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Stonehenge is widely known as one of the oldest monumental stone structures in the world, but hunter-gatherer societies in southeastern Turkey built circles of T-shaped limestone pillars 6,000 years earlier, weighing up to 50 tonnes each and predating the human invention of agriculture by approximately 4,000 years

In October 1994, a German archaeologist named Klaus Schmidt visited a hilltop near the city of Urfa in southeastern Turkey, in a region of rolling limestone uplands close to the Syrian border. Schmidt had been working at a nearby Neolithic site called Nevalı Çori and was searching the surrounding country for related sites that an earlier survey, conducted in 1963 by a joint team from the University of Chicago and the University of Istanbul, had identified but dismissed. The hilltop the 1963 survey had passed over was called Göbekli Tepe, which translates from Turkish as “potbelly hill.” A local family, the Yıldız family, who owned and farmed the land, had been reporting odd stones turned up by their ploughs for years.

Schmidt arrived at the hill and recognised, almost immediately, that the smooth flat-topped stones the Yıldız family had been ploughing around were the upper surfaces of T-shaped limestone pillars of the kind he had been excavating at Nevalı Çori, buried up to their tops in the hillside. He began systematic excavation the following year, in 1995, under the auspices of the Şanlıurfa Museum and the German Archaeological Institute. The DAI’s own published account of the project sets out the early discovery in detail. Schmidt directed the excavation continuously until his death in 2014. The work has continued under his successors at the German Archaeological Institute and the Şanlıurfa Museum and continues today.

What Schmidt uncovered, and what subsequent excavations have continued to uncover, is a site that, by every prior model of human prehistoric development, should not exist.

What is at the site

Göbekli Tepe consists, in the parts that have been excavated so far, of approximately twenty circular and oval enclosures cut into the bedrock of the hilltop. Each enclosure is bounded by a low limestone wall and contains a ring of T-shaped limestone pillars, with two larger pillars standing at the centre of the ring. The UNESCO World Heritage Centre, which inscribed Göbekli Tepe on the World Heritage List in 2018, dates the construction to between 9,600 and 8,200 BCE on the basis of the radiocarbon analyses conducted during the German Archaeological Institute’s excavations.

The pillars range in height from approximately 3 metres for the smaller examples to 5.5 metres for the largest, and they weigh between 10 and 50 tonnes each. The pillars are carved from limestone quarried from outcrops within several hundred metres of the site, shaped using only chipped stone tools, and set vertically into sockets cut directly into the bedrock. The largest known pillar at the site, still partially embedded in the limestone bedrock of a nearby unfinished quarry, would have stood 7 metres tall and weighed approximately 50 tonnes if the builders had ever extracted it.

The surfaces of the pillars carry detailed relief carvings of wild animals. Foxes appear on multiple pillars. So do lions, boars, gazelles, vultures, scorpions, and snakes. Some pillars carry abstract symbols whose meaning has not been determined. Several pillars carry stylised representations of human arms and hands carved along their sides and fronts, suggesting that the pillars themselves were understood as anthropomorphic figures rather than as architectural elements. A few carry images of human heads alongside the animals, including one widely discussed example showing a human head in the wings of a vulture.

The site was, on the available evidence, used for somewhere between one and two thousand years, and then deliberately buried. The Pre-Pottery Neolithic builders filled in their own enclosures with stone, debris, and animal bones, raising the level of the surrounding ground until the pillars were entirely concealed. The hilltop was then abandoned. The reasons for the burial are not understood. The preservation of the site by its own builders is the reason any of it has survived for archaeologists to find.

Why it should not exist

The standard model of how human civilisation developed, established across roughly a century of archaeological work between the late nineteenth century and the late twentieth, held that monumental architecture was a product of agricultural societies. The reasoning was straightforward. Building enclosures with limestone pillars weighing tens of tonnes requires sustained, coordinated labour by large numbers of people over extended periods. Sustained coordinated labour at that scale requires a reliable food supply that does not depend on each individual hunting and gathering daily. A reliable food supply at that scale requires agriculture. Therefore, the model held, monumental architecture appears only after agriculture, and agriculture appears only in settled communities, and settled communities appear only after the Neolithic Revolution.

The earliest dated layers at Göbekli Tepe were laid down in approximately 9,600 BCE, which is approximately 11,600 years ago. That is several centuries before the earliest archaeological evidence of agriculture anywhere on Earth. The excavated layers contain no domesticated plants. They contain no domesticated animals. As Schmidt set out in his 2000 paper on the first five years of excavation, published in the journal Paléorient, the animal bones recovered from the site, in quantities reaching the tens of thousands, are all wild species: gazelles, wild boars, wild aurochs, wild sheep, and various deer. The cereal grains recovered are wild varieties of einkorn wheat and barley. The Göbekli Tepe builders were, by the unambiguous evidence of their refuse, hunter-gatherers.

They were also building one of the largest monumental complexes anywhere in the world for the next four thousand years.

The site predates the construction of Stonehenge by approximately 6,000 years. It predates the construction of the Egyptian pyramids by approximately 7,000 years. It predates writing by approximately 6,000 years. It predates the wheel by approximately 6,000 years. It predates pottery in the region by approximately 1,500 years. It was built by people who had not yet domesticated any plant or animal, did not yet live in permanent settlements year-round, did not have any form of metal, and were using exclusively chipped stone tools of the kind found at hunter-gatherer sites elsewhere in Eurasia and the Near East at the same date.

What it implies about agriculture

The most consequential implication of Göbekli Tepe, in the published interpretations of Schmidt and the subsequent excavation teams, is not the bare temporal fact that monumental architecture preceded agriculture. It is the suggestion that the conventional causal direction may be reversed.

The standard model held that agriculture created the food surpluses that allowed complex society, which in turn allowed monumental ritual architecture. Göbekli Tepe inverts the sequence. The site appears to have been a regional gathering place to which hunter-gatherer groups travelled from significant distances, possibly for ritual purposes connected with the wild animal imagery on the pillars. Sustaining such gatherings, on the scale the construction work would have required, would have placed substantial pressure on the wild food resources of the surrounding landscape. The earliest archaeological evidence for the domestication of einkorn wheat, set out by Heun and colleagues in Science in 1997, comes from a region called Karaca Dağ, located approximately 30 kilometres from Göbekli Tepe.

The inference some archaeologists have drawn from this geographic and temporal proximity is that the demands of sustaining the Göbekli Tepe gatherings may have driven the experiments in selective cultivation that produced the first domesticated cereals. On that interpretation, agriculture is the consequence of the ritual gathering rather than its prerequisite. Humans did not invent farming and then build temples. They built temples and then invented farming to keep the gatherings fed.

The interpretation is contested. Other archaeologists have argued that the connection is correlational rather than causal, that domestication may have been underway elsewhere in the Fertile Crescent independently, and that Göbekli Tepe’s relationship to early agriculture is one of contemporaneity rather than causation. A 2020 paper in the Cambridge Archaeological Journal by Gil Haklay and Avi Gopher used computer modelling to argue that the three main enclosures at Göbekli Tepe were planned as a single geometric whole rather than built piecemeal over generations, which adds a further layer of complication to the model of how the work was coordinated. The dispute remains live in the literature. What is not contested is the temporal sequence itself. The monumental construction came first. The agricultural revolution followed it.

What has not yet been found

The excavation Schmidt began in 1995 has been continuous for thirty years. Approximately twenty enclosures have been investigated in some detail. The ground-penetrating radar surveys that have been conducted across the rest of the hilltop indicate that the buried complex is substantially larger than what has been excavated so far. The current estimates suggest that fewer than 10 per cent of the site’s structures have been uncovered, and that the total number of T-shaped pillars at the site may eventually exceed 200.

The Yıldız family’s ploughs have been working ground that lies, at most, two or three metres above limestone pillars 11,500 years old. The 1963 survey team walked across the same hilltop and saw the same stones the family had been turning up. They did not recognise them. The pillars Schmidt identified in 1994 had been visible at the surface of the hill for at least three decades, and probably much longer, before any archaeologist looked at them with the right eye.

The site that has now produced the most consequential revision of the established model of how human civilisation developed was, until thirty years ago, an unploughed corner of farmland that local people had been reporting to the museum in the nearest city for years, and that the international archaeological community had walked past.

What else is buried in the rest of the hilltop has not been excavated yet.

What else is buried in other hilltops that the surveys have walked past, or never visited, is a question the published literature does not address.

The post Stonehenge is widely known as one of the oldest monumental stone structures in the world, but hunter-gatherer societies in southeastern Turkey built circles of T-shaped limestone pillars 6,000 years earlier, weighing up to 50 tonnes each and predating the human invention of agriculture by approximately 4,000 years appeared first on Space Daily.

We talk about anxiety as if it starts in the mind — but for some people, the eyes may be the first place it shows up

1 June 2026 at 21:00

The first sign was never a thought.

It was visual. Something in the way the room looked. The walls would seem slightly farther away than they had been a moment before. Colours stayed, shapes stayed, the furniture stayed in exactly the right places — and yet something about the scene lost a quality I can only describe as immediacy. The world was still there. It just stopped feeling available.

This would happen before I felt afraid. Before I could name what was coming. Before any thought had formed that I could call anxious. Something changed in the way I was receiving the world through my eyes, and only later — sometimes much later — would the rest of the experience catch up.

I spent years not knowing what to call this.

I tried “dizzy,” which wasn’t right. I tried “tired,” which was too soft. I tried “dissociating,” which felt too clinical for something that happened in quiet moments, not only in crises. What I was looking for was a word for the way the world could go slightly flat. Not dark. Not frightening in any obvious way. Just — less textured. Less arrived. As if someone had turned the resolution of reality down just slightly, and I was the only one in the room who noticed.

The world went flat before I had words for it

What I was experiencing had a name. Derealization — the sense that the external world has become unreal, distant, or visually altered — is a well-documented symptom that occurs frequently in anxiety and panic, and in the broader condition known as depersonalization-derealization disorder. It affects a surprising number of people, though most, like me, spend a long time describing it badly before they discover it has a name at all.

What I did not expect, once I found the name, was to realize how early in the anxiety sequence it was arriving for me.

Most descriptions of anxiety lead with thought. The worry, the spiral, the catastrophizing. The racing mind. And for many people that may be accurate — the cognitive element comes first, and the body follows. But for me, the sequence ran differently. The visual alteration came before the worry. My eyes created distance before my mind could explain why. By the time I was consciously afraid, I had already been looking at the world through a kind of filter for several minutes. Sometimes longer.

The world went flat before I had words for what was happening.

Once I recognized this, I started paying attention to it differently. Not as a malfunction, but as a signal. Something my system was doing before it had time to speak.

Before anxiety had language, it had a way of altering sight

The neuroscience here is not fully settled, but the broad shape of it makes sense.

The brain does not passively receive visual information and then decide what it means. It actively constructs perception, using prior experience, expectation, and internal state to shape what we experience as seeing. When the nervous system is in a state of hyperarousal — even before that state is consciously registered — the way the brain builds the visual world can shift. Attention narrows. Certain details flatten. The sense of depth and richness that makes the world feel real can diminish, because the system is already doing something else with its resources.

The amygdala, which processes emotional and threat-relevant stimuli, is thought to receive threat-relevant signals very rapidly — in some models, before the slower analytical pathways that give us conscious perception have fully resolved what we’re seeing. This means the body’s threat response can activate before the thinking mind has noticed anything. The alarm goes off, the nervous system reorganizes, and the first sign you have — if you are paying attention to your body rather than your thoughts — might be something as subtle as the way the room looks.

That was my experience. I didn’t first think anxiety. I saw it.

The first thing anxiety stole, reliably, was the texture of the world.

Learning to read the signal

For years, the visual shift frightened me in its own right. The unreality was unsettling before any worry arrived to explain it. There were moments when I genuinely questioned whether I was losing something — my grip on reality, my trust in my own perception, something I couldn’t name. The derealization felt like a symptom without a cause, which is one of the lonelier things you can experience.

It is also disorienting in a specific way: when perception itself becomes the thing you can’t trust, you lose the ground you’d normally stand on to figure out what is wrong. You can’t think your way out of a problem that is currently happening in your thinking. You can’t look clearly at something when it is your looking that has shifted.

What changed was noticing the pattern.

Not during the episode, but afterward. Tracing the sequence: where had I been, what had I been carrying before I noticed the flatness, what came before the flatness itself. And what I found, slowly, was that the visual shift was not random. It was a leading indicator. Something had already been building in my nervous system — a stress response, a low-grade overwhelm I hadn’t consciously registered — and my eyes were the first thing that showed it. Before my thoughts caught up. Before my chest tightened. Before I would have said, if anyone had asked, that anything was wrong.

My eyes were filtering the world before I knew I needed a filter.

Maybe it was never malfunction

I am careful about what I claim here. I am not saying anxiety lives in the eyes, or that this is how it works for everyone. What I am saying is something smaller and, to me, more useful: for some people, the first felt experience of anxiety may be visual. Perceptual. Something that shows up in how the world looks before it shows up in what the mind thinks.

And if that is true — even sometimes, even for some people — then it changes where you learn to look for the early signs.

I used to search for the anxious thought. The belief I could challenge, the worry I could reframe, the cognitive distortion I could name and dispute. These have their place. But I kept arriving at them too late, after the nervous system had already been organizing itself around something I hadn’t consciously noticed. I was looking for the fire after the smoke had already been there for a while.

Now I know to check in with what I’m seeing. Whether the room feels arrived. Whether the world has its texture. Whether reality is still emotionally available, or whether it has quietly started to step back — a little flatter, a little more distant, a little less like itself — without explanation.

Those were never signs that something was wrong with my eyes.

They were signs that something in me was trying to protect itself before I understood what from. The nervous system, doing what nervous systems do — adjusting the aperture, reducing the input, creating a small buffer between me and a world it had decided, for some reason, was temporarily too much.

That is not a disorder. That is a system trying to survive.

It just took me a long time to recognize the signal for what it was, instead of fearing it as one more thing that was wrong.

This article reflects personal experience and is for informational purposes only. It is not a substitute for professional mental health advice. If you are experiencing symptoms of derealization or anxiety, consider speaking with a qualified professional.

The post We talk about anxiety as if it starts in the mind — but for some people, the eyes may be the first place it shows up appeared first on Space Daily.

Daily Glass of Fruit Juice May Lift Your Mood: Study

1 June 2026 at 17:35
People who drink a glass of 100% fruit juice or a smoothie each day as part of the UK’s 5-a-day healthy eating guidance see improvements in their mental wellbeing. Image credit: Joseph Mucira.

In a small randomized trial in the United Kingdom, adults who added a serving of 100% fruit juice or a smoothie to a healthier diet reported lower depression scores after four weeks.

The post Daily Glass of Fruit Juice May Lift Your Mood: Study appeared first on Sci.News: Breaking Science News.

Cows Can Recognize Familiar Human Faces, New Study Finds

25 May 2026 at 14:26
Amichaud et al. found that cows not only recognize human faces, but can connect them with familiar voices. Image credit: NeiFo.

New research led by scientists from the French National Institute for Agriculture, Food, and Environment (INRAE) suggests cows (Bos taurus taurus) can distinguish between known and unknown people, and even match a familiar voice to the correct face.

The post Cows Can Recognize Familiar Human Faces, New Study Finds appeared first on Sci.News: Breaking Science News.

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