Unleashing The Force

In the mid-1980s, Joel and Michelle Levey, a couple of peace-activists-turned-explorers-of-human-potential, got an unexpected call from a friend with military connections. He wanted to know if they’d be interested in helping the U.S. Army train a new kind of soldier, one who would be not only physically tough, but mentally, spiritually and emotionally resilient. This soldier would embody the “warrior-monk” archetype and rely upon inner wisdom and heightened self-awareness on the battlefield.

They told him they would think about it. 

At the time, Joel was working on clinical programs in biofeedback, stress management, pain management and psychophysiological therapy for Group Health Cooperative of Puget Sound (now Kaiser Permanente). Michelle was directing similar programs at Children’s Medical Center in Seattle. They were both also doing hospice training for the local medical community.

But the husband and wife were also decidedly anti-war. 

In high school, Joel did a presentation on his conscientious objection to the Vietnam War draft. Michelle’s stance on the war culminated in her being granted political asylum in Sweden. When they got the phone call, they were living in Seattle, and the U.S. Navy was homeporting its Trident nuclear submarines at nearby Naval Base Kitsap-Bangor. They knew folks who were protesting the subs — and considered joining them. 

Instead, they agreed to work with the Army. 

“If we have an opportunity to work with men who might be in a position someday to potentially start or stop the next world war, and we can teach them to really have a deep-seated level of self-awareness and self-mastery and discernment — moral and ethical discernment — the world would be a safer place,” Joel says. “We probably couldn’t do any more meaningful peace work.”

The Leveys, along with some like-minded colleagues, would go on to design and run a six-month pilot program for 25 soldiers from the U.S. Army’s Special Forces. It became known informally as the Jedi Warrior training program, and for years details about it remained classified. 

But that information has since been made public, and the Leveys, who now call North Kohala home, have written a book about their experience, Manual For The Awakening Warrior: The Special Forces Secret Mind-Body-Spirit Training Program. In it, they describe a cutting-edge (for the time) laboratory with brain-monitoring equipment, aikido lessons, attunement exercises and a monthlong silent meditation encampment (“retreat” seemed like an inauspicious description given the military context, they note). 

“(The Army’s) training had been antiquated,” Michelle says. “They didn’t even have the concept of warming up before exercise, like stretching, or cooling down, or any kind of flexibility training. It was just all muscle strength and power, but no agility or flexibility.

“There was one sergeant who had had some injury and he could only sleep on one side, so for however many years he would just wake up facing this one wall in his room,” she continues. “Then one day we had (someone) offer massage and bodywork. The next day he came in and he said, ‘What did he do to me? I woke up facing the other wall for the first time in decades!’”

If physical care was lagging, mental-emotional-spiritual care was almost non-existent, she adds. 

The Leveys say a big reason the Army was interested in their methods was because of growing concern over the mental and emotional toll combat missions were taking on soldiers. They could execute their missions, but were not the same when they came home.

In the 1970s and ’80s, the New Age movement was having a growing influence on American culture. After the Vietnam War, folks were interested in holistic medicine, expanding their consciousness and Eastern philosophies.

This was true even in some pockets of the military. Notable proponents included the late Army Col. Kenneth Getty, whom the Leveys describe as a “visionary leader who initially conceived of and oversaw this pioneering program,” and the late Lt. Col. Jim Channon. 

Although he was not directly involved in the program, Channon had served in Vietnam, then spent time in California learning about the human potential movement. He would go on to author First Earth Battalion Operations Manual, a heavily illustrated book that laid out his ideas for a re-imagined multi-cultural army that would prioritize conflict resolution and caring for the planet. 

The Leveys’ teachings were very much inspired by Channon’s philosophy. Manual For The Awakening Warrior includes illustrations from the First Earth Battalion Operations Manual. Joel and Michelle would become close friends of his. They say he was the one who initially drew them to North Kohala. (Bamboo Restaurant & Gallery, which Channon founded with his wife, is still open in Hāwī).  

But Channon had gained some notoriety thanks to the 2009 satirical film The Men Who Stare At Goats. He was the inspiration for Bill Django, the character played by Jeff Bridges.

The Leveys say their friend embraced the film.

“He was flattered by it,” Michelle says. “He said, ‘Satire is the highest form of compliment.’”

Still, she and Joel make it clear that goats and psychic teleporting were outside the scope of their program. Their focus was on mindfulness and the science behind it. They didn’t just teach soldiers to meditate. They hooked them up to neurobiofeedback machines that allowed them to see for themselves when their brains were in a calm state versus a state of stress. 

Think of it this way: Biofeedback measures body temperature and blood pressure via sensors placed on a fingertip. Neurobiofeedback measures brain activity via sensors placed on the head. (Note: The Food and Drug Administration has cleared some neurofeedback devices and applications for specific uses. Those interested in learning more should consult with a health care professional.)

The idea was that in time, the soldiers would be able to automatically regulate their emotions and recover faster and more reliably from stressful situations. 

“We’re really dampening down our awareness, our ability to see and think and analyze clearly (when we’re dysregulated),” Joel says. “We lose up to 80% of our intelligence when we go into a stress response and start getting reactive. So part of what we were training them in was to be able to manage their anxiety and boredom and fear and stay in zones of more optimal performance.” 

The goal, he says, was to make these soldiers aware of their inner mental and emotional states, including potential triggers that could cause them to lose control and put their lives and the lives of their teammates at risk.  

“They were learning to be in a state of calm intensity, where they could keep the apertures of their awareness and reasoning open and be able to make wiser choices,” Joel says. “That would not only cause less damage for themselves in the long run, but for other people as well.”

Not everyone was into the program. The Leveys had initially asked the Army for 25 Special Forces soldiers who were genuinely interested in learning mindfulness and truly  committed to inner work. Instead, they say, the Army “volun-told” two groups of Special Forces soldiers.

In their book, they note it became clear that while some soldiers were sincere about personal growth, others were resentful about what they considered to be a waste of time. One soldier, who was apparently sincere, asked if they would be learning to levitate and walk through walls. Another was spotted peeing on a tree during a walking meditation session.

Nonetheless, the Leveys say, many participants who were queried years later described the Jedi Warrior program as “ahead of its time,” and admitted they had been too young to fully appreciate the opportunity they had been given. It wasn’t until later in their careers, they say, that what they learned paid off.

The Army, for its part, deemed the program a success — participants showed improvements in physical fitness, stress management and mental clarity — but ultimately declined to renew it. 

Even so, the Leveys say their teachings live on in the soldiers they trained who shared what they learned with colleagues. They point out that Col. Kenneth Getty would go on to command Special Operations in Europe leading up to the fall of the Berlin Wall and he brought along many graduates of the Jedi Warrior program who took on covert operations in Soviet-occupied Eastern Europe. 

And perhaps tellingly, today the U.S. military does incorporate mindfulness practices into its training. In fact, the techniques and practices the Leveys describe in their book, which may have been considered “far out” at the time, are now widely embraced in mainstream society — in everything from corporate training to education. 

As far as Joel and Michelle are concerned, these techniques, which foster reflection and self-awareness, are needed more than ever in today’s fast-paced, often divisive and social-media-driven world. 

Beyond the talk of mindfulness and warrior-monks, Manual For The Awakening Warrior is about the meeting and melding of two very unlikely groups — on one hand, a couple of “peaceniks” pushing for “loving kindness” and “relaxed awareness”; on the other 25 “macho” fighters ready to storm the enemy. 

Michelle recalls the moment an Army captain asked her whether she had been a Vietnam War protester. She describes her alarm and conscious effort to remain open and honest. The captain accepted her answer without getting upset — proving that working across perceived differences is possible.  

For their part, the Leveys grew to respect the soldiers’ dedication and willingness to sacrifice for each other and their country.

To learn more, visit wisdomatwork.com/leveysawakeningwarrior.