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Nothing’s Shadow: Ethics, Education and the Contemporary Relevance of the Samurai

 
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11/09/2008 10:15 AM
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Nothing’s Shadow: Ethics, Education and the Contemporary Relevance of the Samurai
Nothing’s Shadow: Ethics, Education and the Contemporary Relevance of the Samurai

BY PETER ALEXANDER

In the West and the Near East the game of Chess is regarded as a war game, and its adepts as masters of strategy. In Japan, however, among the Samurai, this game was perceived as vulgar, a diversion for traders and merchants. The Samurai had a very different idea of conflict from that in the West.

Victory in chess is obtained by calculation, by trading off your own pieces in exchange for success. Winning is through deception, and always taking advantage of the other’s mistakes. Megalomaniacal in its grasp of conflict, cruel, mechanical, hierarchical, and heartless in its application, and deluded in its victory, chess was, for the Samurai, hollow and meaningless as a game of strategy. It was a clever device, a game without honour.

Honour is an unexamined concept in our contemporary culture, a frozen medieval ideal, a moral or social artefact. Nevertheless honour is a vital aesthetic with immense relevance to our situation.

Never written down, Bushido, the code of honour in Japan, the ‘chivalry’ of the Samurai, was nonetheless the most important consideration in their life. There are very good reasons for this. To stop viewing the world as right or wrong and to examine it sincerely as honourable or dishonourable is a way to distinguish the world in quite a different light.

When a Samurai boy was 5 years, 5 months, and 5 days old, he was given his first sword in a sacred ritual, dressed as a warrior, and placed on a Go board, just like a Go stone. Go is the true game of warriors and philosophers among the Samurai, who didn’t make the two arenas distinct from each other. It is the beautiful game of territory, where the highest excellence was not through wiping the opponent off the board, but by the understated beauty of winning by only one stone.

Power emanates from our perception of the true nature of our position and possibilities. It is better to know you are a sheep than imagine you are a tiger. The Samurai ethic gives us a perspective.

We are placed on the planet just like a Go stone on a board. We are all the same. We cannot control the game, and we cannot change our location. We may be placed in a pivotal time and position, or we may not. We may have a lifetime of peace, or of disturbance. We can be wiped off the board at any time. We have no control over the patterns of the higher game.

The best we can attain in the great game of life, the Samurai considered, is to be a very good stone; to be present, to have integrity, and to endure. Then we may serve the higher strategy well. This would be revealed in the future peace and prosperity of society. To be a good stone is also to rule absolutely over the tiny area actually allotted to us, to realise that we are the god of our own tiny domain.

The Samurai ethic is very much misunderstood in the West, and what little is known often derives from the later Edo period, when a rich merchant could purchase the right to wear two swords and be a knight for prestige and vanity.

“Death before Dishonour” is probably the most penetrating Samurai image, yet the least understood. It gives us the idea of the Samurai as a paragon of stoicism and righteousness, willing to die, rather than have his or her reputation besmirched, or dignity abased. The ritual act of suicide seems to epitomise this maxim. However, this is far from the truth.

Central to the Samurai ethic was the realisation that every human death has dignity, regardless of the circumstances surrounding it. Every death weakens us all, and we cannot conceptualise a useless death without demeaning life itself.

Whether it is an AIDS-ridden infant, a sick old pensioner, a suicide bomber, a death row inmate, an elderly statesman, a crime or traffic victim, an overdosing junkie, all death has the same dignity. To see it otherwise is to peer through the mesmerising fog of life.

The Samurai existed to preserve and make apparent this realisation, not to hold themselves apart from it. No death is in vain. They were not there to look after themselves; they were there to look after others. As warriors, they were even committed to dying for one purpose, to help others. Their ultimate power and protest was only to remove themselves from the board, a potent act affecting the higher game. This was power exercised at the highest level of ahimsa, harmlessness. The ritual suicide essential to their culture was an exercise in courage and humility, not in pride and arrogance.

Only from courage and humility does true honour arise. When we fail to perceive this we make an enormous mistake, for the clever mind cannot do anything but assess the usefulness of death, and by default, that of life itself.

This is the slipperiest slope of all human reasoning and it is a fundamental cause of war and violence, poverty and oppression. It allows us to kill the ‘baddies’ and starve children for a just cause. It lets us have mega-death wars and plagues, trade embargoes, the militarisation of space, yet remain “honourable,” engaged in just pursuit. It lets us lie, vacillate, and deceive others, and yet think we’re cool, compassionate, that we’re doing it for them. If the situation were not so tragic, it would be hilarious. It is certainly farcical.

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Anonymous Coward (OP)
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11/09/2008 10:17 AM
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Re: Nothing’s Shadow: Ethics, Education and the Contemporary Relevance of the Samurai
Nothing’s Shadow II: Martial Arts, Spiritual Practice, Alchemy, and the Hidden Legacy of the Samurai

BY PETER ALEXANDER

There is a scene in Stanley Kubrick’s ‘2001 A Space Odyssey’ that he clearly and accurately saw as pivotal in the evolution of Humanity. One ape picked up an animal femur and smashed the other over the head with it.

From a moment like that, early humans were plunged into a paradigm shift that has continued to push us into the space age. Two of Humanity’s distinctive features, our capacity to use tools and our capacity to kill each other, effectively arrived simultaneously.

Our families, our tribes, our nations, our cultures, our creeds and our civilisations derived and evolved as a protection from the chaos unleashed in that inevitable act. Our weapons made us the cooperative hunters from whom all animals fled, the highest predator. It also allowed us to prey on the top of the food chain, to kill each other. War, oppression, slavery and violence became features of the human condition. These are abominations that have yet to be redressed.

Our nations, our economies, our religions, our medicines, our inventions, our laws and our governments, have all developed within this paradigm of violence; to keep us safe from the enemy, to keep us well, to get on top of adversity. All have at heart the dream to be free from threat, to freely pursue happiness and satisfaction.

Unfortunately our institutions also have the will to freely violate the outsider, the foreigner, the poor, the disobedient, the infidel and unbeliever. If our laws are right, then other laws must be wrong. If our culture is wisest then others are barbarians. If we are losing, they must be winning. If we are peace loving then the others must be war-mongering.

The price for this stage of our evolution has been enormous; fear and loathing, unnecessary death and violence, confusion, unhappiness, disease, persecution and slavery. The completion of it will only occur when we have overcome these characteristics in ourselves and in our society. The finest sword is never drawn.

Enter the Warrior

The warrior has accompanied humanity in its first steps out of the dreamtime into consciousness. As soon as the killer appeared, the necessity for the warrior arrived, to keep the peace, to protect the weak and meek, to resolve the conflict. The warrior became a cultural imperative, a crucial component of tribe, of nation, of creed and court.

In every culture, the warrior is revered for his or her contribution to society. The farmer gave hard work and endurance, the merchant organisation and variety, the artisan cleverness and ability. The warrior, however, gave his life, the ultimate sacrifice for the community.

Deeply ensconced in the culture and history of humanity, we see this archetype in ten thousand guises. The Knight Templar, St George and the Dragon, the Tai Chi master, the Gunslinger, the Cavalier, the Freedom Fighter, the Shaolin Monk, the Amazon, the Super Hero, the Assassin, the Sapper, the Terminator – we have an enormous selection of conceptual warriors, and we can all find one we can relate to, feel sympathy for.

Yet behind these popular images of the warrior is an arcane wisdom from a separate reality. The Warrior has its own unspeakable culture, derived from living in the presence of death, hidden from any concept, never revealed to those who do not quest, and only shown to a few who do.

The encounter with this separate reality is the source of our returned services clubs, our Tombs of the Unknown Soldier, our Remembrance Days, veterans who have had a shared and incommunicable experience in their encounter with death. They are forever etched by the event of war, the experience of horror and destruction. Many, touched by death’s presence, are never the same again. For death can sometimes leave the body alive, taking mind, emotions, or spirit.

However, as Miyamoto Musashi observed, killing is the same for old ladies, children and priests as it is for young and strong soldiers. The chaos and casualty of war often results from the fact that a tin hat, a rifle, and participation do not make a warrior.

The True Warrior is Different

It was observed by the ancient Ryuof Japan that the singular requirement of a warrior is a "Resolute acceptance of Death." This is perhaps the most crucial understanding, the key to open the spiritual mysteries of the warrior. Why? The resolute acceptance of death changes how we think about things. It changes our considerations. Without it our mind will always strategise with our own survival as an imperative. Every bump in the road may change our plans.

In any decision there is a safe choice indicating life and a dangerous choice, leading to our death. Without a resolute acceptance of death we will always do the safe thing. This is, from a warrior’s perspective, insane. Our actions will always be encumbered.

We are trying to do two things at once, to deal with the conflict and to remain unchanged. We have no commitment to our decisions, as circumstances may change them. Our conflict is within, we are unknowingly fighting our own contradictions.

We reason to survive, and it forms a millstone around our neck. We are built that way. We don’t even notice our slimy, selfish, cowardly presence. We can never be fearless, only imagine that we are. Like painting ourself into a corner, always taking the safe choice will put us into a useless and stupid life, a horrible, confused, reactive existence, denying our spirit. A life conversely where violence, heartlessness and cruelty must intrude because selfishness is intrinsic to unconsidered thought. We all want to live.

Indeed, for the warrior, there is only the dangerous option. There is no other way to be. A human being cannot really think, cannot really act, until they discover that being a warrior is becoming a human being, that freely choosing death is essential to the blossoming of our spirit.

From the moment we are born we are heading into danger, plummeting towards our death. To embrace threat, to do the dangerous thing, to run towards our death, is to harmonise with the direction of our life, the only way we can truly live. Life becomes literally wonderful, our fears and concerns only paper tigers to cut through joyfully.

To pursue our death does not change the time of our death, any more than a lifetime spent trying to avoid it. Death comes at the end, irrespective of our considerations. It does, however, change our relationship to our life. To joyfully pursue our death brings the experience of being alive.

Out of this first realisation of the warrior has grown a vast arena of mysterious knowledge. Many aspects of human nature and human possibility are hidden to the cleverness of the mind, unavailable to the selfish machinations of our ‘inner wise-ass.’

A Personal Journey

In this article, as I would like to open up the arena of the martial arts and spirituality, this must also be the record of a personal journey.

When I was seven, I stumbled upon a paperback in a drugstore. It was a "Don’t let people kick sand in your face" kind of a book about Aikido. I can still remember myself standing transfixed by page 2 as the book introduced me to the wonders of "Ki," a magical energy that allowed little guys to toss big guys all over the place without even touching them. I had the feeling that this was what I had to know, that this was something nobody was telling me about. One day, I resolved, I too would master this energy. My birthday money purchased the book. Soon my martial studies began at the local judo and karate clubs.

Eventually I was lucky enough to encounter Japanese sword, even luckier to find an inspiring and knowledgeable teacher, and for over thirty years now have practised sword daily. I have met many stylists, studied and engaged with many other forms. I have even delved deeply into other paradigms such as the beautiful Native American warrior wheels.

Over twenty years ago I found a contradiction between two schools that sent me to study Oriental medicine as the only means of understanding oriental physiology. I learned much more than I bargained for. What I discovered allowed me to "back engineer" the principles that I had learned. What I found was extraordinary.

Here, behind the forms of swordplay, was a staggering system of self-perfection, by far the most potent system of oriental alchemy possible, the means to maximise our health, power, ability and potential. Here were the traces of a higher mind, an esoteric circle of Humanity. Indeed, here was the ladder to reveal and actualise our highest potential.

Games have always been a place to hide knowledge. People will always play a good game even when the knowledge it represents has slipped into obscurity. Chess, Backgammon, cards, Go, are all games of conflict that contain hidden knowledge. There they sit, sometimes for centuries, until the need appears.

A deck of cards can be used to play a game of cribbage, yet as a tarot deck it can also be used to examine life, our cosmos, our future. So, too, is swordplay a game with a hidden treasure. Behind the flourishing of the sword is a profound teaching, and the mastery of sword is its vehicle, not its object.

We learn to make strokes with a pen in order to communicate, to create poetry. Shakespeare consists of strokes with a pen. The sword, too, makes strokes, and we find the sword schools as astounding epic works of art, able to totally transform the very being of the artist, to reveal staggering unnameable certainties.

I consider that the Japanese sword schools are the custodians of the most truly sublime knowledge, the highest comprehension and transmission of the warriors’ wisdom. I also consider that they are the custodians of the highest philosophical truths of Humanity, a philosophy so sublime that a special language is needed. They hold an eternal message to Humanity.

I am also certain that, as Musashi says, "One man alone with a sword may discover the virtue of strategy." Although it is wise to remember that his book was written for Samurai, who were born to the sword. Instruction is essential.

The sword sets a context for all our comprehension. There is more to be discovered. The sword still has much to say. The sword is not evangelistic, does not welcome enquiry. As a result, some of the greatest techniques of human potential, the purest insights into the human condition, remain veiled, the most devastating insights into human nature remain esoteric.

Modern Schools of Martial Arts

Many people have been attracted to the martial arts. Most find great disappointment. Brought up on Bruce Lee and Kung Fu on TV, the image of the inscrutable wisdom and super powers of the East is a familiar and appealing one. Styles and schools pop up like bean sprouts to serve this potential market. There are feet flying acrobatics, imaginary animals prancing around.

They usually claim an ancient lineage, a birth in spiritual revelation, profound and hidden spiritual knowledge. Then they dish up a few quotes from the Art of War or Lao Tsu, and shuffle out some Confucian homilies like "Be nice to your Mum and Dad." It is truly pathetic and contributes nothing to the real arena of martial wisdom. Their spiritual principles are nebulous, medical or religious.

Most martial arts are only a few years old, despite their claims to antiquity and their use of old techniques. Most are peasant arts, country folk with pitchforks and rice flails looking after themselves. They have no connection to strategy.

Even more revealing, they are all ‘self-defence’ arts. They are oriented towards survival and have no acceptance of death. This betrays their ignorance of the true realm of the Warrior.

There is no self worth in defending, and defence is an illusion, a mind trick that we play on ourself. Imagine we see a man kicking a dog, and then the dog bites him. "Oh!" we say, "the dog is defending itself." This is not true for the dog, however. The dog is biting him. Defence is an illusion, an onlooker’s explanation of an event. It is a dangerous notion for a warrior. The idea skews the mind. Any warrior who believes they can ‘defend themselves’ has never experienced a powerful enough attack. This is not a mistake we can make twice.

There is only attack and the time we choose to make it. Attack has existence; defence, however, has no existence. It is a linguistic construct.

The illusion of self-defence lulls a practitioner of these arts into a realm where, like Chess, opponents are beaten by their own mistakes. This is a distasteful and ignorant realm, arrogant and disrespectful to the opponent, learning nothing but vanity. They learn to defeat weakness, and when faced with real martial power, are as unable to deal with it as any one else. How many ‘martial arts experts’ find the pub drunk able to easily flatten them? Plenty.

Most martial arts promulgate an illusion, and are actually dangerous by promoting overconfidence, invoking aggression, indicating options that are unreal, ineffective. What is learned in the training hall, the student may discover too late, and is usually only evoked in the safety of the training hall. Practice like this is worse than useless.

Continue to read:
[link to www.newdawnmagazine.com]





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