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  • In Shakespeare's The Tempest, Prospero, Duke of Milan, is ousted by his brother and exiled to an island. With the help of a friend, Prospero manages to take with him his beloved library.

    Prospero, like his creator, lived in a time when boundaries between disciplines were not as rigid as they are today. Prospero's books would have dealt with the cosmos—spiritual and material, inner and outer—as a whole.

    In this blog, I try to do the same. I'm not Prospero, just a student rummaging through his library and writing in the margins. Prospero's Books is a blog about seeing the world as a whole, by looking at

    • signs, especially the relationships between signifiers and what they signify
    • stories, especially big-picture stories, such as myths and the works of Dante, Shakespeare, and Joyce
    • systems, especially complex, nonlinear systems
    • spirit, especially as understood by the Christian and Western esoteric traditions

    Welcome! Please join the conversation.

    —Kenneth W. Davis

    (Note: Although I admire Peter Greenaway's film Prospero's Books, this blog is not directly about that film. )

    Who, and Some of What, I Am

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07 May 2007

Holding our pattern in the divine memory

Blakes_ancient_of_days_2 In Joyce's Ulysses, both leading men reflect on whether our identity remains constant while almost everything that is physical about us changes. Stephen wonders if he can avoid repaying a debt on the grounds that he is not really the same person who incurred it. And Bloom wonders if he is still the same man with whom Molly fell in love.

In the Fall 2005 issue of Parabola, John Polkinghorne, particle physicist and Anglican priest, raises the same question in an article "The Pattern That Is Me." He writes:

We live in a state of atomic flux, and the ageing, balding academic that I am today [That hits very close to home, John] is essentially anatomically distinct from the schoolboy with his shock of black hair in the photograph of sixty years ago. What does connect me today is the almost infinitely complex information-bearing pattern, carried at any one time by the matter of my body and continuously developing over time as my experiences and decisions mould and form my character. That pattern is the soul--an idea at least as old as Aristotle, who thought that the soul is the "form" of the body.

After exploring that idea further, he closes the article:

The information-bearing pattern that is me will, as far as science can tell, dissolve at my death with the decay of my body. Of itself, the soul, therefore, possesses no intrinsic immortality, but as a Christian I believe that it is a true and coherent hope that the God who is faithful will not allow that pattern to be lost, but will hold it in the divine memory, with the intention of re-embodying it in a final eschatological act of resurrection (81-82).

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