Saturday, July 25, 2015

Good Shepherds? (No, Incorrigible Crooks!) – According to Byron!

Oh, poor humanity! How we have all been fooled! And it is now taking an illumined fool to cut through the trickery and expose the truth – His name is Brian, The Lambeth Pilgrim!  It’s been a long hard grind for BTLP; I’ll call him this for short. And it all started, at least during his present life, in 1935of the Gregorian calendar – In where else but Lambeth, London, England!  And who then of his forebears would have wanted to doubt the iniquitous intrigue behind the terms Gregorian or Lambeth, London, England.   

Serendipitously, the term ‘Lamb’ seemed to have figured in BTLP’s life in one sense or another, from the time his mother, Lambethian Lou, gave him birth. And, I mustn’t forget to mention Lambethian Charlie, his father, and the role he played in BTLP’s birth; as in no way can I consider him to have been the result of an immaculate conception. This was made quite clear to Brian by virtue of his 1980 mystical initiation. So, BTLP was off to a flying start, so to speak, taking his first breath in Lambeth in a house of minor distinction, which just so happened to be an old gate-house to a far more acclaimed Lambeth Palace of ecclesiastical note. To enable him to mature into the ever-radical Lambeth Pilgrim, therefore, what better start could Brian have had? Not that he could ever have realized this until very much later in life. For, it wasn’t until 1980, when Brian became mystically-initiated by his Higher Self, that he realized BTLP had always been part of a cosmic strategy to be enacted on planet Earth in the system of the Sun To conduct a real-life pilgrimage of mind-boggling proportions for the sake of mankind’s conscious survival, life after life, ad infinitum. Yes, fellow travellers, it was to be this important!
Well, with the given name Brian, of old Irish origin, BTLP had battled his way through life, having to deal with all the facets of existence that prevailed around him and his contemporaries, which seemed to have been cast in stone, and over which he had no control or liking. He’d felt like a slave to the system; thereby, simply gone through the motions, so to speak; and, now, looking back on his life, little could he have known that in singing the following hymn by John Bunyan at school, time and time again, he would eventually become the pilgrim to try and counter all the pilgrim of the hymn so blatantly symbolized:     

‘Who would true valour see, let him come hither; one here will constant be, come wind, come weather. There’s no discouragement shall make him once relent. His first avowed intent to be a pilgrim. Whoso beset him round with dismal stories do but themselves confound; his strength the more is. No lion can him fright. He’ll with a giant fight. He will have a right to be a pilgrim. Hobgoblin nor foul fiend can daunt his spirit. He knows he at the end will life inherit. Then fancies fly away. He’ll fear not what men say. He’ll labour night and day to be a pilgrim.’

Yes, fellow travellers, a hymn written for and on behalf of the Hebrews to bolster their iniquitous ‘Yahweh, Heaven and Hell’ agenda, and nothing at all to do with the authentic Christed, life-after-life, ad infinitum message of Jesus. And, still the Hebrews, via Atonism, are attempting to control the world, and it is BTLP who is still now labouring night and day to combat this iniquity.  

But, let me skip on to explain why BTLP wants, in amplification of the above, to make it quite clear that in no way, in spite of his birthplace, does the term Lambeth represent to him what the Hebrews have endeavoured to make it mean, down through the ages; as supplemented by the ecclesiastical presence of Lambeth Palace, London residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury, head of the so-called Church of England, which is no more than a purloined copy of Roman Catholicism; and all that is wrong with Churchianity and its clandestine attachment to Atonism. If one searches for a traditional meaning of Lambeth, it will no doubt say something like ‘landing place for lambs’ – As it no doubt was before urbanization of the area took place and Lambeth was still meadowland! But, how had this name originated? Once again, we have to look to the Hebrews – ‘Lam’ is the twelfth letter of their alphabet, and ‘beth’ means ‘house of’ or ‘place of’ in their language. Furthermore, the letter ‘Lam’ is in the shape of a shepherd’s crook, which was based on a similar symbol from Ancient Egypt. So, Lambeth has had a connection, via shepherds, sheep, lambs and crooks, going right back to Ancient Egypt, and goodness only knows where else before this; only then to be appropriated by the possessive mania of the Hebrews. William Blake, the renowned mystic, must have known a thing or two when he said and discretely seemed to intimate this when writing the following:

 ‘The Surrey hills glow like the clinkers of the furnace: Lambeth Vale; where Jerusalem’s foundations began; where they were laid in ruins.’

 So, in enacting what BTLP was mystically-tasked to do, I guess he couldn’t help but feel he would always be in mortal danger, especially when knowingly setting out on his pilgrimage. I was later to write in ‘Brian and the Rainbow Men’:

‘Brian's wife eventually turned off the main road, drove cautiously through a small village, and parked beside a disused slaughterhouse. By this time, a very tired Brian was languishing in his own small world of perfection, but realized he was still powerless to convince others that he was fighting for their lives. Overcome with fear, he knew he would soon be on stage, facing hostile disbelievers who would rather die than admit somebody knew more than themselves. But, he had to accept there was no escape from the folk who lived on the narrow-minded hill of ignorance. Brian, the Lamb, was about to enter the arena as their entertainer, and the close proximity of the abattoir all at once seemed highly prophetic.’

Later, when I wrote ‘Brian and the Animate God’, when BTLP was still struggling to make my presence known to the literary world, which was not unexpectedly deaf to his overtures, bearing in mind what my first book had related, the following appears:    

“... I was born in the sacred gate-house to Lambeth Palace, you know; I demand the right to be acknowledged as the ‘Lambeth Pilgrim’, planet Earth’s latter-day custodian of the heavenly keys.”

Even then, BTLP would not have known of all that would later mystically-colour his life, right up to the present, to modulate and reveal the true meaning behind what I had written. In this article, I just want to set the record straight – That out of the sordid remnants of our duplicitous past, BTLP was born to give light, hope and balance to our tortured world. For, I wrote when BTLP and I ventured out onto our bitter-sweet, teleported excursion into his past the following:
‘We were travelling on a double-decker tramcar as it rattled and swayed along the tortuous network of rails that once criss-crossed Greater London, connecting one world with another. It was one of those chilly, damp, featureless English days. Heavy skies, obstinate mist, and grey in every hue had stamped their mark; whilst streets, monot­onously lined with colourless, grimy brick buildings did very little to cheer the cockles of the heart. This zero-option backdrop to Brian’s newly acquired consciousness could hardly have looked more foreboding, considering that almost two thousand years before another somewhat more widely acknowledged child had been born, allegedly to give light to the world. That light, it was to be revealed later to Brian, was sadly in need of a new mantle before it flickered out completely, leaving the remnant gas supply to asphyxiate us all.’

So, fellow travellers, there’s not a lot left to say about the serendipitous and mystical happenings in the life of BTLP, except to emphasize that he’s still active in Sri Lanka, running the Cosmos Coconut Club, to further the cause of his mystically-inspired cosmogony and pilgrimage; and strangely (or can anything be classified as strange in his life?)  the club is in the garden of his residence in an area known as Lambert Estate, named after the person who acquired the whole area in the dim and distant past. Is this just coincidence? I don’t think so! For, when I was last in conclave with Brian, my lifelong companion, he just smiled at such an absurd idea, and was quick to add that even to reach his old family-house in Haycroft Road, Brixton, Lambeth, London, where he had dwelt for twenty years, one had to approach it from the main road, via Lambert Road. He then explained that the word Lambert had the more Germanic meaning of ‘Bright Land’, or even more broadly meant ‘Innocent’. I therefore have to conclude that whatever anyone else might want to think to the contrary that Brian, the Lamb, of old, and Brian, the Lambeth Pilgrim, still remains Brian, the Lamb - But a very much more illumined and far less ‘woolly’ version of the old! I rest my case!

May the Force be with you!

Cosmically yours,

Byron Warbash   

No comments: