bushido

I recently re-watched the Last Samurai and it reminded me of an ad hoc lesson that I put together once for my young men. It was based around one of the many analogies of dubious distinction that emerge around the periphery of Mormonism, we like those, but if the shoe fits, that means you get to marry Cinderella.

Eastern culture has always fascinated me, I think early exposure to really badly dubbed Kung Fu movies is where the love affair began. Ever since I can remember I've wanted to be a Buddhist monk at Shaolin Temple, and later, after I discovered Akira Kurosawa, I thought I could have been a passable Samurai in feudal Japan. Fate had other plans, sanity prevailed, and I ended up here, a denizen of the 21st century.

As I reflect on what could have been, I'm reminded of the old Samurai ways and see certain parallels to gospel living. I wont expand on them too much, but here's a little sample, I'll leave the rest to your imagination. A Samurai dedicated himself totally to his training, the alternative was death (usually at the hands of another swordsman) which is always a good motivator. We are engaged in a battle with spiritual death on the line, in order to be victorious we would do well to emulate the discipline of these ancient warriors.

The piety of the Samurai toward his master was above reproach. The life of a retainer was typified by absolute loyalty and service to their master. The Bushi would literally give their lives in defence of their lords (or end them if they failed to do so). Now that's what I call commitment. Am I endorsing oibara or seppuku? No, but if you want a measure of dedication, this one's hard to beat.

Why is God a Fractal 3.

As we venture further into the unknown speculative recesses of my internal imaginative flux, we will first look at the decision making process for all sentient creation from a bottom-up perspective before we take a god's-eye-view (mainly because I find it difficult to conceptualise what the latter would entail). When we last left this topic we spoke of monkeys. I just can't help myself.

It's been said that a million monkeys typing for a million years would at some point reproduce the entire works of Shakespeare. An astute commentator observed that with the advent of the internet this notion has been proven false, but just imagine if they did, would it mean anything?
I think it was Camus who used a similar example to tease out how we go about creating meaning for ourselves in life. Some dude lives forever and reproduces the Iliad or the Odyssey, can we say that this event has any merit, given that on an infinite timeline it's inevitable that someone would produce an identical work (I guess it depends on how much you like Homer). Looking at things on a mortal scale, because we're working with a literal deadline -- whether we like to acknowledge it or not -- we face the prospect of being limited in what we can do for purely practical reasons. This makes our choices (like writing an epic poem) a lot more meaningful, because they are now subjected to some form of prioritization, which in all likely hood isn't arbitrarily driven. Our discriminating tastes come into play using the time we have in whatever way we see fit. Like the old saying goes "time is what stops everything from happening at once." We may want it all and want it now, but conditions don't favour the disciples of instant gratification here. We're left to make our way in the world slowly but surely one decision at a time. How we go about choosing is a whole 'nother can of worms that I'll deal with later, the why (as in why our choices matter) will have to do for now.

Sorry eternal monkeys your efforts seen through this paradigm don't amount to much. The limitations of mortality open the way for meaning to mean something. However, when we open our scope and include God in the domain, unfortunately this model doesn't fit. God is an infinite being who does far more then write about heroes with tragic flaws, he makes them. Which doesn't bring us any closer to the celestial selection system. Perhaps I've been asking the wrong question, Why is God a fractal isn't big enough, it's just a less general version of why is there something instead of nothing?

next: extrapolations that could lead to a resolution of the mysteries of the universe, but probably not.

Manhood, Mormon style

Donny Osmond threatens to make a man out of me

If there's one thing I like doing here it's recycling old journal entries...

I woke up one day this week and decided I wanted to be a man. This was surprising news to everyone. Vince Lombardi (of the green bay packers) said: " winning isn't a sometime thing, it's an all the time thing. You don't win once in a while, you don't do things right once in a while, you do them right all the time. Winning is a habit, unfortunately so is losing." Substitute winning for man or manhood and you'll get some idea of how I felt. Do I wake up some days and think, you know what I don't feel like being a man today? Sure, happens all the time. I don't exactly say those words but my actions reflect that thought process: I don't feel like waking up early or doing the dishes or being nice to people or whatever. Lehi reminded his wayward sons " arise from the dust my sons and be men and be determined in one mind and one heart united in all things, that you may not come down into captivity." The saviour gives us an understanding of what true manhood is... asked:" what manner of men ought ye to be?" & answered: "Even as I am." Remember manhood isn't a some time thing it's an all the time thing. So what are you waiting for? Be a man.

An addendum, the attributes of manhood:

1 THOUGH I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.
3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.
4 Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,
5 Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;
6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;
7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
8 Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.
9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.
10 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.
11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.
13 And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.
(New Testament 1 Corinthians 13:)

The Real Jesus

One of the great inadequacies of my personal spiritual experience is the inability to imagine the difficulty of a God having difficulty with the human experience. Jesus was half man, half amazing (or God if you prefer), of course he was going to be better equipped than us at deflecting temptation and enacting all things righteous. It was all part of the plan, as they say. Yet in my attempts to humanize the being whom I've accepted as my deity (with the desire to better understand him) I can't say that I have been inordinately successful nor hopelessly disappointed. Jesus was how he was, I am that I am, what manner man ought I to be? Like him. I can only process this in momentary fragments of insight that seem underwhelming on reflection, mainly because they seem to do an injustice to subject under consideration. Take for instance, when I play rugby league and receive for my troubles an exceptionally hard tackle, which momentarily disables my entire person. My immediate thought upon regaining consciousness would be to retaliate in kind (or worse), which I'm guessing is a result of my humanness. Jesus on the other hand would, first of all would not be playing a violent contact sport and if tackled under any circumstance would no doubt be puzzled, yet willfully tolerant of the offender. This is truly amazing to me, and not in some incredulous way, but in a truly wondrous manner. To reward aggression with mercy rather than retaliation is doable once or twice or even for the very best of us several times, but to do it consistently, without fail, always seems to reside, for me, in the realms of the almost unbelievable. It was not fantasy though, it was Jesus, he provided a better way than where our natural inclinations would normally lead. I don't fully understand it, but I'm grateful for it.