In traditional Judo, a Samurai, as a cherry blossom, is willing to die at the height of their beauty. From Eugen Herrigel’s  Zen in the Art of Archery it is said “It is not for nothing that the Samurai have chosen for their truest symbol the fragile cherry blossom. Like a petal dropping in the morning sunlight and floating serenely to earth, so must the fearless detach himself from life, silent and inwardly unmoved.” History is filled with the warrior, the leader, willing to live and die for the purity of their vocation, destiny.

From Paulo Coelho’s book The Warrior of Light it is said “A warrior trusts other people because, first and foremost, he trusts himself”.  While serving the warrior well in most situations, this motto also exposes the warrior to indirect attacks, insidious attacks of emotion. Psychological Jiu Jitsu, feigning care, even love, to identify the warrior’s weakness, then with skill, attempt to deliver an incapacitating grip. In the Book of Qi, one of the thirty-six stratagems, Jiǎ chī bù diān, is a technique to mask one’s intentions, psychological subterfuge to evade the victim’s defense.  Every Julius Caesar has their Marcus Brutus.

The warrior’s solace? In this Darwinian world, part of the warrior’s armor is adaptability. If not initially fatal, the warrior quickly learns, and gently moves, with the attacker’s energy being returned in multiples. As Sun Tzu indicates in the Art of War “Conform to the enemy’s tactics until a favorable opportunity offers; then come forth and engage in a battle that shall prove decisive.”

A smile, caring words;

Open arms, no threat perceived;

Knifed heart, disbelief.

Et tu, Brute?

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