Why Canada is wargaming a (long shot) US invasion as reflected on by Sensei Michael Jinpa
The morning tide at Harborview Point sweeps cold salt water. It washes against our harbor pier’s pilings. It leaves behind stranded bull kelp ribbons and smoothed stones. Walking here after early zazen, one sees how ceaselessly the shoreline changes shape. Wind and wave constantly reshape it. Yet, human beings often spend an enormous portion of their brief lives attempting to fortify imagined lines. Reading that Canadian defense planners are gaming out contingency responses to a potential Canada US invasion strikes a curious, sobering chord among our coastal arts community. Many neighbors here cross the border as casually as fishermen slip beyond the shoals.
The Illusion of Borders and Trust
In the Zen tradition, we speak often of the illusions of self and other. We draw borders across maps. We draw them across families, and across the terrain of our own hearts. We convince ourselves that safety lies in rigid separation. When an alliance spanning centuries begins to whisper of strategic wargaming, even as a distant improbability, it quickly reveals fear’s power. Fear can dismantle trust. Military planners call it prudent preparation for an uncertain world. However, the contemplative recognizes it as a chronic symptom. It signals a mind trapped in grasping and defense.
During my years as a hospice chaplain, I sat by many bedsides. Decades of estrangement often dissolved in a single afternoon. When the body weakens and the horizon narrows, people rarely look back. They do not wish they had built thicker walls. Instead, they grieve the years surrendered to a defensive posture. They regret conversations never had because pride demanded armor. Nations operate upon this very same psychology. Once suspicion’s seeds take root in institutional consciousness, they demand resources, attention, and perpetual vigilance. Consequently, they quietly starve the garden of mutual goodwill.
Cultivating True Security
Existential anxiety possesses a peculiar momentum. When we rehearse worst-case scenarios, the brain begins to treat hypothetical danger as an imminent reality. This is a psychological trap. It is familiar to anyone who has sat upon a meditation cushion trying to quiet an agitated mind. We manufacture catastrophes in thought. We then react to our own manufactured visions with bodily panic. Finally, we justify further defensive maneuvers to calm that panic. When national leadership engages in these rehearsals, they inadvertently legitimize an atmosphere of paranoia. They signal to citizens that even neighborliness is fragile and temporary. This practice could even escalate discussions about a potential Canada US invasion into perceived inevitability.
True security does not emerge from tactical dominance or barricaded frontiers. Impermanence touches every border, every treaty, and every empire without exception. What endures, however, is the ethical quality of our presence toward one another. If Canada and the United States are drifting toward mutual wariness, the spiritual task of ordinary people is clear. We must not retreat into nationalistic suspicion. Instead, we must practice radical hospitality. In Harborview Point, that begins with how we welcome the visiting sailor. It includes how we tend our shared waters. Furthermore, it means we refuse to adopt the cynical language of statecraft as our personal worldview.
Mindful living invites us to sit upright in the center of uncertainty. It asks us not to reach for weapons. It requires immense courage to look across a boundary. We must see an extension of our own shared life rather than an adversary waiting for weakness. When the drums of hypothetical conflict sound, even quietly in committee rooms, our daily practice must be one of deep listening and steady compassion. We can honor the real grief of a fracturing world. We do this by choosing, in this very breath, not to participate in its fear.
Leave a Reply