Okay, I wanted to say one last thing about The Art of War.

Ove rhte last 5 months I talked about a lot of different things, from fighting demons to getting laid, using Sun Tzu as a springboard. But the thing I keep coming back to is the Great Work, defined by Eliphas Levi as:

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 have described this as the conquest and command of our own souls. 

In some schools of Christianity, there is a great deal of confusion around the state of one's soul. The Catholic Church claims that extra ecclesiam nulla salus-- in English, "outside the Church, there is no salvation." It also claims that certain sins totally break one's relationship with God, and require the intervention of a priest to be forgiven.

Rather more appallingly, John Calvin claimed that some souls are damned eternally, and others saved eternally, by God for no particular reason other than because he can do it. 

I do not accept these claims, or any claims like them. In fact, they are sheer nonsense, and we can know that they are nonsense for this reason:

You always know the state of your own soul.

The soul, let us remember, is the animating principle (from Latin "anima," root of our words "animal" and "animated") of an organism. Your soul is you: The sum total of your actions and your mental states.

Do you spend all of your time locked in internal arguments against imagined enemies, lashing out at other people who remind you of those enemies, and occasionally soothing yourself with booze or videogames or masturbation or drugs?

You are damned. Not after death, and not eternally. You are a slave to your passions, and you are in Hell right now. 

Do you have self control, and is your resting mental state one of quiet poise and emotional balance? Are you able to enjoy the pleasures of life without being overcome by them and to respond to adversity without being shattered? 

You are saved. Not after death, and maybe not eternally. You have gained control of your faculties and your future, and the goodness which is divinity is manifest within you. You are in Heaven, right now.

Now, the purpose of spiritual practice is to lead us to salvation. If a spiritual practice is leading us in the direction of self-control, emotional balance, and an awareness of the presence and activity of the divine in our lives, then it is working. No matter what it is, and no matter who thinks it isn't working, doesn't work, can't work, or shouldn't work.

Conversely, if a spiritual practice is leading us in the direction of neuroticism, Manichaean thinking, subordination of the mind to contemporary fashions (either slavishly accepting or unthinkingly rejecting), and either enslavement to the passions or a constant internal struggle with them, it isn't working. No matter what it is, and no matter who thinks it does work, can work, must work, or should work. 

Are you winning the battle for your soul? Ask yourself the question, be honest about the answer, and persevere in the struggle!

I want to close with a fragment from the Alcibiades. This is one of Plato's dialogs, and was the first that a student would be given to study in the philosophical school founded by Iamblichus. (It's worth mentioning that the Alcibiades was believed to have been a forgery by 19th century scholars, but no one in antiquity believed that, and the 19th century had a mania for thinking that everyone who lived prior to the birth of Queen Victoria was dumb.) The setting is a conversation between Socrates and his former lover, Alcibiades.


SOCRATES: Then vice is only suited to a slave?
 
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
 
SOCRATES: And virtue to a freeman?
 
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
 
SOCRATES: And, O my friend, is not the condition of a slave to be avoided?
 
ALCIBIADES: Certainly, Socrates.
 
SOCRATES: And are you now conscious of your own state? And do you know whether you are a freeman or not?
 
ALCIBIADES: I think that I am very conscious indeed of my own state.
 
SOCRATES: And do you know how to escape out of a state which I do not even like to name to my beauty?
 
ALCIBIADES: Yes, I do.
 
SOCRATES: How?
 
ALCIBIADES: By your help, Socrates.
 
SOCRATES: That is not well said, Alcibiades.
 
ALCIBIADES: What ought I to have said?
 
SOCRATES: By the help of God.
 
Today we're going to wrap up The Art of War with some closing thoughts. 
 
Sun Tzu doesn't give us any sort of conclusion in Chapter 13, like a modern author would. He finishes his discussion of spies and sends us off without so much as a fare thee well. We could do the same thing, but I want to end this series with some sort of conclusion.

To my mind, the most important lessons of The Art of War are as follows:

1. Intention. 

Let me say it again.

Intention, intention, intention, intention, intention, intention. 

Before you undertake anything at all, have a clear image in your mind of what you want to accomplish. When you formulate a plan for action, ask yourself, "Will that accomplish my purpose?" Someone offends you, so you lash out at them. What did that accomplish? Are they less likely to offend you in the future? If it's a stranger, maybe; if it's a family member, you've probably made the situation worse. You gratified your passions for a moment and in so doing lost your cause. What do you want to accomplish? That's your question, and it must be asked before any undertaking. 

2. Knowledge. 

Before any undertaking, you need to know as much as you can about what you're getting into.

I've repeatedly discussed The Art of War as applied to what Eliphas Levi calls the Great Work: The conquest and mastery of our own souls. To do this, you need knowledge of the terrain, which means that you need knowledge of a. souls in general and b. yourself in particular. A is provided by a map of the soul, and there are many of these; my personal favorite is the tripartite model provided by Plato in the Republic and elsewhere. B requires reconaissance, which means self exploration, which means meditation. 

Self-mastery is the great work, but it is not the only work. Whether you're looking for a job or a date, once you know what you want in general, you need to know the particulars of the situation. Are they hiring? Is she available? What is it like to work there? What does she want in a man? 

3. The Spiritual Life

Sun Tzu regularly talks about allies, about the sovereign, about the general. There are different ways to look at each of these terms, but to my mind the most important thing is that no man is an island. We can't do it alone. Levi talks about the conquest of our souls and the mastery of our wills, but how is this to come about? It's my view that we ourselves are mere generals, in need of a sovereign. the highest part of the soul is called the nous in Plato. Eastern Orthodox thinkers describe the nous as "the eye of the soul." An eye, let's note, is a receptive instrument: It sees. What does it see? Light. What is the light which is seen by the soul? In Platonic terms, the light is the Idea of the Good, emanated by the eternal spiritual Sun, which is the Good itself; in Christian terms, the light is the Light of God; both of these are the same and are the Sun of the alchemists. Seeing the Good, or God; the nous is divinized; divinized, its command of the lower faculties is perfected, the will is conquered, the self is mastered. Read spiritual texts, pray, meditate and study. What you contemplate you will imitate; what the nous gazes upon will manifest in your life. Let the general follow the commands and the purpose of the sovereign, and in this way accomplish the Great Work. 
 Chapter 13 of The Art of War concerns the use of spies. Sun Tzu opens by telling us that 

What enables the wise sovereign and the good general to strike and conquer, and achieve things beyond the reach of ordinary men, is foreknowledge.

Now this foreknowledge cannot be elicited from spirits; it cannot be obtained inductively from experience, nor by any deductive calculation.

Knowledge of the enemy's dispositions can only be obtained from other men. 

This is a simple principle, but well worth keeping in mind. For the sake of our personal goals-- any goal-- we need information. For me personally, one of the things that I hate most in the world is going into any situation unprepared. If I have to do a job interview, go to a party, make a formal speech, or anything that involves dealing with other people, my imagination runs wild and comes up with ways that it can go wrong.

The absolute worst thing for me is to be put into a crowd of people that I don't know and told to "mingle." If you do that to me, I will not mingle. I will find a dark corner and I will hide in it until the people go away. 

On the other hand, I'm usually the life of any party where I know at least 40% of the other attendees, and I can handle a crowd of any size as long as I have a defined role. Fear of public speaking is one of the most common phobias out there. I do not have that phobia. I love public speaking, and I'm good at it. On the other hand, public dancing-- where "dancing" is defined in the contemporary sense of "unscripted sexual gyration"-- is basically impossible for me. 

All this comes back to foreknowledge. If you're at all like me, the best thing you can do when heading into a new situation is to talk to someone, get the lay of the land as thoroughly as possible, and have a clear idea of what you're getting into before you act. 

Of course, I'd differ with Sun Tzu in that I'd also heartily recommend the use of divination and consulting with spirits. Provided you keep in mind their limitation, these practices can be of immense value. 
 Why should we be concerned about restraining our passions? Sun Tzu tells us:

Move not unless you see an advantage; use not your troops unless there is something to be gained; fight not unless the position is critical.

No ruler should put troops into the field merely to gratify his own spleen; no general should fight a battle simply out of pique.

If it is to your advantage, make a forward move; if not, stay where you are. Anger may in time change to gladness; vexation may be succeeded by content.

But a kingdom that has been destroyed can never come into being again; nor can the dead ever be brought back to life.

I have a bad temper. Astrologically, it makes sense; my Mars is in Cancer afflicted by a square to Saturn. My natural response to events not going my way is to lash out in fury. It very rarely works out for me.

I think I've told this story before, but let's have it again, because it illustrates the point.

A few years ago I took my cell phone to a Verizon store to have it looked at, because it wasn't working. The salesman I talked to quickly got past my defenses and got me to buy a phone I didn't want. I've never seen anything quite like it, and I'm pretty sure he had learned some basic magic tricks-- the second he approached me I became discombobulated, confused and clumsy, repeatedly dropping things and having items fall out of my pockets. I left in a state of mental confusion with a phone that cost several hundred dollars that I didn't want to spend.

Two days later, the pone broke. Oh, and my old phone started working just fine again. Of course.

At this point I was furious. I'd been tricked by this little weasel shithead, screwed out of money I never wanted to spend, and made to look like an idiot in the process. And I'll be goddamned if I was going to allow it.

So I did the thing anyone would do. I ritually invoked the Celtic thunder-god Taranis, made sure that my look said something like "violent guinea bastard," and drove over there in a wild red fury.

Well, I never got my money back, but on the plus side, I'm no longer allowed in the Verizon Store on State Street in Santa Barbara.

Learn a lesson from me, kids: If you're angry, it doesn't mean you should act, it means that there is a fire in your camp and your soldiers are burning. Figure out what you actually want to accomplish, and don't do it until you calm down. 
 Chapter 12 of The Art of War discusses the use of fire in warfare:




There are 5 ways of attacking with fire. The first is to burn soldiers in their camp; the second is to burn stores; the third is to burn baggage-trains; the fourth is to burn arsenals and magazines; the fifth is to hurl fire dropping amongst the enemy.
 
I want to suggest that in our case, fire can be a metaphor for the passions. In many esoteric systems, the fire element has a kind of dual nature, ruling the will in the awakened individual, the passions in the unawake. 

Rather than talking about how to use fire to burn the enemy, then, I want to reverse the terms and talk about how fire may be used against us, and how to counter that.

First, a quick reminder about the passions. These are the simplest, and yet often the most powerful, drives in the human psyche. They are the rage that burns uncontrolled; the need for sex without regard to the object; the need for social acceptance that causes us to betray a friend in order to gain status; the desire for food or drink that pays no attention to the consequences of eating or of alcoholism; the terror of violence, death or rejection that overwhelms our courage and leads us to run from our duties. 

To attack an enemy by fire is to arouse his passions to the point that they consume him. Under the control of his passions, and not his reason or his will, he can then be directed toward anything you choose. 

This is the essence of evil magic. It is also the essence of advertising and political propaganda. As such, we are suffering under the attack by fire pretty much continuously in this culture. 

I'm not going to talk about how to use fire against an opponent. Rather, I want to talk about how to counter it.

The first thing to know about fire-- regular, physical fire-- is that it's both extremely useful and extremely dangerous. It provides light and heat and allows us to cook our food. There are no cultures without fire; lacking it, human beings literally could not exist on this planet. It's a raw, primal force, harnessed for specific purposes. And yet, out of control, it can destroy us, and for that reason it can be used as a weapon against us. 

The passions are the same. We need them-- without a desire for food, there is no life; without a desire for sex, there is no reproduction; without a desire for social acceptance, there is no society; without a fear of danger, there is no safety. And yet, out of control, they can destroy us, and for that reason they can be used as a weapon against us.

So how do we use our passions, without being destroyed by them?

The same way we use fire: First by containing it, and second, by limiting its fuel sources. We don't let fire burn just anywhere; we contain it within a hearth. And we don't keep feeding it wood without end; we give it just enough fuel to be useful. 

The first is obvious, or should be. Buy food that is good for you, learn to cook it properly, and eat at meal times. Don't drink alcohol before 5pm or after 9pm. Share your sexuality with one person only. Choose your friends and your social circles wisely. That's your hearth.  

And then, feed it only what it needs. The best way to do this is to create space. The classic piece of advice is to wait 24 hours before making any major purchase, and to wait 24 hours before saying anything in anger. This same idea works with any of the passions. If you want a drink, wait 10 minutes; if you still want it and it's after 5pm, go ahead and have one. When you finish it, you might want another one right away. That's a signal that you shouldn't have one. Wait 15 or 20 minutes, and see if you still want it. If so, go ahead. Then stop. You don't keep a fire burning all night.

Remember that fire-- that is, the passions-- is constantly being used against you. Know that, and be prepared to counter it. 
Sun Tzu closes out Chapter 11 with a few principles, starting with the following:

When a warlike prince attacks a powerful state, his generalship shows itself in preventing the concentration of the enemy's forces. He overawes his opponents, and their allies are prevented from joining against him.

Hence he does not strive to ally himself with all and sundry, nor does he foster the power of other states. He carries out his own secret designs, keeping his antagonists in awe. Thus he is able to capture their cities and overthrow their kingdoms.


Regarding the first part, the later commentator Mei Yao chien says,

In attacking a powerful state, if you can divide her forces, you will have a superiority in strength; if you have a superiority in strength, you will overawe the enemy; if you overawe the enemy, the neighboring states will be frightened; and if the neighboring states are frightened, the enemy's allies will be prevented from joining her.

One of the ideas that I keep returning to in meditation is the difference between desires and choices. Desires, in general, come from the body-- we want food, we want a nap, we want a drink, we want to have sex. At higher levels, where the body interfaces with the mind, we want comfort, money, or power. But choice is something else. Choice doesn't come from the body, and it isn't the same as desire; choice comes from the will. Someone who chooses to become a priest chooses to forgo their desire for food during fasting seasons, for money and comfort if their order includes a vow of poverty, and for sex during either certain prescribed times or for good. Someone who chooses to join the military might forgo any desire, even the desire for life itself, for the sake of choice. 

Sun Tzu's warlike prince isn't looking for allies-- he has chosen to forgo the all too human need for friends and companions. The warlike prince has a goal: to conquer a powerful enemy to enlarge his own kingdom. To do so, he starts by dividing the enemy's forces. In the same way, we can accomplish large goals by breaking them up into smaller increments.

On yesterday's Magic Monday, JMG recommended to one reader a recent book entitled F*ck Your Feelings by Ryan Munsley. I don't usually like contemporary motivation-psychology books, but I had a look at this one, and I'm enjoying it a great deal so far. Munsley shares this approach to large goals. Borrowing an image from American football, he uses the concept of "moving the chains."

In case anyone here isn't familiar, in football, a team has 4 tries (downs) to get 10 yards. Most of the time, you punt the ball on 4th down, so that really only means 3 tries. A football field is 100 yards long, but 10 divided by 3, rounded up, is 3.4-- so all a team has to do to retain possession of the ball is to get 3.4 yards every down. 

(As an aside for football fans, the best example of this I've ever seen was the 2007 playoff game between the Steelers and the Patriots. The Patriots were unbeatable that year, on account of they're cheaters. But the Steelers had the ball to start, and the game began with an 8-minute long, yard-by-yard opening drive to the endzone. The Steelers lost in the end, but that game has always stuck in my mind.) 

In the same way, even the largest goals can be broken into small pieces-- small enough that we can take a single action toward their accomplishment every day. Do this, and be willing to forgo the desires of the flesh and the need for companionship, and you will accomplish much.
Sun Tzu closes Chapter 11 by sharinga series of aphorisms, much of which we've heard before already. One idea comes up over and over that I'd like to discuss:

Throw your soldiers into positions whence there is no escape, and they will prefer death to flight. If they will face death, there is nothing they may not achieve. Officers and men will put forth their uttermost strength./

Soldiers when in desperate straits lose the sense of fear. If there is no place of refuge, they will stand firm. If they are in the heart of a hostile country, they will show a stubborn front. If there is no help for it, they will fight hard.

In war, this looks like driving deep into enemy territory, or burning bridges or ships behind you. Your soldiers know that there is no way out, and so they will fight to the death. 

But this idea is useful in life, as well. It's often the case that we want to accomplish something but we're afraid to, or we're not ready, or we're waiting for just the right conditions. If we continue in this state, we never achieve anything! One way to overcome these sorts of blocks is to force the issue, but doing the equivalent of marching deep into enemy territory or burning your ships behind you.

But what does that mean? 

Consider the following example:

A man wanted to be a musician, but he was afraid he wasn't good enough. So he booked himself a series of gigs, billing himself as a singer/songwriter. With the dates already scheduled and the audience lined up, there was no backing out, and no way forward but to succeed as a musician. 

Or another one. Some friends and I were discussing going on a road to do a kind of speaking tour. I expected nothing to come of it, but then one of the guys, who had contacts in various underground music scene, went ahead and booked 7 dates for us around California. With absolutely nothing at all prepared, there was nothing to but go forward with it. 



It's very often the case that if you're hesitant about something, or afraid to go forward, you can force the issue on yourself. In a worst case scenario, you fail-- but that's better than never trying, or, worst of all, not trying out of fear of embarrassment!
The last of the Nine Situations are:

Mountain forests, rugged steeps, marshes and fens -- all country that is hard to traverse: this is difficult ground.

Ground which is reached through narrow gorges, and from which we can only retire by tortuous paths, so that a small number of the enemy would suffice to crush a large body of our men: this is hemmed-in ground.

Ground on which we can only be saved from destruction by fighting without delay, is desperate ground.

How do we deal with these situations? 

In difficult ground, keep steadily on the march. On hemmed-in ground, resort to stratagem. On desperate ground, fight. 

All of these represent difficult situations that we find ourselves in. Places, times, and situations that have historically been triggers for our addictions or traumas; people we can't stand being around but can't get away from; energetic environments that are toxic or harmful or even demonic. 

One thing needs to be said before we proceed, though. A few years back, it became very popular on the internet to place "Trigger Warnings" all over everything. The theory was that the world was full of traumatized people, and the only way to help them overcome their ptsd symptoms was to constantly remind them of those symptoms via "trigger warnings." Moreover, if you didn't put "Trigger Warnings" everywhere, you could count on being on the receiving end of a torrent of abuse from the supposedly-traumatized and their enablers.

Needless to say, this was all a pile of bullshit. First, because what traumatized people need to do is to learn to cope with the everyday world again, not to live in a constant state of trigger-avoidance. Second, because even if you've been traumatized, it's not everyone else's job to heal you. That's your own responsibility, and you'll learn a hell of a lot more from suffering and overcoming than you will from wallowing in victimhood and demanding everyone else accommodate you. That's the ideology of the social justice movement-- that any experience of victimhood automatically grants to the victim innocence, moral goodness, and, above all else, power over others. That's not true, never has been, and never will be. 

I say all of that because I want to continue to talk about the experiences of trauma, addiction, and so on on this blog-- experiences that I've had, and that I continue to deal with-- without falling into the bad habits common to our unusually stupid era.

Sun Tzu tells us: On difficult ground, keep on the march; on hemmed in ground, resort to strategem; on desperate ground, fight.

And this is because, in life as in war, we cannot always have it easy. If you are recovering from addiction, you'll eventually find yourself in situations that trigger your desire for-- drink, drugs, porn, gambling, whatever it is. The best way to to deal with these things is to get away from them as quickly as you can-- leave the bar or the party, close your computer, get away from the casino. Sometimes, it isn't that easy. You might find yourself at a family function that can't be avoided which involves a great deal of drinking; you might have to be alone with your computer for hours for a work project. At those times, you need to resort to strategem-- or, as it's called in the mental health profession, coping strategies. 

Sometimes, you find yourself in a situation from which there is no escape. On those occasions, there is nothing left but to fight with everything you have. As the later commentator Chia Lin remarks, 

If you fight with all your might, there is a chance of life; whereas death is certain if you cling to your corner. 

 More on The Nine Situations:

Ground on which each side has liberty of movement is open ground.

Ground which forms the key to three contiguous states, so that he who occupies it first has most of the Empire at his command, is ground of intersecting highways.

When an army has penetrated into the heart of a hostile country, leaving a number of fortified cities in its rear, it is serious ground

He then tells us,

On open ground, do not try to block the enemy's way.

On ground of intersecting highways, join hands with your allies.

On serious ground, gather in plunder. 

How can we understand this?

First, open ground. What I take Sun Tzu to be saying here is identical to the occult maxim "Only resist what you want to strengthen." On open ground, the advantage can go to either side, and forcing an engagement will only freeze us in one location and keep us from being able to occupy a stronger position. 

We can think of many equivalents in daily life. A rather common and stupid one is engaging in arguments on social media or the comments sections of blogs. A personal example: Yesterday morning I noticed two friends of mine discussing the Cabala on a Facebook group. One claimed they don't work with the Cabala because of racist statements by Jewish Cabalists against gentiles; the other claimed they don't like hte Cabala because it's just "Neoplatonic pantheism." This irritated me, so I waded in and posted a lengthy essay defending the following points: 

A. The Tree of Life, Four Worlds, and notarikon are components of the Cabala which are derived from Neoplatonism, not Judaism, and so non-Jews can make use of them without either being beholden to the racism of certain Jewish Cabalists or committing so-called "cultural appropriation";
B. Cabala is not necessary, but it is very useful for anyone interested in the Western Magical Tradition, because
C. The Tree of Life, Four Worlds and so on are ways of presenting the basic concepts of Neoplatonism in a way that is much, much simpler than (say) slogging through Proclus, which is important because
D. The Western magical tradition simply is Neoplatonism-- oh, and by the way, Platonism isn't the same as pantheism. 

These were good points. I was correct, and I made them well. But when I woke up yesterday, do you think my goal was to write an essay on Cabala that would be read by 6 people on Facebook or to write this blog? We both know the answer to that. Don't engage the enemy when it isn't necessary.

Okay, let's talk intersecting highways

Sun Tzu was writing at a time when the Chinese empire was divided into a number of smaller, warring states; "intersecting highways" are territories which give access to a number of these states. Here we "join hands with our allies." Grounds of intersecting highways, then can be any situation in which we can gather with like-minded friends or colleagues to advance our mutual ends, especially our spiritual development. Churches and Druid groves, rotary clubs, Masonic lodges, AA meetings and karate dojos can all be intersecting highways; at all of these we can find support on the spiritual journey.

Jesus said that "wherever two or more are gathered in my name, there I am." Participants in spiritual communities find that the power produced by the group is greater than the sum of the individuals involved.

Of course, that also means that when a group goes toxic, it can exert an outsized destructive influence,

And then there's serious ground. This is when we're deep in the enemy territory-- and here we engage in plunder.

How do we do this in life, in the struggle within?

That requires some thinking.

First, what is the enemy? Everything that distracts us from our goal, the total conquest of our faculties and our future.

What is plunder? Anything taken from the enemy which nourishes our army.

Where can we find serious ground, then?

In all those places, times, and conditions that are usually under the control of the enemy-- but which are also not desperate situations.

Let's have an example. I'm sitting at a computer, and the baby is sleeping. I have a strong desire to play a video game right now, but I'm not going to. What will I do instead. Well, I was thinking of practicing tai chi. But should I? I mentioned the other day that I have a professional exam coming up that I have to pass if I want to ever support myself and my family. I love tai chi and I can't stand studying textbooks, but at this moment, tai chi is the enemy, just as much as video games. Time to hit the books! 
 Let's talk about The Art of War, Chapter 11: The Nine Situations.

The art of war recognizes nine varieties of ground: 1. Dispersive ground; 2. Facile ground; 3. Contentious ground; 4. Open ground; 5. Ground of intersecting highways; 6. Serious ground; 7. Difficult ground; 8. Hemmed-in ground; 9. Desperate ground

Let's take these a couple at a time:





When a chieftain is fighting in his own territory, it is dispersive ground.

When he has penetrated into hostile territory, but to no great distance, it is facile ground.

Ground the possession of which imports great advantage to either side, is contentious ground. 

...

On dispersive ground, therefore, fight not. On facile ground, halt not. On contentious ground, attack not. 

How can we think of this in terms of our own psyches?

Dispersive ground, of course, is the psyche itself. But it's more than that-- your mind is always your own, but it isn't isolated from its external environment. True dispersive ground is all those times and places in which you are centered and in control of your own thought processes. 

Part of the work of the spiritual life is to expand the dispersive ground to include all the conditions that you regularly face. 

Of course, we very often find ourselves in places--   locations, times, mental states, reading material-- that are not necessarily dangerous, but which we don't control, either. This is facile ground. Sun Tzu enjoins us not to halt here. Why? I think that the point is not to linger in  such places which could invite an attack. A related concept in the spiritual life is the Catholic notion of the "near occasion of sin." This is defined as situations "in which men of like calibre for the most part fall into mortal sin, or one in which experience points to the same result from the special weakness of a particular person." We don't have to accept the concept of mortal sin to understand what is being discussed here. An alcoholic might enter a bar to find a friend or even to socialize with coworkers at Happy Hour, but shouldn't linger for too long, especially if he's been tempted by drink lately. 

Contentious ground is any ground which will give a great advantage to whoever possesses it. It's easy to see what this means in actual warfare. Thermopylae was contentious ground, because holding it allowed the Spartans to delay a much larger Persian army. The port cities on the Mississippi River were contentious ground in the Civil War, because whoever possessed them controlled traffic on the river. In World War II, Midway Island was contentious ground, because the American forces needed it as a forward base in the Pacific. 

In life, what is contentious ground? If facile ground consists of locations, times, mental states, reading material and so on, then contentious ground must as well. In the struggle within, then, it must mean all those places (etc) that are key components to our own psychic wholeness, the loss of which would be very damaging to that wholeness. 

Every morning after I wake up I head to the basement for a half hour to an hour of ritual work and meditation. I have a simple table that serves as an altar, set up more or less elaborately depending on circumstance; at minimum, it always contains a candle and some incense and water. This physical location is contentious ground for me. Why does Sun Tzu tell us not to attack here? According to some commentators, he means that if the enemy already occupies it, you need to avoid it; according to others, the point is that you need to be focused on occupying the ground, not attacking an enemy army. Both interpretations are possible. Part of my day, every day, consists in struggling for the basement. It's a shared space, since we don't have a huge house, but since I use it as a temple, it needs to remain physically neat and clean, and I have a 10 year old boy. The result of this struggle, though, is that-- unlike the rest of the house-- the basement stays open, clean, and energetically bright, and ends up being the part of the house that everyone wants to spend their time in.

Contentious ground could be a family Bible, for a devout Christian, or 20 minutes of down-time after work, or a morning trip to the gym. This is ground that needs to be occupied. It's worth taking a moment to think about your own daily routine, and ask whether there might be a certain space-- either physical space, temporal space, or mental space-- that is currently held by the enemy that you could claim for yourself. 
My apologies for the light posting lately. I'm studying for a professional exam that I have to pass, and that's taking up a bit of my time. There's something else, though, that's kept me from writing, and it's something that I really don't like to talk about-- but it directly bears on the theme of this whole series of posts. So I'm going to try discussing it and making sense of it in light of the ideas of Sun Tzu that we've ben discussing here.

Three years ago, I went through a series of traumatic experiences, one after the next. I say three years ago, but that's just when it began. It went on for an entire year-- a series of disasters, one after the next after the next. By the end of that time I'd moved twice, lost a job that I loved and that paid me very well, and lost one of my cats. And those were not the worst things that happened, not by far.

Again, the worst of it was over after a year-- in April 2019, to be precise, when my cat disappeared. Shortly thereafter, we found out my wife was pregnant, and it's been uphill since then. But the ill effects of the year of hell have stayed with me. Emotional pain, intrusive thoughts and memories seem to erupt out of my solar plexus and take over my psyche; when it happens, it's all that I can do to make it through the day intact and take care of the kids. Writing, reading anything not found on a cell phone, or complex thoughts of any kind are not really possible.

For a while, this was pretty much the constant condition of my life. I'd swing back and forth in terms of which memories and which emotions would overtake me, but it was always something. Always. Gradually, over time, things have mellowed out. It went from every day to once or twice a week, and from there to a few times a month. Now it's every few months. Every time the mental storm passes I think "Well, that's probably the end of it." And every time, it returns-- but the gaps are longer each time.

Now, how can I make sense of this all, from Sun Tzu's perspective?

Well, first of all, we need to start with our goal. For me, the goal is the accomplishment of what Eliphas Levi calls the great work:

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.
 
That is to say, the total conquest of the soul. The soul, remember, consists of all of our actions and mental representations. 

When the Mental Storm comes over me, I lose this. I retain control of my actions, but only enough to accomplish the bare minimum of is required of me. My representations are clouded. It's like a thin, grey film is placed over my eyes, coloring how I see the world. 

The terrain of battle is my mind, especially my emotions and my representations. Certain external terrains seem to have an impact, including anything that triggers memories of the Lost Year. The cycle of time appears to be every couple of months, now; I've been unable to correlate to any particular lunar or astrological cycle. Every night before I go to bed I do a tarot card reading for the next day, and one card in particular tends to indicate that the Storm is coming.

What of the general, and what about method and discipline? 

We could think of the general as me, or as whatever spiritual powers I call upon for aid. I tend to prefer the latter, and to view myself as the sovereign. Here, things become more complicated. Certain spiritual powers that I work with, whatever their merits are otherwise, have been not merely useless but altogether counterproductive. Doing certain magical rituals seems to reliably bring on the Storm, for reasons that are not at all clear. I don't want this to be the case, because I like doing magic, but at this point it can't be denied. 

So it looks like I need a new general, and a new, or additional, behavioral strategies and coping mechanisms. I have some thoughts on that, but I'm going to keep them to myself for now, keeping in mind the virtue of Silence.

Finally, we need to keep in mind Sun Tzu's dictum that we must know ourselves, and know our enemy. I've done my best to know myself, and to outline that knowledge in the foregoing. What of the enemy? Based on this list of symptoms, what I'm talking about is clearly some sort of post-traumatic stress disorder. I don't like admitting that. It feels like weakness. But it is what it is, and just because you don't want to admit that the enemy's forces are at the gate, doesn't mean they aren't there.

Tomorrow, I'm going to begin wrapping up the Sun Tzu posts with the final 3 chapters of The Art of War. I will probably be more personal in the posts that follow, and discuss Sun Tzu in relation to the war going on in my own psyche. See you then. 
A few notes from Chapter 10 of The Art of War:

The general who advances without coveting fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do good service for his sovereign, is the jewel of the kingdom.  

This is a very simple but very, very important passage. It is a reminder, above all else, that we must keep our goal in mind at all times, and act in ways to advance it-- regardless of the opinions of other people

And this is where the hard part comes in. I sometimes say that a human being is a ghost driving a monkey. What I mean is that there is a tiny part of us which is a spiritual being with self-will and self-control, and this part can grow and increase in strength if we work at it. Most of us, though, is a big, dumb ape. We are, above all else, social primates. Our instincts, passions and emotions and most of our thoughts are things we share with chimpanzees. The monkey is always with us-- always. And the thing that monkeys want above everything else-- even more than bananas and lady-monkeys-- is to run the monkey-pack. 

If you watch people with this in mind, you'll see that nearly every act that human beings do has this as an ulterior motive. We want power within our group, and we want to protect our turf from the monkey-pack next door-- and to go and take their lady-monkeys and their bananas, if we can manage it. Every monkey-pack has its own Boss, and he's usually surrounded by a couple of Under-Bosses. After the Under-Bosses come a whole bunch of Everyday Monkey Boys, and after them, a few poor Monkey Outcasts. Typically there's one Boss for the boy-monkeys and one Boss for the girl-monkeys, and the two systems of Boss-hood don't really overlap with each other, though they can, especially in online settings where you can't always know who's a boy-monkey and who's a girl-monkey. But the point is, the Boss is always there, and the monkey within you is always going to try to curry favor from the Boss and the Under Bosses; to try to become an Under-Boss or even a Boss yourself one day; and to avoid, above all else, become an Outcast. 

This same system of Bosses, Under-Bosses, Everyday Monkeys and Outcasts exists everywhere. It exists in music scenes, corporate boardrooms, high schools, churches, and internet forums. You can't avoid it, unless you can avoid dealing with human beings altogether. And if you allow yourself to succumb to it, it will completely derail any hope you ever had of conquering your own soul and gaining mastery over your life and your destiny. Because there will always come a time when you have to be willing to accept the Boss's disapproval and become an Outcast in order to pursue your true goals. This is hard, but you have to do it; if you pass it you have passed your first test. But then another test will come, and it will be even harder. Once the monkeys see you don't care about being an Outcast, they will come to you and offer to make you Boss. And this will be very tempting: You will have power, and lady-monkeys, and all the bananas you like. But this is a trap, because no matter how powerful the Boss seems, he's actually the least free of all. He has to constantly work to maintain his power, and he has to constantly give his Under Bosses and Everyday Monkeys what they want-- otherwise they will abandon him, and he won't be Boss anymore. 

So the first test is to accept Outcast-hood.

The second test is to refuse Boss-hood. 

And then comes the third test. 

 Sun Tzu tells us of the failings of the general:

Now an army is exposed to several calamities, not arising from natural causes, but from faults for which the general is responsible. These are:

1. Flight;

2. Insubordination;

3. Collapse;

4. Ruin;

5. Disorganization;

6. Rout.

A few principles underlie all of these.

Flight occurs when a general sends his army against another without adequately assessing the enemy's strength. Disorganization occurs when a general fails to give clear orders and organize clear divisions in his ranks. These two both result, then, from inadequate preparation. Rout is an extreme form of flight.

Insubordination occurs when a general fails to be sufficiently firm with his subordinates; collapse occurs when he is too harsh with them. Ruin occurs when he is so harsh that his various officers rebel and do their own thing. 



Sun Tzu tells us that these are the six ways of courting defeat, and they apply to life as well as to war.  In life as in war, the basic principle is to determine what your goals are, determine how they may be accomplished, and keep a unified focus on them.

It is easy to see how one can bring ruin upon oneself by any of these means. 

Let's have an example from my personal history, shall we?

When I was 24 I took an AmeriCorps job in Oregon. I was living in Pittsburgh at the time, 50 miles from where I grew up in Western Pennsylvania; I had never been further west than Chicago, and that only once. I had, on the other hand, worked for AmeriCorps before, in Pittsburgh. I enjoyed my first AmeriCorps year, which I spent teaching English as a Second Language to visitors from East Asia, and I thought that this would be similar. My knowledge of Oregon came from meeting a group of anarchist tree-sitters from Eugene several 5 years previously-- from what they told me, I figured the whole state would be a hippie Mecca.

As it turns out, I was 100% wrong about everything. Where my first AmeriCorps job was fun and exciting, this one was to consist of sitting in an office in a homeless shelter writing grant proposals all day. That would be bad enough, but it was made even harder by the fact that I did not know then (and do not know how) to write a grant proposal. 

The town that I was sent to, meanwhile, was exactly the opposite of what I expected. I assumed that since it was about an inch away from Eugene on a large map, it would be similar to Eugene in culture. Nope. The town turned out to be a burned out, meth-addled ruin, as most towns outside of the few bigger cities are. (Call it White Privilege in Action.) 

Oregon in the winter is also the gloomiest place in the entire world, and I arrived in mid-January. The town I was living in is in a valley. During the day, the cloud would raise up to the top of the surrounding mountains; at night it would settle back down again and become a blanket of fog, but never did it part and let the sun's raise through.



So I found myself with no friends, nothing to do, and a job I hated, in a town I hated, under a perpetual black cloud. Within two months I was suicidally depressed within 2 months. The job was a failure and remains a black mark on my work history and my life history, 14 years later. That is what comes from inadequate preparation.

Why was I there? What did I want? I didn't know. When I found out how different it was from my expectations, why didn't I leave? Well, I didn't want to offend anybody. But I offended them anyway by being a shit employee. That's how you bring ruin on your army. 
I'm struggling to get through the end of this book, and I can't decide if it's a legitimate waning of interest or the Watcher at the Threshold. I'm going to assume it's the second, and keep pushing here until we're done. On the other hand, I know that what I'm saying is beginning to sound repetitive, so, as I said earlier, I'm going to go quickly through the remaining sections of the text. 



Chapter X of The Art of War concerns terrain. Sun Tzu begins by telling us about the six kinds of ground:


1. Accessible ground;
2. Entangling ground;
3. Temporizing ground;
4. Narrow passes;
5. Precipitous heights;
6. Positions at a great distance from the enemy. 


Sun Tzu spends a fair bit of this chapter discussing issues with which we are already familiar in a bit more detail. We should occupy high places, because these are hard to attack, and our movements cannot be dictated by the enemy. We should strongly garrison narrow passes, to prevent the enemy's movements; but we should not attack such positions unless we have overwhelming force.

"Entangling ground" is interesting: This is the sort of ground that is very defensible but difficult to re-occupy once you leave it. These are strong positions from which you can sally forth to meet the enemy-- but if he is prepared for you, you're in serious trouble, because you won't be able to return to your place of safety if you're forced to retreat.

The psychic environment, both internally and externally, can be seen to have every one of these sorts of terrain. Our own minds are naturally precipitous heights, reached by narrow passes. We can garrison the passes to our minds by being careful of our attention. Anything we pay attention to is something that we receive into our consciousness. To direct our attention to things which provoke our passions and induce addiction and bad habits is to bring on an attack of the Enemy. To direct our attention to that which raises us Higher is to garrison the passes with strong armies. 


Chapter 9 of The Art of War continues to give us more details regarding the reading of terrain and its application to warfare, including:

Country in which there are precipitous cliffs with torrents running between, deep natural hollows, confined places, tangled thickets, quagmires and crevasses should be left with speed and not approached.

While we keep away from such places, we should get the enemy to approach them; while we face them, we should let the enemy have them on his rear.

If in the neighborhood of your camp there should be any hilly country, ponds surrounded by aquatic grass, hollow basins filled with reeds, or woods with thick undergrowth, they must be carefully routed out and searched; for these are places where men in ambush or insidious spies are likely to be lurking.

Movement amongst the trees of a forest shows that the enemy is advancing. The appearance of a number of screens in the midst of thick grass means that the enemy wants to make us suspicious.

The rising of birds in their flight is the sign of an ambuscade. Startled beasts indicate that a sudden attack is coming.

When there is dust rising in a high column, it is the sign of chariots advancing; when the dust is low, but spread over a wide area, it betokens the approach of infantry.

While most of us are unlikely to find ourselves in the position of watching for signs of advancing chariotry, we can understand the basic principles here as understanding and making use of terrain and watching for signs of the enemy.

Let's consider these ideas from the perspectives of Heaven and Earth. By Heaven, of course, I mean Astrology, and by Earth I mean the astral reflection of the physical environment. When it branches out in different directions, it shows that parties have been sent out to collect firewood. A few clouds of dust moving to and for signify that the army is encamping.

First, the Heavens. Here is an astrological chart taken for my current location at the time that I'm writing this blog:




If you don't know how to read charts like these, now is a good time to learn. The main event, dominating the Heavens, is currently the square between Saturn and Uranus, representing (broadly) the conflict between Order and Chaos. At this moment, the Sun is conjunct Uranus, while the Moon is conjunct Saturn. This is not an especially good day for activities involving any of those planets-- or much else, for that matter. On the other hand, Jupiter and Mercury are both about to move into signs which they rule, which will lend considerable strength to both planets.  

More important than the details of this specific chart itself are the ways that it relates to your own natal chart-- and if you don't have a copy of that, now is a good time to get one. You can find any number of astrological programs online that will give you your chart if you input your time, date, and location of birth. Most will come with interpretations of your planets. I do NOT recommend paying much attention to these; just get the image of your chart. Then look at how it relates to the chart above. If Uranus or Saturn is impacting any planet in your chart by an opposition, square, or conjunction, that means trouble for activities related to that planet and to whatever house that planet rules in your chart. If, for example, your natal Venus is placed at 11 degree of Taurus and is the ruler of your 10th House, you can expect serious challenges to both your love life and your career over the next year or so. (And they probably began some time last year.)

And then there's Earth, which I defined above as the astral reflection of the physical environment.

Astral reflection? The simplest way to understand that is that the astral reflection of a place literally is the way that it feels to be in a place. Have you ever walked into a church or a deep forest and felt a sense of abiding peace that stayed with you after you left? That was an astral experience. Have you ever driven past a graveyard and felt a sense of creepiness and nausea? That was a different kind of astral experience. 

Learning to open up and then rely on the astral senses is a key component and fruit of every system of magical training. Many people are born with strong astral senses, too, and there are other things, from drugs to yoga, that can open them. There's also a bit of a danger, because to be able to sense astral phenomena is to be affected by them-- it's very hard for a lot of sensitive people to both detect the presence of astral filth and to remain unaffected by it. This is why traditional magical systems teach protective rituals right away--  when you start becoming sensitive to the astral environment, you need to be able transform it and stop it from impacting you in a negative way. 

If you aren't able to see or feel what's going on in the astral, it can and will still affect you. Learning to read physical terrain is very helpful. I've been using the term "astral reflection" to describe the astral environment, but that isn't really correct. It's really the physical that's the reflection of the astral environment. We can therefore read the astral environment to a certain by paying attention to the physical. A broken down dive bar reeking of cigarettes and old booze is the reflection of a particular type of astral environment-- even if you can't see the spirits that hang around there, you can know what they are just by looking at the place, and avoid it, as Sun Tzu's army avoids an ambush in tall grass. 


Sorry for the light posting lately-- I've been struggling with the text, and with some things in my personal life. But as I said to someone the other day, you can have the best reason in the whole world for not watering in your garden, but your plants are still going to die. So let's continue.

Chapter 9 of the Art of War goes on to discuss the details of fighting in mountains, rivers, marshes and plains. The details are useful and necessary, if you are conducting an actual war with an army. But what does it mean for us, in our struggle to master our own souls?

For help in understanding, I want to turn again to Eliphas Levi.

In Chapter 4 of the second part of Doctrine and Ritual of High Magic, Levi discusses the elemental spirits-- the sylphs, salamanders, undines, and gnomes. These are the spirits, respectively, of Air, Fire, Water, and Earth. In the worldview of Levi and of classical occultism generally, these spirits are ever-present and in great numbers. Their influence of the elements extends well beyond the material substances that bear their names. The material earth, the air you breathe, the water you drink or bathe in and the fire on your hearth are only physical expressions of ideas that are present at every level of existence-- and that very much includes the internal environment of your own soul.

Now, each element has its characteristic vices-- these are the ways that the elements express themselves in the unawakened soul. But each has its characteristic virtues, as well. The true magician has complete mastery of the elements of his soul. Levi tells us that

 
To overcome and subjugate the elementary spirits, we must never yield to their characteristic defects. Thus, a shallow and capricious mind will never rule the Sylphs; an irresolute, cold and fickle nature will never master the Undines; passion irritates the Salamanders; and avaricious greed makes its slaves the sport of Gnomes. 

In order to overcome the vices of the elements, we must master their virtues. And so Levi continues: 

We must be prompt and active, like the Sylphs; flexible and attentive to images, like the Undines; energetic and strong like the Salamanders; laborious and patient, like the Gnomes: in a word, we must overcome them in their strength without ever being overcome by their weaknesses.

The elementals dwell within us, and rule the internal landscapes that correspond to Sun Tzu's mountains and marshes, deserts, plains and rivers. In order to master them, we must cultivate the virtues of the elements-- and in that way overcome their vices, and, in our own way, raise the entire elemental creation toward union with the Divine.
Sun Tzu continues to give us advice on military maneuvering: 


Camp in high places, do not climb heights to fight.

So much for mountain warfare.

After crossing a river, you should get faraway from it.

When an invading force crosses a river in its onward march, do not advance to meet it in mid-stream. It will be best to let half the army get across, and then deliver your attack. 

We discussed the meanings of "mountains" yesterday. To recap-- in military affairs, mountains are problems because they are void of sustenance for men and animals. If you get stuck on a mountain, your army will starve. On the other hand, as Sun Tzu says here, mountains have a certain value-- we should camp in high places, for defense.

So, as discussed yesterday, we need to not linger in places-- jobs, cities, lives and lifestyles-- in which there is no nourishment for our souls.

On the other hand, we can make use of undesirable places, the equivalent of mountains, in order to protect ourselves.

How do we do this?

Two different ideas come to mind. 

First, it's a very useful thing to avoid whatever is popular. Especially in moments like these, in which the collective mind of the fashionable classes is insane and the spirit of the times is a ravening, two-headed demon, every place that's fashionable is likely to be psychically toxic. I live in a more or less working class or lower middle class neighborhood in a small, rural town. There are no political signs in peoples lawns, nobody wears a mask on the trail in the woods, and kids play together, outside, on bicycles and skateboards, and the neighbors are relaxed and friendly. I spent a bit of time in a fashionable, higher end suburb of Washington, D.C. yesterday, and the contrast could not be more clear. There everyone is in a mask, no one talks to you, and they all have signs in their lawns going on about how tolerant they are. From my perspective, those neighborhoods are high, cold mountains, the sort of places where travelers get snowed in and resort to cannibalism. From their perspective, though, my neighborhood is the mountain-- the sort of place they wouldn't be caught dead in. And so I camp my army here.

But then there is also the issue of magical defense-- rendering your home and other places you spend your time defensible, like a mountain. This can dovetail nicely with the first approach-- a place that looks unfashionable on the outside, and so unappealing to the fashionable, but which is an astral paradise on the inside is a very nice place indeed!

I've gone on a bit longer than intended, so we'll see if we can come up with a meaning for "rivers" tomorrow. 

I plan on going quickly over the final chapters of the book, because I want to move on to something else. What's next? Either a detailed read-through of the Gospel of Matthew, analyzed as though it were a magical text in the tradition of Eliphas Levi, or else Iamblichus's canon of Platonic dialogs read in order. Or both. Stay tuned!
Let's move on to Chapter 9 of The Art of War. I'm going to take the rest of the book somewhat quickly. 

We come now to the question of encamping the army, and observing signs of the enemy.

Pass quickly over mountains, and keep in the neighborhood of valleys.
 

The heading of this chapter is The Army on the March. Sun Tzu gives us details specific to actual military maneuvering, here. But are there general principles that we can tease out and apply to our own lives?

Let's see.

The point of telling us to "pass quickly over mountains," our translator notes, is that we need to not "linger among barren uplands, but keep close to supplies of water and grass."

Water and grass are fuel for men and horses. We can say for the soul generally, keeping in mind Plato's image of the soul as a winged chariot, pulled by two horses. "Barren uplands," then, are all those places in which the soul can find no nourishment, no water for the men nor grass for the horses.

What is it that nourishes the soul?

This varies from person to person, of course, depending on our individual needs and desires. There are some constants, though. Every soul is nourished by vital energy: Real food, fresh air, sunlight, the presence of other living beings. Every soul is nourished by beauty: In music, art, architecture, and stories. Every soul is nourished by purpose: By fulfilling that charge or set of charges which is its own to dispatch upon the Earth. 

And every soul without exception is nourished by Love. Love for God; for one's parents or mentors, one's children or students, one's friends, one's lover; for one's town and country, for a forest or mountain range, for one's own animals and plants-- relationship is another way to say this. 

Let us recall Plato's words in the Phaedrus:


Ten thousand years must elapse before the soul of each one can return to the place from whence she came, for she cannot grow her wings in less; only the soul of a philosopher, guileless and true, or the soul of a lover, who is not devoid of philosophy, may acquire wings in the third of the recurring periods of a thousand years; he is distinguished from the ordinary good man who gains wings in three thousand years:-and they who choose this life three times in succession have wings given them, and go away at the end of three thousand years. But the others receive judgment when they have completed their first life, and after the judgment they go, some of them to the houses of correction which are under the earth, and are punished; others to some place in heaven whither they are lightly borne by justice, and there they live in a manner worthy of the life which they led here when in the form of men. And at the end of the first thousand years the good souls and also the evil souls both come to draw lots and choose their second life, and they may take any which they please. The soul of a man may pass into the life of a beast, or from the beast return again into the man. But the soul which has never seen the truth will not pass into the human form. For a man must have intelligence of universals, and be able to proceed from the many particulars of sense to one conception of reason;-this is the recollection of those things which our soul once saw while following God-when regardless of that which we now call being she raised her head up towards the true being. And therefore the mind of the philosopher alone has wings; and this is just, for he is always, according to the measure of his abilities, clinging in recollection to those things in which God abides, and in beholding which He is what He is. And he who employs aright these memories is ever being initiated into perfect mysteries and alone becomes truly perfect. But, as he forgets earthly interests and is rapt in the divine, the vulgar deem him mad, and rebuke him; they do not see that he is inspired.
 
Stay close to the air and the sunlight; don't linger in catacombs, even if they're well stocked with groceries. Find time every day to do the things that you are meant to do on this Earth. And abide not long in a life devoid of love!
 Here is a useful selection from Chapter 8 of The Art of War:

There are five dangerous faults which may affect a general:

1. Recklessness, which leads to destruction;

2. Cowardice, which leads to capture;

3. A hasty Temper, which can be provoked by insults;

4. A delicacy of Honor which is sensitive to shame;

5. Over-Solicitude for his men, which exposes him to worry and trouble.

Let's see if we can reframe these in terms of the inner struggle for control of one's own soul and destiny. Some will be the same, but others must necessarily differ. The five dangerous faults might be called:

1. Impulsiveness. This means acting from the internal passions and from outside impulses like TV or social media, without reflecting on consequences and without reference to principles or goals.

2. Cowardice. This specifically means living from fear, and is very common these days, to judge by the number of people I see wearing masks while driving their own cars. 

3. Irascibility. This also means what it does in Sun Tzu-- living from wrath, which can be easily provoked. Social media and TV news thrive by provoking both fear and wrath, leading the subject to lash out wildly, like a trapped animal. 

4. Conformity. This is the fourth of the major passions, along with lust, fear, and wrath, that are targeted for manipulation by news media, advertisers, politicians and other modern techno-magicians. All human beings are social animals. We want to be part of the group, and we don't want to be ostracized or spoken badly of. 

5. Laziness.  It's the case that many of us want to accomplish great things in our lives, but we don't want to have to endure the difficulties involved in doing so. If we want to achieve anything, we need to be willing to sacrifice our comfort for it, in the same way that a good general, even as he does his best to preserve his army, must be willing to sacrifice such men as are necessary to achieve victory. 

It was common in earlier times to oppose a saving virtue to every vice. In our case, we might overcome these five dangerous faults with the following list of virtues:

1. Reflection, which leads us to act only if it is right and in our long term benefit to do so;

2. Courage, which allows us to do what is right in spite of danger;

3. Patience, which allows us to endure provocation;

4. Independence, which allows us to do what we choose, regardless of the opinions of others; and 

5. Industriousness, which allows us to work to achieve our goals in spite of difficulty.
Chapter 8 of The Art of War continues:

Hence in the wise leader's plans, considerations of advantage and disadvantage will be blended together.

If our expectation of advantage be tempered in this way, we may succeed in accomplishing the essential part of our schemes.

If, on the other hand, in the midst of difficulties we are always ready to seize an advantage, we may extricate ourselves from misfortune.

Our translator points out that that the Chinese is rather precise here, indicating "to blend thoughts of advantage with disadvantage."

While keeping our goals in mind, we need to be able to adapt to circumstances and willing to roll with the punches. But it isn't enough simply to figure out how to get out of a difficult situation. We need to always be working to turn disadvantage into advantage.

A later commentator elaborates:

For instance, if I am surrounded by the enemy and only think of effecting an escape, the nervelessness of my policy will incite my adversary to pursue me and crush me; it would be far better to encourage my men to deliver a bold counter-attack, and use the advantage thus gained to free myself from the enemy's toils.

I've talked a lot here about how I view the current political situation in the United States as a spiritual conflict, with demonic powers on both sides. My advice up to this point has been to avoid the conflict as much as possible, lest being drawn into the fight against one demon we should find ourselves supporting the other, and still end up diabolists.

Lately, however, I have begun to rethink that approach. Assume that I'm right, that there are demonic elements both on the radical Social Justice Left and the far right that will eventually supplant it. Does that mean we should avoid the conflict? Maybe, but I wonder if, in attempting too much to avoid conflict, we don't end up surrendering ground to demons, and thereby losing anyway. I am starting to see our position as an encirclement-- in which case, we're obligated not just to escape from the enemy, but to effect a counter-attack. More on this as we go on. 

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