The Book of Five Rings Read online

  Musashi insisted that through an intense study and practice of the Way of the Martial Arts, the Ways of all other arts would be understood. That his acquaintance with the older sword-polisher-turned-aesthete may have helped open his eyes to this understanding is not recorded, but the jovial shadow of Hon’ami Koetsu seems indeed to pass over the pages of The Book of Five Rings.

  Takuan Soho (1573–1645), a Zen Buddhist priest of the Rinzai sect, was another influential character of the Kyoto Renaissance traditionally connected to Musashi. Like Koetsu, Takuan was a polymath who excelled in calligraphy, painting, poetry, gardening, and the tea ceremony. He must have also enjoyed being in the kitchen, for he invented the pickle still used as a constant in the Japanese diet and, to this day, it retains his name. Takuan was a prodigious writer whose collected works fill six volumes. He was an advisor to the emperor and shogun alike, and became abbot of the Daitokuji, a major Zen temple in Kyoto, by the age of thirty-five.

  The tradition that names Takuan an instructor to Musashi is interesting in a number of ways, but is brought to focus in Takuan’s essay “The Mysterious Record of Immovable Wisdom,” written not to Musashi, but to Yagyu Munenori, the head of the Shinkage Style of swordsmanship. The work deals in part with the relationship of the mind, body, and technique, a subject covered extensively in The Book of Five Rings. In the very beginning of his essay, Takuan tells us:

  What is called Fudo Myo-o [a wrathful manifestation of the central Buddha Vairocana] is said to be one’s unmoving mind and an unvacillating body. Unvacillating means not being detained by anything. Glancing at something and not stopping the mind is called Immovable. This is because when the mind stops at something, the breast is filled with various judgments, and there are various movements within it. When its movements cease, the stopping mind moves, but does not move at all. . . . When you first notice the sword that is moving to strike you, if you think of meeting that sword just as it is, your mind will stop at the sword in just that position, your own movements will be undone, and you will be cut down by your opponent. . . .

  The action of Spark and Stone . . . underscores the point that the mind should not be detained by things; it says that even with speed it is essential that the mind does not stop. When the mind stops, it will be grasped by the opponent. On the other hand, if the mind contemplates being fast and goes into quick action, it will be captured by its own contemplation. . . . Putting the mind in one place is called falling into one-sidedness. One-sidedness is said to be bias in one place. Correctness is in moving about anywhere. The Correct Mind shows itself by extending the mind throughout the body. It is not biased in any one place. . . . The effort not to stop the mind in just one place—this is discipline. Not stopping the mind is the object and essence. Put nowhere, it will be everywhere. Even in moving the mind outside the body, if it is sent in one direction, it will be lacking in nine others. If the mind is not restricted to just one direction, it will be in all ten.2

  This is one of the main, mostly implicit themes that runs like a current throughout The Book of Five Rings. And while these words in no way exhaust the subject of the relationship between the sword and Zen, they are most certainly at the very center of the subject. One can imagine Musashi listening quietly and drinking them in like pure water.

  Musashi’s association with the artists and Buddhist priests of the Kyoto Renaissance cannot be accurately documented but, at the same time, in no way can it be dismissed. It is clear that in terms of his own development from rural birth to being both an undefeated swordsman and talented multiple artist, he would have had, if not teachers, then companions and associates on the Way. Kyoto is and always has been a very connected society, with strong relationships among people of high aesthetic abilities. Nor was this social network limited to Kyoto. Even in his wanderings around the country, Musashi may well have encountered eccentric Zen artists (his contemporary Fugai comes to mind) as surely as he encountered the sixty-odd martial artists he would fight and defeat.

  Musashi’s final domicile, where he taught, meditated, and wrote his book, was not Kyoto, but faraway Kumamoto, in northern Kyushu. Yet even this place was the home of the Hosokawa, one of Japan’s oldest and most artistic warrior clans. And while his main benefactor there was the daimyo Hosokawa Tadatoshi, he would likely have met and talked with the latter’s father, Tadaoki, a master politician, a master in the Way of Tea, a campaigner of every talent and a lacquerware artist beyond compare. We can see Musashi having tea with the old man, the rough hands that held the sword so many times cradling a Chojiro tea bowl, and talking about the Way of the Warrior.

  “For those who would study my martial art, there are rules for putting it into practice: . . . Touch upon all of the arts” (from “The Earth Chapter”).

  BUDDHISM AND THE BOOK OF FIVE RINGS

  Much has been made of Musashi’s Buddhism and, paradoxically, his lack of the same. In the very beginning of The Book of Five Rings, he tells us that before starting the book he “bowed in veneration to Heaven, worshipped Kannon,3 and stood before the Buddha.”4 A few lines later he informs us that “in writing this book I am not borrowing the ancient words of Buddhism.” And then, “I will express the heart of Truth, using the Ways of Heaven and Kanzeon5 as mirrors.” Accordingly, we can see that Musashi had something of Buddhism in his heart, but he would not try to give his experiences and words legitimacy by invoking Buddhism in his words.

  It is clear in The Book of Five Rings that the Zen Buddhist insistence on absolute personal experience and transcendence of the interfering self is one of the touchstones of Musashi’s thought. We also have the tradition of his relationship with the Zen priest Takuan, and the Hosokawa records of his studying Zen under Abbot Shunzan. But Zen Buddhism was hardly the only religion during Musashi’s time. Hon’ami Koetsu came from a long line of Nichirensect Buddhists and, indeed, most of the artists at his colony in Takagamine belonged to that sect. Hosokawa Tadaoki’s wife, Gracia, was a Japanese Christian, although Tadaoki was not. Then there is the Shingon Buddhist faith, which has run like an undercurrent in Japanese culture since the eighth century, a sect which believes that anything of beauty, in nature or in art, partakes of the Buddha nature. Could Musashi, as a wanderer through the countryside and an artist, have been immune to such ideas?

  How much did Musashi’s religious convictions or practices influence his martial art? The Book of Five Rings gives us only a hint, but it is worthwhile, I think, to look at that hint with a little more focus.

  The Five Rings, which is both part of the title and forms the structure of the book, refers to the Buddhist theory of the Five Elements, and Musashi gives only a short statement for the choice of this motif: Earth, because it symbolized his fundamental view of the martial arts; Water, because of his own style based on fluidity and purity; Fire, or battle, because of its energy and ability for quick change; Wind, the other style, because of the double meaning (“wind” and “style”) of the Chinese character; and Emptiness, because this is ultimately the place from which all other activities come.

  The Five Elements come from a long religious tradition, and are used as objects of meditation in many different ways. Musashi, inquisitive as he was, would have been at least conversant with these.

  Besides their traditional characteristics of solidity and hardness (Earth), fluidity (Water), heat and activity (Fire), motion (Wind) and the encompassment of all the other four (Emptiness), the Five Elements have each traditionally been aligned with a direction and a meditation Buddha as well. Thus, Earth contains the direction south and the Buddha Ratnasambhava; Water, the east and the Buddha Akshobya; Fire, the west and the Buddha Amitabha; Wind, or Air, the north and the Buddha Amoghasiddhi; and Emptiness, the center of all directions and the central Buddha Vairocana. Each of these Buddhas has its own meaning, color, symbol, and transformational wisdom. In esoteric Buddhism, each of them, along with their respective qualities, is to be meditated on in turn as a method of more effective resolution of life’s problems
and as a way leading to eventual enlightenment.

  Such meanings would have been clear to Musashi and his disciples, but would not necessarily have been spelled out by Musashi in a book on martial arts. The significance of the selection of the Five Elements for both the title and the structure of his work, however, remains.

  In passing, it is interesting to note that one of Musashi’s most famous sculptures depicts Fudo Myo-o, a wrathful manifestation of the central Buddha Vairocana, who represents the fundamental nature of the universe. This Fudo Myo-o, whose name means “Immovable Wisdom King,” is represented with a sword to cut through our ignorance and a rope to bind up our emotions (actions Musashi deemed essential in the martial arts for being more effective). While given a wrathful expression, the figure is moved fundamentally by compassion, the very essence of the Kannon whom Musashi worshipped before writing this book. Both Fudo and Kannon are the symbols of the unshakable tranquility Musashi sought to translate to his students in their moments of life and death.

  Musashi wrote The Book of Five Rings at the end of his life as a guidebook for the disciples he had taught face-to-face. It was a broad outline, in a sense, of work he had done with them over a period of years, a reminder or prompt to guide them after he was gone. Some items were apparently so inimical to the written word that, after a line or two defining the subject, he simply wrote, “This is an oral tradition,” meaning that it had to be passed on person to person rather than in a book.

  Though the vehicle of this book is technique, its essence is mind. To Musashi, the martial arts were an approach, or psychology, to the Way. They were not something to be bought and sold, as so many of the martial arts schools both then and now make them out to be, nor were they something to decorate one’s life. Conflict is real. The Way is real. The student must use his or her real experience to resolve the two. And it is mind, far more than technique, that will be the enabler. Musashi insisted on the importance of real experience, and the reader should not miss the fact that the phrase “You should investigate this thoroughly” is repeated more than any other in the book.

  One week before he died, Musashi continued to press his points home. Picking up his brush and, as the Zen masters would say, with the kindness of an old grandmother, he wrote out “The Way of Self-Reliance,” or literally, “The Way of Walking Alone” —twenty-one items to help the students of the future nail down what was theirs alone. It is fitting to end this short introduction with what would be his last admonition.

  THE WAY OF WALKING ALONE

  (or The Way of Self-Reliance)

  Do not turn your back on the various Ways of this world.

  Do not scheme for physical pleasure.

  Do not intend to rely on anything.

  Consider yourself lightly; consider the world deeply.

  Do not ever think in acquisitive terms.

  Do not regret things about your own personal life.

  Do not envy another’s good or evil.

  Do not lament parting on any road whatsoever.

  Do not complain or feel bitterly about yourself or others.

  Have no heart for approaching the path of love.

  Do not have preferences.

  Do not harbor hopes for your own personal home.

  Do not have a liking for delicious food for yourself.

  Do not carry antiques handed down from generation to generation.

  Do not fast so that it affects you physically.

  While it’s different with military equipment, do not be fond of material things.

  While on the Way, do not begrudge death.

  Do not be intent on possessing valuables or a fief in old age.

  Respect the gods and Buddhas, but do not depend on them.

  Though you give up your life, do not give up your honor.

  Never depart from the Way of the Martial Arts.

  Twelfth Day of the Fifth Month, Second Year of Shoho [1645]

  Shinmen Musashi

  I have named my own Way of the Martial Arts the “Two Heavens, One Style,”1 and after many years of discipline have thought to describe it in a book for the first time.

  In the first week or so of the Tenth Month in the Twentieth Year of Kan’ei [1643], I climbed Mount Iwato in the province of Higo on the island of Kyushu, bowed in veneration to Heaven, worshipped Kannon,2 and stood before the Buddha. Born in the province of Harima, I am the warrior Shinmen Musashi no kami Fujiwara no Genshin. I have now reached the age of sixty.

  From long ago in my youth I set my mind on the martial arts, and had my first match when I was thirteen. My opponent was a martial artist of the Shinto Style, Arima Kihei, whom I defeated. At the age of sixteen I defeated a strong martial artist by the name of Tajima no Akiyama. At the age of twenty I went to the capital and met with famous martial artists; and although I fought a number of matches, I was never unable to take the victory. After that, I went from province to province, from place to place, and encountered martial artists from many different schools; and though I fought as many as sixty matches, I did not lose even once. All of these were events occurring from the time I was thirteen until I reached twenty-eight or twenty-nine.

  When I had passed the age of thirty and thought back over my life, I understood that I had not been a victor because of extraordinary skill in the martial arts. Perhaps I had some natural talent or had not departed from natural principles. Or again, was it that the martial arts of the other styles were lacking somewhere?

  After that, determined all the more to reach a clearer understanding of the deep principles, I practiced day and night. By about the time I was fifty, I realized the Way of this martial art quite naturally. Since then, I have spent my time without taking the road of exhaustive investigation. Entrusting myself to the principles of my martial art, I have never had a teacher while studying the Ways of the various arts and accomplishments, or in anything at all. Now, even in writing this book, I am neither borrowing the ancient words of Buddhism or Confucianism, nor using old examples from the military chronicles or practices. Within the view of this one style, I will express the heart of Truth, using the Ways of Heaven and Kanzeon as mirrors.

  Taking up my brush at one revolution past the Hour of the Tiger [4:30 a.m.], on the night of the tenth day of the Tenth Month, I begin this book.

  What is called the “martial art” is the standard of the military clans. Commanders, in particular, should put it into practice, and common soldiers should know its Way as well. Yet there are no warriors who clearly understand the Way of the Martial Arts in the world today.

  First, as representatives of Ways, Buddhism is a Way of salvation for man, Confucianism venerates a Way of culture, and medicine is a Way of curing various diseases. Moreover, poets teach the Way of Japanese verse; and then there are tea masters, archers and others who teach the various arts. All of these practice according to their own thoughts and relish what they do according to their own hearts. It is a rare person who relishes the Way of the Martial Arts.

  The term “warrior” speaks of the “Two Ways of Culture and Conflict,”3 and to relish these two is our Way. A warrior should make his best effort in the martial arts according to his own abilities and situation, even if he is naturally untalented in this Way. Generally speaking, when people contemplate the heart of warrior thought, they consider it no better than a way in which being a warrior is simply in dying. But the Way of dying is not limited to warriors alone. For even monks, women, farmers, and the classes below them, there is no distinction in their having a sense of duty, in knowing shame and in being resolved to their own deaths. What is most basic in the Way of practicing the martial arts is overcoming your opponent in each and any event, whether in victory over a single opponent in a duel, or in victory in a fight with a number of men. One desires to make a name for himself and to raise his position, whether for his lord’s sake or his own. This is accomplished by virtue of the martial arts.

  There are many people who, even when studying the Way of the Martial Arts
, think that these skills will not be useful in real situations. In fact, the true Way of the Martial Arts is to train so that these skills are useful at any time, and to teach these skills so that they will be useful in all things.

  THE WAY OF THE MARTIAL ARTS

  In China and even in our own country, those who have put this Way into practice have traditionally been spoken of as masters of the martial arts. As a warrior, one should necessarily study this practice. These days, the men making their way through the world calling themselves martial artists are generally only teachers of sword techniques. Recently, the priests of the Kashima and Kantori shrines in the province of Hitachi have established various styles, declaring them to have been transmitted by the gods, and have traveled from province to province teaching them to others.

  Since times past, among the various achievements and arts, there has been something called “the method of gaining the advantage”; but while it may be spoken of throughout the arts, swordsmanship should not be limited to this proposition alone. Swordsmanship is difficult to know simply by the advantage gained from it generally. Nor, of course, is it at all suitable to the laws of warfare.

  When you look at the world, the various arts have been tailored to be items for sale. Likewise, a person thinks of himself as something to be sold and even the implements of these Ways are proffered as merchandise. This mentality divides the flower and fruit into two, and makes much less of the fruit than the flower. In this Way of the Martial Arts, especially, form is made into ornament, the flower is forced into bloom, and technique is made into display: one talks of this or that dojo, teaching this Way or that Way, in an attempt to gain some benefit. Someone has said that “the immature martial art is a source of great injury,” and this is certainly the truth.