I offer today a thesis that begins with love and leads to self-mastery. The Path begins in love; mix it with duty, curiosity, or reverence, but love is always present. As you go, you show others the way and seed their hearts with that same love. Let us explore.
So have I seen:
Years ago, and more than once, my T’ai Chi Sifu sat our whole class down and told us, flatly, “You are all role models, whether you like it or not. Shirking that responsibility in my school is not an option.” This is part of her gospel, integral to her practice of T’ai Chi on the training floor and in life. If we could not or would not understand that, it showed her how ready we were for continued training. It was inescapable. Excellence would show people what was possible. Steadfastness would show what was to be expected. Sloppiness showed how one might skate by on the bare minimum, if such was your goal.
I prefer environments wherein people drive and control themselves. I don’t care for environments where people cannot, or where they only behave themselves because they fear punishment. I recognize that virtually all of us are sometimes capable of nothing better, and I regard that as a tragedy. My sincere hope is for a setting where the rules can be safely ignored because the standard people set for themselves shines brighter than the law, that people feel that their conduct matters and they behave accordingly. That tone needs to be set, though. Why would one do such a thing? Mostly, I think, because of love.
The power of example, especially without coercion, engenders that love. A love of what is good and useful is valuable; it matters. The Knight I admire chooses the dignity and decorum of a Jedi because she has self-respect and a sense of her own power. She loves the Temple (here meaning only the assemblage of people) and she loves the Path. She applies the teachings of her Path to herself and everything she sees, freely. In doing so, she shows me that what is possible.
I have been told all my life that to be successful I must at times be rude, dishonest, and willing to tear my brother and sister down. I must be cutthroat to do well. I think we have all heard this. If we mean to win, this is the behavior that will get us there. This has been described to me as being practical.
Ends and means, I am told.
To that, I say that I do not make a distinction. I do not regard them as separable. Goodness cannot be coerced. Freedom cannot be imposed. One cannot beat a child smart or kind. Allow me to illustrate.
In my work, I enter violent situations on a regular basis. Let me tell you a thing: the use of force breeds compliance in the short term and sows resentment in the long. I am interested in neither. Forced compliance diminishes the Other, and that must not ever be a goal. I am diminished, morally, spiritually, by any effort to diminish another. And the resentment in his heart is just a trap I set for myself.
Instead, I enter with a clear mandate. Firstly, everyone (the aggressor{s}, myself, and any anyone around) will be as safe as possible. Secondly, all those people will be respected. The result of that mandate is that when I arrive, the people involved begin to deescalate. For the aggressor, it may take longer, but I arrive as their ally every time.
Consider, though, if I swooped in, tackling people to the floor, crushing resistance. Instant cessation of violence, right? Look closer. Forget the aggressor. We already know what seeds I have planted there. Consider also the onlookers. Would they be relieved that it was over quickly? In part, perhaps, but they would also find themselves wondering it what might take for me to do the same to them.
“Cabur went nuts on that guy. It was exciting.
I wonder when he’ll turn on me like that.”
That is poison to a community, expedients be damned. Would an immediate goal be served? Yes, but not the right one. And in the mean time, the community brews in toxic fear.
It is a difficult line to walk, as I hope for much from people but only seek to impose my will on my own tiny corner of the universe. My general policy is to not start fights I don’t actually want to have, but I allow people to fight their own battles because I feel natural consequences can be useful. This excludes instances of abuse, of course. That said, I would be inclined to ask anyone why starting that fight, or entering it, felt necessary. What was at stake? I find myself harkening back to my Sifu: if you cannot master yourself, how will you ever master this art? So, it comes back, then to love. Find the love first. Name it. Training will follow.
Of course, I will have to answer those questions in my own heart as well. I often consider it in terms of my apprentices.
If I succeed in mastering myself, my apprentices see me succeed and know it can be done. If they watch me struggle sincerely, they know I believe it is important and I can hope they will follow me. If I fail, then they deserve an apology from me as much as whoever I went after. And if I fail consistently, well, perhaps my students should be looking elsewhere for guidance.
Where self-mastery is concerned, I regard every moment as a training opportunity either taken or missed. I am no more perfect in my memory of this than anyone. But every drive home from work is spent, in part, going over the missed opportunities to Jedi Up over the last 24 hours. I adjust where I can. Always adjusting, always refining.
When I was training in Aikido, I noticed a thing. Poor students behaved on the training floor more or less as they did on the street. They wore their uniforms, and they did not speak over Sensei, yes, but this is superficial. Perhaps they thought no one was paying attention. That, or they did not care. Good students adjusted their behavior when they stepped on the floor. They had taken on some responsibility during the formal training. The greatest students (and I am far from this level of skill) did not change their behavior when they stepped off the training mat. They had fully accepted the responsibility whether they had it explained to them or not.
The greatest students were masters of themselves. They required neither rewards nor punishment. That place in them had long since been replaced by love. Both fierce and serene, they were the same student whether the robes were on or off, whether their sword was in-hand or in its case.
I aspire to that daily.
Do you love that much? Does it lead you to be the sole master of your self? Will you set the example that spreads such a love?
The Force is with us.
