01 aug Want Peace? Embrace the War.

Recent events, such as the ongoing atrocities in the Palestine-Israeli conflict, serve as stark reminders of one unsettling truth: we are our own greatest danger. When I observe the world, I see people who are angry, afraid, and feel powerless. These emotions are justified, but we must ask ourselves: at whom is our anger directed, whom do we fear, and why do we feel so disempowered?

At the core of this issue lies a profound denial of our dual nature as a species. We are not solely aware, loving, and compassionate beings; we also harbour the potential to destroy and kill. The spectrum of human capability is vast: at one extreme, we can love unconditionally, while at the other, we can act with cold-hearted cruelty for personal gain. This darker side of humanity—our shadow, as Carl Jung termed it—is an aspect we find difficult to confront. It is the unacknowledged and unloved part of ourselves, too shameful, painful, or traumatic to bring into the light. Yet, recognising that this shadow is part of who we are, what we have done, and what we have created is essential.

Through centuries of suppressing this shadow, both individually and collectively, we have accumulated an enormous polarised energetic charge. This unresolved tension perpetuates internal conflicts that spill into the world around us. Like any form of pressure, this charge demands release. The manifestations of this release are evident in the conflicts that surround us daily: the external reflections of our unresolved inner turmoil.

If we continue to act from this unresolved state, we will inevitably perpetuate pain and suffering. This is not complex science. In fact, quantum physics repeatedly demonstrates that we create our reality moment by moment through our thoughts, beliefs, and preferences. A tense, contracted inner reality manifests a similarly tense and conflicted external world. We are co-creators of our reality, not passive victims of it.

As much as we might wish for these issues to simply disappear, we must confront and address the mess we have created. However, lasting change cannot arise from the same principles that created these problems. Einstein’s insight—that we cannot solve problems with the same thinking that gave rise to them—remains profoundly relevant.

In fact, it may not be thinking at all that provides the solution. The thinking mind, by its very nature, is designed to seek—to venture beyond the present moment in search of something different. Yet the present moment, in which life unfolds exactly as it does, holds the key. This moment encompasses everything: not just peace and harmony but also conflict, pain, and fear—all aspects of life as it manifests.

The real problem, then, is not the presence of fear or conflict but our inability and resistance to consciously experience these states. Our judgement, aversion, and denial of what life presents, coupled with an urgent need to fix it, create the very tension we hold as stress. This tension is what we continuously feed back into the system, perpetuating cycles of conflict.

The solution, I believe, lies in cultivating a compassionate heart. Unlike the thinking mind, the compassionate heart has the capacity to embrace all aspects of life with full intensity, without needing to categorise, personalise, or fix them. In this way, compassion exposes the illusion that the present moment is personal and in need of correction. Life simply unfolds as it does.

True compassion dissolves personal drama and reveals life as it truly is: a free fall of infinite possibilities. The union of compassion with present-moment awareness has an immediate energetic effect. It releases old energetic charges and prevents their recurrence. By holding less charge from the past, we no longer feed it into the reality of tomorrow.

Applying this principle to war, for example, requires an entirely counterintuitive approach. Instead of resisting or fixing the concept of war, we must consciously move towards it and let it be. This does not mean condoning or approving of war, as the mind might suggest in its desperate attempt to maintain its narrative. Rather, it involves recognising war as a potential manifestation of life.

What happens next is astonishing: we begin to lose the charge around our perception of war. By no longer holding this charge, we cease to project it into the reality we co-create. As more people practise this and release their charge, the energetic momentum sustaining war diminishes. We disempower war not by opposing it, but by integrating it as part of life’s potential manifestations.

This approach is both more aware and realistic. Life is not a pink, fluffy cloud of marshmallows but a living system of endless diversity and potential. Which aspects of this potential manifest depends on us. The first step is to take responsibility for our past creations and stop energising them. Denial and avoidance have proven futile. Peace demonstrations and taking sides have only polarised us further, energising the very dynamics we sought to end.

By embracing the present moment with awareness and compassion, we end the unconscious recreation of the past. This paves the way for a more harmonious existence, unshackled from the personal limitations born of fear, greed, and ignorance.

As we move out of a contracted state of being, we enter a state of flow—a natural energetic harmony that benefits all of nature. Decisions and actions arising from this state are clear and aware, yielding vastly different outcomes from those born of contraction.

We can no longer exclude aspects of life we find unpleasant. To do so only polarises and energises them further. We must learn to embrace life’s full spectrum—including its beauty, pain, and complexity—without reservation.

Does this mean we will never feel anger again or experience conflict? Such a notion is romantic but unrealistic. Life encompasses everything. By consciously opening ourselves to its full intensity and diversity, we can experience life without becoming its victim. In my view, this is the only path to true freedom and peace.

A Tibetan monk, who endured more than 18 years in a Chinese prison labour camp, once told the Dalai Lama that he faced danger on several occasions. The Dalai Lama, expecting tales of torture or harsh conditions, asked, “What kind of danger?” The monk replied, “Many times, I was in danger of losing compassion for the Chinese.”