It’s kind of a misprision of global religiousity, if not theology. Religiousity, for me at least, being the adjective of a physical, lived embodiment of text, with theology constituting an analytic reading of the text modulo an optional piety (I still, after all this, think British).
Arjuna worlds it over the masses. At one point in the narrative, he goes a bit nuts. And for these sins, “exiled” by his “phalanx of cousins”. Then gets his managerial shit together, first by becoming woman, then by becoming student of the sheikh, Krishna. The end: his arrow shoots straight and perfect. Any previous scandals are washed aside in enlightened righteous fuhurship. The arrow, of mind, body and thetan, shoots straight.
Arjuna is the imaginarrrrrrre, to Muhammad’s rrrrrrrreal. Lucan shit Imma lay down no doubt!
Because Muhammad keeps it real, as a prophet, amongst all others. Perhaps LRH reached as close, in recent times. The objective account keeping of the first and last prophet of the text machine: well, forgive me, but it reads like my 360 feedback of the clerk of a major multinational. He was kid here, he messed up there, he was paranoid here, he shot straight there. The limbs of his ummah contradicted each other and the body became sick, then healed itself with rejuvenation, then contracted their influence/market share with each individual participatory fuck up.
He didn’t shoot straight, because he is as real as a Manager-Prophet could be. Islam is the objective religion of a thousand MBAs, of a billion traders. While Arjuna, I gotta love him still, he remains the religion of a billion traders’ wives, settling into their warrior poses at the fitness club.