The Art of Peace

Two and a half millennia ago in China a military strategist called Sun Tzu wrote a book about such martial matters. Sun Tzu called his book The Art of War, and he intended it as a guidebook for those who wished to learn and to put into practice the ways of war outlined in his text. The universe is all about balance, and if there exists such an idea as war being an art and an apparently worthy subject for study, should there not also somewhere exist an ‘Art of Peace’; a martial study that is equally committed to practicing techniques whose intention is to ensure that peace and the pursuit of peace has at least as much of a voice as more warlike actions?

Two of my children, brother and sister, have practiced the Japanese martial art of Aikido. I must admit that, had I been younger and enjoying better health, I would have liked to have practiced with them! Frequently enough we might find ourselves in situations which make demands upon us, upon our sense of focus and concentration, and we might feel that our inner peace has been taken from us. It is in such situations that Aikido could come to our aid. Aikido is relatively modern, and was developed over the period between the 1920’s and the 1960’s by Morihei Uyeshiba, who is often referred to by his title of O-Sensei, meaning ‘Great Teacher’. In practice it places an emphasis on dynamically using one’s own energy to resist any potential attacks from others. In its essence it is therefore a strategy for defence rather than one of competitive aggression, but Aikido offers us more than simple self-defence techniques.

In evolving Aikido, O-Sensei employed a spiritual fusion originating from his interaction with the Oomoto-kyo (‘Great Source’) religion, whose leaders have been predominantly female. To this O-Sensei added streams of spiritual teaching stemming from both Shinto and Buddhism. ‘Aikido’ can be translated as "the way to union with universal energy" or "the way of unified energy". Another common interpretation of the Japanese characters is “harmony, spirit and way”, so Aikido can also be taken to mean "the way of spiritual harmony" or "the art of peace". And so in O-Sensei’s Aikido we have found our countering martial equivalent for Sun Tzu’s The Art of War! And there is one more layer to add to this spiritual mix.

The Japanese word for "love" also happens to be pronounced ‘ai’. In later life, O-Sensei emphasized this interpretation of ‘ai’. In his quest for a less aggressive approach, O-Sensei received a divine inspiration that led him away from the violent nature of his previous martial training, and took him instead towards a "spirit of peace". O-Sensei ultimately said that the way of the warrior is the "way of divine love that nurtures and protects all things", and this surely is the ultimate meaning of such a practice: that the way of a true warrior can as equally, and perhaps even more significantly, be one which practices peace.

Painting by Matsubayashi Keigetsu

Light into Darkness

I have at times found myself fascinated by the attitudes of others to ‘darkness’. So often it seems to be linked to something sinister, even evil, and I wondered why this might be so. 

In most contemporary spiritual and New Age thinking it is light which truly matters, and consideration for darkness in any form might meet only with head-shaking disapproval. Darkness is thought of as being something to be banished, even to be conquered. Light, on the contrary, is something to ‘go towards’, to be sought after, to be ‘worked with’. Within Christian doctrine the emphasis is also upon the desire for light and the striving to ‘ascend’. 

But in Greek myth it is the story of Icarus, who flew with his strapped-on wings too close to the sun only to plummet to earth, which warns us of a too-eager pursuit towards the source of heavenly light and the folly of the ego in its fixation to attain this bliss. His wiser father Daedalus flew the middle way, between darkness and light, and so landed safely back on earth. It is a simple truth that the farther we go in the direction of the light, the longer and larger the shadows become that we cast behind us.

This simple truth has long been known to the mystics, who valued both darkness and light in equal measure. Darkness was itself viewed as a powerful spiritual instrument, perhaps even fuller of creative potential than light itself. In the light we see exactly what is in front of us. But what darkness might contain is limited only by what we can imagine that it contains. It can be full of unknown worlds awaiting discovery – and perhaps it is. In our universe it actually is visible light that is only a fraction of the whole, and darkness easily predominates. At first we might imagine that the universe itself is ‘out of balance’, for should not darkness and light be in equal amounts? 

Eastern tradition speaks of the Paramatma light: that divine light invisible to matter which permeates all things. Surely this invisible light is what provides the balance, for not all things in the universe which provide this perfect cosmic balance need be apparent to our limited senses. Spiritual seekers from many ancient traditions - Celtic, Eastern, Indian, Tibetan and African - have treated the darkness as an instrument for spiritual enlightenment. The literal definition of the word shaman is 'he or she who sees in the dark'. The shaman would say that there is no such thing as darkness: only an incapacity to truly ‘see’.

Western mystics also recognized the importance and the power of darkness. The Gnostics referred to the creator as ‘Dazzling Darkness’, (see my post: Dazzling Darkness) and John of the Cross spoke of "the dark light". The idea of balance is always what lies behind these ideas: neither to concentrate on light at the expense of darkness, nor to become preoccupied with darkness at the expense of light. Spiritually, both are of equal value, and wise Daedalus shows us the course that we should follow. 

Painting: Balance is the Key by Aleister Gray