He was listening to that old song Bob Segar song Fire Lake. You know:
Who's gonna make that first mistake
Who wants to wear those gypsy leathers
All the way to Fire Lake
Well, it reminded me about something I have been thinking about these days a lot: the idea of change. And Fire Lake.
The Dear Readers of These Pages will all recall how unique was the Chinese concept of the Mandate of Heaven (天命). With few exceptions, most kingdms traced their right to rule by bloodlines. Think of the Ottomans and the Hapsburgs. In Japan, for example, the Emperor is believed to have descended directly from Shinto gods. In an unbroken line going all the way back to the Sun Goddess, a Japanese emperor derived his power by descent alone, and therefore was seen as a manifestation of God on earth; as inviolate. While it is true that the Chinese emperor was also considered as God manifest, it was rather as “the Son of Heaven” who had received his divine mandate from Heaven by virtue of his good character. Although this system was hardly democratic in any sense of the word, still the Emperor of China ruled with the understanding that he held the Mandate of Heaven only as long as the people considered him to be a good (i.e. moral) and just ruler, and if for any reason the people came to believe that the ruler had lost this mandate from Heaven then they had every reason to withdraw their support.
More important, however, is that because the right to rule is not fundamentally based on bloodlines but rather on the will of Heaven, and because we know that Heaven is always in flux (ie, 58th year of the sexagenary cycle), well... you get the picture.
What this means is that built right into the concept of the Mandate 天命 is the concept of 革命 (kakumei).
This word kakumei is traditionally translated into English as "revolution," and that is fine for the modern use of the kanji in Chinese or Japanese. However, the translation becomes problematic when we are talking about ancient Chinese history. Because kakumei (革命) is not "revolution" is it? Of course not. kakumei is 天命を革むこと。 "Mandate of heaven is altered:" hence, even where there was no human involvement, no "revolution" to speak of, when dynasties changed in ancient China, the word 革命 was used.
And, it therefore, it should come as no surprise that ancient rulers would have been well aware that-- in theory-- at least-- their days were numbered, And so it was always in their interest to put forth proof of heaven's favor as well as displays of their own moral virtue. It is is in this sense that we understand the ancient nine bronzes. ( It should also, I suppose, come as no surprise that the hexagram following "kakumei" (49: 革命） is "bronze tripod" (50: 鼎）)
Of course, natural omens being harder to control, the evil First Emperor would put forth tremendous effort to have these symbols of the Mandate of Heaven dredged up from the river.
And, you will recall the wise words of the Zhou King's steady servant Wáng-sūn Mǎn (王孫満):
The tripods do not matter, virtue does.
**
I have been thinking a lot about how people make revolutionary changes. And, I wonder if there isn't a difference between invoking change based on what you don't like versus invoking change based on what you want. Or going with changes that are part of "going with the flow." I guess I may be one of those people who are incapable of "running away" (or reacting strongly against).
There is a difference between running away and running toward, right? Even if in fact they are both evoking the same result...?
Even in my dreams I never am able to run from danger-- and just sit there in horror watching my inpending doom. But I can run toward. Or sometimes even fly toward. The only dream that I can recall where it seemed that I was running away, in fact, I was in my mind (in the dream) running toward something; for it was only that moment that I saw the blinding sunshine out the windows that I made my mind up （決心）, and in that moment committed, I walked foward:
I was in a hotel in Europe. The room was beautifully wall-papered with European-style finishings and furniture. I could smell coffee. Although it was obviously sunny out, the thick curtains were drawn and I sat in a chair in the corner of the room extremely tense. There was banging on the door They kept banging and banging, and I watched paralyzed as the hinges started to give way on the door. I couldn't move. Where was there to go anyway? I was up on the 3rd floor. At that moment though-- just as I felt my powers to move come back, the door burst open. I had already spun around toward the curtains, and flinging them open, a blinding sunlight filled the room.
You could not believe how bright the sunlight was, shining off what was water below. There were french doors that led to a very tiny verenadah. The railing was beautifully worked wrought-iron. In one leap, I hopped on to the edge of the railing and leaped straight out! I was flying. And to my complete surprise, the most beautiful landscape I had ever seen spread out beneath me. Floating a short distance I found myself over an aquamarine color sea and just in front of me was a great mosque on a hill overlooking the harbor, which was full of boats. It was Istanbul. A city I had never been in before, but without a doubt it was Istanbul. Constantinople. Turkish Delight.
Anyway, was thinking about this perhaps slightly different idea of "revolution" (which, by the way, is a theme strongly emphasized in Japanese language history books about ancient China) as I listened to the lyrics of fire lake.
Also, wondered what in the world are gypsy leathers?
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