N 38° 54.616 W 077° 02.473

from Local Treasures

N 38° 54.616 W 077° 02.473

In the martial art of Aikido, the true warrior strives not to harm opponents. Indeed, the warrior trains less to fight than to create conditions within which battle need not take place. True warriors achieve such preparedness through a rigorous practice that clarifies the shared nature of all things; students and sensei take turns attacking and defending, remembering that each is only momentarily the inverse of the other, that each also is the other, beings conjoined in a seamless universe.

My friend Janet and I are in Washington, D.C. on a beautiful spring morning, walking a labyrinth in a park that members of St. Thomas Parish created after an arsonist destroyed their church. They’ve made a place where violence could be acknowledged, but where peace and reflection prevailed. Afterwards, we will go to the Pentagon for a tour that will end with my brother Tom showing us his new office, pointing out where his old one was before a plane destroyed it on 9/11.

As soon as Tom and Nathaniel arrive, my nephew dashes to the middle of the labyrinth. I eavesdrop as Tom explains that, at this kind of cache, there isn’t a box of toys, that the experience is the prize. Nimbly, he steers his son away from disappointment, and they walk the labyrinth together. Nathaniel is puzzled at having to zigzag when his destination is right in front of him, but he plays along. Outside the Pentagon, he asks his dad about the row of cement blocks filled with dirt. Tom tells him they prevent trucks from crashing into the building, adds that people plant flowers in them sometimes. Even inside the intensely guarded buildings, Tom holds Nathaniel’s hand—just enough to keep him close, not so much that he’d feel obliged to try to pull away.

This part is embarrassing to admit: I chose the peace park geocache somewhat sardonically. I feel beset by America’s bellicoseness, and inviting Tom to join us there before going to the Pentagon seemed wry, like a postmodern David tweaking Goliath’s (admittedly obliging) representative. But now that gesture seems unskillful, small. For somehow, this morning, I have seen my brother freshly, and have recognized in him the spirit of a true warrior. He does not need my reminders about the importance of peace.