In order to become a man of knowledge, one must be a warrior, not a whimpering child. One must strive without giving up, without complaint, without flinching.
One learns to act like a warrior by acting, not talking.
To be a warrior, a man has to be, first of all (and rightfully so) keenly aware of his own death. But to be concerned with death would force any of us to focus on the self, and that would be debilitating. So the next thing one needs, to be a warrior, is detachment. The idea of imminent death, instead of becoming an obsession, becomes an indifference.
Only the idea of death makes a man sufficiently detached so he is incapable of abandoning himself to anything. Only the idea of death makes a man sufficiently detached so he can’t deny himself anything. He knows his death is stalking him and won’t give him time to cling to anything, so he tries, without craving, all of everything.
A detached man has only one thing to back himself with – the power of his decision. He has to be the master of his choices. He must fully understand that his choice is his responsibility, and, once he makes it there is no longer time for regrets of recriminations. His decisions ares final, simply because his death does not permit him time to cling to anything.
A warrior does not abandon himself to anything, not even to his death. A warrior is not a willing partner; a warrior is not available, and if he involves himself with something, you can be sure that he is aware of what he is doing. For a warrior, there is nothing out of control. Life, for a warrior, is an exercise in strategy.
The spirit of a warrior is not geared to indulging or complaining, nor is it geared toward winning or losing. The spirit of a warrior is geared only to struggle, and every struggle is a warriors last battle on earth. Thus the outcome matters very little to him. In his last battle on earth, a warrior lets his spirit flow free and clear. And as he wages his battle knowing that he will be impeccable, a warrior laughs and laughs.