8 min read

God Cronus. Golden Age is Now

God of the mythical Golden Age, God Father of Christmas, Cronus Explains How Time Works in the Multiverse.
Text title Cronus

Summary of Contents: Cronus in Mythology | Appearance and Arrival | Attendants of a God | Bird in Hand | Christmas Belongs to Cronus | Time's Warehouse | How Time Works in the Multiverse | Cronus' Throne Room

Festival day - 21 March. 25 June (with Helios)

Cronus in Mythology

God Cronus is listed as a Titan God, son of Uranus and Gaea, partner of Rhea whose children are the Olympian generation - Hades, Poseidon, Hera, Demeter and Hestia.

All of whom, he 'swallowed as each came forth from the womb,' said Hesiod in his origin story of the Gods, Theogony.

Hesiod explained the reason. Told of how Cronus’s reign was a Golden Age, a period of plenty and happiness. An era without sorrow, pain or old age when death came only during sleep.

But the cost to keep it that way, he learned from Gaea and Uranus who foretold that Cronus too would be overthrown by his own son. To prevent any such danger, he swallowed all his children at birth.

Or so he thought.

Rhea, distraught over Cronus’ cruelty, hid infant Zeus in a cave on the island of Crete. She wrapped cloth around a babe-shaped rock and presented it as Zeus.

Cronus, so Hesiod told, 'took it and put it down into his womb and he did not realise it in his mind.'

Cronus Mythological references

Goddesses, Gods and You

What kind of Heaven do you expect. Soft fluffy paradise of eternity, or oblivion of nothingness? Out-of-body survival expert Margo Williams discovered a surprisingly simple system of management and afterlife recycling.

There are many goddesses and gods in the community. Speaking their name aloud evidently sends a signal; creates a link to wherever they are at any given moment. If it works for you as it worked for Margo, and they respond, be respectful but be yourself. Honesty and thoughtfulness are appreciated.

Sacrifice nothing but your time. Most of them seemed approachable and appreciated being remembered.

The ancient temples that still can be found in some places, although mostly broken, are huge monumental structures; impressive sacred spaces, their scale designed to impress, to be worthy of divine visitation.

However, it is not the size and splendour of any sacred space but the sincerity of the person seeking contact.

Photo image of Margo Williams in Africa
Margo Williams in Africa
"Can a God do that?" Nick Hammond asked out-of-body survivalist Margo Williams.

Cronus Appearance and Arrival

"From his first arrival Cronus didn’t seem to me like a God easily fooled by a cloth-covered rock.

Saturday was chosen as the day to attempt contact. The weekday dedicated to Saturn, the old Latin name for Cronus.

A figure formed, though only the body outline vaguely visible behind a thick veil of silvered light. Intense power radiated from his presence.

"I accept the homage paid to me," he said. Voice deep and unfriendly. "You can hear and see me. You have received this gift from the Gods, for which I trust you are grateful. Continue and all will be well."

"Turn your back on it and you will have the wrath of the Gods." He let that threat set hard in silence, then added, "I pray that never happens."

The veil of light vanished, a blue-grey mist faded swirling around him as outline formed into solid features. Pale skin, hard thin face accented by a small neat-trimmed beard. He wore a grey white tunic garment with wide pleats.

Dark eyes, dark hair worn loose to shoulders. He stared down at me.

"Each week I will test your faith still is strong. Some Gods may not do this, but this is my way." He gestured. "I expect much. Come. You will travel with me."

Dazzling white light obliterated everything.

Attendants of a God

I arrived in a desert landscape, surprised to see a gathered assortment of people. Some relatively young adults, others older but together looked gruesome as a massed break-out from a maximum security prison.

Easily twelve feet tall Cronus walked among them, by far the most impressive in the gathering which included numerous big individuals.

"Over the centuries I have gained many attendants." He gestured to a huge lump-faced male of some forty years, or so. "This is Rondos."

Cronus could have introduced him as the world’s cruellest assassin, he had that demeanour. I looked for escape options,

A scorpion skittered into shadow; a sand snake slithered into cover behind a stone. A huge spider watched. ‘Running would be foolish,’ I thought. Barefoot, even if I evaded his attendants, the chance of being stung or bitten by something dangerous was too great.

"You seem nervous. There is no need."

Rondos picked up an ornate double-seated wooden stool, carried it to where Cronus stood waiting. "Do you believe I devoured my children?’ he asked, conversationally.

Surprised by the question, I answered. "I don’t know whether to believe it or not."

A tiny bird swooped through the group of men and perched on a rock beside Cronus. Quick as lightning he snatched it in his hand and popped it into his mouth. His stare did not waver from me even as he swallowed.

An attendant handed him something. Cronus leaned forward seized painful hold of my wrist, forced open my hand into which he placed a little yellow bird, a canary. "E.t the bird," he said.

"I will not do that," I replied without hesitation.

What to Do with a Bird in the Hand

"In that case, you will be taken out into the desert and left for the wild animals." That threat made Rondos grin, gruesomely. "Think how you disobey me!"

The bird felt real in my hand, it struggled; tried to flap its wings. Cronus looked impatient, he urged me to hurry up. ‘Can I do as he asks?’ I wondered.

I threw the canary into the air. "You will have to take me into the desert," I said.

The bird flew back and perched on the rock next to him.

"I will give you another chance. B..e off only the h..d from the bird."

Again the tiny creature was forced into my hands. I felt its warmth, its tiny beating heart; as frightened as I was. I opened my hands and let it fly away.

It flew back again to the stone beside him, crazy bird.

Cronus rose from the seat, I felt power radiate from him even out in the open. I shook with fear and stared at the ground.

He touched me lightly on the head.

"That was a trap I set for a weak mortal. I would have been angry had you done what you were told."

Rondos took away the seat. "There are many tests to be taken. Do not question them, accept the love that goes with them." He walked me ten paces or so out among the desert rocks, and then stopped.

"How intelligent are you?" He gestured. "Now bring me five things that in your language begin with the letter 'S'."

I looked around. We were in the desert, there was nothing.

Christmas Belongs to Cronus

Cronus didn’t ever refer to himself as Saturn, the name by which the pre-Christian Roman community honoured him.

In Rome city his famous festival began early morning 17th December, 'Saturnalia', the old God of Agriculture’s party.

It continued until New Year’s day. Festivities commenced by honouring the Gods at solstice time, after autumn’s crop-planting. A holiday so popular and deep-rooted, when the old Gods were outlawed, Rome’s new leaders renamed it 'Christmas'.

Cronus didn’t ever share with me any observation on how things have and have not changed in all this passing time. As it was then so it still is now: gifts are given, work and schooling is suspended; coins still are hidden in puddings.

Even the “Io, Io, Io!” somehow has survived as the good cheer.

Cronus offered no comment on any of that repurposing when next he responded to our invitation, but he did share information on other matters with which he has long been associated.

Flash of light. He arrived. "I am aware that today is a day for celebration," he said, flatly. "The anniversary when you entered your present life. Come, I have something to show you."

It was my birthday.

Warehouse of Time

We arrived inside a high arched marble building, big as a cathedral and noisy with sounds of ticking clocks.

A vast warehouse of timepieces, thousands upon thousands of every variety and shape.

Grandfather clocks and grandmother clocks; alarm clocks; carriage clocks, cuckoo clocks; glass dome clocks; digital clocks. And watches, pocket, wrist, fob; and countless other odd-looking timepieces with gadgets of every conceivable size, sundials too.

Some displayed on stone plinths, some in clustered groups; others on their own. Cronus picked up a digital wristwatch from a pile. It looked tiny in his hand. An early model, its display clunky and basic; its strap creased as if worn by someone.

It displayed the time of 21.45.

"I am associated with time." He carefully placed the watch back among the thousands of others, then picked out a silvered wristwatch, small and elegant. He turned to me and held it against my wrist.

"I am also associated with a planet. But I rule many," he continued. "I was one of the early Gods to be created. By no means the first, but long before many."

He put down the watch and gestured me to follow. That night he wore a long trailing grey robe. I was mindful of my step.

How Time Works in the Multiverse

"Time is important. Some mortals say there is no time. There is a difference." He paused, thoughtful. "On your earth and other planets, whether there is life upon them or not, there is time. As they move, time is important."

In the distance rose giant doors. Slowly they began to open.

"In the realm of the Gods time is different. In one sense it is important, and in another it is not." He stopped and turned to me, hard dark eyes gauging how much of this, if anything, I understood.

"In the realm of the spirits, time is quite different." He gestured to a complicated-looking brass clock. Its hands clicked onto 9.47. "That is when it is said 'There is no time'. But at this time, every week you honour me. So be it."

I hoped I remembered his words correctly, and in the right order. It was deafeningly loud ticking in there.

"Time passes. With time comes wisdom. To you it may not always seem for the best, but it is." The giant doors soft-set at fully opened.

Throne Room of the Time God

The doors opened into a hall long enough to land a small aircraft. The entire length of its floor lustered pure solid gold, Lapis Lazuli blue walls punctuated by projecting columns of gold.

No clocks, no attendants and not much by way of furnishings; only a canopied throne on a dais. Three semi-circular dais steps led to the high-backed seat, its metal frame mottled gold and silver; upholstery iridescent peacock blue.

A blue upholstered foot stool to one side.

Cronus sat, he gestured for me to stand before him. "Am I cruel?" he asked.

I didn’t know what to say.

"Speak!" He raised his voice. "I ask if I am cruel?"

"Not cruel," I replied, truthfully. "But sometimes hard."

"I am never hard. I am the kindliest of Gods."

I remained silent over his self-assessment. Cronus set me challenges every week, as promised. Sometimes worse than picking up and carrying a desert scorpion, a spider and a snake.

Instead I focused on the throne. Its arms were decorated with a squiggle design, its fabric matched the gold-thread tasselled canopy above.

"I may be regarded as a fierce and mighty God, but I am a fair and understanding one," Cronus continued. And that is true too.

"Think deeply on what has been said. Think deeply on the gifts you have received and the blessings given. Blessings are not just words. They are living things."

He rested back in his chair. "Do not believe all you read. I did not e.t my children."

Thank you for your company on this short introduction to god Cronus. If you would like to know more about Margo Williams' experiences and suggestions for how to survive the hereafter, read this book. Now available from Amazon.

Book cover link to purchase Olympian Goddesses and Gods Community
Olympian Goddesses and Gods Community. Now from Amazon.co.uk