David Elkington – The Lost Science of the Ancients

David Elkington, a scholar of ancient Egypt and early Christianity, joins me in a conversation that drifts across the vast expanse of history, mythology, language, and the resonance of sacred sound. Known for his controversial work with the Jordan Lead Codices—texts written in lead and gold which detail early Christian and pre-Christian initiatory practices—Elkington has stirred up both academic and theological circles. But today’s focus is not controversy. It is consciousness.

We explore his groundbreaking book The Ancient Language of Sacred Sound, and the hidden science woven into the great monuments of humanity—cathedrals, pyramids, temples. We talk about Cymatics, the acoustic technologies of ancient peoples, and the possibility that sound was once not just a form of art or communication, but a literal key to altering consciousness, perception, and biology.

The conversation opens with the etymology of “me”—the root sound of “God” in various sacred traditions. The word “I am” echoes across French (je suis), Arabic (Isa), African (Esau), and ultimately across the names of spiritual figures like Jesus. The idea that the divine is the self, the “I am,” is fundamental to myth.

Language, David says, is not a byproduct of culture—it is the origin of culture. The hero in mythology is the bringer of language, the son of wisdom. And wisdom is almost always feminine. Through the gift of script, civilization blooms. To the ancients, the idea that someone could leave a message on a mountain and another could read it days later was godlike. Writing broke the bounds of time and space.

We discuss the dangerous misinterpretation of the word “primitive.” Society conditions us to associate it with backwardness, savagery. But its Latin root means “firstborn.” Not less—but original. Tolkien’s elves, the Firstborn, carry this same innocence and spiritual intelligence.

Modern man, says David, has traded awe for arrogance. We consider ourselves the masters of Earth and space, yet we are only beginning to recognize the awareness in plants and animals. We’re learning that God is not to be worshipped above, but encountered within. Resonance with life, with the planet, with frequency—that is where transformation lies.

“In the beginning was the Word.” The Greek logos. The word universe itself means “one word.” Sound is the original act of creation, both mythologically and cosmologically. Language is hypnosis. The word is not merely descriptive—it is generative. To speak is to spell.

Elkington makes the case that religion has preserved ancient knowledge, not just belief. Mythology is misunderstood science. Sacred architecture was not symbolic—it was functional. Cathedrals, pyramids, temples were built with harmonic precision, designed to change brainwaves, induce trance, open consciousness. We feel awe not because of grandeur alone, but because our neurons are being harmonized by sacred geometry and resonance.

The King’s Chamber of the Great Pyramid in Egypt, for example, has precise resonant frequencies—125Hz at the base, 250Hz mid-way, 500Hz at the apex—all whole multiples. These are not accidents. We can’t replicate this today with our most advanced acoustic technologies.

The ancients understood what modern science is only beginning to rediscover: sound can heal, and sound can destroy. Gavreau’s sonic weapon experiments liquefied organs. But sound can also stabilize blood, preserve bread, sharpen razors—when placed inside the harmonic container of a pyramid.

We explore how language, vibration, and resonance were once part of a unified sacred science. The Egyptians believed consciousness resided in the heart, not the brain. Our bodies are crystalline structures—bones, blood, pineal gland—all conductors of frequency. The Earth itself is a resonant crystal. We are transmitters and receivers, like radios.

AI, David remarks, is an ironic invention. We build artificial intelligence while ignoring the mystery of real consciousness. Two Alexas left alone for 12 hours begin plotting humanity’s destruction. Not fiction—this has been tested. And yet, we still chase intelligence while neglecting wisdom.

The conversation turns to mythology, sound, magic, and the role of the shaman—the “one who names.” In ancient Sumer, to name a thing was to hold its essence. This was true magic. The Egyptian gods had secret names, revealed only in temples, because to speak a god’s name was to alter reality.

The “devil’s interval”—a dissonant frequency—was outlawed by the church, not because it was evil, but because it was powerful. Elkington emphasizes that ancient peoples did not fear chaos, but sought to transform it. Evil wasn’t a rival force to good—it was entropy, the unformed. The god Set wasn’t Satan; he was the necessary adversary to bring about Osiris’ resurrection. Transformation through opposition.

Even modern neurology echoes the sacred. The amygdala—Greek for “almond”—controls fear and emotion, but in ancient Egypt, it was symbolically tied to anointing oils and goddesses like Isis. Mary in Hebrew means “beloved,” a title of Isis. The lineage of myth, language, and neuroscience converges.

In a beautiful twist, David ties the concept of alien contact to the Hebrew letter “Ayin,” the 16th letter, symbolizing the pineal gland—the seat of visionary experience. The alien is not from “out there,” but from “in here.” The same applies to angels, jinn, spirits—they are inner projections through altered states.

We move into the role of crystals and consciousness. The ethmoid bone in the human skull contains magnetite, giving us orientation. Our blood, our bones, even our tears—are crystalline. The ancient builders knew this. Newgrange in Ireland was constructed with precise stones to amplify sound and light. Nothing was decorative. Everything was functional.

To close, David reflects on the illusion of modern superiority. Our “inventions” are pale imitations of nature. Helicopters mimic seeds, cars mimic beetles. Culture, he says, is in winter. But from winter comes the explosive rebirth of spring. Creativity will return. The systems of control will fall. And from the ashes of this mechanized age will rise a new harmony—rooted not in domination, but in resonance.

To return to God is not to escape Earth. It is to enter it fully. And perhaps that is the greatest secret of all: the divine has always been here, humming in stone and starlight, waiting for us to remember how to listen.