Saturday, March 12, 2016

PENDRAGON'S RETURN & MICHAEL'S DREAM (revisited)

In 1999 or thereabouts, via the internet, I became aware of a wonderful soul named Michael who felt very much like an old friend. I discovered many similarities between us and we developed an etheric bond over the years. As a young man Michael had seen service with the British army in Malaya soon after the Japanese Occupation (he's now in his late seventies or eaarly eighties and still sprightly as a wizard). Back in England Michael ran an actor's studio training actors for the camera and came close to being cast as Jesus (or was it Moses?) in a Dino de Laurentiis epic.

Later Michael became an author and wrote several books set in Avalon and Camelot about the secret life of Arthur Pendragon. He also co-authored a book with Princess Diana - after she was killed in a mystery-shrouded "accident" in Paris. Yes, my friend Michael is also a channel, spiritualist and a lifelong student of the esoteric.

Michael often mentioned a very close friend of his named Peter, an ally from many lifetimes. I suspected that I had inadvertently made contact with members of a modern-day circle of Archdruids and Atlantean magicians. My suspicions were confirmed when Michael sent me a photo of Peter looking like The Merlin.

Since early childhood, I have been fascinated by the Pendragon bloodline, of which Arthur - "The Once and Future King" - was the last known manifestation. Aficionados of Arthurian legend formed the Pendragon Society in 1959. Among their pet beliefs is that the Pendragon lineage is an extension of the Grail bloodline issuing from the sacred union of Yeshua and the Magdalene. Pendragonians do not accept the Windsors as the rightful rulers of Britain. Indeed, they point out that the Windsor family originated from the vampiric Saxe-Coburg-Gotha bloodline and must be regarded as usurpers. Just as in Christian mythology, Pendragonians anticipate the Return of the Pendragon at the close of this chapter of human evolution.

The Pendragon's return will be heralded by the reappearance of The Merlin - in Druidism the title given to the Supreme Bard.

This belief resonates well with me, for I too believe that all reigning monarchies on this planet are descended from the Anunnaki colonists who manufactured Homo sapiens specifically to perform menial tasks and mine for gold.

In effect, the present power hierarchy may be described as "the spawn of lesser gods." As such, they do not have any authority or jurisdiction over any lifeform indigenous to Planet Earth. The only way they are able to maintain their misrule is through force of arms and systematic mind control. In other words, their only hold on humanity is through skilful manipulation of our hardwired fear and guilt programs. Unsubscribe from their spin and their deathgrip on your imagination immediately loosens. You will no longer be trapped in their apocalyptic hell-on-earth scenarios.

With this little preamble out of the way, let me share with you a dream my dear friend Michael jotted down very recently...

MICHAEL'S DREAM

I am sitting on a shelf of rock, overlooking a vast plain, when I hear someone approaching. He is about fourteen – but don’t let that fool you, I think to myself.

"Hi," he says, and hunkers down beside me.

I wait for him to speak, and eventually he does so: "I have been asked to give you some news," he says, gazing out over the plain. "The day you have been longing for, working for, all your life – and many previous lifetimes – is almost here."

"Alle-bloody-luiah!" springs to mind – and that’s the cleaned up version – but I don’t say it out loud. "That’s very good news," I reply. "But we’ve been hearing that for at least thirty years – and still nothing has happened." I immediately regret my churlishness, but the lad just smiles.


"Sorry, but I don’t live in your time frame," he replies. "Thirty, even a hundred Earth years are but a moment where I come from."

"And where do you come from?" I ask.

"I work in the IP centre." He senses that I’m about to ask him what the 'IP centre’ is, and forestalls me: "Incoming Prayer centre. All human prayers are downloaded onto a central computer, and my department is responsible for organizing them into topics and degrees of relevance and urgency – taking into account the hundreds of different languages in which they are transmitted, and the many degrees of precision of thought and visualization with which they have been expressed.

"The prayer that now outnumbers almost all the others put together is:


'HELP!'


"During the last few years – in your time – critical mass has been reached, so this simple, one-word prayer, which is often spoken aloud, or whispered, or uttered silently, but is far more often sent subconsciously - even by those who don’t believe in prayer! - has earned the rare and almost unprecedented status of 'a prayer from all mankind’.

"Such a prayer merits a response – and the response is on its way."

This news restores my good humour – and my good manners – somewhat. "Alleluiah,”I say with a smile.

The lad gets to his feet. "Tell your friends and fellow workers that D Day is now very close."

"'D Day'?" I enquire.

"You tell me," says the news-bearer. "You who have spent so many years searching, identifying, defining and refining precisely what is required."

I get to my feet. "Deliverance Day."

The boy nods. "Deliverance Day." He lifts a hand in an informal salute and goes on his way.

I wake up, and reach for pencil and paper.




[First posted 8 March 2009] 

Thursday, March 10, 2016

Reflections on Death, Resurrection, and the Afterlife



Weddings and funerals are major social events in every Orang Asli community, bringing everybody together - just as they are in every other community - obviously because they are markers in the cycle of life and death. At Bayo's funeral on June 5th, I listened to the lay preacher (a Temuan from Tanjong Malim Calvary Mission) recite the last rites just before they covered the tiny, hastily knocked-together plywood coffin with earth.

Bayo's family is one of two in Pertak Village who converted to Christianity, probably in the 1980s, before the Orang Asli Affairs Department began taking a dim view of missionary incursions (apart from Islamic) into Orang Asli communities.

"Let this be a reminder to us all," the lay preacher intoned, "that our existence on this earth is only temporary. What God gives, God also takes away. But even death is temporary, for our souls are immortal; and those who believe in Jesus Christ shall live forever in Heaven."

It's been a long time since I heard such outright nonsense uttered. I drifted out of earshot and let the brief ceremony proceed. The lay preacher was merely parroting a doctrine handed down a hundred generations. Few question these pious platitudes, because nobody I know has returned from the grave to report on the afterlife (apart from a few who survived near-death experiences and whose stories have been recorded).

True, the entire basis of Christianity revolves around the belief that Jesus was bodily resurrected from his tomb and appeared before the Magdalene and the Apostles on what is now known as Easter Sunday.

However, the Koran explicitly disputes that the Master Jesus was actually crucified. "Another took his place," the Koran says - and this view is supported by the account of the Christos Incarnations recorded by the oracle, A'shayana Deane (initiate of the Melchizedek Cloister Emerald Order), as well as many other esoteric writings. But as it all boils down to a question of belief and faith, it's pointless to get into a heated debate on this issue, since opinions widely diverge on the subject.

The Orang Asli concept of the afterlife isn't all that different from the Christian version - except it doesn't require believing that Jesus is the only begotten Son of God. The physical form is only our fleshly baju (clothing), say the Temuan elders. Our roh (soul) does not die and already exists before we are born. Indeed, there doesn't seem to be much difference - apart from terminology - between what animists believe and what Christians, Muslims, Jews, Hindus, and Buddhists claim to believe. The common thread is the idea that the physical form is temporary, and the spiritual essence immortal. Now that is difficult to dispute, seeing as how plants, animals, and humans all go through a specific lifespan and then wither away before our eyes.

What distresses me, however, is that this devaluation of physical existence tends to make humans careless about the natural environment, Mother Earth, that gives rise to and supports their being. It makes a big difference whether people regard their homes as permanent and bequeathable - or only rented, and therefore temporary. Why invest so much effort in beautifying a rented property when, at any moment, you might get evicted by the owner? Would this explain why the Earth has been so badly treated by her human tenants?

When generation after generation is told by professional priests (regardless of denomination or sect) that their sojourn on Earth is but temporary, that their true home is in the afterlife, can you blame humans for not taking proper care of their bodies - and, by extension, their earthly home? This sort of "teaching" also serves to placate the impoverished masses who might otherwise decide they've had enough of being exploited and oppressed by the "ruling class" and join forces to overthrow the Management (a scenario that has occurred several times within recent history, but invariably it's a case of "Meet the new boss, same as the old boss" as Orwell depicted so memorably in Animal Farm).

Add to this the Buddhist and Hindu teachings of karma and reincarnation (which some interpret as "fate" or "predestiny") and you have a ready-made excuse to shrug off other people's misfortunes by saying, "Oh well, it's their bad karma that they got napalmed by the Americans."

Excuse me, but I'm inclined to view America's military adventurism as the result of an egocentric and opportunistic foreign policy rather than the workings of geopolitical karma. Bad management can be identified and redressed - and each citizen of every country shares the onus of restraining their leaders from gross, power-intoxicated misbehavior on the world stage.

And if we each paused for a moment and consciously decided to wholeheartedly appreciate and esteem the natural beauty around us - instead of taking it all for granted as we seem to have done for generations - then, perhaps, we may begin to realize that we lose absolutely nothing by investing our energy in making our earthly sojourn as heavenly as possible. So what if each of us can only enjoy it for a brief lifespan? Indeed we may discover that when life on earth becomes truly paradisal, we might decide to extend our visas indefinitely (instead of complaining that "life's a bitch"), thereby making translation to an abstract notion of Heaven merely optional.

Many of my friends have been interested in the idea of Ascension for years - though nobody appears to know exactly what the process entails. Some believe they can accelerate it by becoming vegan or by abstaining from sensory stimulants like caffeine, nicotine, and alcohol. They cling to the words of the Ascended Masters and secretly aspire to attaining similar spiritual status. Quite frankly, I seem to be looking at it all through the "wrong" end of the telescope in that I clearly remember what a joyous accomplishment it was to finally be able to inhabit a physical vehicle and explore reality in a dense body with all the miraculous sensory organs we have evolved over the aeons.

In this respect I'd much rather identify with the Descended Masters. Having experienced physical existence on this incredibly beautiful and boundlessly fascinating planet many times over (I've certainly had multiple flashbacks of parallel incarnations over the years), I've opted to adopt Earth as my base of operations and my permanent Home.

[First posted 8 June 2007]


Wednesday, March 9, 2016

THE MAN WHO SHOULD BE KING (revisited)

Raja Bok reunited with Antares at Kg Pertak 28 March 2009 (pic by Ana Lewis)

Last weekend I had the pleasure of renewing my 30-year acquaintance with a really lovely guy I've always known as Bok, though his official name is Raja Zailan Putra Raja Dato' Seri Haji Azam.

A mutual friend introduced us back in 1979 or 1980. I knew at the time that Bok boasted a royal pedigree. I saw photographs in his modest house of colorful characters in courtly regalia.

One that stood out was of Bok's great-grandfather, Raja Muda Abdullah (right), who signed the 1874 Pangkor Treaty with Sir Andrew Clarke and was anointed Sultan Abdullah of Perak.

Things started to go awry soon after that when the British sent a colonial officer named James Wheeler Woodford Birch (3 April 1826 - 2 November 1875) to Perak to serve as advisor to the Sultan.

From the standpoint of the Malay chiefs, Birch was arrogant and insensitive to local customs. He had no understanding of the Malay psyche and absolutely no facility with the language. Birch was appalled at the local practice of capturing Orang Asli and turning them into household slaves. He ordered an immediate stop to such barbaric activities. While it may have been a laudable act on Birch's part, it was akin to forcing a bunch of carnivores to go vegetarian overnight. His missionary zeal to civilize the natives cost Birch his life.


Dato' Maharajalela, who got the bulk of his income from capturing and selling Orang Asli as slaves, ganged up with a few disgruntled slave-traders and, on 2 November 1875, assassinated James Birch while he was taking his bath in the riverine village of Pasir Salak.

This led to the Perak War which lasted several months as British forces hunted down the leaders of the Malay rebellion. Dato' Maharajalela was captured and hanged along with other accomplices, while Sultan Abdullah was found guilty of complicity in the murder of J.W.W. Birch and exiled to the Seychelles for 16 years. One of Abdullah's cousins was installed as Sultan in his stead. It is from this lineage that the present Perak succession derives.

Bok, currently CEO of an insurance brokerage, told me he's the eldest male heir in his family. As such, when his father died several years ago, the succession would have passed to him. But for a twist of fate that saw his great-grandfather Sultan Abdullah Muhammad Shah deposed by the British in 1877, I would have been conversing last weekend in Pertak Village with the reigning Sultan of Perak.

Needless to say, there are distinct compensations for not being born in a palace. For one thing, Raja Zailan Putra has always been a jovial, easygoing, fun-loving chap with a wide circle of friends. His lifestyle isn't exactly conventional and he cherishes his personal freedom to be whoever and whatever he pleases. Everybody calls him Bok anyway and even if he were to appear in the full formal regalia befitting his royal status, his friends would probably insist on calling him Raja Bok.

In short, Bok has been able to live a relatively normal life, owing to the fact that his bloodline was removed by British decree from the Perak succession three generations ago, as punishment for rebelling against the colonial masters. There are many other royals who, like Bok, enjoy a certain measure of freedom from stuffy protocol, either because they aren't on the shortlist for royal succession - or because they have outgrown the musty traditions that would severely curb their individual freedom.

Raja Petra Kamarudin is a prominent example of someone with royal pedigree who consciously chose to align himself with the public good rather than self-servingly uphold private interests and special privileges. Or at least he succeeded for a while in projecting himself as such. There are several other maverick royals I am personally acquainted with but I won't name them here, because they may not be too keen on publicity.

I hadn't seen Bok in more than 20 years, so it was a great delight to bump into him driving a 4X4 along the old logging trail just outside Pertak Village. Mutual friends had arranged a camping trip by the river and Bok decided to come. It was genuinely sweet to renew our friendship and to note that this man who should have been a king had adapted so well to the life of a commoner.

Seeing Bok was a powerful reminder that, ultimately, what matters most is the humanity each of us is born with. The outer trappings are really quite insignificant. A pirate king remains a pirate no matter how reputable his tailor. And a noble soul stays noble, no matter how dire his or her earthly circumstances.

Another friend recently revealed that he grew up in Kuala Terengganu near the Istana and used to play badminton with the young Mizan Zainal Abidin who related to him like any other kid. But when Mizan was named the crown prince, things rapidly changed. Court officials forbade the boy from mixing with his old school friends and the lad became cloistered in preparation for his future role as Sultan of Terengganu (and at this writing the Yang Di Pertuan Agong).

Over the years, surrounded constantly by genuflecting servants, wizened counselors and persnickety courtiers, anyone would turn schizophrenic. The split between public and private personas would grow ever wider. What the public is allowed to see would be a stern-faced, unsmiling, overdressed symbol of hereditary power; while the private self either becomes cynical, detached and indifferent - or turns feral, debauched and dissolute.


One of my favorite stories of all time is about the Prince and the Pauper who traded places. I've often wondered if I would do a Siddhartha and walk out of the palace if I happened to be born into a royal bloodline.

In 1989 I experienced vivid "flashbacks" and "crosstalk" from parallel lives which forced me to be a lot more open to "reincarnational" scenarios. In several lifetimes I was of royal lineage - and the experience was never entirely happy. More than once I "remembered" being betrayed and murdered by those close to me. In short, life in a palace isn't exactly a bed of roses - and even if it is, there are always a few thorny aspects.

This is why I sometimes feel great sympathy for those trapped amidst the pompous paraphernalia and robotic rigmaroles of royalty. They are like the magical nightingale in a gilded cage, imprisoned by public expectations and compelled to sacrifice their personal lives for the sake of tribal continuity.

It's easy to view each successor to the throne as a Gulliver bound by Lilliputian constraints. The Little People scurrying around the Great Personage have a vested interest in keeping the Great Personage on a short leash. Like any institutionalized priesthood, the courtiers are the ones who ensure that protocols endure, for it assures them and their posterity a comfortable livelihood.

Coronation of Napoleon

The court officials have learnt to use pomp and circumstance and grandiloquent ceremony to shock and awe the Great Unwashed into superstitious subservience to specific bloodlines. But, ultimately, it's all a gigantic deception like ritual theater. Strip away the fancy costume, the shiny headgear and the inscrutable mask... and what stands revealed is a human being like you and me.

I told Bok I was really intrigued by his family history. He said there was a website with some information, including a detailed genealogy. I must remind him to send me the link. Who knows, the wheel of fortune is constantly in spin.

One day you could be the prime minister elect, and the next day a jailbird, and vice versa.

As I searched the web for images to illustrate this story, I realized that April 3rd happens to be James Birch's birthday. The Wiki entry on Birch names Frank Swettenham as the British Resident who succeeded Birch - a detail that gave me goosebumps, since I have long suspected that I might well have been most recently incarnate on this earth in the guise of a Maddog Englishman and empire-builder named Frank Athelstane Swettenham!

James Wheeler Woodford Birch did not die in vain, for the colonial officers who were subsequently assigned to Malaya were much better equipped and better prepared for their roles. Rather than be seen to act high-handedly on their own behalf, the Residents learned to manipulate the Malay rulers to do their bidding, knowing full well the natives' tendency to grovel before their sultans in superstitious awe. Some Malay aristocrats educated in England appear to have learned a few useful tricks from their erstwhile colonial masters.

THE PERAK SULTANATE
1. Sultan Muzaffar Shah (1528-1540 A.D.)
2. Sultan Mansur Shah I (1549-1577 A.D.)
3. Sultan Ahmad Tajuddin (1577-1584 A.D.)
4. Sultan Tajul Ariffin Shah (1584-1594 A.D.)
5. Sultan Alauddin Shah (1594-1603 A.D.)
6. Sultan Mukaddam Shah (1603-1619 A.D.)
7. Sultan Mansur Shah II (1619-1627 A.D.)
8. Sultan Mahmud Shah (1627-1630 A.D.)
9. Sultan Salehuddin Shah (1630- 1635 A.D.)
10. Sultan Muzzaffar Shah II (1636-1653 A.D.)
11. Sultan Mahmud Iskandar Shah (1653-1720 A.D.)
12. Sultan Alauddin Mughayat Shah (1720-1728 A.D.)
13. Sultan Mudzaffar Shah III (1728-1744 A.D.)
14. Sultan Muhammad Shah (1744-1750 A.D.)
15. Sultan Iskandar Zulkarnain (1754-1764 A.D.)
16. Sultan Mahmud Shah (1764-1771 A.D.)
17. Sultan Alauddin Mansur Shah (1771-1786 A.D.)
18. Sultan Ahmaddin Shah (1786-1806 A.D.)
19. Sultan Abdul Malek Shah (1806-1818 A.D.)
20. Sultan Abdullah Mu'azzam Shah (1818-1830 A.D.)
21. Sultan Shahabuddin Ri'ayat Shah (1830-1851 A.D.)
22. Sultan Abdullah Muhammad Shah (1851-1857 A.D.)
23. Sultan Ja'afar Shafuddin Shah (1857-1865 A.D.)
24. Sultan Ali Al-Mukammil Innayat Shah (1865-1871 A.D.)
25. Sultan Ismail Mu'abiddin Ri'ayat Shah (1871-1874 A.D.)
26. Sultan Abdullah Muhammad Shah (1874-1877 A.D.)27. Sultan Yusuf Sharifuddin Mu'azal Shah (1877-1887 A.D.)
28. Sultan Idris Murshidul Azam Shah (1887-1916 A.D.)
29. Sultan Abdul Jalil Nasiruddin Shah (1916-1918 A.D.)
30. Sultan Alang Iskandar Shah (1918-1938 A.D.)
31. Sultan Abdul Aziz Al-Mutasimbillah Shah (1938-1948 A.D.)
32. Sultan Yusuff Izzuddin Shah (1948-1963 A.D.)
33. Sultan Idris Iskandar Shah (1963-1984 A.D.)
34. Sultan Azlan Muhibbuddin Shah (1984-2014)
35. Sultan Dr Nazrin Muizzuddin Shah (2014-present)

JANGAN TAKUT! FEAR THEM NOT!



[First posted 2 April 2009, reposted 8 April 2014]

Monday, March 7, 2016

Archie Kerr's famous note to Reggie Herbert (reprise)

Sir Archibald Clerk Kerr, British Ambassasor to Russia during WWII

The following note was written during the Second World War by the British Ambassador to Moscow, Sir Archibald Clerk Kerr, to Lord Pembroke of the Foreign Office. It was released under the Freedom of Information Act on 25 February 2000.

This is a truly excellent example of the masterful use of proper syntax in letter writing, and explains how Britain was able to colonize half the world and extend her cultural, economic and political influence across the centuries without having to miss more than an occasional tea break. This is also another damn good reason why every civilized nation must replace its Official Secrets Act with a Freedom of Information Act...


H. M. EMBASSY

MOSCOW

Lord Pembroke
The Foreign Office
LONDON
6th April 1943

My Dear Reggie,

In these dark days man tends to look for little shafts of light that spill from Heaven. My days are probably darker than yours, and I need, my God I do, all the light I can get. But I am a decent fellow, and I do not want to be mean and selfish about what little brightness is shed upon me from time to time. So I propose to share with you a tiny flash that has illuminated my sombre life and tell you that God has given me a new Turkish colleague whose card tells me that he is called Mustapha Kunt.

We all feel like that, Reggie, now and then, especially when Spring is upon us, but few of us would care to put it on our cards. It takes a Turk to do that.

Sir Archibald Clerk Kerr,
H.M. Ambassador







[First posted 14 July 2009. Kindly brought to my attention by Pat Goh... and for sure, Archie, I know exactly how you feel!]