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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Highland Park is not a big place at all. It is an idyllic little Midwestern American city of about thirty thousand–clean and peaceful, and until the Fourth, safe. Clustered together at its center are a railroad station, City Hall, public library, and on the library lawn a long chromium sculpture no one understands. It is a community that values the arts: more writers live here than in any other community between Chicago to the south and Milwaukee to the north. Double screen writing Academy Award winner William Goldman was from Highland Park. Actor/movie director Orson Welles lived here in his adolescence and sat on his lawn reading Shakespeare; Frank Baum would take the train up from Oak Park to meet with his Oz books illustrator who lived here; the high school theatre program is renowned. Also, Michael Jordan lived here when he was leading the Chicago Bulls to championships. I’d see him at the Post Office waiting in line just like everyone else. There is no standing on ceremony in Highland Park.
focus on a system to improve your creative performance is to be aware of what you are trying to accomplish–with your life, and in this year, this day, this moment. When you acquire the habit of saying to yourself often in your daily life–morning, noon, and night–“Focus on your purpose,” those words become a hypnotic motto that stirs your muscles and mind to action. Then your life takes on a quality that is now becoming rare even among gifted creators–vital intensity that facilitates the production of works that can be pointed to and admired. That single goal–producing works as a result of talent combined with discipline–is more powerful than all other creative goals.
that specialty. And you must
free of suffering are the goal in Buddhism. The Buddhist Eightfold Path consists of eight ideals that when practiced bring an upright and happy life. They are eight prescriptive “rights,” including right association–being careful about associating with good, wholesome, even holy people; right intent–making up your mind as to the one main purpose in life you really want to pursue; right speech–no lying, backbiting, or slander; right thoughts–thinking compassionately, generously, and with goodwill; right conduct–not killing, stealing, or lying; right effort–using your will power and taking action to achieve a good life; right concentration–the use of techniques to enhance concentration and enlightenment. And there is right livelihood–doing what you’re best suited to do in an honest occupation that harms no one.
Success in a creative field (in fact success in any field) is not attributable to one thing alone such as talent or IQ as many people believe, or three or four things. I believe there are eight components. It’s important to understand what the eight components are and the questions they will answer:
their creative lives by means of the work they do. If they are unable to work or the work is poor quality or is stopped-up and doesn’t go well, they suffer. Regarding the necessity of a creator to
There isn’t one universal work/production program that suits all creators. A production program won’t work if it’s imposed. Each creator’s program will have to be idiosyncratic–custom-designed by yourself for yourself. To find the ways and means to improve the quantity and quality of your production, you should experiment and try out different approaches until the best work/production program suited to yourself is found.
For high quality uninterrupted work to happen, not all, but most creators need isolation and solitude. “The concentration of writing requires silence. For me, large blocks of silence. It’s like hearing a faint Morse code…a faint signal is being given and I need quiet to pick it up” (Philip Roth). Some creators prefer noisy environments. But even the feeling that you might be interrupted interferes with creative thought.
production goals continuously in mind. Production ebbs and flows. Some days work comes out of you in torrents. You’re in overdrive. But other days–nothing. But one way or another,
A curious thing would happen. The quantity group would also produce the highest quality work. The quantity group would churn out streams of work and learn from their many mistakes and develop wide assortment of skills. But the quality group would get caught up the elusive concept of perfection and grandiose dreams and would become paralyzed. Some creators produce 10, 15, or 25 times more works than other creators. Those who produce the most works usually rise higher, do better work, and find a greater sense of accomplishment.
If you neglect an activity for just two days you’ll function much less effectively when you resume work. In writing and painting, as in everything else, inactivity leads to the atrophy of abilities. Your level of motivation affects your willingness to work. The quantity of your production is in direct proportion to the intensity of your
Writing vivid descriptions is a skill writers should strive to refine. Yet it is a weakness of many writers. If your ability to write effective descriptions is lacking it should be worked on vigorously and
picked up. Into the air fluttered two hundred gulls with noisy wings. Above us clouds raced each other headlong across the coal black sky. Onto the shore crashed a procession of liquid walls–white-crested, angled slightly off to the south where blocks of limestone twenty feet high lay as if dropped from the heavens by gods. The magnificent waves rose–hills of water that seemed to pause, suspended for a moment at their peak as though they could rise no higher, and then crumbled and broke on the shore like a multitude of shattered stars. The spume spread and undertows slid back like shears below the breakers. Wave upon wave upon wave upon wave rose, lunged, and plunged like a field of gray-green wheat bowing under the wind. Just a moment before there had been not a breeze, not a breath of wind. But now all the wind in the world seemed to be concentrated on that strip of earth. It was a lion of a wind unleashed, untamed, cool, cold, with a sparkle, bite, and sting–many winds in fact, one gust coming, ending, another coming, another waiting–bringing pouring in to us the odors of water, of fish, and of the wind itself. The hoarse roar of the foaming waves filled all the air with the sounds of artillery. Trees on the shore bent as though made of rubber and our drenched bodies glistened.
“Young couples sitting on benches held each other, kissed, and heard the melancholy saxophone through the open windows of the gymnasium. Past a grove of gray trees, out on the lagoon, among mallards drifting on the water like leaves and bull frogs hidden in the shadows like thieves, students in row boats whose oars dangled free and made little splashing sounds, lay back, their bodies warm and glowing under light blankets. Contented, they were looked down upon by a pageantry of stars that seemed so close together that a finger wouldn’t fit between them. And while laughter floated like smoke through the night, they spoke of the incredible deeds they would one day perform.”
There was a tenderness and manly sweetness in my father’s manner, and too, the restraint of a gentlemanly politeness and natural shyness about speaking of things that moved him most profoundly, and which I knew indisputably he felt toward me, as I did toward him.
I think it took me until I was forty to begin to understand the meaning of gratitude. Until that point, I had wondered through life, sort of hanging on, and trying my best to put one step in front of the other, often under challenging circumstances, and then boom, an epiphany – something occurred which opened my eyes to what gratitude is all about.
How does the creative process work?
As we go about our daily lives, just like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle being revealed, the seed sprouts ideas that give us more information…..This can happen at any time.
“Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the thinks you can think up if only you try.” Dr. Seuss





