I guess I ought not to become surprised if the idea for
yet another radical article suddenly invades my mind. After all my mystically-inspired life has so far had
to offer, I not only ought not to be surprised; but far rather come to expect,
it seems, that one will almost, as if by
magic, always materialize. And so it was with this one. I was reflecting
that sometime in the past, in a place that now escapes my mind – Maybe it was
even in a lucid dream! – I’d written something that didn't quite ring true with
the mandate I’d been mystically
tasked to promote. I’d said: My mystically-inspired
cosmogony, based on the Y=X Squared plus
One formula, should be called Brianism
for the sake of a better name: All that was needed to be a confirmed believer
of it – As everyone acted as their own temple, so to speak! – was to be truly
in accord with cosmic harmony: And simply state sincerely to themselves ‘I believe’
three times. It was as easy as that. It wasn’t a brand new religion; but a much-needed and balanced science
of the whole. What was therefore wrong with the concept? The word Brianism! It was making the new belief
too personalized and ism didn't sound right either.
Something more telling was needed. For generality,
its title had to be made more
appropriate for all concerned. So, my search for a new title began.
I’d become a mystically-inspired
and self-styled Cosmic, as a result of all that had happened to and transformed me.
So, this had to be a good start, I thought. Cosmic
just had to be in the title but if not with an ism, what else. Of course, make it an ianity. The word Cosmicianity
had thus been coined. But, then, the thought came to me that this ianity was not doing much for Christianity. I dismissed this notion,
however; as, in my opinion, original Christianity
had been totally corrupted by Churchianity. Furthermore, the Spirit of Jesus the much-misrepresented Christ
had figured notably in my Cosmication.
Yes, it had to stay! Now, what would make this general term appear paramount and suitable for everyone?
Once again, serendipity
– An ity, but not an ianity! – seemed
to come to my aid: I suddenly became mystically-inspired to reread part of
the fourth part of my quartet ‘On the
Square plus One’, ‘Dream to Reality’, my own myth to whimsically override all others of the past. It concerned
the imaginative, teleported excursion I’d made to my spiritual realm, Rainbow Land,
with my lifelong companion, Byron Warbash.
This might seem like trivia to you, fellow
travellers. But, please bear with me. For, to me, it became another example
of mystically-manipulated
perfectibility, Ultimate-Force style,
and enabled me, whimsically, and with
good reason, to link this article back to something I wrote some fifteen years
ago; and long before I ever thought my life was to going to continue in the
vein it has. I hope this doesn't bore the
butt off you, but the extract now follows:
Rainbow Man Spin-doctor Pan
positioned itself before us with a token hop, step and a jump. Presumably, this
had to be its practised gimmick. Since it raised a unified cry of "Who's a cheeky little rascal, then?"
from what seemed the whole Assembly, with maybe the exception of the Leading Light, the Leader of the House, and Sparkle,
that by this time appeared to have lapsed into a moribund state of nuclear
finality. And, the opposite end of the spectrum from Rainbow Man Spin-doctor Myth, the whiz kid of myth
development was not surprisingly clad in a romper suit of shocking red. So shocking
was it that our reaction to it must have armed the flamboyant little character
with its opening gambit.
"Okay, you two, I can see
by the expression on Brian’s face that my gaudy uniform betrays my overall
level of success in the crazy field
of myth development. But, I make no
apologies for either my pathetic play on
words, or the undeniable fact that to date my elemental influence over planet Earth's three-dimensional conduct has been an unmitigated waste of my four-dimensional time.
"Jingling jester's bells, I swear – by Every-thing the Ultimate Force
represents – that not only have those perverse
mankind buggers there practically blotted
their three-dimensional copybook;
but they've also done their level best to convert our simplistic, child-like, elemental dream world into a lurid archetypal
sin-bin, embracing the most horrific nightmare scenario.
"And this, Brian, is just not cosmically on."
"Shame on them! Shame on them!" rang out from the benches,
while Rainbow Man Spin-doctor Pan performed another little hop, skip
and a jump, and I took stock of the indictment levelled against mankind.
And, in this respect, I came to
the immediate conclusion that, at this point in the story, a few words of
explanation might well be necessary. Therefore, without wishing to appear too highbrow or toffee-nosed, here goes.
*******
Brian’s
fourth-dimensional realm is Rainbow Land. But, symbolically, it could be whatever or however anyone else wants to call it or try to understand it. Regardless, it has been part and parcel of the Universe
ever since the Seed of the Universe was germinated by the Big Bang,
courtesy of the Ultimate Force, and the explosive
nature of this Genesis Event created
a chaotic situation that could only
by natural evolution be brought under
control.
Notwithstanding this chaotic state of cosmic affairs, and although aiding the implementation of this
control, this fourth-dimensional
realm did not de facto have any psychic influence – or a Mind at Large! – until Life Itself evolved. It was hard-disk-dead, so to speak. But, with
the advent of Life, and living mind's natural link with its fourth-dimensional
counterpart, the Mind at Large became
active. It gave inspirational guidance
to, and, in return, received an ever-increasing amount of collective hard-disk data from its three-dimensional, conscious, living offspring
– the embryonic, conscious mind of
its Animate God in the making.
I’m sorry if I happen to be
boring you with this fundamental
snippet of cosmic know-how. But, it
does lead to a bottom line, which I
can assure you won’t now be too long coming
right up. So, please, bear with me. It is not easy – in just a few short
paragraphs – to explain the nature of elementals
and archetypes, and the heinous effects they are both, at
this time, having on your fourth-dimensional
realm, which is the subconscious
world of your dreams. And, if you
can’t take my word for this fact, ask any schizophrenic,
if you perchance know one.
So, back to the nitty-gritty:
Given this Mind-to-mind system, after a while, serious problems in the fourth-dimensional realm started to
manifest themselves. The animate mind
was sending all the wrong psychic
impressions to the Mind at Large.
Something was dreadfully wrong, and the Universe
was starting to lose its galactic balance;
the tail had started to wag the dog, to quote a well-abused
canine metaphor. And this was when Brian – the
Lambeth Pilgrim – was hastily and brusquely cosmicated to do something about it.
You see, initially, the animate mind was quite content to view Nature with wonder and awe. It was like
the mind of any newly born child,
linked to Nature, but with no Earthly axe to grind. It was just happy to accept Nature as either a fantastic
help or a ruddy hindrance,
depending on how it affected the environment in which it found itself. There
were no other sinister implications. Damn it all! Nature was just Nature,
and that was that.
But, then, slowly but surely,
the animate mind began to have some inspired ideas. Where was all this inspiration coming from, the animate mind asked itself? And, not understanding its natural link with its fourth-dimensional realm of existence
and its ultimate purpose, it nevertheless convinced itself that these inspired ideas were emanating from a higher form of intelligence. And that this intelligence
also dictated the interplay between
what has now become the antiquated
conception of the basic elements - earth, air, fire and water. When, all the time, it was its very own
intelligence dictating to itself by virtue of its subconscious connection to the fourth-dimensional realm.
Pity be, it has to be said. The animate mind was just not aware of this.
Because, this non-existent higher intelligence never let on
that this was so. Not surprising, I
suppose! And, alas, the ever-evolving animate
mind laboured on, making big mountains out of molehills or, more to the
point perhaps, turning natural phenomena into an ever-increasing hotchpotch of fickle personified elementals
– that, in many ways, were quite
undesirable! Mythical manifestations
of the Earth Spirit in all shapes and
varieties went flooding into the fourth-dimensional
realm, ranging across the spectrum from good
fairies to evil monsters, hell-bent on wreaking vengeance on those with the animate mind. Without realizing it, the animate mind had become masochistic
to itself.
Much worse was to come. All
these personified elementals had to have elemental bosses, the animate mind
convinced itself. At this, the personification of the Supervising Nature
Spirits themselves, the Gods, was woven into the personified elemental scheme
of things. Woe upon woe, because the nature of some of these personified
elementals was far from good, it meant that their bosses had to be far from
good, the animate mind figured. Hence, personified Devils that supervised such
dreadful personified elementals began to rear their ugly heads. And, with these
additional misguided thought-waves polluting the fourth-dimensional realm,
animate mind had become even more masochistic unto itself. It had turned its
own dream-state into an archetypal mine-field.
And, what in the sacred name of the Ultimate Force are Archetypes,
ask yourself, as Carl Gustav Jung himself has long since passed on to a brand-new life-after-life adventure?
Never mind, I’ll tell you. They are powerful primordial images that manifest themselves in most peoples’ dream-states and other fantasies that do not necessarily arise
from your personal experience, but
seemingly emanate from an ancient library
of collective unconscious imagery. In other words, they are a psychic equivalent of unsolicited junk mail that you, poor sod, have to take on board when in
your dream-state you tap into the fourth-dimensional realm of your
existence, the Universe's Mind at Large.
And, none of this is your own fault – it’s all because the animate mind got the wrong
end of the cosmic stick, also through
no fault of its own.
Having said all this, I really
don’t have to tell you what, since time
immemorial, a diverse succession of political
wangles on the part of religious and
mystery schools have done to the fourth-dimensional realm. But, I will.
They turned it into a mythical assessment
centre, of diabolical magnitude,
that doesn't even exist, except in
the vulnerable, unsuspecting mind of Man at Large. And this is the pitiful
state of cosmic affairs that Brian
and I now have to address and try, by any means at our disposal, to mythically rectify. The fourth-dimensional realm of animate cosmic existence, the Universal Mind at Large, has to be made with all speed a far nicer place in
which to spend our subconscious time,
life after life after life – a dream-land
fit for an Animate God, no less!
Enough said, I feel; perhaps
more than enough! And, once again,
may I apologize for having interrupted the whimsical
flow of the story. But, when needs must,
as the old adage goes! And, once enlightened
to the fact that your Heaven has
always been on Earth, life after life after life, and not in the Nowhere Realm of Nature's Code, which is simply
trying against all odds to do Its cosmic
best, I think you’ll readily accept my apology.
Of
course, my closing sentiment has to be that in an enlightened society one has no need to apologize – there is no
guilt – so, now, back to the House of
Lights and the further cosmic
wisdom of Rainbow Man Spin-doctor Pan.
Oh, I nearly forgot! Where did I
glean all this important know-how?
Another little Rainbow Man that
wished to remain nameless slipped me a memorandum, when I was later in the House of Light's toilet. And, believe
me; I was certainly relieved in more
ways than one.
*******
"Well
then, now I've got that that little lot off
my chest, let me tell you, no prizes for guessing, everyone just calls
me Rainbow Man S'pan, for short. There are three reasons for this. The first is
that Rainbow Man Spin-doctor Pan is such a cosmic mouth-full. The second is that throughout my long and inspirational existence I've tried – unsuccessfully I might add – to span the chasm between the animate mind and the fourth-dimensional realm. And the third
– and by no means least – is that,
having tried to redirect Greek mythology
down the right path, by introducing a bit of impish humour into it, I was stuck with the handle Pan; and, thus, condemned to be likened,
ever since, to a little rascal Rainbow
Man that never really wanted to grow up."
At this, Rainbow Man S’pan feigned sadness, as it once more went through
its time-honoured ritual. And the benches resounded to a carousal of
sympathetic ah's, before it could go
on to entertain us with its humorous tale
of mythological woe.
"Of course, Sir," it continued, this time
raising doleful eyes towards the Leading
Light and striking a theatrical pose of pious supplication, "the poor itinerant Guiding Power didn't have much joy getting the right message across, either – until Brian came on the fourth-
dimensional scene. So, what Earthly chance did I stand, if the Ultimate Force's left-hand offspring
couldn't do the business? Fair do's, now – I was only Chief Assistant
to the Assistant Chief. "
The Leading Light gave a fiery nod of approval.
"No, Sir!" Rainbow Man S’pan went on, back to
addressing us. "My role was to follow in the wake of the Guiding Power's inspirational efforts, tart up the heavy stuff with a modicum of humour, and try to make sure its bottom-line message didn't get myth-understood
or myth-interpreted – if you get the inspired,
lisping joke!"
While Rainbow Man S’pan laughed out loud at its own joke – corny as it was – we couldn't help but
be impressed with the entertaining show it was presenting. It seemed the Sunshine
Society, regardless of success or dismal failure, could really take nothing
seriously. And I guess this was only to be expected in an illusory realm that was
the epitome of the perfect state of being to date, and in which each hallucinatory image had done its very best to do what it was supposed to have done. The show continued apace:
"…Well, as I’ve told you,
Sir, I failed miserably to impress and persuade any of those block-heads that I came into hallucinatory contact with to see the light… They simply wouldn't get
it into their noddles that they were
the actual raw-meat-on-the-bone,
conscious, living ancestors-to-be of
the emergent Animate God – and that this was what the Seed of the Universe was all about. It was all really pathetic
until you entered into our fourth-dimensional
existence, courtesy of the Ultimate Force
Itself…Old UF really sprung us a grand surprise when It produced
you as the joker in Its cosmic order of things. But, as you
know, at the time It was getting desperate – the Universe was
beginning to lose its galactic balance
because Its animate fruit had
a death wish that was in turn causing
cosmic depression and anarchy…
"Anyway, Sir, let’s not
dwell on the serious side of what’s gone on – it’s just like matter sucked into the vortex of a depressing black hole now! I
know where you’re coming from, and I
know where you’re going – because we in
Rainbow Land never miss a trick… So, let me take you on a fast-moving
anecdotal trip down my memory-lane –
I’m already well acquainted with yours."
Naturally, I was pleased to note
that my second book of the Brian trilogy,
Brian and the Animate God, had not been totally in vain. At the very least,
Rainbow Man S’pan seemed to have read it, if it knew all about the bitter-sweet astral-trip Brian and I had made into his chequered past. Though, upon further reflection, did the
inhabitants of a fourth-dimensional realm,
psychically linked as they were to
all that had ever been, is, and will be, really need to read a book? All the know-how had to be mind-to-Mind, if all I’d been informed since being in Rainbow Land was to be believed. And,
there was very little reason to think that the Guiding Power itself was a two-timing
chip off the Old Cosmic Block, good old UF
Itself.
But, enough of my self-serving publicity stunt, to draw
attention to my previous literary efforts, and on with Rainbow Man S'pan’s even more chequered
past, as it followed mankind’s inglorious mythological
path out of Africa.
"It was such a long time
ago when I first tried my very best
to come into my own as a cosmic
mind-enforcer," Rainbow Man
S’pan began. "But, as you well know, Sir, time goes so quickly when you’re
enjoying yourself.
"As a very special agent – no
rank, no frills, no double-O number – I was part of the intergalactic pest-control brigade, assigned to planet Earth
in the system of the Sun, to try and keep your species on the right cosmic
path – mythically that was!
"What a farce it all turned
out to be. And I hope, Sir, that you’ll have far more success than I ever had; however hard I tried."
I felt Brian gulp.
"Yes, Sir, from day-one, I
had that funny gut-feeling I was on a beating to nothing. Mind you, when I say
day one, I mean with your ruddy lot, so-called Homo Sapiens Sapiens, the dopey lot of self-destructive people of
dubious parentage, if you get the nuptial meaning…
"I
mean to say, I didn't really stand an
Earthly with the previous bunch.
But, I've got to forgive them. They
didn't have receptive brain-boxes – like your lot! – when they took their aimless walk-about in and out of Africa…
No, Neanderthal man was already
doomed to go back into the melting pot
and start its life-after-life
existence all over again… And that,
Sir, is where your perverse bunch of
cosmic chancers came in…
"Without a word of a lie,
Sir – and would I lie to you? – the Guiding Power had eventually
managed to make its psychic presence
felt in the extremely primitive lucid
dream-state of this‘ere bird right down in the Rift Valley
of Africa: 'Eave, her name was! Why? Because ‘Eave made her old cave-dwelling mate, rocky-horror
Adam'ant, feel sick every time he
looked at her. And, what happened? Don’t bother to guess, Sir; I'll tell you
what happened…
"'Eave woke with a start. ‘Adam!’
she grunted elatedly – simply because
she thought of him as this for short, and nobody could speak
properly in those days. ‘Something has just 'ugged
me in my sleep, and let me know that I’m soon to give birth to a wonder-child that will have a brain befitting something called a God – I think it 'ugged! And that this wonder-child will go on – life
after life after life – to become
the be-all-and-end-all of all Gods. Isn't this wonderful news, my precious
rock-cave hunk? Aren't you thrilled with my thoughts?’
"Adam was not at all impressed. Far from being thrilled, he rubbed sleep from his eyes, and even in the lacklustre
half-light of dawn, 'Eave had made
him feel even sicker. ‘Don’t be such a silly Neanderthal cow,’ he grunted back, in his usual loving macho way. ‘Have you been at those hallucinogenic happy leaves again? Get back to sleep; and don’t dare to disturb me with such a load of old cobblers again.’
"But, Sir, it has to be
said that, although Adam was a male chauvinist rock-wielding pig, he
was not at a lexical loss nor impotent with his 'ugs…
"What’s the world coming
to, Adam reflected in an 'ugging, nebulous sort of way; females, churning out wonder-kids that are
capable of living forever; what the evil nature spirit next? They’ll soon want cave rule, if we macho
grunters don’t watch out. Anyway, what’s a God? Who needs one of them?
When you live, you live. And, when you snuff it, you go to a great haunted
rock-cave in the sky, that’s fabulously decorated, and you get your card marked by the Big Chief Nature Spirit Itself, King
Rocky, the First. That’s what my instinct
tells me – and no bombed-out female
is going to tell me otherwise.
"Well, Sir, as you can now
appreciate, no doubt, even before day-one
in the slow evolutionary journey of your species out of Africa, duality was already leading to incompatibility; not only in living relationships, but also in the mythical world of the fourth-dimension. It was, way back then,
beginning to get cluttered up with so
much spiritual dross that it was
enough to make your hard-life survival on Earth look like a cakewalk.
"Poor old Guiding Power, I thought. It had done
its best to get the very first wonder-child
off to the right start in life,
straight down the evolutionary road
towards the perfect state of being.
And that bigoted stone-brain Adam was already denying the existence
of this logical route with some cock and bull mythical nonsense of his own…
"Try as I might to change
his way of thinking, by invading his horrific lucid dream-state and cleansing it, he continued to slag-off the ever-suffering 'Eave until she finally gave birth to
the wonder-child of her dreams. ‘It's a girl,’ she 'ugged with joy, cutting and knotting the umbilical cord with one
hand, while slapping her into screaming, living existence with the
other.
"Yes, Sir, old 'Eave was
ambidextrous, just like you; it must run in the family."
We had to chuckle at the long-term implications of such a
statement. However, where was Rainbow Man
S’pan’s mythical story of its own all leading us, I had to ask
myself.
"Enjoyed that bit, did you,
Sir?" Rainbow Man S'pan asked,
chortling to itself. "Thought you would!" it added, before carrying
on with its anecdotal saga of planet Earth’s very first wonder-child –
albeit a girl!
"‘What!’ 'ugged Adam, whose lucid dream-state
was getting him more and more rattled
and putting him at odds with himself. ‘Just for starters, some
interfering good-for-nothing dream
merchant tells you that you’re going to give birth to an ever-lasting wonder-kid. And, now, you've got the gall of the evil rock monster
to produce a girl. What are you trying to do – turn our world
into a breeding ground for so-called Gods that are all going to be female?’ Not realizing how close he was to the truth, Adam left 'Eave, cradling her new prize in her arms, and returned to drawing depraved pictures on the wall of their rock-cave home. In his mind, he
was right; and she was simply off her female rocker. He was macho man – the hunter, the brave
fighter, and the born butcher… And,
what was she? She was only woman… born to
serve, and do as she was told. He
daubed on the finishing touches to two devilish-looking rock monsters, both very rampant macho male, that were – without any shades of grey at all –
well-practised sodomites. And he
decided there and then that he’d make certain that 'Eave, with all her wonder-kid
ideas, was never in a position to make him a laughing-stock in the eyes of his
primitive, macho peers… Never would
she be allowed to make her outrageous revelation
known to another rock-wielder in the Neanderthal African Realm of Ugger'uggerland.
"‘Eave's fate – that life
round, at least – was thus sealed… Nevertheless, confined to the area of
their rock-cave as she had been, she
still managed, against all odds, to rear her wonder-child, as any mother should. And, despite bloody-minded Adam becoming even more depraved and malicious, the little girl
began to blossom into early puberty with all the signs that Eave's faith in her dream-state 'ugger was justified. For, little Eve – as she became known – displayed remarkable talents for
a child of her age, not least of which being that she could daub much nicer pictures than her father, whilst
making sounds with her mouth that brought a kind of melody to the air that they
breathed. Her presence was magic and Adam hated her for it. In fact, it drove
him to partake of all-powerful jolly-juice
liquor, which in his case made him far from jolly.
"Then, one gale-lashed day, with rain streaking
down like swingeing stair-rods from
the nebulous realm of his evil nature
spirits, Adam came back to the rock-cave, as pissed as a spiritual fart, and proceeded to knock at least seven bags of the jolly old proverbial out
of 'Eave. After which, he tried a
very misplaced carnal act on poor little Eve, who had come to the
defence of her battered and bruised mother… You see, Sir, sexual abuse of the young goes back an awful long way…
"And, Sir, if it wasn’t so flaming tragic, you’d really have to crack
up. Because, what happened next was that while Adam was trying to have his wicked
way with his wonder-child
daughter, 'Eave, still reeling from
her ordeal, homed-in on Adam, like a bolt out of the blue, just as lightning from without lit the cave. Missing her
footing on route, she ploughed headfirst into Adam, whose own head just happened to be in a direct collision
course with hers. Together, they fell, as if pole-axed, to the ground, never to
regain consciousness. And, outside the cave, thunder and lightning orchestrated
a natural requiem… They’d both gone off to a new adventure – life after
life on Earth – but 'Eave's new
existence was destined to be far happier than Adam's. Of this, I'm sure!
"… And what of poor little Eve?
"… Don’t try to throttle me when I tell you, will you,
Sir? Not only was she the first-born member of the
species, Homo Sapiens Sapiens, and
your first ancient animate ancestor – but she herself, coincidentally, had become its first orphan in a storm. And that know-how
has remained under mythical wraps, until now. How about that epic tale, then, to help you along with
your new Creation Myth? I bet you
never thought you’d get an interesting snippet of four-dimensional mythological
low-down like that, did you, Sir?"
Rainbow
Man S’pan, beaming with satisfaction, hopped, skipped and
jumped around our rostrum, bells tinkling, its outstretched arms inciting a
rowdy reaction from the benches. It duly came: "Nice one, S’pan", over and over again, rang out as a unified
and well-practised rejoinder. Then, with order finally alliteratively restored by the Leader
of the House, this total failure,
yet still extremely proud and well-respected cosmic enforcement
agent of myth development, stood
hands on hips before us, and impishly exclaimed: "Well, say something,
Sir!"
I think Brian was taken aback at
actually being asked to make a verbal contribution to the proceedings. However,
pleased to find that we hadn't lost our voice, he gave the staring figure full credit for its unsuccessful efforts. "Rainbow
Man S’pan," Brian said, surprisingly with all sincerity, "thank
you, so much, for that fantastic news.
An understandable failure to get the right message across on your part, it may
well have been. But, it does go a long way to explaining how an item, called Adam and Eve, managed to
find its mythical self in a so-called Garden of Eden… And I don’t think I’d get too many bonus points for
assuming that it was you also that had no joy in getting that screwed-up
cosmically destructive situation changed for the better either."
"You’re so kind, Sir! And, how right you are!"
Rainbow
Man S’pan then went on to relate how this poor orphan Eve had grunting – though psychically
inspired – affairs with a selection
of two-timing Adam' ants that had no more respect for her
womanhood than her late and, unfortunately,
never-to-be-forgotten father. And, as
she made her lonely way through the Great
Rift Valley in search of greener
pastures, guided by the only star in
the night-sky that never seemed to
move, Eve became a mother, many times over. Just exactly how many new wonder-children she spawned, Rainbow Man S’pan couldn't say. Though,
one aspect, of which it was absolutely certain, was the monotonous nature of
their names. All the boys had been gruntingly
called Adam, and the girls Eve; for, as custom decreed, in those olden grunting days, every male expected
to be known as an Adam, and every
female an Eve. And, although by grunt of mouth – albeit much more melodic in nature than that of her Neanderthal ancestors – mother Eve had passed on to her off-springs the
revelation with which her poor old mum had been psychically
endowed, they all viewed her – as kids
will do! – as grunting out of the back of her head. Like it or not, though, and
regardless of their own lack of awareness, genetically,
they were endowed with brains befitting the emergent
Animate God; and far better
mentally connected with the fourth
dimension of their existence… And, this,
they simply had to live with. There could be no opting out, or going back. They
were the forerunners of a brand-new species – Homo Sapiens Sapiens – and their future cosmic role was to
proliferate the species; so that it in
general and they in particular might progress, life after life, towards
the perfect state of conscious existence.
"But, Sir, do you think I
could get any of those kids to take
any of this on board?" Rainbow Man S’pan asked, before bringing
its own Adam and Eve memories to a mythological conclusion. "Not a
chance!" it added, in the same breath. "It was just like trying to flog a dead horse. Battling against the harsh environment of Africa, as
they were, the thought of a life after
life, conscious existence in the third dimension terrified them. Dying – and staying dead! – must have seemed like a far better option.
"But, Eve, ever north-bound
without realizing it, was unafraid. Her poor
old mum had convinced her that she was a wonder-child, everlasting
and God – whatever that was – in the making. What in the
whole wide world was there to be afraid of? Unfortunately, however, her poor old mum hadn't mentioned that, like her, she first had to die to be reborn. And, after pushing her luck too far,
trying to grunt with the wild life,
however melodic her grunting had then become, Eve, way out in the bush, doing all the hunting and gathering for yet another lazy, good-for-nothing Adam, got herself eaten by a lion that
was no respecter of human grunters
having the faith to believe that they were eventually to evolve into the Lord of the Jungle…
"Well, Sir, if you were a lion, you wouldn't like to
think you were going to be under the control of any old human God, would you now?"
Rainbow
Man S’pan treated itself to the luxury of another little hop,
skip and a jump, before laughingly stating: "Never mind, Sir, I’m only pulling your what's name. The lion didn't really think that at all – it was just
hungry! Eve, in spite of her blind faith, happened to be right in the wrong place at the wrong
time – from her point of view, and not the lion’s, that is – and got caught up
in another fine exhibition of Sod's Law.
And I don’t have to tell you any more about that elemental quirk of Nature,
do I, Sir? You’ve listened to my learned friend’s fairy-tale about it – also, suffered
enough of it yourself."
Not
only Brian, I thought! My own painful and frustrating experiences
during my astral package tour to Mongrel Island (Brian and the Pacific War) still rankled in my mind.
*******
So,
we’d listened to Rainbow Man S’pan's tall story, mythically describing our ancient ancestral origins. And a very
tall story, it may well have been. However, to have dismissed it as meaningless, simply because it was a very
tall story, would have been to miss
the point of the story altogether. It did at least, from an evolutionary angle,
make far more sense than all the other mythical
hog-wash that had been passed down over the ages by those, especially the self-serving gerrymandering priests and politicians, who were so ill-informed
about science, especially in its then unheard-of discipline of genetics.
Fair enough, most past mythology
has been used as an artistic tool, to tart-up the hard-boiled esoteric,
philosophic or religious teachings with a bit of fantasy with which to tickle
the fancy of the punters. In other words, give them something to make them
believe there was far more to Life than just a mundane existence that ended in
death. And, it wasn’t particularly the fault of the storytellers that they
weren't as cosmically clued-up as Rainbow Man S’pan. But, when one considers
all the horror and nonsense that has, as a direct result of their dabbling,
been fed into the fourth-dimensional realm of our existence, and that the
punters have forever been led into thinking that their life-after-life
continuity lies in such a sordid realm, then past mythology has such a lot to
answer for.
Unfortunately, as hostages to this mythological past, this is the nature of the beast
that Brian and I have to deal with. And hopefully supersede eventually with a Creation Myth that artistically and spiritually equates with the modern, technological and scientifically aware world that is now our fragile planetary home. Old myths may have had some social
context when they were first fed like
mother's milk to those, and by those,
who had very limited know-how. Alas,
these social contexts have died, but
their associated old myths still
remain to haunt us, both from the fourth-dimensional
archetypal realm of our existence,
as nightmares, and in our day-to-day three-dimensional existences, as spectres that seem to have somehow become real and had their
images cast in stone. And, cosmic mercy upon us all, there are still those that abound – not even aware of the true nature of our fourth-dimensional existence – that control us, and would have these spectres from the past lead us
down the same path that led to the extinction of Neanderthal Man, our most unfortunate dim-witted ancestor.
Progress
or perish is the fundamental rule of Nature's game, cosmically
written into the Code within the Seed of the Universe, and it is high
time everyone became aware of this fact. For, there is no
time to lose!
Cling
to the past, and regress, life after life, in ever-increasing misery, until
Homo – so-called Sapiens Sapiens! – suffers, out of its own dim-wittedness, the
same inevitable fate as the Dinosaurs and Neanderthal Man; or, better, join
Brian and myself, in viewing our conscious existence in a new mythical light,
based on state-of-the-art, scientific know-how. And, thus, prevent our
cosmically blessed species from becoming extinct and eventually taking you with
it.
Here, I have use the word you advisedly. For, just as the mythical African 'Eave managed to
produce a wonder-child out of a moribund species, which led to the fast
procreation of a brand-new species,
so an as yet unsung Lambethian Lou (Brian and the Animate God) produced what
could easily be another wonder-child
out of a moribund species. His name
is Brian. And, as I am part and parcel of his personality,
I know that if Homo Sapiens Sapiens fails to get its cosmic act together, I’m on board
another life-after-life bandwagon to
the future. Call my dream-world insurance species what you like. But I know it as Homo Sapiens Cosmos, the artistically and scientifically
well-balanced species that will lead as soon as humanly possible to the perfect
conscious state of existence. You see
– I want to become part and parcel of
the Animate God the easy way… How's about you?
Enough said, for now, on behalf
of the Cosmos Club cause, I think,
and now back to all the mythical failures of the past, as recalled by Rainbow Man S’pan.
However, even its programmed performance was about to experience a touch of Sod’s Law.
*******
"Are
you still awake in there, Byron," Rainbow
Man S’pan asked, sensing in its strange fourth-dimensional
way that I’d been daydreaming in a literary
reflective world of my own.
"Oh, yes!" Brian
answered on my behalf. "I can still feel him scuttling around in the artistic and creative realm of my brain,
plotting a very hyped-up story-line."
Rainbow
Man S’pan was delighted at this news. "Excellent! Excellent!" it
exclaimed. "The story-line will have to be hyped-up, if it’s destined to have any greater success than I've
ever had getting the correct mythical message
across… Our cosmic truth might hurt,
Sir, but you just have to sock it to 'em.
"For two hundred thousand
years, give or take a millennium or so, your
lot have been wandering around planet Earth, dwelling in the wrong world of myth. And the time has come for
change – drastic, mind-boggling change! "But, then, an unexpected
outpouring of pent-up self-pity
invaded Rainbow Man S'pan’s computer-linked know-how, which we were told later had been caused by an
unsolicited three-dimensional virus,
emanating from a computer hacker on
planet Earth, and finding its way into the fourth-dimensional realm. Nothing, it seemed, was sacred – not even
the Universal Memory of Nature – all
the while mankind stayed untamed and fancy free.
"I ask you, Sir!" Rainbow
Man S’pan went on, almost in tears. "How do you think we, here in Rainbow Land, feel – after all the hard work the Guiding Power and I have put into
our programmes of helpful psychic guidance to mankind – to find
that our messages have been so willfully perverted out of all recognition…
"… Gutted, Sir! That’s how we feel. But, being what we are, we always have to appear cheerful in the face of
adversity… You know, Sir – a bit like
yourself. We carry on laughing on the
outside, but still do a lot of crying
on the inside. And this is why,
really, you've become our very last vestige of hope on planet Earth of
getting the correct mythical message
across, and setting your lousy, rotten
species on fast-track towards animate perfection…
*******
And there ends the extract as far as this article is
concerned: Since, it more than adequately inspired me to add an appropriate
adjunct to Cosmicianity and also pay
homage to that poor, little, rascal, Rainbow
Man S’pan of my imaginary spiritual
realm. The word’s to be Panarchic in
our world, whilst hopefully serving to get Rainbow
Man S’pan rebooted in Its. AMEN!
Cosmically
yours,
Brian
Cosmos Coconut Club
Sri Lanka
PS:
Just for good measure, fellow travellers: Forget the highfaluting handle: Just remember and practice its message: And
call yourself a Cosmic! ILUMS!
