I wrote the legendary Fighting to Win: Samurai Techniques For Your Work and Life to see if with an organized set of physical and spiritual prescriptions to guide them, ordinary men and women of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries could become warriors just as samurai men and women of the eleventh century had. Fighting To Win begins with the story of Madeline, a self-doubting saleslady who became a warrior and changed her life. (There were women samurai, and some were prestigious leaders of men, but most samurai were men.) Years later when she died, Madeline showed the strength and courage of a warrior. Thousands of people have applied the wisdom of the book Fighting To Win to transform their lives into happier, more fulfilled journeys of self-discovery. Part Two of Budo describes the fighting techniques samurai acquired in their training.
When he was not in battle, the samurai developed his fighting skills through rigorous and constant training in his “Way.”
The Japanese “do” (pronounced “dough”), means “way,” short for “way of life” or “life path.” That a discipline is a way is indicated by the do suffix at the end of a word. Thus kendo (ken, sword; do, way) means “sword Way,” or Way of the sword in the hands of a skilled swordsman.
Bu (warrior) do (Way), refers to the attitudes, behavior, skills and life-style of the samurai. Budo is comprised of a number of other Ways, other kakuto bugei, “fighting techniques.” While each samurai usually specialized in the use of one or two weapons, he was expected to be familiar with the fundamentals of the others, just as a corporate manager has a particular expertise in industrial relations but is aware of at least the basic principles of financial management, marketing, production, public relations, etc.
The samurai Ways best known in the West are swordsmanship (kendo) and archery (kyudo), the big two of samurai warfare. Lesser known to most Westerners are spearsmanship (sodo), sword-drawing (iaido), halberd fighting (naginatado), and the use of the war fan (tessendo), the truncheon (juttedo), and the staff (bodo) and stick (jodo). Since he often rode a charger into battle, the samurai bushi was also to have mastered bado, horsemanship.
Although the respect paid to many of the lesser-known Ways pales in comparison with that given to samurai swordsmanship, still the skills of all these specialists were notable. “Sword saint” Musashi Miyamoto (1584-1645), author of Go Rin No Sho, A Book of Five Rings, was dealt a defeat by Gonnosuke Muso, master of jodo, the Way of the stick. Since Musashi had once beaten Muso and spared him, Muso reciprocated, permitting the famed swordsman to escape with his life.
By the eleventh century, swordsmanship had eclipsed archery as the principal art of the samurai, and a cult of the sword had developed. The ken, or sword, was invested with mystical attributes which the samurai was to draw out from it through his skills and the rightness of his motives. The samurai considered the sword not only his weapon but his very soul, a tangible extension of his innermost being. To use the ken improperly was to stain the honor of the samurai and the sword.
In the years that followed, many great swordsmen emerged to contribute new techniques and approaches to the tradition of the “sword Way.” Often these men opened schools (ryu) to transmit their innovations to students. Some of these masters recorded their advice on scrolls. Meijin (masters) of the other Ways often did the same in transmitting their teachings.
Rarely did these scrolls pass on technical information alone. Ordinarily they were concerned at least as much with the master’s philosophy of combat and his insights into the psychology of the warrior.
It is not surprising that so much emphasis is placed on psychology in all the Ways of budo, the warrior Way. Warriors were ordinary men who through hard training were expected to become capable of extraordinary feats of courage—something that was impossible unless they were able to overcome the fears, hesitations, doubts, and second thoughts that plague anyone going into battle.
It is important to note that the learnings acquired by devoting oneself to one Way apply to the other Ways and to life generally. There is a famous story of a cowardly samurai who learned the meaning of courage by observing the calm composure with which a businessman handled the ups and downs of the marketplace.
In kyudo, the Way of the bow, no quiver is worn and the archer fires just one arrow. From this the archer is to learn daido, a “principle that operates in all things.” The archer is to come to value his life more fully, for each arrow is like the totality of his life. You have but one life; thus you shoot but one arrow. Fighting to Win follows the daido tradition by relating the Way of the samurai to the Ways of work and personal life. This book follows the adage “The Way is your daily life.”
Whatever his combat specialty, the master samurai–Meijin–was to be fully prepared. Never to be trapped. Never to be surprised. No matter what his circumstances in battle were, he was to have options open to him. He was taught “Expect nothing, be prepared for anything.” For this reason he developed skills in unusual weapons arts. Just one was uchi-ne, the art of throwing arrows in the event his bow was broken or unavailable. Another was stone-throwing.
In addition, the bushi developed skills in weaponless, unarmed fighting styles, Judo, the Way of ju, flexible adaptation–blending with the opponent. When he pushes you pull. When he pulls you push. Follow him in the direction he is intent on going. Don’t resist him.
Judo is the best known of these hand-to-hand combat techniques. It is this Way which forms the relationship between the Way of the samurai and today’s martial arts of aikido and karate (short for Okinawan karate-do) and the arts spawned by them. Ju means “flexible.” Judo is the way of flexibility. Techniques of grappling with and throwing an opponent had long been a part of samurai swordsmanship. In addition, the samurai was likely to use judo when he found himself in battle without access to a weapon or to defeat a person of lower social rank who was prohibited from carrying a weapon–an easy win. In all, the highly trained samurai entered every battle confident that he would win.
Excerpted from Fighting to Win: Samurai Techniques for Your Work and Life, by David J. Rogers
© 2026 David J. Rogers
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Sociologists maintain that in America
At the history museum today
Vigil On A Winter Night
I took the train in spring from college
Successful artists and writers–perhaps you–make conflict-free habitual use of a dominant faculty in an art form. That is, if they are painters they wish to paint without interference–conflict free. They are confident. Hockey goalies need confidence. People in the arts need confidence just as much. They paint or write, they chisel in stone. They author books. They produce beautiful works and that is the ultimate goal of art–to add to the store of works that have beauty. Art and beauty are synonymous.
Every flaw is correctible. Once we are aware that flaws in ourselves that could sabotage our creativity do exist, we can set out to rid ourselves of them, beginning with taking action–doing something productive before another moment passes, not griping, not pitying yourself, not worrying, and not putting off. Then we will feel a burst of wellness in our minds and spirits.

heart and they write about in one form or another time and again. What had occurred in the writer’s life before age twenty-one is the period of their life where most good writers find their richest material. Writer after writer reports that. Exceptional writers have exceptional memories. Their talent to evoke from their memories in exact detail written images of the places, people, and events they recall is remarkable. Artists too may have extraordinary memories and paint visual images of them.
satisfaction watching and listening to him, and wanted to watch and listen all day. What was happening to me was beyond me to describe. I was young; I didn’t have the vocabulary to explain it. But I am far from young now, and still do not have the vocabulary, not because my vocabulary is deficient, but because when you see or read or hear something that is so out of the ordinary that it is almost beyond belief, you are unprepared for it and no words in all the lexicons, even the most expressive, are sufficient. That is art.
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Then there was a sound of a wind thrashing the wheat fields, rippling the fields in great waves like breakers tumbling upon a beach. Looking, listening, alone, no fear, feeling joy, free, that was the loveliest moment in my life. Only I had seen the bird. There was no one near enough to see it, only I–the bird with the flaming red wings coming from out of the field against a background of no other movement but the wind-blown fields, and no one else on earth to witness its flight. I now in a car bound for California saw in the bird the beauty that from childhood a writer is always hoping to convey in their writing, the beauty a painter always hopes to paint.