From translation and historical archives to artificial intelligence, forgotten voices, and the mysteries of the Frisian Codex
Jan Ott (Otharus) — 7 November 2026
Over the past few weeks, my Oera Linda research has taken several unexpected turns. What began many years ago as an effort to better understand and translate a remarkable manuscript is gradually developing into something much broader: an interconnected exploration of language, history, genealogy, mythology, and the transmission of knowledge across generations.
But AI is only a tool. The real work remains reading, comparing, questioning, and returning to the original sources.
Making the Oera Linda Wiki more accessible
One of my main priorities has been the further development of the Oera Linda Wiki.
Together with the Oera Linda Forum, the Oera Linda Foundation, and my Fryskednis blog, it forms an expanding collection of manuscript pages, transcriptions, translations, historical publications, linguistic studies, and discussions.
My English and Dutch translations, revised in 2026, provide a new foundation for systematic comparisons with the original manuscript and earlier translations.
I am now exploring ways to make the wiki easier to navigate, both for human readers and AI-assisted research. This includes clearer source references, better connections between passages, and a more consistent distinction between textual evidence and interpretation.
The aim is not to tell readers what to believe, but to give them the means to investigate for themselves.
Frya's maidens and the mystery of seven
In the Oera Linda Book, we encounter seven watch maidens associated with the days of the week. Elsewhere, Frya's maidens are invoked to bless newborn children, appear in dreams, and record exceptional deeds in the Eternal Book.
In one remarkable story, a man responds to theft not with punishment, but by rescuing the impoverished family of the thief. Frya's maidens record his act of compassion and erase his shortcomings.
Another passage warns that those who neglect people in need may have their names erased from the Book.
These accounts raise intriguing questions about the relationship between the human burg maidens and the more mysterious maidens associated with Frya herself.
I have also begun comparing these traditions with the Norse Norns, who appear at birth and influence human destiny, and with later customs surrounding the recording of good and bad deeds.
The parallels deserve further examination. Similarity alone, of course, does not establish historical dependence.
Reconsidering the manuscript's hidden layers
Of particular interest is its separate, unnumbered opening leaf and the names Hidde and Liko, which appear in its transmission narrative.
I am exploring a hypothesis that some of these features may have served a deliberate literary or protective purpose. Could the manuscript contain a kind of intellectual seal, intended to distinguish readers familiar with its conventions from those who would misunderstand it?
This remains speculative. But it invites a closer examination of the relationship between language, imagery, names, and the physical structure of the document.
Perhaps the greatest challenge of the Oera Linda Book is not simply determining what its words mean, but discovering how its different layers were intended to be read.
Revisiting Ottema and the manuscript's reception
Stories about his final years, including claims that he eventually rejected the manuscript and took his own life, have been repeated frequently. Yet some of these assertions prove difficult to reconcile with contemporary documentation.
My recent work has focused on distinguishing original evidence from later retellings.
This does not settle the question of the manuscript's antiquity. It does, however, illustrate how easily the history of a controversial work can become surrounded by myths of its own.
I am continuing to examine older publications, correspondence, and the arguments of both defenders and critics.
Family archives and The Frisian Codex
Alongside my Oera Linda studies, I have been examining historical records and photographs relating to several generations of the Ott family.
This has included research into Ignatius Bernard Ott, the lives of nineteenth-century family members, and the extensive personal archive of Jan Ott (1903–1965), including his illustrated account of internment in the Dutch East Indies.
Some of this material provides inspiration for The Frisian Codex, my developing historical-fiction project in which Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson, Willem Oltmans, and members of the Ott family become connected through an imagined archive.
Here the distinction is essential: authentic documents and family memories provide the historical background, while the connecting adventures belong to fiction.
For me, this is also a way of exploring the idea of the Time Traveller: someone who travels through documents, languages, memories, and generations rather than through a machine.
Bringing the stories to life
Another experiment has been the creation of historical and symbolic illustrations inspired by the Oera Linda Book.
Recent subjects include Hellenia (Minerva) debating Greek princes and priests, Frya's maidens watching over human deeds, the training of young burg maidens, and Frya imagined as a phoenix rising from the ashes.
These images are not presented as evidence of historical events. They are imaginative reconstructions, intended to stimulate curiosity and encourage readers to return to the texts.
The process has also revealed some amusing limitations of AI. Asking repeatedly for a wheel with exactly six spokes, for example, does not prevent a generator from enthusiastically producing eight.
Even artificial intelligence needs to learn to count.
Looking ahead
My immediate aim is to bring these different activities into a more coherent research environment, where readers can move easily between manuscript, translation, historical source, interpretation, and creative reconstruction.
I also intend to continue testing linguistic and historical hypotheses, investigating the manuscript's transmission, and developing The Frisian Codex as a separate literary project.
What excites me most is the possibility of asking questions that have received too little attention, while making the evidence increasingly accessible to anyone willing to examine it.
Whether the Oera Linda Book is ultimately understood as an ancient inheritance, a nineteenth-century creation, or something more complicated, its language, ideas, and extraordinary reception history deserve serious investigation.
There is still much to discover — and probably much to reconsider.
