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Category: Secret Wisdom

  • Wisdom for the Wolf-Age: A Conversation With Dr. Stephen Flowers

    Wisdom for the Wolf-Age: A Conversation With Dr. Stephen Flowers

    This article was published in New Dawn 77 (Mar-Apr 2003)

    One of dominant paradigms of modern society is fragmentation. In the world of popular culture this translates into dazzling distractions and endless ephemera, while in the world of academia it engenders over-specialisation and an unspoken refusal to even attempt to understand the “bigger picture,” especially from a metaphysical perspective.

    In this atomised environment, anyone extolling a cohesive vision that is marked by traditional values – not to mention high standards – automatically becomes an anomaly. So it is the case with Dr. Stephen Flowers, who is the rarest of breeds: a scholar with spirit, one who is single-minded yet open-minded. For more than a quarter-century he has dedicated his energies toward unraveling the mysteries not only of the ancient symbolic alphabet of the Runes, but also of the deepest realms of the Germanic myth and culture from which they arose. For Flowers, this quest is summed up in a single word, RUNA, which is the old Gothic language form of “rune” and was equivalent to the Greek term mysterion(“mystery”). It was in the early 1970s that Flowers heard this word audibly whispered in his ear, and since that time he has tirelessly pursued a path of understanding its implications.

    Following graduate work in Germanic and Celtic philology under the esteemed professor Edgar Polomé (1920–2000), Flowers received his Ph.D. in 1984 with a dissertation entitled Runes and Magic: Magical Formulaic Elements in the Elder Tradition(later published by Lang, 1986).In the mid-1980s Flowers also began a more public writing career under the name Edred Thorsson. His books on the Runes and Germanic magic (Futhark, Runelore, At the Well of Wyrd, Rune-Might, Northern Magic, The Nine Doors of Midgard, and A Book of Troth) have become classics of sorts, and although they are aimed at the occult book market, they reveal a depth of understanding and degree of knowledge that is unusual to find in this genre.

    Under his own name he also published less speculative material, for example Fire & Ice, about the German magical order the Fraternitas Saturni, and his translation of the Galdrabók, a medieval Icelandic grimoire. His interest in Germanic topics extends not only to the distant past, but also into more recent and controversial manifestations, such as the völkisch period at the turn of the 19th century or the esoteric aspects of the Third Reich, and his translations of Guido von List’s Secret of the Runes, S. A. Kummer’s Rune-Magic, or the writings of Karl Maria Wiligut (The Secret King: Himmler’s Lord of the Runes) all shed scholarly light on these topics. He has also written Lords of the Left-Hand Path,a lengthy study of darker occult currents, and an innovative analysis of ancient Greek magical texts entitled Hermetic Magic.

    Unlike many who possess academic credentials, Flowers was never content to relegate his interests to a purely intellectual level, and thus he has long been active in the contemporary revival of Germanic heathenism, variously called Odinism or Ásatrú (a coinage derived from Old Norse, meaning “loyalty to the gods”). He was an original member of Stephen McNallen’s seminal organisation the Ásatrú Free Assembly (which still exists today as the Ásatrú Folk Assembly), and in 1979 founded his own initiatory group, the Rune-Gild, dedicated toward the serious exploration of the esoteric and innermost levels of the Germanic tradition, as well as the greater Indo-European culture of which it is but one branch.

    Underlying all of his work is a belief in the profound importance of traditional Germanic thinking and the eternal relevance of its mythological expression. After all, English is a Germanic tongue, and our society – fragmented or decayed as it now may be – owes its true origins as much, if not more so, to northern Europe than to Athens or Rome. Dismayed at the ongoing erosion of support for Germanic studies at most universities across the Western world, Flowers has recently unveiled his latest project: the Woodharrow Institute. This non-profit educational institution aims to maintain and foster the tradition of Germanic scholarship, offering courses and publications, and interacting with academic circles wherever possible. Besides administering the Institute, Flowers and his wife Crystal also direct the Rûna-Raven publishing house, which issues an ongoing catalog of titles concerning varied aspects of ancient Germanic culture, along with specialised language studies and works in related areas.
    – Michael Moynihan

    Michael Moynihan: Can you recall what initial event or events led to your setting out upon the path you’ve taken toward understanding the mysteries of the Germanic tradition?

    Stephen Flowers: I started out my “career” in understanding the mysteries of the Germanic tradition as what I would later come to understand as an “occultizoid nincompoop.” I was interested in a variety of pretty nutty things. One of my first passions was monster movies. Perhaps Famous Monsters of Filmland was my first bible. My “favourite monster” was the one created by Frankenstein. There was simply something about the “Gothic,” Germanic origin of the myth that appealed to me. Before that I can remember being drawn to all things Germanic (and Scandinavian) the films The Vikings (which I saw during a childhood trip to San Antonio) and the Fall of the Roman Empire vaguely inspired me with certain scenes of Germanic “barbarism.” Later this slightly matured into an interest in the Morning of the Magicians/Spear of Destiny mythology, and culminated in my “hearing” the word RUNA in 1974. This was a catalyst for a quantum leap in my development. It caused me to delve into the scientific and academic basis of what it was that had so fascinated me from childhood. All of this experience laid the foundation of the nature of my own teaching, following this pattern: (irrational) inspiration, leading to (rational) objective study, leading to (subjective) internalisation, which ultimately leads to objective enactment (= understanding/personal transformation).

    Michael: What brought about your initiation into organised Ásatrú or Odinism, and how do you look back on this period now?

    Stephen: Back in the mid-1970s there were only a very few individuals entertaining the idea of the revival of the old Germanic religion. My own individual journey started as early as 1972. However, I will say that it remained rather haphazard and undirected until 1974 when I heard the word RUNA whispered in my ear. But even then, with the inspiration from a higher source, the struggle to understand the full significance of it all was a significant one that had to be carried out in the earthly plane. I saw notices in places like Fatemagazine for the Ásatrú Free Assembly and was intrigued, but for some reason I thought it unwise to contact this group until I had something significant to offer. By 1975 my work had taken the direction of being more guided by scholarly discipline. Once I had made significant progress in the reformulation of my runic philosophy (which found expression in the manuscript that became Futhark) and in my graduate studies at the University of Texas at Austin, I felt prepared to make contact with Ásatrú groups.

    I first met the leader of the AFA, Stephen McNallen, at the first AFA Althing in the summer of 1979. Meeting Steve was a life-changing experience for me. He is an embodiment of a kind of Germanic spirituality that puts words into action. It was at that time that I was named a godhi [the Old Norse designation for a spiritual leader] in the AFA. It is now the only credential that I hold as being of any significance in the world of Ásatrú /Odinism. Despite whatever history might have passed in the late 1980s and early 1990s, there can be no doubt that Stephen McNallen is the guiding light of American Ásatrú. I count Steve McNallen as a friend and colleague and very much value the fact that it was from him that I received my godhordh – or “authority as a godhi.”

    Michael: You have often spoken about how essential disciplined scholarly training can be for understanding the esoteric aspects of the religion and how to most effectively put these into practice. Presumably, such an exchange also functions simultaneously in the reverse direction – in other words, what positive ways did your active involvement with the religion impact your academic work?

    Stephen: The esoteric, spiritual aspects function as initial forms of inspiration to the mind. This is essential to the Odian approach to life. First there is an “irrational,” or supra-rational, impulse – a bolt out of the blue that sets the conscious mind on its mysterious course. That impulse can, for many, be a disorienting stroke from which they never recover. They simply sink deeper and deeper into a sea of subjectivity. For another group, the subjectivism is eventually re-balanced with rational work. Understanding of the inspiration is gained, without “explaining it away.” The allowance of subjective inner experience and insight to coexist with objective, rational analysis is essential to the process of truly understanding the tradition in a scientific way, as well as to the process of personal development based on the traditional symbology.

    It was noted by outside observers, my mentors in the academic world, that I had an uncanny ability to make sense of obscure myths and to apprehend the hidden connections between and among various mythic structures. This ability stemmed from my inner experience which was constructed on a basis lying outside the purely rational models. If one is trying to delve into the mysteries of the symbolic culture of an archaic world – one very much separated from our own contemporary society and values – then obviously some key must be found which is something other than plodding logic or wild speculation. For me this key is the balanced openness to the mythic spirit of Odin. I was lucky enough to have academic mentors who supported me in this approach, who were themselves spiritual men. Without their inner support I could not have achieved whatever it is I have achieved.

    Michael: Why is the notion of a scholar of pre-Christian religion who actually adheres to the spiritual ideas that he also studies such a radical one? Is this simply a byproduct of the situation in the West where any religious path outside of the “mainstream” monotheistic faiths is painted as cultic and marginal?

    Stephen: I think this attitude stems almost entirely from two sources: 1) the antagonism of the materialist worldview toward the traditional spiritual one, and 2) the opportunity the adherents to the materialistic worldview have taken to attack the spiritual view based on historical events surrounding World War II. This materialist worldview is “monotheistic” in the sense that it allows for only one set of orthodox values. In this way it is really a secularised form of monotheistic religion. The Judeo-Christian system of thought has lent itself very well to being secularised in such a way that it can be turned into a model for modern political and economic theories. As a side-note, Islam has been much more stubborn in its adherence to its original values, which has caused it to be very much “out of step” with its monotheistic cousins.

    Judaism and Christianity can be tolerated by the establishment scholarly world because they can be viewed as theoretical prototypes of the materialistic and positivistic model that now dominates thought in the West. Earlier traditional models are seen not so much as a threat to religion as they are seen as a threat to the monolithic political and economic order. The pre-Christian, traditional philosophies are too divergent and multivalent to be coerced into one single “market” of ideas. This points to the fatal hypocrisy of the current crop of modernistic “thinkers,” who spout off about “multiculturalism” and tolerance, but who exclusively support monolithic socio-economic models that enact the opposite of what they publicly espouse. Surely the ancient, traditional and pre-Christian world is more in line with what really sounds best to most people. Are not ancient, pre-Christian Athens or Alexandria more ideal models for the future over medieval Rome or Constantinople?

    Clearly the animosity to those who see value in pre-Christian models stems not from the religious side of the debate, but rather from the secular challenge traditionalism poses to the current political order. What is needed is a campaign for the re-education of the academic world to show that the idealised future is one that is more likely to be based on the mosaic of pre-Christian traditions than it is to be based on the monolithic Christian model.

    Scholars of pre-Christian tradition must indeed be sympathetic and even empathetic to the paradigms they are studying. If they do not have a subjective link to the paradigm they are seeking to understand, then they have categorically placed an insurmountable barrier between themselves and the “object” they seek to understand. Hence they have in fact disqualified themselves from ever being able to really understand the patterns of thought in question.

    Michael: You have always tried to encourage those involved in neo-heathenism to uphold a higher intellectual standard, and whenever possible to actively pursue serious academic study. Have you noticed any significant number of people willing to rise to the challenge?

    Stephen: To this point I would say that there has indeed been a significant number of people who have taken up the challenge to pursue academic goals as a way to put their inner, spiritual lives on a more firm foundation. The number may be significant, but not large. It is hoped that with the advent of the new Woodharrow Institute a greater number of people will “get” what it is I am trying to convey in this trend. The whole “neo-pagan” world has been made a part of the Bohemian “underground” sort of mentality of the Anglo-Saxon (this includes the imitative American) culture. What I am trying to do is simply call the Anglo-Saxon culture back to its more organic Germanic roots. This includes the way in which the idea of “neo-paganism” is approached.

    As I outlined in my essay “How to Be a Heathen,” printed in the volume Blue Runa (Rûna-Raven, 2001), there was a time when “pagan knowledge” indicated something that was rigorous to begin with, and gradually evolved to higher realms of the ordinarily ineffable. “Christian faith” was something which opposed “pagan knowledge” and was characterised by subjectivism and infinite appeals to unverifiable authorities from the beginning to the end of the process. In this way it can be seen how the typical “New Ager,” or “wiccan” [sic] is in fact paradigmatically much closer to the original Christian model of thinking than is the average “Christian believer” today. Serious Christian seminarians would not think of ignoring the study of Latin, Greek and Hebrew, yet the many aspirants to the “priesthood” of Ásatrú today think that learning Old Norse is an unreasonable thing to require. It is remarkable to note how many people don’t even get the grammar of their supposed “Norse name” right!

    The reasons for this apparent virtual hostility to learning are a part of the Anglo-Saxon “anti-egghead” mentality. By contrast it can be noted that some of the turn-of-the-century German revivalists were in fact professors, e.g. Jakob Wilhelm Hauer (Tübingen) and Ernst Bergmann (Leipzig). This inner cultural bias must be first recognised before it can be overcome. Do not think for a minute that I am extolling the great wisdom or character of the typical modern academic. The academy is presently in decay. However, the basic and systematic knowledge possessed by those who have spent decades in specialised studies, and who have been the traditional recipients of knowledge handed down from several previous generations of scholars is a resource that is indispensable to us.

    Michael: While your focus is usually on traditional Germanic or northern European culture and religion, you have also addressed other areas in some of your work, such as with the book Hermetic Magic. What was your reason for doing so – and how do these seemingly distinct realms fit together or cross-fertilise?

    Stephen: In Hermetic Magic I concentrated on the operations from the Greek magical papyri that made use of the symbolic power of language and the alphabet (i.e., the more Greek-influenced operations). Indeed there is a great deal of possible cross fertilisation between the Germanic and Greek traditions of verbal and alphabetic magic. The book Hermetic Magic was an experiment in the use of the principle of RUNA in the decoding of a tradition other than the Germanic. It proved to be generally successful. Much of what Hermetic magic was all about has been lost in the Golden Dawn/OTO-style magic of the Victorian gents. Hermetic Magic is an attempt to go ad fontes, i.e., back to the sources of what Hermetic magic is, in order to arrive at a fresh and eternal perspective on the power of the human will. This is an exercise in the power of RUNA,Mysterion, as I see it. Hermetic Magic shows what can be done with the principle of RUNA/Mysterion. That it has been generally ignored by the run-of-the-mill “hermetic” crowd is a sign of just how esoteric the actual tradition is.

    Michael: The work of Georges Dumézil, the French scholar of Indo-European comparative religion, has been a strong influence on your own outlook. What do you consider to be the most important aspects of his work, and why did they resonate with you to such a degree?

    Stephen: First of all, I suppose I came to it as a matter of tradition. My own teacher, and Doktorvater, Edgar Polomé, was a (qualified) Dumézilian. Beyond what I learned in his classrooms, however, I saw that his objective studies (which involved making detailed dossiers of the various Indo-European Gods, etc.) coupled with his structuralist approach allowed for the beginnings of a contemporary and living synthesis of ancient ideas with those of Jung and others. The ideas of Dumézil are 1) accurate and objectively verifiable to a great degree, and 2) are potent tools for current self-transformational work.

    Michael: In recent years there seems to be a consistent effort on the part of certain segments of the academic community to discredit Dumézil’s work, and especially his formulation of the tripartite/tri-functional model. Such attempts are reminiscent of those directed against Mircea Eliade and other scholars of religion and myth. Why this animosity, and what are these discreditors so afraid of?

    Stephen: They are afraid of the resurgence of Indo-European culture. They have intellectually invested in the idea that internationalism is good and that anything that glorifies the non-European world is preferable to anything that seems to lend prestige to European culture. All of this is so ironic because the ideals from which they draw are entirely of European origin. Nevertheless, as a matter of ideology, but probably more as a matter of an intellectual fashion trend, the academic establishment frowns on anything that they see as “glorifying” the European culture. They would probably argue that their reasons for this vaguely have something to do with Germany in the 1930s. In conversations with German academics in runology I discovered that the same things are happening at German universities now as happened in American ones in the 1980s and 1990s – anything relating to ancient or medieval northern Europe is being dismantled.

    There is also the fear that Europe will really be able to make peace within itself based on the Indo-European model, rather than the Christian and/or Marxist model. This would discredit their intellectual prejudices once more. Specifically on Dumézil and the tripartite theory, his theories have the potential of forming the basis of a pan-Indo-European cultural unity. They are the greatest challenge to Christianity and to materialistic positivism in the 20th century. So it is not without some justification that Dumézil has been so widely attacked. His theories do pose a challenge, and are not merely intellectual curiosities. They call for some sort of action and some sort of change on the part of the reader of his ideas.

    The dirty little secret is probably merely that in academia the study of old languages and ancient history is hard, whereas what they are replacing all of this with is relatively easy. So that the “war on the Indo-Europeans” is really part of the general “dumbing down” of the academy.

    Michael: Not so long ago you attended an international scholarly conference on runology in Denmark. What were your impressions about how this discipline is faring in today’s academic world?

    Stephen: The academic field of runology, like any other academic discipline, is subject to the dictates of fashion and changing intellectual trends. (This is where an academic discipline differs from a Traditional discipline.) Most of the 19th and early 20th century runologists accepted the relationship between religion or magic and the runes as a given fact. They accepted this uncritically because it appeared to them (perhaps rightly) as the most obvious conclusion based on all prima facie evidence. Because they were uncritical in their acceptance, however, this left the door open to a subsequent generation of runologists to question the earlier generation’s assumptions. In the world of science this is a good thing. If those who did not question the “magical” nature of the runes had not been so uncritical, then a deeper and more insightful exploration of the idea of runes and magic might never have been undertaken.

    I was very gratified to have younger individuals – many still students – at the runic conference discreetly approach me and tell me that part of the reason they came to the conference was to meet me, and that they had first been exposed to the wondrous world of the runes and the esoteric Germanic tradition through my more “popular” works.

    The changing face of academia dictates that what is “in” today, will be “out” tomorrow. The seeds of the next generation of runologists have already been planted. On some level, perhaps, those who are foes of tradition have sensed this. Their strategy is perhaps to prevent the seeds from growing by not allowing the seeds to exist in fertile soil. The whole fields of runology, comparative religion, Indo-European studies, etc., are being systematically rooted out of academic institutions. Especially in America this is occurring with simultaneous impetus both from the “right” and from “left.” The international left sees the European tradition as being in power, and their myth of the dialectic determines they should seek to disestablish whatever is in power for “revolutionary” reasons. The right, on the other hand, is dominated in America by a Christian sentiment, which sees interest in our ancient traditions as being hostile to the Christian model. It is interesting to note that these apparently divergent interests of the “left” and “right” are, in America at least, in agreement that at least one of their common “enemies” is the organic national traditions of Europe.

    This is occurring not just in America, but in Europe as well. Recently the position of Prof. Dr. Klaus Düwel at the University of Göttingen in Germany was terminated by the administration of the university. At the runic conference in Denmark the runologists signed a petition aimed at the university administration to ask that this prestigious position be maintained. The roots of the academic study of runes at that institution go back to the Grimms.

    Michael: Is the founding of the Woodharrow Institute for Germanic and Runic Studies in some ways a response to the current situation regarding these areas of study?

    Stephen: The Woodharrow Institute is not only a response to this current situation in academia, but also to shortcomings, as I see them, in the “esoteric subculture.” The Institute stands apart from the current “magickal subculture” in that it is informed by, and on its most basic level must conform to, all the legitimate rules and regulations of scientific procedure – all of which are beneficial to the overall process if kept in perspective. These methods infiltrate our way of approaching esoteric areas, or areas of inner work, as well. As has always been the case with the Rune-Gild – which in the future will be re-established within the context of the Woodharrow Institute – we start with what is objectively known and move from that base into an exploration of the darker corners of the unknown.

    So the Woodharrow Institute is intended to meet a challenge from two ends of a pole: it is to bring an objective and scientific basis to the beginning of inner work, and to re-envision the final purpose or aim of intellectual work itself as a completion of the self. It is to bring objective standards to a morass of subjectivity (the occultizoid culture) and to bring inner purpose to the often sterile and pointless pursuits of academia. This is a formidable challenge, to be sure. Yet this is what makes it worth undertaking.

    Michael: What role do you see the Institute ultimately fulfilling, and how might it interact with more established or formal academic institutions?

    Stephen: It is clear from what has already been said that the academic discipline of runology, as well as those of older Germanic studies and Indo-European studies, etc., are in trouble. If scientific runology is left to its normal cycle of intellectual fashion, there is no harm done. The radical traditional runologist would be free as always to partake of the fruits of that intellectual labour and have his inner work enriched by it. However, if the traditional academic fields are uprooted and marginalised to extinction then this would no longer be possible.

    The Woodharrow Institute is designed to be a refuge for the academic tradition – and to foster to some extent a sort of guerrilla scholarship. The basic work for the Institute must not in any way be compromised by “occult thinking”; it should be entirely historical and academic. We will “play the scholarly game” according to its rule and according to its standards. Then and only then can the Institute fulfill another of its major tasks: to act as a “think tank” for those interested in inner work. The fact that the word “academic” is used to describe only that kind of work which is “purely scientific,” is in a sense a misuse of the term. Plato’s school, the Academy, from which our modern use of the term is ultimately derived, did not have as its final aim the production of scientific data limited to what can be quantified and objectively known. That was only a stepping stone to the true purpose of the school, which was the transformation of the individual into a higher form of being – in other words, the final “product” was the completed soul. This whole ultimate purpose has been lost in the modern academic institution, except perhaps where secret pockets of scholars might preserve it unofficially.

    The Woodharrow Institute seeks to restore the complete model of the old Academy in a Germanic context. As such its ultimate purpose is transformational, and not merely “scientific” as understood in modern parlance. Participants in, or members of, the Institute will, however, not be required to pursue this inner work as any sort of prerequisite for membership. The Institute will develop a full range of areas of interest and research.

    It is hoped that the Institute will in the future be able to establish good relations with mainstream academia. We could offer practical programs in language study, experimental archeology and, most importantly, experimental or experiential ideology. Our mission in mainstream academia would be merely to restore traditional areas of study where they have been lost and to help retain them where they are in jeopardy.

    The Institute then has two main purposes in the world:

    1) to act as a refuge for displaced scientific work in the fields of runology, Germanic studies, and general Indo-European studies; and 2) to act as a think tank for individuals interested in making use of the scientific work as a basis for inner development. The Woodharrow Institute is a weapon in the struggle against both modernism and occultizoid subjectivism.

    Michael: In the ancient Germanic cosmology, a cyclical dynamic exists where the old order collapses and is torn apart from both within and without, but this is a necessary step that precedes the unfolding of a new beginning. Is it a stretch to look at contemporary events in this light? And if not, what is the best way for the aware individual to approach the present situation?

    Stephen: It is my contention that traditional views are eternally valid and ever-meaningful. The Germanic cosmology, ragnarök, which can actually refer to the beginnings, middle or end of the cosmological process, involves at the end of the process certain ages. These are referred to in the poems of the Elder Eddawith terms such as the “Wolf Age,” which refers to the “greedy,” “covetous,” or “appetitive” nature of the age. Clearly the world as a whole is in a “Wolf-Age.” The individual, and certain groups of elect, can, as Julius Evola put it, “ride the tiger.” This means that certain individuals and groups can, exercising their will against the grain of consensus reality as informed by Tradition, lay the personal and transpersonal foundations for the next (inevitable) cyclical development. This next cycle will (naturally) be more imbued with Tradition, as the developmental wheel turns.

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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

    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.

    True versus False Honour

    “Killing is not Heaven’s way,” emphasised Musashi, “yet Heaven must employ the sword.” It is never right to kill; the finest sword is seldom drawn. But in life killing happens, and mindless, endless, pointless slaughter is everywhere, ritual sacrifices to atone for our greed and ignorance. There will always be psychopaths, greedy righteous madmen without compassion, for whom violence is an option, who take profit and pleasure in the slavery and oppression of others. To protect ourselves without enslaving ourselves we need many individuals rigorously engaged on a path of honour.

    In Scotland there is a saying that honour is the sun of the mind, and one thing that must be recognised about honour is that it varies in intensity. It may be a candle or a flaming torch. Even what we consider ‘honourable’ people today are hardly honourable in the presence of such a diseased, enslaved, starved, alienated, oppressed, violent, and war-torn world.

    Honourable human beings are as rare as hen’s teeth. The shrewd mind eradicates the presence of honour. The idea, the formula of a honourable person is commonplace. “Honourable” people, all doing the ‘right thing’, often act out the worst fears and prejudice of humanity. We fill our governments, courts and institutions with ‘honourable’ people. This is like filling the fire service with arsonists. Easily offended, mistaking moral outlook, learning, pride, irreproachability, and cultural predilection for honour, they are rigid, selfish, superior, self-important, lying, and judgemental, and keep our world full of dissonance so they can justify their bigotry and righteousness.

    Often too, they are scurrilous criminals. The concept of honour has slipped so far from view that being seen not to be dishonourable is regarded as being unquestioningly honourable, and no one will exploit this fact more than the thoroughly disreputable.

    Almost everyone considers that they are honourable, yet if one death seems to you more justified than another, there is no space for real honour within. There is only pride, and self-importance.

    Honour has no place in the calculating mind of contemporary humanity. It is now an idea for living people to estimate and capitalise on their imagined worth, a means to trade for esteem. “On my Honour,” has become a vocal invoice, fly-buy points for trade deals. It keeps politicians and powerbrokers unassailable and litigious. This is not Honour.

    Honour depends on your next move, not your last move. It is an intense and potent means to examine and refine self, life and relationship to others. It is a means of moving into the future with respect and intent. Honour forms the intent, the motive behind an action, and imbues that act with a higher order of significance. A good action is not necessarily a honourable act and a wrong act is not necessarily dishonourable. Honour is a new level of relationship to the world, a way of looking at our domain that allows us to examine the components of life in quite a different fashion. Now let us examine a few of these components through the lens of Bushido.

    Dictatorship of ‘Calculating Men’

    In the dominant culture of today, education is highly valued. The Samurai, too, held education with the awe and fervour of a dark ages scholar, they idealised a life of the higher senses, a life of learning. But they were contemptuous of all bookish erudition and regarded intellectualism as a child’s game. They were extremely dismissive of what was known as ‘calculating men.’

    This does not mean sly or deceitful, but any endeavour or profession where calculation was intrinsic. Scientists, doctors, academics, lawyers, musicians, engineers, intellectuals, economists, and psychologists are all ‘calculating men’ – technicians – and they were all viewed in quite a different light from today.

    In today’s society, where science has become a religion, ‘calculating men’ have a position of much greater importance than the Samurai would ever have allowed them. We have faith in their spreadsheets, hope for their discoveries, we rely on their research. We presently live in a technocracy, a world dictated and managed by experts, by specialists. Academia has cloistered all centres of power. Like infants in a gigantic school, we have learned to do what “teacher” says without question.

    The cramming in of information and the capacity to manipulate and regurgitate it was regarded in the Samurai worldview as an abuse of the spirit, the reduction of a person to a function. It was certainly not education.

    The Samurai had a different view of education, a vast, profound, and certain insight. True intelligence arrives as realisation. What we learn is only what we consider our life depends on. Learning is a survival mechanism, almost identical to bladder control, calming the existential panic of our true ignorance. It is essential, as it is with bladder control, that we learn. Yet to take refuge in our learning is like treating our urine as wine. We are far more than what we’ve learned as we are also far more than what we have drunk.

    In life there is only one true teacher, and that is Death, the sword. Only the continuous awareness of death gives us the sobriety we require to assess the circumstances of life, to truly know anything for its own sake. This is a distinction of true knowledge that we find in many great traditions from Don Juan to Gurdjieff.

    Gurdjieff, who declared that the purpose of his work was that people would not “die like dogs,” dramatised the situation succinctly. In Gurdjieff’s All and Everything, Beelzebub’s Tales To His Grandson, Hassein asks Beelzebub how humanity could be saved. Beelzebub replied that Man would only be saved by implanting an organ that continually reminded him that everything and everyone passing in front of his eyes would, one day, die.

    The warrior implants this organ, “teaches his body strategy,” and lives in an environment of sincerity and compassion.

    If we could do each thing as if it was our last act on earth, say each sentence as though it was the final thing we would ever say, know always of the transience of every moment, then we would live a life worthy of our humanity. Unless we are present to death as our teacher, we have no context to think in, no perspective; we cannot see what is important about what we are doing.

    Instead, the calculating mind of the ‘expert’ tries to survive, to live forever, to be right, to win, and always has an added argument, more evidence, a new theory, another angle. They are dishonest, irresponsible, selfish and cowardly, only interested to prove and support their own notions, to remain intact. They take refuge in their cleverness, yet as humans they must be worthless, as they have made themselves this way, subservient to their own lists and statistics, trapped in the webs they weave. Indeed, the greatest stupidity of the intellectual is that ultimately they deceive themselves. They restrict themselves to their own thinking, and fail to examine their own ambition.

    Education in the West is now a scratching of the itch of our vanities. Any information can be invalidated by different information. We can choose our speciality to suit our personality. It is a lyrical, coffee table learning, vain and capricious, pretentious, reckless and pusillanimous. It does not transform us. It does not humble us, make us more aware of our ignorance, deepen our experience of the great mystery, or make us more modest and compassionate, as any real education must.

    Instead, it makes us an ‘authority,’ gives us power over others. Experts exert more power over our freedom than a medieval archbishop over his flock, within a reality even more bizarre. We live in a tyranny, nebulous and unassailable, masterminded by the cowardice, violence and cleverness of people with lists. Education is now a career ticket. We are proud of our acquired information with which we strut and pose, demand respect, and claim a superior position.

    The calculating mind confuses subjectivity and philosophy. “I know, therefore It Is.” The objectivity of science is an illusion. What the thinker thinks, the prover proves. Masquerading as truth, the expert displays the lie of a world as dead as a clock.

    The quandary is that these same intellectuals are engaged in serious pursuit. They have been trained to be cunning, cowardly, factional, irresponsible, and narcissistic, the last kind of people who should be destroying atoms, playing with genes, or designing home or foreign policy. Any expert who has got the answer, who knows what’s best, is from a Samurai perspective either a lunatic or a liar. Nobody knows the best thing to do.

    Intellectuals are dangerous little creatures to the ethic of the Samurai. Why? Scholars are not intellectual enough. Inflated by an infantile self-importance, the fuel for their achievements, there is one thing they do not know, and without that there is only the cowardliness, selfishness and deceit of logic and calculation, the empty arrogance and selective broadcasting of acquired information. They must be right in order to exist. They have information without enlightenment, without commitment, without responsibility, and without perspective.

    According to the Samurai ethic, they are irredeemably timid and stupid, institutionalised in a dishonourable way of being, and thoroughly dangerous in their selfish approach to conflict. They are not free to think, or even able to be free to think. They are slaves to the information they have, without which they’d be nothing at all. Any specialist or expert has sold their birthright, become a function rather than a being.

    “A skill or art leads to a debasement of awareness. Anyone especially accomplished in a particular ability is a technician, not a Samurai,” declared Jocho. For the Samurai, knowledge had a vast palette and broadening our vision rather than narrowing it was the way to increase and refine our realisation.

    Art and Science

    In the East, traditional education was an ancient and very different phenomenon. One of the major differences that convinced the early Chinese of the barbarity of Western culture is that we have no language for our arts and sciences to communicate. In Western education, which is now also extant in the East, each science invents its own terminology. The word ‘stress’, for example, means one thing to an engineer, another to a doctor, yet something else to a musician, a geologist, a priest or an ecologist.

    This was probably unnoticed as Latin, the lingua franca of Church and University, gave the illusion of a shared terminology. Now, even this has degenerated to a ‘fitting’ system for the sciences.

    The result of this failure of our arts and sciences to communicate and cooperate has led to an explosion of chaos. For example, in the Eastern tradition, medicine and cookery share a language. The most delicious food and the healthiest food must ultimately be the same. In the West, however, the most delicious inventions of Escoffier are, from a medical perspective, a nutritional disaster, and our nutritional ideals are often inedible.

    Our arts and sciences do not communicate. They contradict and invalidate each other. Subjectivity, the great demon of the ‘scientific method’, must encroach when there is no means for communication between areas of expertise. There is no holism; each science is discrete, each has a separate agenda, hidden to the other.

    The East had two major tools for cognition. There was the Eight Conditions/Yin Yang theory, one of the best known and least comprehended doctrines of Oriental science. Nevertheless, in the hands of ‘calculating men,’ it becomes almost identical to Greek Logic. There are many who think they know all about yin and yang, but those who actually do are rare, East or West. The eight conditions is not logical, and is actually more similar in its nature to Quantum physics, a peerless tool of relativity.

    The other pillar of Oriental science is the Five Elements, a tool for what cannot be measured by physics, a means to determine quality, not quantity.

    In the East communication was intrinsic between all arts and sciences. The five Rings of Musashi’s treatise, the five elements of medicine, the five flavours of cookery, the five tones of music, the five spies of the Art of War – they are all part of the same web, singing a harmonious song, allowing each to examine the other. These two tools allow a much greater accessibility, transparency and connectedness between disciplines.

    In this paradigm, the most sublime knowledge, the most occult, the most difficult to learn and to realise, was the sword. The sword is the ultimate in intellectual attainment, transcending calculating mentality, the forging and polishing of the soul, the release of the spirit into the world, freed from the bondage of thought, and it imbued a knowledge that was sublime, inviolate, eternal, unalterable, profound and wise as a basis, a context for knowing everything else.

    It is the education and empowerment of our spirit, the embodiment of knowledge, the blending of everything known into a perfect action. It supplies a keystone of knowledge, which is the foundation of education, without which nothing else can be truly known.

    The sword is the art of the Universe, the unique expression, not of what we know, but an expression of who we are, who we can possibly be. Swordplay is not a function, something we can do, it is something we embody. It requires the totality of our existence.

    The Samurai ethic is not a political theory, nor is it some moral standard for policing countries, or the justification of some “Might is Right” reasoning. Instead, it is a living philosophy in action, a perennial flower for humanity to cherish, a means to the highest intellect enlightened. Its insight is more valid today than ever before.

    The Samurai ethic is intimately connected to others, to the peace of society. The health, strength, and power of the individual is without meaning outside society.

    Spiritual illumination is not derived from a personal relationship with God, although many schools claimed a divine inspiration, but from relationship and service both to others and to the “way of the Bushi.” The word Samurai means servant, and as Dylan noted, “You’ve got to serve somebody.”

    Feminisation of Men

    Before we can look at the spiritual realm of the Samurai, it is useful to see the contemporary situation through their eyes. Where is a honourable life to be found? If we look at the modern ideal of human beings, what do we find? Who are the good guys?

    The ideal man of today is gentle, diffident, sincere, thoughtful, and pleasant. He is well educated or trained, and is quietly or overtly ambitious. Oleaginous, adaptable and amorphous, he lies mellifluously and unabashedly to keep the peace, presents an agreeable façade to everyone, keeps his hostility covert, and unhesitatingly hands over his injustices to the authorities. He tries to entertain everyone, and never raises his voice, except perhaps occasionally and politely in righteous indignation, for correct causes. He is, as the great Japanese poet Mishima damningly observed, a “cool opportunist.”

    The ideal woman is, in addition, a little more aggressive, self interested, untrammelled by children, and, if we accept the current paradigm, smarter, more sober, and in charge.

    Unfortunately, our ideal individuals don’t appear to help us create a harmonious society. We have male suicide rates that have gone through the roof. We have wife, husband, and child beatings, as frustrated angry people, like animals in cages, turn on their dearest. We have packs of alienated youth, violent and criminal, directionless and confused by the world they find themselves in, caught between struggle and submission. We have an epidemic of drug addiction, as people resort to chemistry to escape an empty, unfulfilling life that brings them little but pain. Even without any obvious drama, there are millions of lives filled with hubris, waiting around to catch cancer.

    On a larger scale we have a pandemic of war, oppression, poverty, slavery and violence that no country escapes. We presently live in a society that is far from ideal, a sort of Samurai worst-case scenario. A world ruled by traders, executed by technicians, must inexorably become vicious and nasty. From the Samurai point of view, we have great chaos in society, deep sickness in people’s hearts, a world without honour.

    One of the greatest tragedies of recorded history has been the feminisation of the male. Men have been increasingly trained in a fashion that is alien to their nature. De-fanged and emasculated by a cowardly society terrified of virility, men have been brainwashed into a position of benign subservience to all, or else.

    They are cuddly and accessible, pleasant, self-effacing, hard working, fashion conscious consumers, problem fixers, and maintenance men. They are deodorant splashed, designer-labelled, mummy pleasing, keep fitters and sport players, thoughtful and inoffensive, snaggy, sincere and reasonable. They are concerned to portray themselves in an attractive light. They keep their hostility covert. They try to look good, to “do the right thing,” whatever that may be. They also consider this to be virile behaviour. At best the highest accolade is to be “really nice.” An evening watching television is enough to adequately examine this nauseating ideal from every angle.

    Jocho Yamamoto, a Samurai who became a Buddhist priest when forbidden by the Emperor to end his existence, emphasised the fragility of masculinity. He said, “Contemporary Samurai set their sights very low. They have the furtive glance of thieves. They consider only themselves, act flamboyantly, and think they are smart. Although they appear to have nerves of iron, they are all front, worthless braggarts. That attitude will never do.”

    We have mislaid our models for male behaviour. We have even enthusiastically buried them. For example, the Latin concept of honourable masculine behaviour, to be ‘macho,’ has completely reversed its meaning and come to signify misogynistic, aggressive, and insensitive idiots who fart, belch and boast loudly.

    Some men today are acutely aware of this emptiness in their being, and attempt to recover their vital male temperament through success or seduction, through “men’s groups,” initiations or such, anything to try to feel like a man. Drumming, ‘relating,’ blaming and hugging, tend to reinforce this alienation. It is a symptom, not a cure.

    We know more about what a Silverback Gorilla is like than what a man is like, and there are even fewer places nowadays where we may hope to get a glimpse of a fully developed man. But one thing people are not is “really nice.” Chocolate is really nice, people are more complex.

    Tamed, virtually gelded, trained like donkeys, and counted like cattle, men are hardly allowed to exist, not encouraged to live a responsible life. This feminisation of men turns all humans into slaves. It is very hazardous.

    Society now greatly disapproves of what it labels male “boastfulness,” “arrogance,” and “immaturity,” yet perhaps it is only these unpredictable qualities that may currently prevent our total enslavement. “Stupid” and “aggressive” men are perhaps a bulwark against a world that the greasy speech of merchants and technicians would fashion to their whim.

    The problem is that violence works, it is the bottom line of any negotiation, and any government or institution wishes to control who gets violated, where and when. All governments reserve the power to violate, and rule only through fear and violence, with police and army, even if a silk glove adorns the iron fist.

    Authority in our world equates with the capacity to destroy, to oppress, to incarcerate, and invalidate. It requires everyone to be quiet, keep off the streets, to protest only in an impotent fashion.

    Only institutions, entertainment, salesmen, cowards, thieves and bullies need a foggy calm to spin their webs, and require a dazed and receptive audience. The rest of us can be vastly entertained, informed, and brought into communication by any sincere person who doesn’t mind rocking a leaky boat. Wildness and outrageousness are freedoms granted by courage and humility, ruffling only the feathers of the fearful.

    To accomplish great things one must be extreme, push the comfort zones a little. I am not entering any debate on sexuality here. The Samurai expected women and men to be at full potential. Rather, I am indicating a peculiarity of the male that I’m sure we can all agree on. Men are impulsive, boastful, idiotic, immature and reckless, even violent.

    This is intolerable to all institutions. No establishment can factor it into any of the equations they develop for our ideal society, except as cannon fodder. The world unites to abolish the reality of men. We shouldn’t be like that. All science, all politics, all statecraft, all education, all government, claims “this is not impulsive, immature, reckless, boastful, idiotic or violent.” But it is often just like that. Men are exactly like that.

    What it is very important to discern is that this unattractive aspect of male conduct is not inevitably dishonourable behaviour. It is quite possible to be impulsive and hot-blooded, stupid, immature, even violent, yet still be honourable. It is possible even to ascend to a honourable position by being this way. Great change is brought about through enormous energy, by standing against the tide.

    The Samurai recognised that beyond all our personal judgements there was a way to view others with more acceptance, more reality. Only dishonourable, selfish and ignorant behaviour truly damages society, and behaviour like that is not necessarily visible, improper or unreasonable.

    Rather than viewing others from the rights and wrongs of our assessments, we can see them for their humanity, their will, their unselfishness, and their contribution. Beyond our personal notions of how people should behave, there is the recognition of a honourable existence that eclipses our assessment.

    This puts men in a more precarious position than women, a position that requires a particular restraint. As men are more reckless, boastful and impetuous, honour is a more essential component of Manhood. Only honour supplies the compassion, dignity, generosity, humility and unselfishness to polish the impetuosity and recklessness that is a wonderful part of being a man. Only a honourable existence redeems and completes a man.

    This feminisation has an innocuous and innocent genesis. A man only is truly a man to the extent that he does not act to be attractive. This is the Black Hole of male consciousness from which masculinity can never emerge.

    When a man does something, even a good thing, in order to be attractive, he creates the invisible antagonist to a honourable existence that intrinsically must be selfless. He instantly becomes dishonourable, living in a lower domain. It sucks the life out of him like salt on a snail. It is acting from the outside rather than the inside.

    The inner sincerity of masculine behaviour is paramount. No one else is there to see his intent but himself, and only the intent gives the action meaning. It is the most terrible empty perversion of power when it is employed in trying to look good, which is looking after yourself, rather than doing good, looking after others.

    This is not so for a woman. Being much more level headed, they are free to sometimes act to be attractive.

    While the Samurai ethic and spirituality is particularly unconcerned with sexuality, it is certainly concerned with having both sexes at maximum potential. At full strength, men and woman would be more distinct. The androgynous and self-absorbed nature of society with its ‘pleasing men and plucky women’ is only a sign of a great weakness and danger in society.

    Life is Now a Show Performed by Actors

    In contemporary life we also have massive amounts of entertainment. Everyone wants to be famous. We give great attention to movie stars, swimmers, singers and footballers. Yet famous people, like technicians, have become a function. They are famous not for who they are, but for being involved in something that fascinates an audience. They sacrifice their ideal of humanness for the adoration of the masses and hide behind their skill. They have great power and wealth. They form dynasties and expect adulation. They are the royalty of the new millennium. The ‘Willow World’ now permeates every aspect of life.

    Stars dictate fashions and trends, advertise products and participate in performances. But they are mere puppets, saying lines they were told to say, playing tunes, jumping and posing to order. Because someone can, for example, run fast or wiggle their bottom in an attractive fashion, they are accredited with special insight and access to social situations or politics. Suppressing freedom through distraction, fascination and suggestion, they are the inedible part of the government of Bread and Circuses.

    Scientists, experts, technicians, stars and virtuosos, are now running the world. They are all, from the Samurai ethic, identical. They are all Performing Artists.

    Jocho Yamamoto recognised the bizarre and nihilistic certainty that the world was now a show performed by actors, a Heyokah, a contrary world of puppets, where everything is the wrong way round.

    The difference we see between a prime minister and a cute pop singer, a genetic scientist and a juggler, is an illusion. There is no difference. They are all technicians. They have all learned a skill; all become identified with it, and use it for their own profit, while professing it to be for someone else’s benefit.

    Life is now truly a mad house where a real human being now has no place or function whatsoever. It is a useless quality for society to be a human. Society needs machines. Those who are less courageous, those who have surrendered to being their job, to exploiting their function, have displaced essential humanity. The world has been spirited out from under the feet of honourable humans. They are disenfranchised from a society that now requires functions, not complete people.

    There are many refugees of the spirit, displaced in this borderless, theory-driven world.

    Technology Blinding Us From Our Devolution

    We tend to assume that we are evolving. This is not necessarily a well-examined assumption. In fact, we can gather evidence that we are getting more dimwitted, that we are actually devolving.

    P.D. Ouspensky uses the Australian bull ant as an example of these forces of devolution. This primitive ant lives in a small simple community of about 20 to 40. They cooperate to defend their nest. Unlike modern ants, bull ants have a highly developed sense of self-preservation. While they will defend their nest fiercely, they will abandon it if that is more expedient. They will not give up their life for their nest.

    The modern ant is much more predictable. Fine technicians, they build great cities. Many thousands live there. But they will die relentlessly for their nest if it is attacked. The community is preserved at the expense of the individual. A house is more important than the creatures that build it.

    Modern ants have lost the instinct for self-preservation, the capacity for self-reliance, and have therefore become less intelligent than ‘primitive ants,’ although their cities appear more evolved. They have devolved from a self-responsible creature, to a mere function of the nest.

    The modern ant has devolved, has become less intelligent. “But look at our city”, the modern ant would say, if we suggested it was getting dumber. So, too, does our technology blind modern humans who imagine that we are more intelligent today than in the past.

    Now here’s the difference between the bull ant and the modern ant. When I encounter them, the modern ant can see of me only my finger, and that is only if I stick my finger in front of it.

    The bull ant, however, even from some distance can see all of me. It watches and responds to my entire body. The bull ant sees more than my finger, more than what is in front of its nose.

    Intelligence changes what we can perceive within our environment. True intelligence is not about knowing more stuff. It does not transform our thinking; it alters our perception, what we can see in every situation.

    True education is not learning about things. Real education increases our intelligence, and this changes what we are able to notice.

    We, too, have fine cities and an immensely complex social structure. In the process we are destroying our capacity to see what is around us unless, and only when, a piece of it is stuck in front of our face.

    By devolving into a social matrix where every move is pre-ordained, suggested to us, we blind ourselves to an unimaginably larger view of life that is our right and within our nature to behold. We remove an entire domain of intelligence from our being. Like moles, we shuffle through the dark little tunnels of our life, seeing nothing.

    The feminisation of men, and the ascendance of technocracy and entertainment, is a part of this devolution.

    So, too, is the pursuit of wealth. Greed is not good. It is a cowardly, insane response to the world. The Samurai code of honour emphasised an indifference to wealth, to not acting for profit, an aesthetic of shibumi, understatement, frugality and poverty. On his sword he carried a toothpick that he would pull out and use when invited to eat, demonstrating his unbending intent, his unwillingness to exploit others, his self-reliance, and incorruptibility.

    Wealth is the tooth decay of honour, a blasphemy of our real abundance, stashing away for old age, for more stuff to fill the inner emptiness, quiet the anxious spirit.

    Again Yamamoto says,
    “A man with a mercenary spirit is a coward. The reason being he is always thinking about gain or loss. To him, dying is loss, and living is gain. He becomes a coward because he does not want to die. He camouflages with eloquence his real character of timidity and greed. People often fail to recognise this type of man.”

    Greed and cowardliness are inseparable components of the clever mind, intent on calculation and control.

    Our Perception of the World is the Greatest Gift

    Since the very earliest days of our history we have recognised the concept of a “fair fight”. It is a simple notion, the ‘Rules of Engagement,’ for dealing with conflict. Even as a child, we recognise that there must be convention.

    “No kicking or biting, no ganging up, and no hitting girls, even when they’re asking for it,” can allow a child to retain honour in playground disagreements. Honour is still essential to peace keeping.

    Now getting around the rules of engagement is the major concern of most conflicts, from street riots to United Nations peacekeeping forces. Today, the nature of conflict is not quite the same as only a few years ago, when a war went on in a field, when oppression was regional, where running away was an option.

    Now, in the culture of cowardice and calculation which we have developed, that ironically we refer too as free, peace loving, and fair, conflict is more pernicious, more insidious. In our technocratic society, there is no means for a ‘fair fight’ against issues important to us. You are only free to do what you are told. Your opinion, like your vote, is a joke.

    What you think, for example, about scientists messing with the genetic makeup of the food you eat doesn’t make any difference. We must conform to what the “experts” think, even though it is perfectly clear that an informed opinion or a “proof” is no less subjective, self-interested, or prejudiced than an uninformed opinion, or belief.

    Indeed, Bushido indicates that expertise and specialisation is the last refuge of the coward and scoundrel, and they are more able and more likely to exercise selfishness, subjectivity and deceit. Like rats in the wainscotings they scurry through the halls of power, debasing the foundations of truth and justice that genuine authority requires.

    Today we fail to examine the divergence between subjectivity and philosophy. This is a grave mistake. Just because an expert thinks so does not make it a more correct opinion, only a more ‘expert’ opinion. Yet we run to the specialist. No one has courage any more. Everyone wants a ‘consultant’ to justify their own attitude, to back up their prejudice, to do it for them. We invent, encourage and employ our own thought police.

    To the Native American warrior we come into this world with only one gift that we can present to the world. That gift is how we perceive the world.

    No one sees things as you do. Your view is unique, irreplaceable, and when and if you can communicate it, you give to the world the greatest gift, indeed the only gift a human can; the gift of how you see it. Only you can be you. This is a most wonderful aspect of a Human Being.

    We are creative creatures. A human being is the only place in our universe from where novelty may emit. We can be the creative force of the universe.

    Einstein communicated exactly how he saw it, and for humanity, the universe changed, the planet changed, new substances and forces were created, our past, present, and future was rewritten. Not bad for a patent clerk.

    What you think has equal value to what anyone else thinks. Your thoughts and feelings cannot be ‘wrong’ or ‘right.’ How you feel cannot be taken from you, and is not for others to evaluate.

    It is how you see it, and for that fact alone it demands respect. You think this, but I think that. What lies between is the affair of strategy.

    Expert opinion or calculation can only reduce the world to formulae, reduce a human to cipher. The world is not a machine, does not conform itself to equations. It is unpredictable and wild. Quality cannot equate to quantity. Only honour lets us touch the pulse of life directly.

    The warrior finds a great beauty in pride. Not in false pride, the arrogance of imagined or certificated superiority, but the genuine, acquired, sensitive, pride (Haragei) of being a spirit materialised into this time and place for a purpose. A pride in our own thoughts, feelings and sensations is required to engage with another mind powerfully and respectfully. It is not courteous to daydream, to be impressionable when others speak. It is important to be sincere and brave in speech as well as action.

    Much of life’s communication is presently full of expert opinions, persuasive advertisements, chitchat, justifications, exaggerations, omissions, explanations, and propaganda, which, like mosquitoes, disturb the tranquillity of our atmosphere. People have become immunised to this assault, yet it is not being treated in a honourable fashion. If we had a little more honour we wouldn’t find having our eyes, minds and ears filled with other people’s disrespectful nonsense so harmless. Perhaps we would even be offended by institutions trying to win us over, to persuade, to tell us what’s important, to allude, to suggest, treating us as idiots, aiming below the belt at our signal responses. No one likes being treated like a fool, yet every advertisement and news broadcast does just that.

    We currently live in a world where deceit, greed, expediency and self-interest have become normal, even commendable. As a result, our view of human ideals has become twisted. In contemporary society how you see it is up for grabs by any advertiser politician, or social architect.

    To die for what you think or believe, in our greedy and cowardly age, is seen as a useless death. However, there is no such thing as a useless death. The essential thing to realise is that to die for how you see it is not a dishonourable end.

    To live your life willing to die for how you see it, however, is to live an energetic unpredictable, hearty, magical, joyous and even a honourable life. It is after all the only thing you have. Examine the compromises, the deceit, the greed and self-interest of your own life. Have they not made you a little less? How fluidly we lie, hint, omit, assume and exaggerate. Normal conversation requires it. We go with the flow, certain we never lie, hint, omit, assume or exaggerate, which allows us to do just that. Yet it is cowardly. To lie is to say to the other, “You are stronger than me. You have the power to make me lie.”

    Doing nothing only assists evil. Honour acknowledges an imperative to repair what we find wrong. If you don’t fix it, who will? Be courageous! It is in the last analysis very simple. Are you a human or a mouse?

    As Jocho advised, “Bushido is realised in the presence of death. Given a choice between life and death, choose death. Just brace yourself and proceed.”

    Life is risk. When we choose death we choose to fully live. A counterfeit life, predicated by the fears and ambitions, the clever arguments, the compromises, the calculations and ignorance of specialists, experts, and authorities is the sad alternative.

    Choosing death is not easy, and does not come naturally. It requires long and intense training, a steeling of the nerves, to be ready for that moment. We may imagine when we are sitting around drinking coffee that we could and would choose death, but when we are required to take the plunge, these considerations are absent. We have been deeply trained to be scared and cowardly, and in a risky situation we play safe, reduce our options, we become a little less, dying in spirit to survive the onslaught of life.

    The ethic of the Samurai is pro-active towards the healing of society. It is an extremely tolerant and respectful principle which, lived to its fullest extent, dissolves all the restrictions of our world into an existentialist’s paradise, our life into a voyage of serendipitous delights.

    “To treat your enemy like a honoured guest,” was for Miyamoto Musashi simultaneously the highest level of realisation into the nature of conflict, and the most potent certain method of dispatching an enemy, where the highest strategy becomes “no strategy.”

    Nothing defines your spiritual stature in life more than the stature of your enemy. Even God first had to make the Devil. Like the Tango, it takes two to have an enemy.

    Some people make their neighbours, the weather, their old car, the new world order or their backache an enemy. We make up most of our enemies and then suffer under their tyranny. What can defeat us, defines our stature. Like paper tiger masks, these petty demons must be cut through.

    We trivialise and demean our enemies, and in the process we make ourselves even lower than that, conquered by mean trivia. Enemies may be transformed or defeated, but they must first be revered. Putting others down does not elevate us. We must exalt our enemies, because they represent our limits in breaking through to the formless freedom of the warrior’s path. If it weren’t for the great enemy, the great warrior would have no purpose or means to existence. The enemy is a gift directly from God, and if we are sincere, the door to go beyond ourselves.

    Miyamoto Musashi discovered in his lifelong examination of conflict that truly, deep down in our very being, when we energetically follow a path of honour to its conclusion, “Love conquers all.”

    The Samurai ethic is committed to ecstasy. We all have a right to feel wonderful, to continually sense our power. Indeed, it is only when we feel wonderful that we view the world aright. We should be healthy and strong for others.

    It is committed to energy. If we don’t feel wonderful we must do something about that. It is committed to transformation. A conflict revealed in its true nature becomes a source of energy and ecstasy. The only way to transform our sad society is when each of us starts to grow, when we individually “shatter this box of our un-enlightenment.”

    There are many essentially brave and courageous people, but in our present society they are taught to fear, to doubt, to be cowardly. They have no means to become truly courageous. Much has to be unlearned.

    The sword, like the sculptor’s knife, like the words that come out of our mouth, shapes the future to come. We need to form society from our soul and spirit, not from our cleverness and evidence. A healthy honourable society will not make sense, and will not be predictable. It will make experts cringe. It will be, for the self-reliant, a joyous, mysterious and abundant adventure.

    Perhaps the great Musashi gave the most revealing insight for action. Just the day before he died, Musashi wrote for his pupils a guide for this adventure. The first instruction was, “Do nothing that will oppose your Splendid Future.”
    [alert type=”general” dismiss=”no”]This article was published in New Dawn 69.[/alert]

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