Gods Again.

Different lands have different gods. The magic of one land will not work in another land, but the stories are the same: finding the underlying harmony in things, non-violence, compassion, the river and the way, dying gods, in my end is my beginning. And of all these stories, the Abrahamic religions, born of the desert's austerity, are the most foreclosed: only one god mediating the umbilical between self and world, their simplicity and inflexibility perfectly equipping them for rapid viral dissemination and rabid fundamentalist extrapolations – misread, misused, missing the point entirely. 

Or so I thought as I watched Princess Mononoke for the first time last week.