The Metaphor of War
Early in the evolution of language, it no doubt became clear that saying that one thing was like another was an excellent way of defining. If I say you smell like a rose, you know what I mean (if roses have been part of your experience). Simile and metaphor are directly useful means for arousing images in another’s consciousness in a relatively pain free way (compared to the excruciating attention demanded by logical analysis).
Waging war (an interesting term in itself) appears to have always been a part of the experience of humankind and thus a potentially useful metaphor. In the Judeo-Christian story of the beginning, the two parents of humankind became aware of separateness, of an internal and external split. This duality, this splitness, opened further into the ability of Cain (an affirmed member of every human camp) to ask the question “Am I my brother’s keeper?”
The question, of course, is a statement – “I am not my brother’s keeper.” At that point, both I and my brother become an It – a separate object upon which war can be waged. And the war begins on two fronts: the internal war of I against me, the outer war of me against him and us against them.
War has become the human condition. We wage war to find peace – whether it is the peace of enjoying the spoils, the peace of exhaustion, the peace of sudden release from carnage, the peace of relaxed vigilance, the joyous peace of victory, the peace of balanced scales of revenge, or the peace of freedom from fear. [All these “peaces” are of course temporary and illusions.] We have no peace so we fight to attain peace. Odd, but then we are odd beings.
What is my point here? War is known to all. War is thus a useful metaphor for the inner struggle of humans. Writing and speaking in war language creates vivid imagery in the consciousness of the reader and listener. Humans can attend to and gather meaning from the images of war. Thus, it is a place to start in describing the journey toward and with God.
The Monk-Warrior Metaphor
A metaphor, to be useful, must be rich in its descriptors and predictors of action, in its ability to illuminate a course of action not previously understood or understood “as through a glass darkly.” The monk-warrior metaphor contains this richness and illuminative usefulness.
What is a monk-warrior? A monk is one who has “retired from the world and devoted himself to religion in solitude; an anchoret.”[i] I like the image induced by “anchoret.” An anchor rests in the calmness of the deep or is firmly affixed to solid ground. The calm of deep anchoring is the practice of the monk.
A warrior, according to the dictionary, is one who is “engaged or experienced in war,” which is “the state or fact of exerting violence against another.”[ii] The concept of a nonviolent warrior evades the dictionary and ipso facto the general public. The definition of warrior I choose is that of frontline responder; one who engages deeply in whatever action is called for at the moment, basing all action on the premise of no harm. “I will do no harm to you and I will not allow you to do harm to me.”
A monk engages God; a warrior engages individuals. The monk-warrior does both. The monk knows that wherever she goes, she is always meeting God. The warrior knows that wherever he goes, he is always meeting himself. Together they engage God “outside the camp,” in the midst of the profane.
The monk-warrior stands in the nondual, listens to the voice of the nondual, groans with creation in the continuous birthing of God, laughs with delight in Life’s delicate unfolding. The monk-warrior stands in the fires of the nondual (the primary world) and cannot be burned with dualistic fire (the divisions, pressures and controversies of the secondary world).
The energies of the nondual radiate through the monk-warrior into the dual, engaging the world of human fabrication. The monk-warrior stands in dualism, facing and dealing with all that arises. In this arena of action, the monk-warrior follows the tactics, strategies, and battle plan provided by the nondual, follows the wisdom of the primary world.
A monk-warrior faces and deals honestly, directly, effectively with all that arises in the dualistic world, while grounding, deepening and opening in the nondual. The monk-warrior stands in the nondual while engaging the dual. Engaged action occurs from the realm of non-duality within the realm of duality.
Monk and Warrior Paths as One
In the Bhagavad Gita, the warrior Arjuna raises the question as to which is the better path: the path of renunciation or the path of holy work. Should we withdraw from the secondary world or should we work within it? Krishna answers by addressing what is to be renounced: not work but the splitness of mind that comes from living in the secondary world. The two paths are not separate paths.[iii] They occur simultaneously.
The path of holy work, engaging in action, in relationship, can be considered as the path of the warrior; the path of renunciation of duality, opening to and living in unity, as the path of the monk. The warrior is the arrow and the monk is the bow which lets the arrow fly (living in unity produces right relationship). Each is relatively useless without the other. In essence they are the same, bow-and-arrow.
Krishna affirms the two paths lead to the same destination and though they appear different, they are truly one. Together, they are a formidable agent of change.
I am aware of at least two categories of monk-warriors: those who hone their skills on the social front and those who sharpen their skills in the martial arts. Individuals in both categories open to the infinite while living in the world of flesh and bone, deepen and ground in the nondual while engaging the “ten thousand things.”
Morihei Ueshiba is an example of warriors of hand-to-hand combat who refined the martial arts from acts of destruction to acts of creative relationship. Ueshiba took this refinement to its utmost by attempting to embody the principle of “no harm to you, no harm to me” in the martial art, Aikido – translated as “the way (do) of moving in harmony (ai) with the ultimate energy (ki) or nature of things.” Osensei Ueshiba developed a form of hand-to-hand combat based on relational harmony.
The monk-warriors who focus more on the social front have been called social mystics.[iv] A social mystic can be understood as one who engages the world while embodying a consciousness of “direct intuitive observation,”[v] as one who lives with great presence in the realm of duality while simultaneously opening to the web of being, to the interrelationship of all things. The social mystic is a living practice of being “in the world, but not of the world.”[vi]
The social mystic directly engages the realm of the dual. Jesus, an exemplar of the social mystic, has often been cast as a rebel. As John Dear puts it, Jesus was “trouble from day one.”[vii] This is the hallmark of a warrior: refusing to be cowered and continuing to engage no matter the size or power of the “opposing” forces.
This was true of Moses and the power of Egypt, of Buddha and the forces of Mara, of Gandhi and the British Empire, of Rosa Parks and the civil authorities, of Martin Luther King and segregationist hatreds, of Daniel Berrigan and Thich Nhat Hanh and the military-industrial complex, of Dorothy Day and socio-economic injustices; and it continues to be true for as many as dare.
The social mystic is familiar with the realm of the nondual; has been “seized” by the nondual and embodies more than “normal” consciousness. Through practicing stillness and listening, the social mystic continues to experience a deepening of relationship with the source. Living within the solid ground of existence, the social mystic has a deep and open knowing of reality as interbeing, as intersubjectivity, as completely relational. This realm of relational action is the place for direct application of warrior virtues.
Self as Mercenary
A mercenary is paid money to engage in the activity of seizing resources from others. A mercenary is a warrior of “the world.” By “world” I mean all that has arisen from human thought that separates humans from the “rest” of existence.
The “world” is what the currently dominating socioeconomic system says is so: that only humans (and some humans more than others) matter; that everything other than the human consensus reality (whatever we humans agree to) is a mere backdrop to the human melodrama; that everything defined as non-human (which includes some humans) is a marketable resource to be used.
According to this view, the earth is to be used, the beings we label as “animals” are to be used, and the “space” and “matter” of the universe are to be used. Everything “non-human” is branded as a resource to be sacrificed to the survival and comfort of humans (certain humans). Even humans are now branded as a resource: what was once called the Personnel Department is now Human Resources.
This “world” view is an illusion based upon the false premise that each human is separate from all else. Under the sway of this illusion, we humans, like lemmings wearing virtual reality headpieces, march blindly toward and over the cliff of extinction watching our favorite movies as we go:
· All is Well, Technology is Savior
· Gimme More Stuff
· I Got Mine, You Get Yours
· This World is Not my Home, I’m Just Passing Through
· The Earth is a Disposable Diaper, Cause Jesus is Coming Soon
· Don’t Bother Me, I Got Enough Worries
and that perennial favorite
· HUH? WHUT?
According to this “world” view, the major responsibility of humans is to consume. Earth is one big Slurpee and we are here to slurp it.
The Sacred and the Profane
We humans appear to always be in a fix. In a fix, in the sense of being caught in a tight place with no clear way out; and in a fix in the sense of always fixing it, always working on it. Both fixes are associated with a dualistic split. We are divided from ourselves, both intra- and inter-personally, within and without.
Being religious/spiritual folk, we regard one aspect of our being as sacred, a second aspect as profane (outside the temple). We are forever working to get the profane inside the temple while simultaneously resisting the sacred; and we work to live in accord with the sacred while resisting the profane.
In our better moments, we rest within the sacred while engaging the profane with loving compassion. This is the work of the bodhisattva,[viii] who has vowed to remain outside the temple, outside the camp, as long as there is one other who has not made it in. All the profane (those standing before the fanum, the temple) are invited in.
Of course, each individual, including budding bodhisattvas, must continue inviting him/herself into the temple. This is known as spiritual practice. We must continue the practice of living within the temple of the sacred, while engaging our own profaneness.
While doing so, we must continue to invite the whole world into the temple. We sacredly engage the profane within and without, all day long, each day, each moment, with each breath.
To be and do such requires a warrior of spirit.
Warrior of Spirit
A warrior of spirit does not cling to body, to intellect, to soul. A warrior of spirit lives in accord with spirit, the lifeforce that breathes us, that brings us into being at each moment.
A warrior of spirit has a body and is not the body.[ix]
Emphasis upon the body can blind us. We wash the body, oil it, perfume it, dress it, exercise it, soak it, dye it, trim it, feed it, drain it, parade it, hide it, admire it, hate it, park it, abuse it, caress it, inflate it, reduce it. And still, for all its splendor and wonder, it is a mass of urine, poop, pus, and burbling gases on a steady journey toward decay and compost. A warrior of spirit has a body and is not the body.
A warrior of spirit has an intellect and is not the intellect.
Emphasis upon the intellect can blind us. We build belief systems and mistake them for reality. We forget they are merely beliefs – habitual states of mind. Today’s beliefs are tomorrow’s exhibits in the House of Curiosities. Beliefs are states of mind to be trance-ended. Beliefs, no matter how holy and fervent, can blind us. A warrior of spirit has an intellect and is not the intellect.
A warrior of spirit has a soul and is not the soul.
Emphasis upon the soul can blind us. The soul is the seat of emotion, passion, and feeling. The soul can be full of love for some and hate for others, of likes and dislikes, of joy and depression, of righteous and murderous anger. The soul is the seat of deep attraction and strong aversion. Even our very souls can blind us. A warrior of spirit has a soul and is not the soul.
As warriors of spirit, we live in accord with spirit, which is notorious for guiding a person into the realm of unconventionality. The structural rigidity of patriarchy or pseudo-matriarchy (some forms of feminism which would replace a rigid structure with a rigid structure) or our own favorite concrete world view are ignored in favor of the spirit’s tendency to move in creative unpredictability.
A warrior of spirit is truly that: a warrior of the spirit; fed by spirit, directed by spirit. A warrior of spirit, seasoned by long experience, knows and trusts the voice of spirit and will continue following spirit’s lead into the unknown – off the beaten paths into the newness of creativity. In this way, fires of life are born.
