The Way of Walking Alone
What does a man keep once he has decided to want almost nothing? Twenty-one lines, most of them refusals, set down how Musashi meant to live, dated a week before he died.
The refusals are ordinary and exact: no regret for what he has done, no envy, no grief at any parting, no longing for love, no fine food, no prized antiques, no property in old age. Against them stand a few holdings. He will not go against the ways of the world; he reveres the Buddhas and the gods without relying on them; he keeps no tools but weapons; he does not shrink from death on the way, and would give up his body sooner than his name. The last line commands only this: never leave the way of strategy.
- mortality
- detachment
- self-reliance
- martial ethics
- self-discipline
Enter a dialogue
- A person lies awake over a choice made years ago. What does refusing regret ask of them, and what does it spare them?
- Owning nothing in old age is easy to write and hard to live. What did you expect it to cost you?
- After a list of things to give up, you would abandon your body but never your honour. Why is honour the exception?
- One line on your list bars the mind from thinking of romantic love. Is a life closed to love a discipline, or just a loss?
- You tell a person to think lightly of oneself and deeply of the world. What goes wrong for someone who weighs the two the other way round?