Cherry blossoms bloom and fade in Korea

26 04 2012

This video is a bit more quirky than usual for HP, but I thought I’d share it.  Everyday from the first bud to the final petal, we took a video of the local cherry blossoms.  Watch them bloom and fade before your eyes.

There’s also a local Cherry Blossom Festival with some wicked karaoke.  :-)

You can find more videos like this at the Korea travel blog of my wife and I, Bibimbap Litterbox.

Cherry blossoms in full bloom, by B. T. Newberg

Cherry blossoms and the Japanese occupation

What this video doesn’t capture is the deep ambivalence Koreans must feel about the blossoms.  Although cherry trees are indigenous to Korea, much of the culture surrounding their celebration comes from Japan.  They are thus a reminder of atrocities committed during the Japanese Imperial occupation (1910-1945), including forced labor, sexual slavery, and medical experimentation.  To this day the trauma has not fully healed.

During World War II, the cherry blossom was used to motivate the Japanese people, to stoke nationalism and militarism among the populace.[9] Even prior to the war, they were used in propaganda to inspire “Japanese spirit,” as in the “Song of Young Japan,” exulting in “warriors” who were “ready like the myriad cherry blossoms to scatter.”[10] In 1932, Akiko Yosano‘s poetry urged Japanese soldiers to endure sufferings in China and compared the dead soldiers to cherry blossoms.[11] Arguments that the plans for the Battle of Leyte Gulf, involving all Japanese ships, would expose Japan to serious danger if they failed, were countered with the plea that the Navy be permitted to “bloom as flowers of death.”[12] The last message of the forces on Peleliu was “Sakura, Sakura” — cherry blossoms.[13] Japanese pilots would paint them on the sides of their planes before embarking on a suicide mission, or even take branches of the trees with them on their missions.[9] A cherry blossom painted on the side of the bomber symbolized the intensity and ephemerality of life;[14] in this way, the aesthetic association was altered such that falling cherry petals came to represent the sacrifice of youth in suicide missions to honor the emperor.[9][15] The first kamikaze unit had a subunit called Yamazakura or wild cherry blossom.[15] The government even encouraged the people to believe that the souls of downed warriors were reincarnated in the blossoms.[9]

In its colonial enterprises, imperial Japan often planted cherry trees as a means of “claiming occupied territory as Japanese space”.[9]

(from Wikipedia)

Sohn Kee Chung gold medalist for Japan

1936: Olympic gold-medalist runner Sohn Kee Chung, forced to compete for Japan and adopt the Japanese name Kitei Son, covers the Imperial flag with a plant.

The feeling of mono no aware

The fast-fading blossoms are a symbol of mortality and impermanence, evoking the aesthetic known in Japanese as mono no aware, meaning “the pathos of things” or “a sensitivity to ephemera.”

The word is derived from the Japanese word mono (物?), which means “thing”, and aware (哀れ?), which was a Heian period expression of measured surprise (similar to “ah” or “oh”), translating roughly as “pathos”, “poignancy”, “deep feeling”, or “sensitivity”. Thus, mono no aware has frequently been translated as “the ‘ahh-ness’ of things”, life, and love. Awareness of the transience of all things heightens appreciation of their beauty, and evokes a gentle sadness at their passing.

(from Wikipedia)





Magic in the 22nd Century, by Drew Jacob

22 04 2012
Scroll rods, by Drew Jacob

"Let's assume you believe magic never works. How then should you view people who practice or believe in it?"

This week we hear from Drew Jacob, author of Walk Like a God, and proprietor of altmagic.

This article will not convince you that magic is real.

I practice the art of magic. I define magic as using ritual or ceremony to cause something to happen. That doesn’t imply anything supernatural; I suspect most ritual has primarily psychological effects.

In theory, if those psychological effects get someone to change their attitude or behavior, the impact of the ritual could be significant. Love spells, financial success, and other effects can be quite real.

But I don’t care for one second if you believe that.

Instead, let’s assume you believe magic never works. How then should you view people who practice or believe in it?

Frauds and charlatans?

In general, skeptic literature has demonized magicians and magic believers. There are exactly two ways a skeptic is allowed to view magic types: idiots, or parasites. B. T.’s own writeup neatly echoes that sentiment: “Magic scrolls… It’s hard to imagine a more blatant way to exploit naïve believers…”

His comments were actually meant to be positive. He wrote the article to say how interesting and different my approach to magic is. He wanted his most skeptical readers to give it consideration, so he started out by playing to their concerns: magic is fraud, magic is crazy.

This is symptomatic. If the only way you can talk to skeptics and humanists about a sincere, intelligent magician is to start off with the ridicule of magicians in general, there’s a deep and questionable bias at work. B. T.’s message was that I’m the “good” magician, not like all those other magicians. But being the good magician is kind of like being the good Jew. “You’re not like those other Jews.” Hmm.

I see magic very differently.

Art-and-tech

The practice of magic is art-and-tech utilizing beautiful, empowering rituals to radically change lives. It’s an art in that it draws on the vivid imagery of myth and dreams. It’s a technology because it uses that imagery to create profound, predictable effects in the subject. Magic rites take myth and template it onto the individual practitioner, for an engaging art form with a deep and lasting emotional impact. This impact is so significant that people who merely witness it or believe in it feel it as vividly as those who participate in it. Which is why so many people who are not magicians nonetheless “feel the energy” in magical talismans.

Consider the significance of that. The emotional impact of these rituals is so great that people feel it tangibly. This puts magic on a par with the most powerful works of theatre, except magic is uniquely aimed at the individual. In many ways, I think this is what motivates people to hire a magician – more so, in many cases, than the alleged effects of the spell itself.

Magic injects wonder into your life.

Religion, culture, and philosophy

This is different from religion. Instead of placing one’s hope in unknowable beings, magic tells the individual to place their hope in themselves. It says they have the power to make changes on their own, to wrest what they want from the world around them.

Magical traditions also serve as living repositories of culture. Elements of art, music, dance, philosophy, folklore and social commentary are embedded into each magical lineage. An active magical tradition in turn informs culture, with its own innovations in art, music and theory feeding into broader society at many levels. We see this in tribal cultures to this day.

These contributions don’t have to be considered inherently valuable. You can make an argument that art and philosophy have relatively little worth compared to science and industry. But art and philosophy remain a vital area of interest: most skeptics don’t call for the closing of philosophy departments for teaching Aristotle, whose theories are disproved. Nor do they call artists and galleries charlatans for selling expensive objects whose alleged benefits are far from proven.

Instead we dedicate significant private, public and academic resources to understanding and preserving art and cultural tradition. There is an increasing awareness that something important is lost if these things are simply put in a museum for display. Thus, last year when the Minneapolis Institute of Arts opened its special exhibition of Native American artwork, traditional musicians played in the gallery, videos of elders and tribal artists graced each room, and birch bark baskets were placed before ceremonial works of art so museum visitors could make offerings of tobacco. Tribes and bands throughout the region were consulted on the exhibition. The inclusion of living practices – and respect for the people who care about them – was seen to add something above and beyond simply presenting relics of the past with explanatory note cards.

The real benefits of magic

I place the practice of magic very much in the same camp. There are claims in magic that are bullshit. It is unlikely in the extreme that any magic rite will allow you to fly or turn into a cat; but very few magical traditions make such claims (outside of fiction). There are magical practices that are a public danger, such as select Santería potions that contain mercury. These practices should be outlawed (and have been, in the United States). But the majority of magic practices make neither of those mistakes. Without making any reference to the supernatural, we can say that most magic practices do at least one of three things:

  • Promise a variety of hard-to-prove effects, many of which could come true simply because the person believes they will and acts accordingly
  • Give individuals a sense of control over their life when they otherwise feel disempowered
  • Act as ritual theater offering an immersive cultural experience

These are admittedly nebulous benefits. But it’s foolish to write off something that encodes cultural narrative and, at the same time, contributes to the emotional wellbeing of millions of people. There’s also a great deal of misinformation spread about magic: that it has all been proven not to work. That it all relies on supernatural thinking. That anyone who practices it is a liar. These beliefs are factually untrue, which makes them a poor basis for opinions about magic.

A call for critical thinking

I think humanists can do better. The entirety of skeptic literature can do better, but I think spiritual humanists are the ones most likely to make nuanced, informed opinions about things like rituals and spells.

It’s perfectly reasonable to take the position that psychological and social benefits, or cultural traditions and beliefs, are not worth paying for. That’s different than saying that anyone who does pay for them is stupid, and anyone charging for them is a fraud.

Most magicians are sincere believers, who themselves use the same charms and methods they prescribe to their clients. More to the point, they are skilled artisans using time-tested tools that have observable, beneficial effects.

I think it’s time for critical thinkers to look at the reality of the art of magic, and not just the foregone conclusions of a less educated generation of skeptics.

The author

Drew Jacob

Drew Jacob is the Rogue Priest. He’s walking from the Mississippi River to the Amazon on a search to meet the gods. He makes his living as a writer and an artist crafting traditional magical charms.

Check out Drew’s other posts:





The new Copernican shift: How science is revolutionizing spirituality

4 03 2012
Ptolemaic orbits, from "Harmonia Macrocosmica" by Andreas Cellarius, 1661

We are no more the center of consciousness than the center of the solar system. All the universe partakes of the same essential process of "knowing."

We are experiencing a new Copernican shift that is revolutionizing our spirituality.  It is undermining our sense of humanity as something privileged in the universe, the sole possessor of “soul”, standing above the beasts and apart from the inert dust of soil.  It is questioning our free will, our magical power to move ourselves amidst the billiard-ball jumble that moves everything else in the universe.  Our spirituality will have to change to embrace this new vision of humanity.

The old Copernican shift

The heliocentric model of Copernicus showed us that the earth is not the center of the universe, that we are not special but a humble, integrated part of a larger whole called the solar system.

Suddenly, the earth had the same status as any of the other planets, and behaved just like them.  This at once undermined both the specialness of the earth as the focal point of the universe, and the specialness of the other planets as exalted, transcendent entities.  Both were of the same stuff, and that required a tumultuous shift in spiritual understanding.

The new shift

In just the same way, we are now beginning to understand that the human mind, the psyche, the “soul” even, is not special either.  Neuroscience, cognitive psychology, evolutionary biology, organic chemistry, and a host of other lines of research are converging on an inevitable conclusion: we operate according to the same physical laws as everything else in the universe.

Consciousness, thought, emotion, meaning, value – all these are emergent properties of a particular arrangement of organic chemistry.

Just as extreme hardness emerges when carbon atoms assemble in a certain manner to form a diamond, so consciousness emerges when carbon assembles in another manner to form life.

Suddenly our dreams, hopes, and aspirations – all that we hold dear – appear as if at the mercy of chance meetings of molecules.  There is a beauty but also a horror to this.

Are we really nothing more than a random coagulation of stuff?  Aren’t we special?

The special species?

Just as the earth is not the specially-privileged center of the universe, we are not the specially-privileged center of consciousness.

We may be unique on this planet – so far as we can tell, no other species has achieved our level of intelligence or aptitude for complex manipulation of symbols.  But we are not special in how this came about.  It’s all due to the same fundamental process.

Meaning is not unique to us.  Even amoebae detect the effluents of decaying bacteria, and know this means food is near.  On an even simpler level, atoms are constantly seeking to acquire a complete set of electrons, and they bond with nearby atoms to acquire them.

There is no conscious intention to do so, but somehow the atom “knows” to do it.  This “knowing” is no more than physical laws in operation, yet it is different from human knowing only in the level of complexity and nuance of response.

An atom knows to acquire electrons, an amoeba knows to move in the direction of food, and we know to breathe the precious air that gives us life.  We know to circulate blood in our veins, we know to fire the neurons that bring up a certain memory, we know to respond to the caress of a lover with increased heartbeat and burning desire, and we know to pose one possible course of action against another and call up all the relevant social factors in order to decide what to do.  We know to recognize patterns in previous experiences, and extrapolate what patterns are likely to continue in what we call the future.  We know, finally, that this whole process of acquiring knowledge, ever incomplete, implies that there is and probably always will be more that we don’t know.

In this litany of knowing, there is a clear progression from the simple to the complex, but it is all the same fundamental process.  Consciousness creeps in gradually or all of a sudden, but it does not disrupt the essential process of knowing.

Our knowing, then, our thoughts, our dreams, our very experience of being, is not special.  It is the knowing of animals, the knowing of plants, the knowing of amoebae, the knowing of carbon atoms, the knowing of all things that partake in this marvelous phenomenon called the universe.

We are not the center of the universe.  We are not the center of consciousness.  We are not the center of knowing.

Like people in the days of Copernicus, we may perceive this insight as a threat.  We may react to it with fear and denial.  But if, instead, we can learn to embrace it, we may discover something startling and new.

Toward a new vision

Our spirituality must evolve itself to incorporate this new insight.  We are essentially one with our universe.  Every entity in the universe is unique and different – there’s no denying that – but at the same time, on a fundamental level, they are the same.

I and my world are a single, seamless whole.  Person and place are identical.  The world “out there”, and the experience “in here”, are one.

Atoms are our brothers and sisters.  All things in the universe behave exactly as we do, and we behave like them.  We are at one with all things.  We enjoy communion with each and every thing.

How could there be any deeper mystery than this?

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