Facing the truth, beware of two kinds of people. Those who put courtesy above all; they are therefore weak liars. Those who tell the truth no matter what: they are honest and therefore fragile. A warrior is neither weak nor fragile. These people worry him.
Polite people are like polished pebbles. Smooth, without roughness, rolled by the waves, wet by the rains, rubbed by the winds, they have no proper direction. How to trust them? Even if they hold well in hand!
They are very appreciated socially. These people do not make waves or clashes, they put on a smile ont their faces and follow the rules. They are easy to manage, and the management does not hesitate. In dictatorships, only this group exists. Those who speak the truth are executed. And the warriors have given up fighting for revolution. They work with their little tyrants.
Obstacles
From the point of view of the warrior, these people have no interest. The warrior does not place politeness or courtesy very high on his scale of values. If it happens to use it, it is never conventional, always intentional. The warrior wants to progress. He’s looking for the truth. Intention is his law. Conventions annoy him. Natural and personal obstacles are enough for him, without adding to them social obstacles which fluctuate with the fashion.
If you want to progress, always seek the truth. Let only the truth come out of your mouth, your gestures and your actions. The truth very well, you will say, but which one to choose? There are as many truths as there are grains of sand. Each star has its own. Each being is a star. Which star will you follow?
The warrior knows that he must confront thousands of truths if he walks on the path of logical reason. That is why he prefers the middle way. The road is straighter, but the slope is steeper. It invigorates and it comforts. The truth does not come on a sled of reasoning. The truth will not enter your brain. This is not its place.
The truth is not in some distant place, it is in the act of looking that is. Seeing oneself as one is – in this lucidity which enters no option – is the beginning and the end of all research.
Doors
I fed on this planet. I crossed it in all directions at the time of my crazy youth. I devoured everything that is eaten. Drink whatever is drunk. Smoked too, a lot. Good. But the path has nothing to do with it. The path goes up on an empty stomach. The truth goes without expedients, potions and rites. It is naked, as everyone knows.
Doors opened in my head, from childhood, without any effort on my part. And it continues. It never ended. I sat by the road that goes up. I landed to look at the sea. After so many emotions, after so many wanderings, a bit of nothing is rewarded for me. I sat down to digest. Weary snake, slow boa, I doze, fragile and strong.
He who is aware of his strength and who keeps the woman’s sweetness has the Tao in his hands.
The truth, yes. Always. Which truth ? The one of the moment. Sincere in the moment. It is only fools who do not change their minds. The warrior changes into a shirt. He lives in the moment and conquers principles. Nothing is immutable. Nothing is set in stone in history. Nothing is written, nothing is predicted, nothing is planned. Only one precaution is necessary: measure the impact. Before you speak, turn your tongue seven times in your mouth. If the heroes of the past had done so, many tragedies would have been avoided. Is all truth always good to tell? Question. Measure impact. Caution.
Jihad G.I.
For something to be worth saying, it has to be good, useful and true. All three, and in that order.
This is the truth. The warrior is not a crazy robot. The warrior controls himself. Muzzles itself. He carries war within him, he fights against the bad part of himself. He overcomes the obstacles of the warrior. The real jihad is the war against our faults, our weaknesses, our shortcomings. It is a cathartic combat, which purifies and liberates elements considered unclean. Its purpose is to recover the energy blocked by engrams. A great spring cleaning that can last a long time. Arcane XIII. Mystery of Isis. Acquire self-control. Priority task. Self-control. Another major element of the unwritten Rule.
No, it never was, and never will be. Speech frees, writing freezes and kills. Everyone knows it, the Rule. We can read it in itself. The under-informed criminal who claims to put it in eternal words distorts it and precipitates its fall. Take it upon yourself. Repeat the magic phrase:
“There is a time to get comfortable and a time to forget comfort.”
To help you in your holy war, you have assets. These pissers that you find it so hard to bear, at work, cannonballs, zinzins, neighbors. Your girl. The cops. Teachers. Beaufs. Bless them on the contrary. These are little tyrants that providence has placed on your path. Each of them helps you fight one of your flaws.
Blessed are the little tyrants! They are the allies of the G.I. that you are, the secret assets of the inner freedom fighter. Be quiet ; the pain is the majority, you will always find a good pinch on your way. Clean them, they do the cleaning.
A thousand lies
Light lights the way. Should we trust him? Sometimes the path of truth is in the dark, while the spotlight shines on the path of falsehood. Listen to yourself. Nothing is easy. Nothing can be put into equation in life, it works only in the abstract. In the face of raw life, the mind is of poor advice. Fear is worse. You have to stay calm, hence the urgent work on self-control. Curb fear. Learn to live with it. Go beyond it. Sublime in danger.
Lying has all the bases, all the forms, and all the rights. He is everywhere without being seen. He feels so unpunished that he displays in large print, in perverse slogans, in deadly thoughts. On the one hand I shout on all the rooftops that we have to cut our heads, but on the other hand the living one constantly asks us to be judicious. Is it mental? Or is it instinct? I do not know.
You can also recognize that voice from within that guides you when you are near the end. When the house burns down and you’re in it. Calm down if you can’t run away. A wet sheet on a door increases its fire resistance. When you are buried under an avalanche, so struck that you do not know where is the top, where is the bottom … Where to dig in this case? Piss. Gravity will show the bottom. Dig in the opposite.
Click on pause
Time stands still in the event of an emergency. The film stops. Everything happens as if you were taken out of the fiction that you call living, this virtual story in which you believe so strongly in normal times. In ordinary times.
Therein lies the trap. Nothing is trivial in this vastness out there. In this predatory universe. We must be wary of the banal appearance of a place, house or landscape. The mundane is often the mask of the unthinkable. A mask made in a hurry by your mind to avoid a shock. It’s the dressing. The mind does this all the time.
If you ever get rid of it, it’s won. Nothing can stop you.
Your safest ally is in you. It’s Super You. It manifests when you can no longer insure. How many times has he already saved you?
You have seen so many films, your memory carries the trace of so many dangerous situations, it is possible that the vital emergency brings up the memory which can help you to get out of it. It may also be that a sorcerer once gave you a gift of power which is very aptly manifested to save you the day. This kind of precious gift is called a wizard option. You don’t know when you received it, sometimes you don’t even know who gave it to you.
This position of the assemblage point was shown to you once, when you were in heightened consciousness. It remained inscribed deep within you so that one day, pressed by necessity, you will discover a precious talent which you did not know existed. It may be that at this moment, while you are fighting for your life, a face appears superimposed, straight out of your unconscious memory. The face of the wizard who gave you this gift of power.
