XPost: alt.philosophy.zen, alt.society.liberalism, alt.society.kindness   
   XPost: talk.politics.theory   
   From: hollywoodlee@gmail.com   
      
   Charles E Hardwidge wrote:   
   >>> Gak.  It may be visceral.  It may be unmediated by conceptual thinking.   
   >>>   But "truth"?  Pure Bushido bullshit.   
   >>   
   >> So you think Bushido is a corruption of Zen?   
   >>   
   >> I've long wondered how Zen can be applied to something like murder.   
   >>   
   >> Did samurai let themselves off the hook by rationalizing that it wasn't   
   >> personal?   
   >   
   > Most people's view of Bushido is only half the picture. There is another   
   > side. Like much of modern life, it's the hard and simple edge that gets   
   > all the attention, but the more subtle and creative side is there.   
   >   
   > These are unified in the symbolic katana.   
   >   
      
   It's true.  We all like to kick back and relax, maybe compose a doggerel   
   or two, after kicking some ass.   
      
   -----   
   As down the glen one Easter morn to a city fair rode I   
   There Armed lines of marching men in squadrons passed me by   
   No fife did hum nor battle drum did sound it's dread tatoo   
   But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey swell rang out through the foggy dew   
      
   Right proudly high over Dublin Town they hung out the flag of war   
   'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky than at Sulva or Sud El Bar   
   And from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through   
   While Britannia's Huns, with their long range guns sailed in through the   
   foggy dew   
      
   'Twas Britannia bade our Wild Geese go that small nations might be free   
   But their lonely graves are by Sulva's waves or the shore of the Great   
   North Sea   
   Oh, had they died by Pearse's side or fought with Cathal Brugha   
   Their names we will keep where the fenians sleep 'neath the shroud of   
   the foggy dew   
      
   But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear   
   For those who died that Eastertide in the springing of the year   
   And the world did gaze, in deep amaze, at those fearless men, but few   
   Who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew   
      
   Ah, back through the glen I rode again and my heart with grief was sore   
   For I parted then with valiant men whom I never shall see more   
   But to and fro in my dreams I go and I'd kneel and pray for you,   
   For slavery fled, O glorious dead, When you fell in the foggy dew.   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)