![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Daily Reflection 2.26.21
Feb. 26th, 2021 08:41 amSun Tzu tells us:
Sun Tzu began this chapter by discussing the need to divide a large force into smaller, more manageable units. I suggested that this can be applied to any task, by breaking it down into smaller, more manageable components. I want to say something more about this in a moment.
First, though, I want to say something about the overall perspective I'm working with. Eliphas Levi writes that:
I've talked about applying Sun Tzu's work to: individual goals; the formation of habits; the overcoming of defects and bad habits; and spiritual warfare. All of these are components of the Great Work, which can also be called the total conquest of our souls.
The Enemy is everything which resists us in this task, and can be divided into three components:
The Enemy Within, consisting of all of our passions, addictions, internalized bad habits, lack of will, destructive thought-chains, and harmful ideas;
The Enemy Without, consisting of all those external forces which act against us achieving the Great Work, including our physical surroundings and other human beings; and
The Great Enemy, which is the larger spiritual force which acts to keep us enchained.
Of course, there are not hard and fast lines between these. The Great Enemy may propagate a destructive idea in society, such as the cult of victimhood. One's friends and family may take up this idea and repeat it constantly. Hearing it all the time, we may then internalize it and view our own lives through its lens.
In The Art of War, Sun Tzu is discussing the way that, by achieving perfect discipline among the components of our army, and by selecting the right men for the right task, we may apply the army with maximum force against the Enemy.
I'd like to suggest that in the Great Work, we are also aided by dividing our own forces into components, and by selecting the right men for the job. As we've discussed, one of the ways that we can do this is by breaking a larger goal down into smaller, more manageable goals, and then turning these goals into daily habits.
Another way that I put this idea into action is to apply a multiplicity of approaches to my own spiritual life. This contradicts the idea that most spiritual teachers push, which is to pick one path and stick with it. That idea isn't wrong-- in fact, it's probably right. But I've never been able to do it. Religiously, I'm a kind of Neoplatonic Catholic Pagan Taoist, and lately I've been learning a great deal by studying Tibetan Buddhism. I've tried to just be one thing-- I really have. Everyone says you ought to. But I find that, by limiting myself to a single path, I lose too many things which I've come to need. I connect to the powers of the natural world via Druidry, and I also practice a form of Celtic-Druidic ceremonial magic. On the other hand, I regularly feel the need to turn to the spiritual world for guidance in virtue, moral conduct, and human affairs generally, and I really haven't had much luck asking the Celtic gods for help. In the Druid revival, Esus, chief of tree spirits, is an important deity, and I can attest that he is very real and very powerful. But he doesn't really have much to say about human affairs-- appropriately enough; it's not his department. When I need help with parenting, or being a good spouse, I go to Saint Joseph, and get the help I need.
And there's something else involved, something I can't quite explain because it's ineffable. When I invoke the Celtic gods, I get the impression of a bright golden light and excited singing. When I invoke Catholic saints or the Trinity, the impression I get is one of a deeper light, quieter and calmer. I seem to need both the calm that comes with the invocation of Christ, His Mother and His saints in a traditional context, and I need the delight that comes from the invocation of the Druid gods. Taoism feels like a cool, blue-grey wind blowing through; it's peaceful and it's refreshing, and I need that too sometimes. On its own though, it's just too cold for me.
Again, the usual advice is: Pick one path and stick with it. I have no doubt this works for many people, probably most people. But if you're like me, consider ignoring the usual advice, and recruiting men for your army from any of the spiritual world's great traditions that speak to you.
The clever combatant looks to the effect of combined energy, and does not require too much from individuals. Hence his ability to pick out the right men and to utilize combined energy.
When he utilizes combined energy, his fighting men become as it were like unto rolling logs or stones. For it is the nature of a log or stone to remain motionless on level ground, and to move when on a slope; if four-cornered, to come to a standstill, but if round-shaped, to go rolling down.
When he utilizes combined energy, his fighting men become as it were like unto rolling logs or stones. For it is the nature of a log or stone to remain motionless on level ground, and to move when on a slope; if four-cornered, to come to a standstill, but if round-shaped, to go rolling down.
Sun Tzu began this chapter by discussing the need to divide a large force into smaller, more manageable units. I suggested that this can be applied to any task, by breaking it down into smaller, more manageable components. I want to say something more about this in a moment.
First, though, I want to say something about the overall perspective I'm working with. Eliphas Levi writes that:
The Great Work is, before all things, the creation of man by himself, that is to say, the full and entire conquest of his faculties and his future; it is especially the perfect emancipation of his will.
I've talked about applying Sun Tzu's work to: individual goals; the formation of habits; the overcoming of defects and bad habits; and spiritual warfare. All of these are components of the Great Work, which can also be called the total conquest of our souls.
The Enemy is everything which resists us in this task, and can be divided into three components:
The Enemy Within, consisting of all of our passions, addictions, internalized bad habits, lack of will, destructive thought-chains, and harmful ideas;
The Enemy Without, consisting of all those external forces which act against us achieving the Great Work, including our physical surroundings and other human beings; and
The Great Enemy, which is the larger spiritual force which acts to keep us enchained.
Of course, there are not hard and fast lines between these. The Great Enemy may propagate a destructive idea in society, such as the cult of victimhood. One's friends and family may take up this idea and repeat it constantly. Hearing it all the time, we may then internalize it and view our own lives through its lens.
In The Art of War, Sun Tzu is discussing the way that, by achieving perfect discipline among the components of our army, and by selecting the right men for the right task, we may apply the army with maximum force against the Enemy.
I'd like to suggest that in the Great Work, we are also aided by dividing our own forces into components, and by selecting the right men for the job. As we've discussed, one of the ways that we can do this is by breaking a larger goal down into smaller, more manageable goals, and then turning these goals into daily habits.
Another way that I put this idea into action is to apply a multiplicity of approaches to my own spiritual life. This contradicts the idea that most spiritual teachers push, which is to pick one path and stick with it. That idea isn't wrong-- in fact, it's probably right. But I've never been able to do it. Religiously, I'm a kind of Neoplatonic Catholic Pagan Taoist, and lately I've been learning a great deal by studying Tibetan Buddhism. I've tried to just be one thing-- I really have. Everyone says you ought to. But I find that, by limiting myself to a single path, I lose too many things which I've come to need. I connect to the powers of the natural world via Druidry, and I also practice a form of Celtic-Druidic ceremonial magic. On the other hand, I regularly feel the need to turn to the spiritual world for guidance in virtue, moral conduct, and human affairs generally, and I really haven't had much luck asking the Celtic gods for help. In the Druid revival, Esus, chief of tree spirits, is an important deity, and I can attest that he is very real and very powerful. But he doesn't really have much to say about human affairs-- appropriately enough; it's not his department. When I need help with parenting, or being a good spouse, I go to Saint Joseph, and get the help I need.
And there's something else involved, something I can't quite explain because it's ineffable. When I invoke the Celtic gods, I get the impression of a bright golden light and excited singing. When I invoke Catholic saints or the Trinity, the impression I get is one of a deeper light, quieter and calmer. I seem to need both the calm that comes with the invocation of Christ, His Mother and His saints in a traditional context, and I need the delight that comes from the invocation of the Druid gods. Taoism feels like a cool, blue-grey wind blowing through; it's peaceful and it's refreshing, and I need that too sometimes. On its own though, it's just too cold for me.
Again, the usual advice is: Pick one path and stick with it. I have no doubt this works for many people, probably most people. But if you're like me, consider ignoring the usual advice, and recruiting men for your army from any of the spiritual world's great traditions that speak to you.
