the pursuit of pleasure and the abandonment of spiritual purity lead to a need for profound redemption.
This cyclical narrative finds its most dramatic expression in Cayce’s account of Atlantis, that fabled lost continent which has fascinated and eluded scholars for centuries. Cayce’s Atlantis is not merely a place but a symbol of human potential and its pitfalls. He situates the Biblical flood during the second great destruction of Atlantis, some 22,000 years before the birth of Christ—a cataclysm that marked the beginning of the end for this once-great civilization.
In its prime, Atlantis was vast, spanning an area comparable to that of Europe, including parts of Asia. But this grand continent was not to last. A series of geological convulsions, driven by cosmic forces and the earth’s own restless movements, fractured Atlantis into a collection of islands, marking the beginning of its decline – the islands, Cayce mentions, were named Poseidia, Aryan, and Og. These cataclysms, Cayce suggests, were not merely natural disasters but the result of the Atlanteans’ own spiritual failings—a cosmic retribution, if you will, for their moral decay.
As if to remind us that no record of human folly goes unmarked, Cayce delves into the concept of akashic records—ethereal imprints of all actions and events, stored in the very fabric of time. These records, he tells us, are not bound by our limited understanding of time and space. They exist in a dimension all their own, where every thought, word, and deed is recorded with unerring precision. Time, in this view, is not a linear progression but a vast, interconnected web, where every moment is both a cause and effect, rippling through the cosmos with profound consequences.
Cayce’s Atlantis was a civilization of unparalleled technological and spiritual advancement, and yet, it was this very advancement that led to its downfall. He describes airships of remarkable sophistication, powered by a combination of gases and metals that modern science has yet to rediscover. These vessels, capable of navigating both air and water, were not merely feats of engineering but symbols of the Atlanteans’ mastery over the natural world. Yet, this mastery came at a price. The very technologies that elevated Atlantis also sowed the seeds of its destruction, as the Atlanteans, in their hubris, lost sight of the spiritual purity that had once been their guiding star.
In the end, Cayce’s reading is a cautionary tale, a reminder that the material and the spiritual are not opposing forces but two sides of the same coin. The fall of Atlantis, like the fall of man, was not an inevitable consequence of progress but the result of a profound imbalance—a loss of harmony between the physical and the divine. As we navigate our own modern world, with its dazzling technological advancements and ever-growing moral complexities, Cayce’s words echo across the centuries, reminding us that true progress is not measured in material terms but in our ability to maintain a connection with the divine.
And when the reading was over, Cayce awoke from the sleep state that allowed him to channel this information, and remembered nothing. But he bridged our normal world with a source of information that is timeless, leaving to us our own sense of the way forward in contemplation of what was, and what tomorrow can be, as our defining and guiding truth.