Sunday, May 26, 2013

Panarchic Cosmicianity (S’pan Rebooted!) – According to Brian!

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 GodI 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 adventurelife 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 gruntingthough 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,

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!  

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