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http://www.newdawnmagazine.com/Articles/Nothing_s_Shadow.html


From: New Dawn No.67
      July-August 2001


Nothing's Shadow

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 Ryu of 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.

In any art of self-defence, the student is learning to survive, to defeat
the weak, the one that s/he would probably defeat anyway. The really
dangerous enemy, bigger, faster, madder, stronger, more skilled, more of
them, and more determined, remains unassailable. Yet, this is the only
enemy that can cause us to reach into our own potential, to transcend
ourself.

This is the only enemy worth pursuing.

There are also schools who take a religious slant, claiming a monastic
background, the Buddhist notion of ahimsa (harmlessness), or Taoist
(Shinto) concepts of life enhancement as their principle. Meditation is
emphasised, goodness encouraged as a means to power. Usually they include
the hypocrisy of bone cracking throws, deadly blows, blaming the opponent
for their damage, not taking responsibility for the consequences of their
action. Only a few schools of Aikido attempt to be harmless in action, and
as its inventor spent most of his life practising sword, he had earned his
right to speak, although not necessarily to be comprehended. He used the
humiliating sword-taking techniques of the Yagyu ryu to kill the mind and
spirit instead of the body. To a warrior this may be a doubtful selfish
victory, the betrayal of a sincere opponent.

So, in short, when we start to look at warrior and spiritual practices, we
find a hotchpotch of ideas and attitudes. Most refer to Zen, Shinto,
Taoism, Confucius, or Buddha for moral rectitude, and ethical
justification. Most are sensible, comprehensible, moral directives with a
bit of channel theory, and a few flowery meditations to make the
practitioner feel special. Many have people running around doing exercises,
stretching acrobatics, or floating about imagining they are powerful.

They are a hindrance to the revelations of the resolute acceptance of death
where the spiritual teachings of the warrior begin. Yet, behind it all is
hidden a vast world of beauty, discovery, and destiny. The true warriors
realm is very real.


Samurai and Japanese Swordplay

In 1875, two extraordinary events occurred. The Emperor of Japan ended the
feudal system. The Samurai, the lords and knights of Japan, were suddenly
out of a job.

This act will be seen in the future as a disaster of our spiritual
development on the same scale as the Inquisition, or the destruction of the
library at Alexandria. The Samurai belonged to a culture that cultivated
incorruptibility, and developed a behaviour not derived from circumstances.
The Emperor declaring them useless did not change them. They were as
unchanging as diamonds. A sword is a sword, whether useful or useless. They
would not become farmers or merchants, and most sat down and passed away
their days in quiet, uncomplaining poverty. This was only because the
Emperor had previously forbidden seppuku, ritual suicide, or most would
happily have ended their lives immediately.

The spiritual knowledge of religions is contained in books, in buildings.
The spiritual knowledge of the Samurai, however, was contained in
individuals, cultivated in their body and being. Their knowledge was not
recordable, only transmissible from individual to individual by vast
effort, in a secret and separate reality, over many years.

Like the most fragile flower, the sword would quickly disappear. Vast
knowledge and beauty was lost at that time, unknown to the world, as the
teaching of the sword was so undisclosed.

The other extraordinary event occurred later that year. One man, realising
that one of the greatest spiritual resources, one of the most beautiful art
forms of Humanity, was about to vanish from the face of the earth, hatched
an extraordinary plan. He made a request to the Emperor to allow a group of
samurai teachers to give demonstrations of swordplay around Japan. This was
a radical, almost unthinkable notion. However, the request was granted. For
the very first time, the Sword was demonstrated to non-Samurai, to the
world.

Up until that moment for non-samurai, to see a samurai blade was to die.
The sword up till that time was a highly secret art, never seen by other
classes, and restricted even among the samurai to clan, to school and
practise hall. Now, at least a few sword teachers would make a living, the
art may survive.

>From the perspective of the traditional oriental mind, the macrocosm and
the microcosm are identical and reflect each other perfectly. A perfect
society therefore was like a healthy individual.

Four classes existed, as the four elements created and sustained the body.
There were merchants, farmers, craftsmen, and warriors. The most important
class was the Warrior. The warrior was the keeper of peace in the land,
without which the others would not be able to function.

Peace in the land is the macrocosm and environment of health in the body.
The Samurai therefore was the Healer, the acupuncturist of society. The
sword is the acupuncture needle of society. The analogy is precise. In the
microcosm by sticking a needle in and injuring the body, health was
restored. In the macrocosm, by sticking a sword in, and injuring society,
peace was restored.

The Samurai was concerned with maximising life, peace and happiness in his
fiefdom. His art was not self-defence. Indeed, he was expected to abandon
his life in an instant if the situation required it. His art was killing,
quickly, humanely, respectfully, and appropriately. The Samurai was judge,
jury and executioner to his village. It was a highly responsible position,
one that was taken extremely seriously.

His task was conflict resolution, to keep peace. It was his profession to
destroy evil. It was his personal task to not allow any action to disturb
his Essence, to not become cruel or heartless. A task of enormous
difficulty, any mistakes would cause more trouble than was started with.
The sword was the last resort, the most final decision.

Battles between clans were mostly highly ceremonial events, individual
duels between gentlemen warriors. As highly learned and perceptive people,
they did not descend into violence. Rather, they developed an art to
transcend it. They turned the lowest act of Humanity into the highest and
most transcendent ceremony. They learned to discern falsity, lay bare
deceit, to act without personal interest, to act immediately, with
certainty, without guilt, fear, doubt or perplexity.

Sword became a highly developed, difficult art, of immense skill, subtlety
and sophistication. Sword schools developed where young Samurai could
learn. This, however, is like saying young Englishmen went to Eton to learn
English. Sword schools were expensive, exclusive, exacting and difficult -
schools for young Knights.

Concerned with human potential, leadership, character development, and
spiritual revelation, their function was to create human beings who were
powerful, wise, unselfish, incorruptible, compassionate and effective. The
flourishing of the sword, like the stroke of the pen, is a language. Every
physical posture communicates. It has also emotional, mental, and spiritual
components.


The Unspoken Language of the Sword

Swordplay is an unspoken language, a body language of postures and actions,
much harder to learn than writing. But the sword has one advantage over the
written or spoken language. The sword does not lie. If you're wrong, you're
dead. There is no second chance. The warrior who sees the situation most
clearly will win. Other languages can deceive, can misunderstand, and can
fail to communicate. The sword will not lie.

Learning sword is unlike any other kind of education. Forged in the reality
of battle where one wrong move would be the last, what is learnt is
accompanied by certainty, freed from doubt or guilt, tested and practised
to perfection, and communicated without ambivalence or obscurity.

What is acquired is a knowing of oneself and others, a certain ineffable
wisdom, that can set a new context for how we know everything else, that
can allow us to know what was previously unknowable. A knowing that is not
an intellectual comprehension, but an activity. A knowing that can bring us
happiness, peace and completion without, as Musashi said, "following any
particular way." Musashi, who was trained in Zen practice by Taguan,
teacher to the Shogun, even politely suggested that the realisation of the
sword was more profound than the highest attainments of Zen.

Martial arts in the West are mainly a melange of boxing and yoga, dance and
psychodrama. Homogenised and adapted to Western tastes for the exotic, they
fulfil a function in our culture, while the true way of strategy remains
unrevealed, undisturbed. They function as empowerment courses for the
fearful, a means of expression for the angry and the lover of movement.
They are keep-fit classes, sport, character development programmes, and
practical theology lessons. This is not necessarily a recent occurrence.


The Way of Strategy

Musashi scathingly wrote in 1640 that there was "no warrior alive today who
really understands the way of strategy." He was highly critical of schools
that had lost contact with the essence of the art of strategy. He wrote of
them:

In this kind of way of Strategy, both those teaching and those learning the
way are concerned with colouring and showing off their technique, trying to
hasten the bloom of the flower. They speak of 'This Dojo' and 'That Dojo.'
They are looking for profit.

His concern derived from a peculiarity of the way of strategy.

As it is the most exquisite construct of the human spirit, it is also the
most fragile, easily distorted and destroyed. In other realms, mistakes are
possible, and the damage can be repaired. This is much more difficult in
the Way of Strategy. Not all damage can be repaired, and even the slightest
mistake requires enormous effort to overcome.

If you study a Way daily and your spirit diverges, you may think that you
are following a good way, but objectively it is not the true Way. If you
are following the true Way and diverge a little, this will later become a
large divergence.

The path of strategy is fragile and fraught with danger to our mind, body,
and spirit. This is necessary. For true attainment, risk is essential. Risk
puts us at the edge, and the study of sword is the study of the edge. The
sword is life giving and compassionate. It tends to reject the insincere,
quickly and straightforwardly. It is not for everyone. Yet, the existence
of such a way is tremendously important for everyone.

We have so much to learn about the nature of conflict. War and violence,
the epidemic and the endemic are the two greatest diseases on our planet.
Vast numbers of people all over the world are maimed and killed,
imprisoned, enslaved and oppressed, due to these mental diseases. Even more
than physical violence, mental, emotional, and spiritual violence plagues
our culture, our institutions, our family, our relationships. Every tongue
can stab and cut, every conversation is a coming together of sword points,
a bout. Every declaration a kamae (attitude). It's a jungle out there. No
one respects you and there's few to respect. The sword is a linguistic
realm that can lead us to an honourable way to be with others.

The relevance of strategy to the present is that it may give us the means
to eliminate violence in our society, war in our nations. It certainly
gives the means to eliminate it in our own being. A peaceful happy nation
must contain wise, content, and fearless people. Potentially the prize is
so enormous that it is almost inconceivable.

Only when we have overcome the horrific mental diseases we call war and
violence, only when people feel safe, honoured, and respected, can humanity
freely move to the next level. Only when they honour and respect others can
this happen.

All humanity's resources are consumed in war, crime, deceit and violence.
When we do rid the planet of war and violence, Prosperity will fill the
void.

The spiritual realisation of the warrior is the only force with the power
to eliminate war, poverty, oppression and violence in our society. When we
eliminate violence from ourself, we eliminate fear and ignorance. When we
eliminate fear and ignorance, we find the means to Peace.

The recognition that strategy is not an attainment of mind, but a
realisation of being is essential. Strategy is not a clever idea. It is
placed within our being. It cannot be pretended.

The spiritual path of the samurai has traditionally avoided description, as
its attainment and transmission is regarded as ineffable. Any attempt is
doomed to fail. Yet, many of its foundations we can freely examine. This
brings us to the other great virtue of Strategy. It can move us to
inconceivable heights of health, happiness and ability. Even if there was
no other reason, the legacy of the Samurai has enormous value as a means to
health. They have an extraordinary insight into the alchemy of health not
yet fully realised.

It was not seemly for the Samurai to study a craft such as medicine, yet
their techniques indicate the influence of medical genius, alchemical
wisdom.

The path of the samurai was a quest for power. Before we can contain power,
we must be healthy. A Samurai was pure potential, outrageous good health
being a minimum requirement. Only a healthy person is free and able to
exercise power correctly.

In oriental Medicine, Death is mysterious, theoretically avoidable. The
great oriental scientists were much concerned with the alchemy of
immortality. The training of swordplay is the most exquisite and effective
expression of this art, and most great sword players improve and improve,
get healthier and healthier, till they die. Being prepared to die at any
moment and living life in this manner is demonstrably necessary to a long
and healthy life.

Before we can explore the spirituality of the martial arts, we must examine
them in relationship to the body. In the next part of this series of
articles we will examine the relationship of health to power in the
warrior' s realm.

Martial arts have always been closely linked to healing. Many stylists are
also oriental healers. Many styles such as chi gong overlap medicine. The
Shao Lin learned to kill and to heal. Why was this? They sought the power
of life and death as a means of perceiving reality, freeing themselves from
illusion.

The healer and the warrior are opposed in the world. One takes life, one
gives life. In the void, however, they are the same. They require identical
qualities. They both fight an impeccable enemy, a relentless disease.
Health and peace are identical; the only difference is one of scale. The
very best warrior and the very best healer share the same attainment. The
enemy does not fool them. They discern the spirit behind the appearance.
They see the intent of the opponent.

__________________________________________________________________
© Peter Alexander, Byron Bay, May 2001. Peter Alexander teaches swordplay
in Byron Bay. His sensei is Victor Harris. Peter has developed and is
teaching a new system of medicine, Nen Riki Therapy, derived from his
discoveries in Itto Ryu swordplay. His book, In the Land of the Mad King -
Protocols of a New Medicine, is available for $24.95 + $4.00 P&P, cheques
payable to P. Alexander. He can be contacted at [EMAIL PROTECTED] and PO
Box 1199, Byron
Bay, NSW 2481, Australia.


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