OUR GOAL IS TO MAKE YOU STOP TO THINK, AS WE ALWAYS PRACTICE HERE, RATHER THAN STOP THINKING. BEWARE NO ONE CAN DO THE THINKING ON YOUR BEHALF.
A heavily intoxicated man always insists he is as sober as a judge. And a psychopath, almost by definition, doesn't doubt his sanity for a split second. Likewise, one who suffers the mental illness that I call premature senility never admits he is just shuffling information purely on an ear-to-mouth basis.
- From my own post dated September 23
LEFT: Wandering around aimlessly in the sate of near-fugue
CENTER: Karuta is believed to have a magical power
RIGHT: Feeling cured by the Karuta therapy
These days religious cults are pervasive on both sides of the Pacific, and in the rest of the world, perhaps to a lesser degree. Given this climate, it can't really be helped if most of you belong to one or two of them, or even more. Yet it's regrettable that you are strongly discouraged, if not prohibited, by your guru(s) from using your own brain.
Aside from the likes of Alef, formerly known as Aum Supreme Truth (Japanese version of Peoples Temple,) there are a wide range of cults subtly legitimized under the guise of harmless groups. They include the Tennoist cult at the top of this pseudo-secular nation, the powerful Soka Gakkai, innumerable "Buddhist" sects, and the truth-seeking cabal headed by a disguised conspirator named Benjamin Fulford - if you exclude those technology-driven cults such as Apple, Google and Microsoft.
For most of my adulthood, I've struggled to distance myself from these fanatics as much as practicably possible, but often to no avail. How should I have dealt with the situation when I found out my ex-wife, her parents and siblings had all become avid believers in the poisonous superstition Soka Gakkai kept spreading as it's still doing today, and were constantly trying to proselytize my biological sons who were still in their formative years?
A conversation I had with one of these cultists typically went like this:
Cultist: "Listen, we have the supreme truth with us."
Me: "Show me the evidence?"
Cultist: "As you can see in this booklet, the famous Mr. So-
and-So endorses our belief." (These days I would be
shown a website, instead.)
Me: "Just because someone endorses it doesn't make it evidence."
Cultist: "Don't be silly. It's not only him. There are thousands
and thousands of respectable people behind us."
Me: "If you accumulate tons of fake evidence, that doesn't
make it authentic."
Cultist: "You are an impossible nutter. Pity for your kids."
Actually it's a pity for me, too. Now it seems to me we are all granted the inviolable right to BELIEVE in whatever we want to believe. The only thing prohibited to us is to THINK.
As I've said many times before, these cultists are NOT psychos. Neither are they indoctrinated by psychos. They have brainwashed THEMSELVES by strictly avoiding the use of their own brains.
For an amputee it's not totally impossible to overcome his handicap if he has the courage to face up to the fact that he is one-legged, or legless. But when it comes to a person whose ability for creative thinking has been amputated, that's it: he will never realize he has a serious problem inside.
As I explained in my post dealing with the issue of premature senility, it's the lack of creative mind that causes dementia, either senile or juvenile. It can never be the other way around. So it's turning the causal relationship upside down to say the disease disables your ability to think creatively. And you can't cure a disease without knowing its cause.
To make the issue even more complicated, it always takes two or more, to be creative. This makes dementia a highly infectious disease.
So if there is a cure for the mental illness, the key to finding it is to know how to build a creative relationship with someone or something.
According to a report released earlier this year by Japan's National Police Agency, within recent 12 months, 10,322 sufferers of Ninchisho (dementia) went missing in the state of fugue, i.e. dissociative amnesia, formerly called psychogenic amnesia. (They never distinguish amnesia from dementia.)
Needless to say, this is a gross understatement. What if a missing person had been living alone, or the spouse failed to report the incident to the police because he or she was also afflicted with the same illness? And equally important, what if the missing person was under the age of 65? In this country tailed shrinks take it for granted there's no such thing as the mental illness that I call "juvenile dementia."
These days self-proclaimed experts in psychiatry, who are all suffering the same disease themselves, say there are proven ways to prevent the elderly from wandering about aimlessly. According to them, one of the most promising methods is what they call the Karuta therapy.
Essentially Karuta is a game about word associations that can be shared by everyone. But how can it cure these people who have chosen to escape from everyday associations into a dissociative world? Since dissociating the established link is the first step toward redefining themselves, it must have serious adverse effects to bring them back in the middle of their journey. Maybe they will find all by themselves a new identity with which to become re-associated with the society if these dregs of humanity such as social workers, shrinks and cops let them remain missing.
Rikki Naito, Japan's super-
On one of the early days of this past summer, I was introduced to a young guy named Rikki Naito by the wife of the owner of a small eatery I frequent. When he came in with his lanky friend, I said to myself: "I'm lucky to have almost finished my dinner just in time. Otherwise I would have to eat with a lot of disturbance from these Sumaho-addicted punks."
Then I noticed a peculiar thing: they didn't carry Sumaho or any other mobile device.
The next thing that astonished me was Naito's way to respond to me when I said, "So you are Japan's super-featherweight champion." He stood up and answered very politely but briskly: "Yes, I'm Rikki Naito, current titleholder in that class." He added: "But it's a long way to go until I make it to the world." Although he sounded very modest, Naito looked quite confident about his pursuit.
He stayed upright until I left the shop after the exchange of some more words.
As soon as I came home, I quickly studied his profile on the web because it was a pleasant surprise to have encountered such a guy after writing off almost all male Japanese including my prematurely grown-up sons.
From the video embedded at the bottom of this post, I learned many interesting things about and from the up-and-coming fighter. Among other things, I thought I found in his sportsman-like attitude the missing link I was looking for, for many years.
Sportsmanship, i.e. manliness, consists of four closely interconnected attributes.
I don't remember exactly where German philosopher and psychiatrist Karl Jaspers inserted this parable, but it goes something like this:
The director of the mental hospital is known for his fatherly compassion toward the inmates. One day when he strolled around the garden, he spotted an inpatient casting a fishing line into the swimming pool. The director stopped by the patient. Smiling knowingly, he said, "What kind of fish do you catch here?" The madman replied: "Don't be silly, doc. You can't catch any fish in a swimming pool."
My interpretation of the allegory is that when a man does a thing just out of spontaneity, he doesn't know, or even doesn't need to know, the reason why he is doing what he is doing. Since nobody or nothing has forced anything on him, he's fully committed to it without showing the slightest sign of cynicism.
Acceptance of the rules of the game
Once you have chosen the game to play on your own, you are ready not only to adhere to the rules but also to accept anything given there. It's out of the question to complain about them.
As a matter of fact, most people have a pathological fixation to the past which prevents them from looking to the future. As a result, they untiringly lament over the given condition as if it weren't their own choice.
It's a different story, if you were forced to choose the game. For instance you tend to cry out against widespread contamination of sports with commercialism, nationalism and performance-enhancing substances. But there's no point in doing so if you aren't really in love with sports in the first place.
I do often talk about the history and status quo of Okinawa. But not once have I made such a stupid remark like the injustice in the colonized islands should be ended. It's my own problem, no one else's.
Unwavering resolve to excel
The first thing a committed person will do is to identify his shortcomings because only by overcoming his weak spots, he can possibly outdo others. This is the only way to pursue professionalism.
An effete person, who I'm inclined to call an eunuch, doesn't have an aspiration to excel. He is too lazy and inert, mentally rather than physically, to work hard to outperform his opponent. In our chattering classes, too, there are so many ill-disciplined people who habitually avoid mental exercise. Their soul has withered from the beginning. As a result, their "brain muscles," as well, quickly wither.
An old adage goes: "Age may wrinkle your face, but lack of enthusiasm wrinkles your soul."
Respect for others
It's quite natural that one who does his best to excel in his game knows other people who do the same, including the loser, deserve his respect. As you can see in the video, Rikki Naito's respect goes to his father more than anyone else.
You think sportsmanship is a cousin of Bushido, samurai's chivalry. But it's the farthest thing from it. With sportsmanship, everything starts from spontaneity.
The unPC part of IQ scale
Until I became acquainted with Rikki Naito, I simply thought one's creative attitude hinges solely on his intelligence quotient.
Actually one of the young, bright ladies I was associated with was a great conversationalist, She could express her thoughts and feelings much more clearly and effectively than I.
At one time, I asked her if she'd ever had her IQ measured. She confided that when she was attending the kindergarten in the Chinatown, she was put on the watch list as an enfant terrible because her IQ was measured somewhere over 150.
She wasn't an obnoxious genius type. Far from it. On the contrary she was one of the most pleasant and outgoing personalities I've ever met. Obviously she was a rare exception.
Thanks to the young boxer, now it flashed on me for the first time that manliness, or womanliness for that matter, matters as much as intellectual faculty. Even if your IQ is extraordinarily high, your intelligence is a wasted treasure unless you strive to leverage it.
I don't know for sure the opposite can be true, too. But the most important point here is that as is true with a physically handicapped person, one whose IQ is on the low side can avail himself of one artificial gadget or another, if he has a strong will to overcome the disadvantage.
By now I'm more or less prepared for the final departure from all this ado about nothing, or to be more precise, something yet to be known. Now my only concern is how to keep my mind unclouded so I can witness the not-so-great moment myself. The only thing I wouldn't tolerate is if I'm going to survive my alertness.
In that respect the major source of concern for me is the fact that my IQ, which couldn't have been any higher than 100 from the beginning, now seems to be coming down further. For one thing, the self-analysis of my throughput time indicates my mental agility has slowed down and is still decelerating very quickly.
In the last nine months since the beginning of the year, I wrote an estimated 60,000 words for this blog. On the surface I seemed to be on the prolific side. But productivity-wise my performance in the same period is way below standard when taking into account the facts that I could only upload 12 posts where a combined 23,000 words were actually used, and that for this much of output, I spent a disproportionate amount of time. Certainly this is the bad news.
But the good news is the fact that there's ample room to improve my creativity. According to my throughput analysis, the total time worked roughly broke down into 10% for actual writing on the blog editor, another 10% for research. and 80% for thinking.
Now that I've learned from the well-mannered young guy what real sportsmanship is like. If I try hard to fully exploit my not-so-high intelligence, I should be able to make up for the slowdown on the part of my eyes and fingers. And only that way I can repay what I owe these young Japanese.
Now I'm reasonably sure I'm not really done for yet for better or for worse