Miyamoto Musashi's Philosophy for Modern Life

Alex

Welcome, everyone. Today, we’re stepping back in time to unpack the life and philosophy of one of Japan’s most legendary figures—Miyamoto Musashi. Now, Musashi's not just a name associated with epic sword duels or strategy. His life was, in many ways, a vivid expression of balance—between action and reflection, physical mastery and spiritual depth.

Alex

Born in 1584 during the end of Japan’s Sengoku period, a time marked by war and upheaval, Musashi was… well, you could call him a product of his era. But what sets him apart is how he turned chaos into opportunity. I mean, he fought more than sixty duels and never lost—not once. Impressive, right? But the thing is… winning wasn’t just about technique; it was about his mindset, his philosophy. And perhaps that’s why he stands out even beyond the battlefield.

Alex

Now, in his later years, Musashi distilled his insights into a concise set of twenty-one precepts, known as the Dokkōdō, or "The Way of Walking Alone." These precepts weren’t just rules for swordplay—they were guides for living a meaningful, disciplined life. And for me, what’s fascinating is the way Zen Buddhism winds through his philosophy, like an invisible thread tying it all together.

Alex

Take Zanshin, for example. It roughly means "remaining mind"—the ability to maintain awareness, even when an action is complete. Imagine a martial artist finishing a strike but still fully alert, fully present. Zanshin isn’t just practical in combat; it’s a mindset that helps us stay grounded in our daily chaos, you know? Emails, meetings, errands—it’s about not being pulled off balance by life’s noise.

Alex

And then there’s Mushin, or "no-mind." It’s about moving beyond conscious thought. It’s not emptiness in the way we usually think of it—it’s more about… flow. Like a musician who doesn’t have to think about the notes anymore, or an athlete in the zone. Mushin allows a martial artist—or anyone, really—to act naturally, instinctually, without being bogged down by hesitation or overthinking. That’s, I think, one of the keys to understanding Musashi.

Alex

But here’s where it gets interesting. Musashi didn’t develop these concepts in isolation. They were forged through his experiences, his journey. And, like Musashi, today’s martial artists often find themselves at a similar crossroads. Take, for instance, a contemporary figure like Rickson Gracie in Brazilian jiu-jitsu, who emphasizes breathing techniques and mindfulness in his training. You see the parallels? It’s this idea… this way of walking alone, focusing inward to grow outward. Humility and discipline are still the cornerstones, just like they were in Musashi’s time.

Alex

Ultimately, Musashi’s Dokkōdō invites us to look at life beyond its surface—to understand that the true battle is often within ourselves. And these concepts—Zanshin, Mushin—they aren’t relics. They’re tools, timeless ones, that each of us can integrate into our lives, even if we never pick up a sword.

Alex

Alright, so let’s dive into something that feels so relevant in today's world, yet it’s deeply rooted in Musashi’s philosophy—self-reliance. One of the precepts, "Do not intend to rely on anything," hits this concept head-on. And it’s not just about avoiding dependence on others. It’s about cultivating an inner resourcefulness, a resilience that can withstand external chaos.

Alex

Think about it. We live in a world where we’re often plugged into everything—social media, notifications, even opinions. It’s easy to lose that sense of independence. Musashi’s wisdom challenges us to step back and ask: Can I stand firmly on my own, even in the face of uncertainty? And honestly, I sometimes had to ask myself that, especially during financial downturns in my career. You know, when all the external answers disappeared, I realized the only real anchor I could rely on was within. It’s such a powerful shift to make.

Alex

Now, another precept that aligns with this idea—and I really love this one—is "Do not envy another’s good or evil." Envy has this sneaky way of creeping in, doesn’t it? We see curated lives online, people earning accolades we think we deserve, and it’s, well, it’s tough. But Musashi reminds us, envy’s a distraction—it pulls your focus outward when, truthfully, it’s inward where the growth happens.

Alex

Let me give you an example. Michael Jordan—now, he’s not a martial artist, but he embodies much of Musashi’s principles. Jordan didn’t get wrapped up in comparing himself to other players. Instead, he leaned into his work ethic, that relentless trust in his own preparation. That’s what made him unstoppable. It wasn’t about wanting what others had—it was about perfecting his craft, his way of walking his own path.

Alex

And that principle of avoiding attachment—it resonates so clearly today, doesn’t it? Musashi said, "Do not have a liking for delicious food for yourself." Now, I’ll admit this one’s tricky when you love a good meal as much as I do. But it’s deeper than food—it’s about not letting fleeting pleasures grip you so tightly that you lose your sense of purpose. It’s an ethos that encourages balance—enjoy life’s pleasures, but don’t let them consume you.

Alex

I remember when I faced a period of overwhelm between managing my business and personal life. All these short-term distractions felt like solutions—but they weren’t. Cutting back and sticking to essentials—what truly mattered—helped me regain clarity. And, honestly, I think that’s a big takeaway from these precepts. It’s not about denying yourself; it’s about asking what truly adds value to your journey.

Alex

Ultimately, Musashi seems to remind us that authenticity comes from not clinging—to objects, accolades, even comfort. You find your truth in focusing inward, and from that place, you can navigate the noise of modern life with clarity. It’s a challenge, for sure, but one that leads to immense growth.

Alex

So, let’s step back a bit and consider what the Dokkōdō really represents. At its heart, these twenty-one precepts that Musashi wrote—they’re not just rules of conduct or tips for winning in battle. They’re a blueprint for living ethically, spiritually, and purposefully. And in a sense, they transcend martial arts entirely, offering lessons for anyone, whether they’ve ever set foot in a dojo or not.

Alex

Take, for instance, the Five Rings that Musashi laid out in his other seminal work. Earth, Water, Fire, Wind, and Void. On the surface, they speak to the fundamentals of combat—a grounding stance, fluid adaptability, strategic aggression, understanding others’ techniques, and finally, reaching that enlightened, instinctual state of no-mind. But when you zoom out? These elements are like… well, they’re like signposts for life. Earth reminds us to stay grounded, Water to flow with change, Fire to act decisively, Wind to remain curious, and Void—to trust in the wisdom that exists beyond reason.

Alex

I think back to when I started my own martial arts school. The concept of balance was a lesson I had to learn the hard way. I was so focused on growing the school—on the numbers, on finding the ‘perfect’ curriculum—that I forgot the essence of what martial arts had taught me: balance, both within myself and in how I approached my goals. It wasn’t until I looked back at Musashi’s writings—really absorbed the rhythm he wrote about—that I shifted my mindset. The business grew after I grew, if that makes sense.

Alex

It’s remarkable to me how often students in the dojo—though they arrive hoping to learn self-defense—end up discovering a new way to navigate their relationships, their careers, even their fears. One student of mine, a young corporate lawyer, came to me during a particularly challenging phase in his life. He told me that practicing what Musashi called "considering the world deeply" helped him in ways he didn’t anticipate. He started to notice his own biases, his own over-importance, and began responding to situations—not reacting to them. That’s the power of these precepts. They’re tools, not rules, and the way each person wields them is unique.

Alex

And speaking of tools, one of my favorite lines from the Dokkōdō is this: "Respect the gods and Buddhas, but do not depend on them." It’s such a potent reminder of responsibility—acknowledging the forces greater than ourselves, but also recognizing that, ultimately, the work is ours to do. The gods provide guidance, yes, but the path is ours to walk. Think about how empowering that is. It means no matter what’s ahead—success, failure, anything—it’s in our hands to shape the outcome.

Alex

As we near the end of this discussion, I think it’s worth reflecting on why the Dokkōdō endures. It’s not about rigid adherence to a set of outdated ideas. It’s about the flexibility to adapt timeless principles to your life today. Whether that’s through martial arts, or business, or even just striving to be a better parent, friend, or partner, these precepts extend their reach far beyond the battlefield.

Alex

Ultimately, the Dokkōdō challenges us to walk alone—not in isolation, but in independence, in clarity, in authenticity. It asks us to dig deep and confront the battles within ourselves, to embrace Zanshin, Mushin, and yes, even the Void. And as we do, we begin to understand what Musashi meant when he spoke of the "Way." It’s not a destination. It’s a way of being.

Alex

And that’s all for today. It’s been an absolute honor to walk through Musashi’s Dokkōdō with you. I hope these precepts resonate, challenge, and inspire you as they have for me. Until next time—keep walking your path, with strength and intention. Take care, and I’ll see you down the road.