Musashi's Dokkodo (The Way of Walking Alone)

Introduction
Musashi, the Myth and the Man
The Truth behind the Legend
“Saints have no moderation, nor do poets, just
exuberance.” — Anne Sexton
In 1935 novelist Eiji Yoshikawa (1892 – 1962) changed the martial
arts world when he published his epic Musashi, a fictionalized
account of the adventures of Miyamoto Musashi which was
serialized in the newspaper Asahi Shimbun. The legendary
swordsman was well known to practitioners of classical Japanese
swordsmanship, but virtually no one had heard of Musashi beyond
that fellowship. Certainly he was not the mythic figure we think we
know today, one who has been portrayed in books, movies, manga,
and comics to the point where he has become a household name far
beyond the traditional martial arts community.
Yoshikawa was a talented writer, one who ignited the imaginations of
his readership. Once he created the mystique of Musashi it caught
fire, growing in the same way that virtually all myths are born and
developed. Suddenly Musashi was larger than life, a figure whose
methods of thought, strategy, and tactics were adopted across a
wide spectrum of Japanese society, especially amongst military
leaders and captains of industry. They studied his ancient treatise on
strategy Go Rin No Sho, intuiting relevance and meaning in modern
life. Before long Musashi’s legend spread beyond the shores of
Japan, making an impact on people from all walks of life all across
the world. In fact, his treatise Go Rin No Sho has been translated
into English at least a dozen different times where it was published
under the title The Book of Five Rings and various derivations

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thereof.
[2]
It has also been printed in languages as diverse as Arabic,
Chinese, Greek, German, Indonesian, French, Lithuanian, Spanish,
and Thai.
If Musashi had not written this exposition Go Rin No Sho and
Yoshikawa subsequently publicized it centuries later, it is likely that
Japan’s most famous swordsman would have been relegated to the
dustbins of history along with most other luminaries of his period,
known only by historians and historical re-enactors. Nevertheless,
Musashi retired to a cave near the end of his life, put down his
swords, and took up a pen. And, Yoshikawa brought those ancient
writings back to life. In the process he is largely responsible for
making Musashi the venerable sword saint that he is today.
When legendary figures pass away, we tend to turn them into saints,
though not necessarily in a spiritual manner. Nevertheless, we do it
much in the same way that religious institutions deify noteworthy
members of their organizations. The formula works this way: First,
while the future saint is still alive society does not acknowledge his
or her brilliance. These individuals are often branded eccentrics,
mavericks, or rabble-rousers. Secondly, after they die we discover
their message, recognize their contributions, and adopt them as our
own. Thirdly, we canonize them, putting special emphasis on their
remarkable deeds and honorable behaviors while ignoring or
brushing over any questionable or contemptuous acts they may have
performed. “No, he wasn’t crazy, just a little quirky. Perhaps a touch
eccentric, but what genius isn’t? Think of all the contributions he
made to…” we might say to ourselves. Once that justification has
taken root and been accepted by the masses, the last stage of
canonization takes place when we as a society turn them into saints.
And then we build statues of them, name things after them, and pay
homage to their memories.
And so it was with Musashi. Roughly three hundred years after his
death in 1645, Musashi suddenly became an icon and a hero. His
name is synonymous with samurai ethos, as ubiquitous as katana,