On the warrior’s path, stalking is a subtle art, often misunderstood. Associated with inner vigilance, the control of automatisms, and mastery of behavior, it may appear at first glance to be a solitary exercise — a technique aimed solely at individual refinement. However, when viewed under a different light, one sees that stalking is also an act of profound kindness. A silent kindness, unadvertised but radical: the kind that manifests in the deliberate choice not to increase the suffering in the world.
The first front of stalking is always internal. The warrior observes their own movements with relentless attention, exposing the habits that bind them to the tonal. They watch their fears, vanity, their compulsion to control, to please, to win. This act of stalking oneself is not judgment, but lucid acceptance. In recognizing their conditioned structures, the warrior begins to dissolve the rigid persona that separates them from others. Self-stalking is therefore an act of deep compassion. The warrior acknowledges that their own mind is the battlefield — and that by pacifying it, they cease to project their wars onto the world. Thus, they become a point of non-contamination, a healing silence.
With time, the consistent practice of stalking yields a precious fruit: inner silence. This is not an empty or inert silence, but a living stillness — alert and vibrant. In it, the warrior no longer reacts compulsively to the provocations of the world. They listen more than they speak, observe more than they judge. And in that space of silence, the presence of the other becomes more distinct. Inner silence allows the warrior to be with others without trying to mold, correct, or save them. They learn to hold space so that the other may be who they are — with their fears, contradictions, and pain. This kind of presence, rare and unarmed, is a balm in a modern world saturated with voices eager to impose certainties.
By bringing their silence into the realm of relationships, the warrior discovers stalking as a tool of welcoming. They do not rush to offer advice, nor provide hasty solutions, nor battle for the right answer. They listen with their whole body, with their energy, with Intent. Their attention is an offering: “I see you, even when you have not yet seen yourself.” In social dialogue, stalking allows the warrior to be with the other without losing themselves — and without demanding that the other be different in order to feel comfortable. That balance is true listening. And every authentic act of listening is a gesture of love.
We live in a mentally agitated society, where most people speak from confused structures, crystallized beliefs, and unresolved pain. In this scenario, reacting reinforces the cycle. The warrior of freedom, on the other hand, trains themselves not to react. They see the confusion of others as a symptom, not as an offense. They learn not to take anything personally — for they no longer have a fragile “self” to defend. By practicing non-reaction, the warrior offers the other a clean mirror. They do not feed conflict, nor amplify dissonance. Their active neutrality is a refined form of generosity. Instead of engaging in power games, they hold the center — and in doing so, invite the other into presence.
Stalking does not make the warrior cold or distant. On the contrary, as they silence their own egoic passions, they become more and more sensitive to the suffering of others. They see the pain behind arrogance, the loneliness behind aggression, the fear behind control. And above all, they perceive the existential emptiness that corrodes so many beings lost in the superficiality of modern life. The warrior’s empathy is not pity or sweetness — it is a loving lucidity that understands the root of human suffering: the forgetting of the self, the disconnection from Intent. And knowing this, the warrior does not judge. They witness. They remain. They emit, even in silence, a call for reconnection.
At this point, the art of stalking resonates with the principles of Nonviolent Communication (NVC), as developed by Marshall Rosenberg. NVC proposes empathetic listening, identifying the feelings and needs present in the other’s speech, and the authentic expression of one’s own feelings without guilt or blame. All of this aligns with the practice of stalking. The warrior, through stalking, learns to name their emotions without being dragged by them. Learns to observe others without judgment. Learns to speak with precision, without wounding, without manipulating. They transform dialogue into a field of healing. And even without following formulas, they become a channel for essential communication — the kind that is born of silence and leads to reconnection.
Stalking is, therefore, a refined form of kindness. Not a naïve, sentimental, or permissive kindness — but a lucid kindness, fierce in its delicacy. By stalking themselves, the warrior stops projecting shadow into the world. By cultivating silence, they learn to hold others without invading. By not reacting, they interrupt cycles of pain. And by listening with empathy, they give the world something rare: a whole human being, present, awake. This is the true medicine of stalking — an alchemy of presence that transforms the world without raising its voice.
Gebh al Tarik
