Tuesday, June 25, 2013

All warfare is based on deception.

Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near

Monday, June 24, 2013

He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight
He will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces
He will win whose army is animated by the same spirit throughout all its ranks
He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared

He will win who has military capacity and is not interfered with by the sovereign
And what is good, Phaedrus,
And what is not good -

Need we ask anyone to tell us these things?
Act the part and you will become the part.
A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.
The world is dancing energy
The Electric Monk was a labor-saving device, like a dishwasher or a video recorder. Dishwashers washed tedious dishes for you, thus saving you the bother of washing yourself, video recorders watched tedious television for you, thus saving you the bother of looking yourself; Electric Monks believed things for you, thus saving you what was becoming an increasingly onerous task, that of believing all the things the world expected you to believe.
It is difficult to be sat on all day, every day, by some other creature, without forming an opinion about them.

On the other hand, it is perfectly possible to sit all day, every day, on top of another creature and not have the slightest thought about them whatsoever. 
For everybody who has really understood power and the power game, like certain sages and yogis in Asia who have practiced all sorts of psychic powers, and realize that psychic powers are not the answer. All manuals of yoga or Buddhistic practice will tell you that the siddhi or supernatural powers ought to be abandoned because power is not the answer. That's not what you want. See, we get back to the question of thinking through what you want. If you get absolute power and you are in perfect control of everything, you realize what would happen? You have a completely predictable future, you're the perfect prophet, you know everything that's going to happen, and the moment you know everything that's going to happen, you've had it. Because the perfectly known future is past. When in the course of playing games, it becomes quite certain what the outcome of the game will be, we always, of course don't we, abandon the game and begin a new one because what we want is a surprise. And as one very wise man whom I once knew said to me, "Gnosis, the perfect wisdom or enlightenment, is to be surprised at everything."

Sunday, June 23, 2013

The man is clear in his mind, but his soul is mad.
The heads. You're looking at the heads. Sometimes he goes too far. He's the first one to admit it.
 In a war there are many moments for compassion and tender action. There are many moments for ruthless action - what is often called ruthless - what may in many circumstances be only clarity, seeing clearly what there is to be done and doing it, directly, quickly, awake, looking at it.
"Someday this war's gonna end". That'd be just fine with the boys on the boat. They weren't looking for anything more than a way home. Trouble is, I'd been back there, and I knew that it just didn't exist anymore.
Even the jungle wanted him dead, and that's who he really took his orders from anyway.
I began to wonder what they really had against Kurtz. It wasn't just insanity and murder; there was enough of that to go around for everyone.
I was going to the worst place in the world and I didn't even know it yet.
We must kill them. We must incinerate them. Pig after pig... cow after cow... village after village... army after army...
I've seen horrors... horrors that you've seen. But you have no right to call me a murderer. You have a right to kill me. You have a right to do that... but you have no right to judge me. It's impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror... Horror has a face... and you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies! I remember when I was with Special Forces... seems a thousand centuries ago. We went into a camp to inoculate some children. We left the camp after we had inoculated the children for polio, and this old man came running after us and he was crying. He couldn't see. We went back there, and they had come and hacked off every inoculated arm. There they were in a pile. A pile of little arms. And I remember... I... I... I cried, I wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my teeth out; I didn't know what I wanted to do! And I want to remember it. I never want to forget it... I never want to forget. And then I realized... like I was shot... like I was shot with a diamond... a diamond bullet right through my forehead. And I thought, my God... the genius of that! The genius! The will to do that! Perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure. And then I realized they were stronger than we, because they could stand that these were not monsters, these were men... trained cadres. These men who fought with their hearts, who had families, who had children, who were filled with love... but they had the strength... the strength... to do that. If I had ten divisions of those men, our troubles here would be over very quickly. You have to have men who are moral... and at the same time who are able to utilize their primordial instincts to kill without feeling... without passion... without judgment... without judgment! Because it's judgment that defeats us.
Saigon... shit; I'm still only in Saigon... Every time I think I'm gonna wake up back in the jungle.

When I was home after my first tour, it was worse.

I'd wake up and there'd be nothing. I hardly said a word to my wife, until I said "yes" to a divorce. When I was here, I wanted to be there; when I was there, all I could think of was getting back into the jungle. I'm here a week now... waiting for a mission... getting softer. Every minute I stay in this room, I get weaker, and every minute Charlie squats in the bush, he gets stronger. Each time I looked around the walls moved in a little tighter.
 He had only two ways home: death, or victory.
He likes you because you're still alive.