Astronomical Images of Sayburç and Karahan Tepe, and Their Links to Indo-European Mythology

In 2021, a large wall relief from the ninth millennium BC was discovered in Sayburç, southeastern Turkey. It was carved on a bench in a communal building and consists of five figures. 

In my view, this is clearly astronomical imagery. As I haven’t come across any online articles addressing it from this perspective, I decided to write one myself.

This is what I believe that the relief might represent:

Scene 1: Winter in Taurus

The first scene, featuring a man and a bull, immediately struck me as familiar. It closely resembles the imagery found in the Lascaux cave, as well as the depiction in the Egyptian Dendera zodiac.

The Lascaux scene has already been identified as an astronomical representation of Orion and Taurus. The similarities with the Sayburç scene are striking. Both human figures are ithyphallic, and even their hands are in similar positions. The bull’s head is also positioned in a specific way that feels somewhat unnatural. However, this exact depiction of bull’s head seems to be consistent across all ancient Anatolian reliefs of this period, as if it was standardized.

In my view, the unusual hand positions and the angle of the bull’s head are deliberate – they are simply mimicking the shapes of the constellations Orion and Taurus.

In the Sayburç scene, the man holds an object in one hand, though its identity is uncertain. Some interpret it as a snake, others as a sling. The purpose of his actions—whether he is in danger or performing a ritual—remains unclear.

Interestingly, the Dendera Zodiac features a similar scene. Here, the bull is slightly farther away and doesn’t appear to be charging. Connecting this Dendera image to Lascaux and Sayburç would have been challenging without a bird on a pole image, located in a position strikingly similar to that in the Lascaux scene.

However, it’s important to note that when the Dendera Zodiac was created, the constellation of Taurus was no longer a significant seasonal marker. It was simply one of many images in a tapestry of ancient celestial imagery depicted on the temple ceiling, that had previously been presereved by generations and generations of astronomers in other places.

In contrast, Lascaux and Sayburç are separated by approximately 7,000 to 8,000 years. This span of time is just enough for the spring equinox to shift through three to four zodiac signs, with each sign remaining the equinox marker for about 2,160 years.

In other words, while the Sun in Taurus marked autumn for the inhabitants of the Lascaux cave, it signified winter for the people of Sayburç. Finally, around 4,000 BC, Taurus became a marker of spring.

Scene 2: Spring in Cancer

The second image in the relief likely represents what was the acctual spring imagery for the people of Sayburç. It features another ithyphallic figure—a man holding his phallus—flanked by what seem to be two lions.

This scene immediately brought to mind the astronomical imagery of the Sun in Cancer, as depicted below.

The image of a man holding his phallus appears to be a standardized motif from this period. For instance, another relief from Karahan Tepe in Turkey features a similar figure. 

I haven’t encountered anyone else drawing this parallel, but to me, it’s a clear connection to ancient Egypt, particularly reminiscent of depictions of the god Min.

The Sayburç Influence on Ancient Egypt?

As evident from the image above, both figures are ithyphallic and depicted holding their phallus. They also share a strikingly similar beard. Additionally, the Egyptian god Min is often shown holding a flail. Could it be that the man in the Sayburç relief is holding a flail as well, rather than a sling?

The sudden emergence of the god Min in 4th millennium Egypt is unlikely to be coincidental. As we’ve seen, this was the period when Taurus marked the spring, heralding the beginning of the worship of the “golden calf,” a practice that Moses would later prohibit once the Sun had moved out of Taurus.

The Egyptian god Min was a deity associated with fertility, male potency, and the procreative forces of nature. He was often depicted as an ithyphallic figure, emphasizing his role in fertility, and was commonly shown holding a flail, a symbol of power and dominion. 

Min was also closely connected to bulls, which were powerful symbols of virility and strength in ancient Egypt. One of his epithets was “Ka-mut-ef,” meaning “Bull of His Mother”.

From Egypt to Ancient Greece?

For several years now, I’ve known that the Egyptian god Min represents Orion, much like some depictions of Satyrs in ancient Greece. This connection is clear from the distinctive stance I refer to as “The Orion Pose”—with one arm raised—a pose that is consistently seen in countless ancient depictions of Orion, too numerous to list here.

According to ancient authors, the Greeks identified Osiris with Dionysus and Min with Pan and the Satyr. The great father of history, Herodotus, was aware of this connection. He states:

“The rites which the Greeks celebrate to Dionysus were, in my opinion, adopted by the Greeks from the Egyptians…”

He also adds:

“Melampus, the son of Amytheon, brought to Greece the name of Dionysus, the ceremonial procession of the phallus, and the choruses.”

Herodotus also notes that the Egyptian priests claimed to have records of their kings’ lineages stretching back over 11,000 years, which would place their historical memory in the era of the Göbekli Tepe and Karahan Tepe cultures.

Indo-European Origins of Orion Cults

I believe that Herodotus was mistaken in suggesting that the Greeks adopted the cult of Dionysus from the Egyptians. However, I do understand that this is probably how things really looked like from his perspective.

First, even according to Herodotus, the Egyptian priests themselves said that the Phrygians—who lived in what is now Turkey and originated in the Balkans—were the oldest of all people. 

Second, Dionysus was originally a Thracian god, not Greek, and the Thracians and Phrygians were closely related. Indeed, the ancient Balkan cults were almost all Dionysian in nature. From the Orphic cults to those of gods known as Sabazios or Zalmoxis, what we see is essentially just worship of Dionysus under different names.

Furthermore, in another passage of his book, Herodotus also suggests that the Egyptian gods were introduced to the Greeks through the Pelasgians, another indigenous group from the Balkans.

Thirdly, the oldest depiction of Orion and Taurus is not from Egypt but from the Lascaux cave, France.

And finally, we should not forget the astronomical perspective, as the constellation of Orion holds significance primarily in the Northern Hemisphere. South of the equator, Orion doesn’t play a crucial role, which is why you won’t find him prominently featured in African star lore.

Hence, the people we now know as Indo-Europeans, in fact refrered to themseleves as Aryans, and this word stems from the same root as Orion.

All of this evidence points to an Indo-European, rather than a North African origin for the Orion star lore. Therefore, if these ancient Anatolian reliefs really depict Orion, that would mean that the people who made them were also (Proto)-Indo-Europeans.

Minotaur – not a “Bull of Minos”, but a “God of Frenzy”

We might never know the etyology of the Egyptian name Min. However, this name sounds similar to that of the legendary king Minos, and his Minotaur. Similarly to the Egyptian Min, the Minotaur can also be seen as a “bull of his mother” when considering his Greek origin story. According to myth, the Minotaur was born from the union of Pasiphae, the wife of King Minos, and a majestic bull sent by Poseidon. This unnatural union resulted in the birth of the Minotaur.

According to historians, the word “Minotaur” is often translated as “bull of King Minos.” While this translation is convenient, I believe it is more of a later folk etymology rather than an accurate reflection of the word’s original meaning. This interpretation likely emerged because the ancient Greeks themselves struggled to explain the word “Minotaur.”

However, it’s important to note that the Minotaur was not just a bull, but a hybrid creature—part bull, part man. Given this unusual nature, the name “bull of King Minos” seems rather underwhelming and does not fully capture the unique and terrifying aspects of this mythical being.

In my opinion, the origin of this name lies in the Proto-Indo-European “Muinethar”, and Proto-Celtic “Manyetor”, from Proto-Indo-European *men- (“to think, mind”), and related to Sanskrit “mányate”, and Old Church Slavonic mĭněti – “think”.

This words are also cognates with Ancient Greek Maívouar (maínomai, “to be mad”), derived from the word “maníã”, meaning: madness, frenzy, enthusiasm and mad desire, compulsion.

1. Given this, I believe the original meaning of the name Minotaur likely designated a god associated with “madness, frenzy, and mad desire.” This interpretation would align the Minotaur with the cults of Dionysus, whose followers, the Maenads, share the same etymological root of the word mania, for which they were famous for.

It also places the Minotaur alongside the Egyptian god Min, as all these cults date back to the same period in the fourth millennium BC, when the Sun was in Taurus. Each of these cults is deeply connected to themes of madness, frenzy, and sexual desire.

Etruscan Mania and Manes

In Etruscan mythology, Mania was a goddess associated with the underworld and the spirits of the dead, particularly those of deceased ancestors. She was considered the mother of the Manes, the collective spirits of the dead who were revered as protective ancestral spirits. The Manes played a significant role in Roman and Etruscan belief systems, where they were thought to influence the lives of the living, ensuring the prosperity and protection of their descendants. Rituals and offerings were made to the Manes to keep them appeased, especially during festivals like the Parentalia, a Roman event dedicated to honoring deceased family members. Mania herself was often portrayed as a dark, foreboding figure, embodying the feared and revered power of death and the afterlife, and was central to the Etruscan understanding of the connection between the living and the dead.

Theseus, Mithras and other Bull-Slayers

The key question here is whether we can draw a parallel between the traditional imagery of the Minotaur and the ancient reliefs we discussed earlier. Should we interpret the sexually aroused man confronting the bull in Lascaux and Sayburç as a precursor to Theseus slaying the Minotaur?

Of course, the ancient warriors of Lascaux and Sayburç wouldn’t be shown with swords, as those hadn’t been invented yet. But aside from that, aren’t these depictions conveying the same symbolic message as those of Theseus and Mithras?

In Mithraism, the bull-slaying scene (tauroctony) is thought to represent the triumph of order over chaos, or the victory of light over darkness. It could have  also symbolized the renewal of life, as the bull’s death was believed to bring about fertility and prosperity. 

These obvious similarities between the cults of Egyptian Min, Minotaur and Dionysus, are completely neglected by scolars, but as we have just seen, they are numerous and probably date to the fertility rites of the fourth millenium BC. This is also the furthest we can go in terms of language, as we don’t know how the people of ancient Anatolia called their gods in the 9th millenium BC.

However, the Indo-European connection is really obvious. Even in Vedic religion, it was Manu who was regarded as the progenitor of humanity and the first king to rule the earth. He is considered the ancestor of all human beings and is often referred to as the “father of mankind.”

Dragons Instead of Bulls – The Equinox Shifts to Aries

As we have seen, the equinox stays in one constellation for only 2,160 years. Hence, from the second millenium BC, the bull-slaying myth started to lose its potency. This changes do not happen over night, as it is not so easy to change the cultural template that common people identified with as part of their tradition, for over two millenia. That is why Moses struggled with the golden calf worshipers. This is also why in several centuries from now, people will have hard times understanding that Christianity got dated.

But what has become of our bull slayer? It seems that with the shift of equinox to Aries, he got a new enemy – a giant snake, personfied by the constellation Cetus – the dragon.

In the image bellow, we see how the ancient cultures “updated” their mythos to match the stellar imagery. The story of St. George was a Christianised version of a myth that can be matched to that Horus slaying Apep, and which is more ancient.

However, it is in Sweden that we see an ityphallic figure standing in front of a giant snake, and what appears to be a Sun symbol. I find it interesting that this figure stands in such a similar position as the warrior facing the bull in Lascaux cave, or the one from the Sayburç relief. I am surprised that nobody else seems to be talking about this.

Isn’t this compelling evidence of an ancient and highly developed stellar mythology that has flourished on European soil for at least 20,000 years – one whose significance, as embodied by the figure of St. George, was never truly forgotten?