Forbidden History Lost Knowledge E-Book

Ben Wilder

• Herausgeber: A.W Publishing
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Serie: educational books gifts for men who like history
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 163

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

What if ancient civilizations knew secrets of science and technology that modern history refuses to acknowledge?

Forbidden History: Lost Knowledge uncovers the hidden sciences, mysterious technologies, and lost wisdom of civilizations that existed before recorded history. From impossible ancient structures to forgotten inventions that defy explanation, this book reveals the knowledge erased—or suppressed—by mainstream historians.

Packed with fascinating trivia, forbidden facts, and mind-bending theories, this isn’t just a history book—it’s also the perfect gift for men who have everything, history buffs, and curious minds everywhere.

Inside you’ll discover:

Ancient technologies that rival or surpass modern achievements

Hidden sciences and forgotten knowledge passed through secret traditions

The mysteries of civilizations that existed before time

A trivia-filled format that makes this book the perfect Christmas gift, birthday gift, or stocking stuffer

Whether you’re shopping for a world history book, ancient history book, or a unique gift for men, this edition delivers forgotten knowledge that challenges everything we think we know.

👉Whether you’re shopping for unique gifts for men, a white elephant gift, or just love captivating history, this book is for you.

Leseprobe

​​FORBIDDEN

HISTORYLost Knowledge

Ancient Technologies, Hidden Sciences, and the Secrets of Civilizations Before Time

Ben Wilder

Copyright © 2025 Ben Wilder History Publisher

Kindle ISBN: 978-1-959581-80-2

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-959581-81-9

Legal Notice and Disclaimer

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission from the publisher or author, except for brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly work permitted under applicable copyright laws.

For More information you can reach us via [email protected]

Printed in the U.S.A

Table of Contents

Introduction: The Science We Were Never Meant to Remember

Part I: Ancient Technologies Beyond Their Time

Chapter 1: Machines of the Gods

Chapter 2: Lost Arts of Construction

Chapter 3: Maps from a Forgotten Age

Part II: Hidden Sciences of the Ancients

Chapter 4: The Mathematics of the Sacred

Chapter 5: Healing Sciences Before Modern Medicine

Chapter 6: The Energy Mysteries

Part III: Suppressed Discoveries and Forbidden Knowledge

Chapter 7: The Knowledge Filter

Chapter 8: The War on Ancient Science

Chapter 9: Secret Orders and Hidden Archives

Part IV: The Legacy of Lost Civilizations

Chapter 10: Catastrophe and Reset

Chapter 11: Patterns of Rise and Fall

Chapter 12: Reawakening the Lost Knowledge

Bonus Section: Lost Knowledge Workbook

Conclusion

Introduction

The Science We Were Never Meant to Remember

What if some of humanity’s greatest breakthroughs happened not in modern laboratories, but thousands of years ago—only to be forgotten, buried, or deliberately erased?

That single question is the doorway to a very different view of our past. It asks us to hold two thoughts at once: first, that our ancestors were at least as curious, observant, and ingenious as we are; second, that history, as we receive it, is a highly filtered story. In that filtered story, we hear about the inventions of the last few centuries and the leaps of today’s science. In the unfiltered story—the story whispered by ruins, encoded in myths, and hinted at by anomalies—we glimpse an older inheritance: precise sky-knowledge embedded in epic tales, engineering we still argue about, maps whose implications make orthodox chronologies sweat, and surgical traces that shouldn’t exist “so early.”

This book is about that inheritance. It does not preach; it investigates. It does not insist; it tests. And it invites you into the role of co-investigator—questioning with rigor, weighing mainstream positions alongside outlier evidence, and learning to recognize the patterns ancient builders, astronomers, and memory-keepers left behind.

Defining “Lost Knowledge”

By “lost knowledge,” we mean bodies of craft, science, and encoded wisdom that were once known, practiced, and transmitted—and that subsequently vanished from living traditions or were pruned out of official narratives. Some losses are practical: how to quarry, move, and interlock vast polygonal stones with seismic resilience; how to tune a building to a sky-event so precisely that a sunrise or star pierces a corridor like a laser, century after century. Some losses are cartographic: early-modern maps drawing ancient shorelines, river mouths, or subglacial contours as if from memory. Some are medical: trepanations that show bone healing, ancient dentistry with surprising technique, cranial and orthopedic interventions that imply anatomical familiarity and antiseptic practice. And some are cosmological: myths that double as astronomical codes, carrying precession, planetary periods, and calendrical harmonics in story form. The last may be the most crucial, because when scientific language is absent, the story becomes the vessel for law-like knowledge—especially the laws of the sky.

A pivotal thread in these older sciences is the sky-clock: the cycles of Sun, Moon, planets, and the slow wobble of the Earth’s axis. Cultures across the ancient world appear to have synchronized their ritual calendars, architectural alignments, and civil timekeeping to that clock—and then narrated it in myth so it could travel safely through centuries. When you start reading epic and folklore with this lens, the “gods” and “heroes” stop behaving like tangled soap-opera characters and begin to move like planets and asterisms; world-ages turn with the precessional mill; catastrophe and renewal rhyme with the sky’s slow gears.

Why mainstream history refuses to accept advanced ancient knowledge

If compelling hints of ancient sophistication exist, why aren’t they taught plainly? Because knowledge disappears by three mechanisms—and often by all three at once.

1) Catastrophe

The end of the last Ice Age was not a neat, linear melt. Sea levels rose in pulses; coasts moved; vast areas of the world’s continental shelves—where people would naturally settle—went under. Whatever those coasts carried, from fishing towns to ceremonial complexes, was drowned and later smeared by currents and storm systems. Modern divers who’ve followed those submerged margins report rectilinear formations, terraced platforms, standing stones, and paved ways at depths that match late-glacial sea-level curves—hints that much of the human story simply slipped below our archaeological line of sight.

Flood memory is among humanity’s most universal traditions. Whether one treats these as literal history or as mythic condensation, their persistence suggests a shared human experience of water rising fast enough—and high enough—to remake maps and erase libraries that had no walls.

2) Conquest

Libraries burn. Priests and scholars are killed or converted. Scripts become unreadable. The victors write chronicles that canonize some knowledge as “civilized” and stigmatize other knowledge as “idolatry,” “magic,” or “heresy.” Once an archive is ash, the practical and theoretical work embedded in it vanishes unless redundantly preserved in stone, story, or diaspora memory.

3) Suppression

Sometimes evidence is inconvenient—not because it must be false, but because it sits awkwardly with an accepted timeline or a reigning theory. The result isn’t always a conspiracy; it can be a subtler “knowledge filter.” Ambiguous data are shunted aside as “outliers.” Claims that cross boxes—say, astronomical content inside myth—are treated as category errors. And scholars whose methods legitimately differ from the mainstream’s experimental ideals (ethnoastronomy, geomythology, structural reading of narrative) can be ignored until their results are independently rediscovered. Yet read deeply in the comparative material and you find ancient sources pointing, again and again, to sky-driven cosmology as the skeleton under myth, what some early historians took for granted before that lens fell out of fashion.

Your Role in This Book

This journey asks for your critical faculties and your curiosity. We will examine:

Physical anomalies

(structures and artifacts that strain orthodox toolkits),

Textual anomalies

(maps and manuscripts with improbable content or provenance), and

Cultural anomalies

(myths and rites that behave like data-sets in disguise).

At each turn, we’ll set the mainstream reading beside the alternative reading and ask: Which accounts for more facts with fewer leaps? When claims are weak, we’ll say so. When mainstream explanations are hand-wavy, we’ll point that out too. In other words, we’ll do the one thing dogma—orthodox or fringe—hates: compare both lenses on the same evidence.

A First Look at the Evidence

Megaliths and Stone-Cutting

Consider the global distribution of megalithic sites whose stonework exhibits distinct design logics: cyclopean polygonal masonry with interlocking faces and internal keys; monoliths raised or moved across dramatic terrain; and alignments tuned to solar/stellar events with long-term precision. While simple tools can achieve surprising feats, several sites display tolerances and jointing strategies that seem to anticipate earthquakes, thermal cycles, and centuries of wear. Our goal isn’t to romanticize mystery, but to inventory method: quarrying signatures, transport physics, seating strategies, and astronomical targeting, and ask whether modern teams with no steel or engines could duplicate the work at comparable speed and scale.

Maps of Memory

Early-modern portolan charts sometimes include coastlines that were, by the chart’s date, unmapped by the issuing culture, or shorelines drawn as if sea levels or ice margins were different. Are these cartographic accidents, lucky guesses, or compilations from older source maps copied and recopied through centuries? We will examine competing theories and the best counterarguments, keeping what stands and dropping what doesn’t.

The Sky in the Story

A crucial theme of this book is that myths are not primarily “just-so” tales; they can be mnemonic engines. Read as coded science, they often introduce a cast (heroes/“gods”) whose interactions encode planetary periods, ecliptic geometry, or the slow churn of precession—the very phenomena you’d want a preliterate civilization to keep track of across generations. Many cultures, widely separated, treat the Great Bear, the Ship, the Maelstrom, and other motifs not as random poetry but as part of a sky grammar echoed in rites and alignments. When such motifs are consistent across continents and hook into real celestial mechanics, we’re allowed to wonder whether a shared archaic curriculum once existed.

Submerged Worlds

Divers along continental margins from the Indian Ocean to the western Pacific have documented rectilinear platforms, “avenues,” stone circles, and terraced features at depths matching late-glacial sea-level rise. Whether every formation is human-made or partly natural and later modified is the debate. Either way, the presence of worked masonry courses, megalithic passageways, and paved surfaces at significant depth should focus surveys on drowned coastal plains—precisely where we’d expect early urbanism to cluster before the seas rose.

The Ancient-Visitor Hypothesis (Handled with Gloves)

Some investigators argue that certain jumps in myth, technology, or morphology reflect contact with non-human intelligences. Others see a human high culture transmitting knowledge across the ages. We will treat these as hypotheses—not creeds—asking what evidence would discriminate them and where current claims overreach. The value of this debate, even if you ultimately reject it, is that it keeps our evidentiary standards sharp and reminds us that explanations must fit all the data, not just the comfortable parts.

How myths, ruins, and suppressed discoveries reveal a different story

Mainstream history emphasizes replicability: if you can’t show a chain from raw material to finished product with period-appropriate means, skepticism is reasonable. Alternative histories sometimes leap from anomaly to conclusion without the intermediate rungs. We’ll avoid both traps by doing three things:

Putting the burden of proof on mechanisms.

If an alignment is claimed, we’ll check the sightline and the horizon profile. If an engineering feat is posited, we’ll sketch a plausible step-by-step pathway, not a magic wand.

Tracking the “how else would this look?” test.

Could a natural process mimic that terrace? Could erosion make that “stair”? Could later people have reworked earlier natural formations? At sea, especially, this test matters.

Respecting context.

A single weird block is noise. A suite of features—tool marks, quarry scars, roads, drainage, consistent orientation—is a signal.

The Journey Ahead (Your Field Guide)

Part I: Machines, Maps & Megaliths

We’ll reverse-engineer stone-working logics, transport tricks, and seismic design embedded in cyclopean walls and platformed terraces; dissect puzzling cartography that hints at older source maps; and examine mechanical curiosities that signal mathematical cultures attentive to gear ratios and sky cycles.

Part II: Hidden Sciences

From sacred geometry to healing arts, we’ll map what can be recovered of ancient curricula: metrology systems, canonical ratios, musical pitch pipes mirrored in calendars, and the medical pragmatics hiding in ritual (sanitation, herbal knowledge, bone-setting, trepanning). Where claims of “impossible” surgery appear, we’ll test them against osteological data and known ethnomedical practices.

Part III: Fire & Erasure

We’ll track the deliberate and accidental destruction of archives—from codices to catalogues of stars—and the subtler ways institutions sand down anomalies. We’ll also look at the rediscoveries: how ideas buried in myth tend to reappear, translated into a new language, every few centuries.

Part IV: Lessons from the Vanished

We’ll ask what these lost sciences teach us about resilience, sustainability, and humility: how to build for earthquakes; how to site cities to climate cycles; how to transmit critical knowledge across dark ages; and how to avoid our erasures.

Why This Matters Now

It checks our hubris. We like to imagine a smooth ascent from caves to code, with today as the pinnacle. But if earlier peaks existed—built on different foundations, with different priorities—our “pinnacle” is just one ridge among many. Finding others does not diminish us; it enlarges what “human” can mean.

It broadens our toolkit. Ancient design embeds durability: structures that shrug off quakes, channel water sensibly, and endure with minimal maintenance. In an age of brittle supply chains and stressed climates, the old lessons feel uncomfortably fresh.

It rehumanizes the past. When myths stop being fairy tales and become data-rich memory engines, ancestors stop being primitive caricatures and become what they always were: colleagues in a very long experiment.

It may even help with present crises. Flood memory, drought ritual, agricultural calendars bound to multi-year cycles, and architectures married to climate—all these are technologies of living with a volatile planet. They are not quaint; they are strategic.

Opening the Case Files (Three Exemplars)

1) The Archeoastronomy of Myth

A Norse “mill” whose axle breaks, a whirlpool at the world’s edge, a Golden Age that ends with the sky’s reset—these are not just evocative images; they map onto observable celestial mechanics. When the same motifs recur in India, Iran, Polynesia, and Rome, and when their hidden scaffolding is astronomy, we have to update our reading: the mythkeepers were also timekeepers.

2) The Drowned Margins

Off the coasts of South and East Asia and the western Pacific, divers have documented rectilinear terraces, passageways with lintels, megalithic rings, and paved features at depths consistent with late-glacial sea-level rise. Some are debated, some are likely natural with human modifications, and some exhibit unmistakable masonry courses. The take-home is not a single “smoking gun,” but a survey strategy: follow palaeo-coastlines and river mouths; expect cultural density where fish, fresh water, and safe anchorages once coincided.

3) The Long Chronology Problem

Ancient historians sometimes give timelines that modern editors dismiss out of hand. Ancient chronologies can indeed be mythical, symbolic, or calendrically odd. But it’s also true that systematic reductions—especially when they consistently prune long pre-dynastic spans—may blind us to deep cultural memory of very old cycles of rulership, “god-kings,” or ancestral science framed in theological terms. The right stance is neither credulous nor contemptuous; it is diagnostic: what, exactly, is being encoded—astronomical periods, dynastic lists, ritual cycles, or a literal reign?

How We’ll Work Together

Weigh convergences.

When

myth motifs

,

architectural alignments

, and

regional sea-level curves

all point the same way, treat that as a serious signal.

Keep alternatives in play

, but retire them when they fail tests.

Document your uncertainty.

It’s fine to say “unknown.” That’s how real knowledge grows.

Closing the Door Behind Us (and Opening the Next)

We began with a provocation. Let’s end the chapter with a pact.

Our pact: We will follow evidence even when it asks us to redraw timelines. We will honor skepticism even when it challenges our favorite story. And we will be relentless in seeking the mechanisms—how a myth encodes a cycle, how a terrace was cut, how a map was compiled, how a flood remembered by grandmothers maps to real coastlines.

Because the stakes are not just historical. They are civilizational. If earlier cultures solved problems we still struggle with—how to build to last, how to live with long cycles of drought and flood, how to carry crucial knowledge safely across centuries of disruption—then recovering those solutions is not nostalgia. It’s a strategy.

The ruins are whispering. The manuscripts are waiting. The question is—are we ready to listen?

Part I: Ancient Technologies Beyond Their Time

Chapter 1: Machines of the Gods

We begin in the hush before history, in that dim interval where memory hardens into myth and myth quietly encodes method. All over the world, ancient storytellers spoke of a cosmic mill—vast stones grinding the ages themselves—an image that makes startling sense once you realize it mirrors the turning of the sky and the measured cycles that rule seasons, floods, and fates. In northern lore, the “Mill of Amlodhi” (Hamlet’s mill) churns until it shatters, tipping a whirlpool at the world’s navel; Greek and Arab astronomers later likened the heavens to a revolving millstone pinned on a polar axle. It’s a myth as an instrument: a memory palace for celestial mechanics.

Why open with this? Because this book treats myth not as decoration but as data—a tradition of coded models pointing to technologies that once existed, perhaps widely, and then were lost, submerged, or dismissed. “Machines of the Gods” is not a claim that divinities machined bronze gears, but a stance: that some ancient tools were so good at patterning nature they felt godlike to later ages. In this chapter, we enter three theatres of proof and debate:

a corroded shoebox of bronze gears that once calculated the sky;

clay jars and copper that may or may not have bottled lightning;

a stone that sets under salt and grows stronger in seawater.

We’ll let wonder do its work—but we’ll also interrogate every claim. The project is to be curious without being credulous.

The Antikythera Mechanism: A 2,000-year-old computer

Discovery, neglect, revelation

In 1900, sponge divers working the waters off the Greek island of Antikythera stumbled on a Roman-era shipwreck. Among bronzes and statues lay a lump of corroded gears—so out of place that when a museum curator first proposed it was an astronomical clock, he was ridiculed. Decades later, a close study reignited interest and confirmed the unthinkable: this was a precision, gear-driven machine from the first century BCE, centuries ahead of anything we thought possible in that world.

What the mechanism did

Reconstructed from dozens of fragments, the device is a hand-cranked calculator. Turn the knob, and interlocking gears move pointers across dials that track the Sun and Moon through the zodiac, predict lunar and solar eclipses, and coordinate calendars like the 19-year Metonic and 223-lunation Saros cycles. Technical flourishes—like a pin-and-slot gear that mimics the Moon’s changing speed—betray a designer who wasn’t just literate in astronomy but fluent in it. The inscriptions read like a user manual; the back dials appear to include an eclipse predictor and long cycles (Metonic, Callippic), and there’s evidence (still debated) of game calendars tied to Greek festivals. The consensus: it predicted the sky. The controversy: how far it went—were planetary motions displayed with epicyclic trains, or did it “only” model Sun-Moon cycles? Either way, the wow remains.

Why it matters

The mechanism doesn’t “prove” a vanished high-tech civilization; it does something more useful. It forces us to redraw the curve of Hellenistic engineering and look for its workshop, its teacher’s teachers, its missing siblings. Tools imply toolchains: gear-cutters, mathematical tables, and a market of educated users. “Uniqueness” is often an illusion created by what survives. If one ship carried one such device, others likely existed and perished.

How to read an artifact without overreading it

A gear train that predicts eclipses is extraordinary—but it’s still a clockwork model. It doesn’t require modern metallurgy, steam power, or electricity. The Antikythera Mechanism says the ancients could translate a sky full of myth into mathematics and then into metal. That’s not aliens; that’s genius—and a tradition of sky-watching going back far before Greece, likely encoded first in stories, rituals, and “mills” of the heavens.

The Baghdad Battery: The possibility—perhaps—of ancient electricity

The jars that sparked a century of debate

In the 1930s, excavations near modern Baghdad uncovered small ceramic jars containing a copper cylinder and an iron rod, sealed with bitumen. Decades later, a museum director wondered aloud: could these be galvanic cells? Replicas filled with acidic juice produce a timid but real voltage, and a later experiment even managed to electroplate a small silver object with a thin film of gold. That’s more parlor trick than power plant—but it keeps the question alive.

The mainstream reading—and what’s missing