Musashi's Dokkodo (The Way of Walking Alone)

Insurance Executive:
While this might simply be a clever rhyme, it’s more likely referring to
the Japanese word “
do
,” meaning the “path” or “way.” In Japanese,
do
is attached to a number of skills that require years of diligent
study, sacrifice, and strict discipline. For example, 
karatedo
(the way
of the empty hand), 
judo
(the gentle way), and 
chado
(the way of the
tea ceremony) are all used to describe the arduous path required to
master the particular skill, and to some degree, any associated
philosophies and moral disciplines attached to it.
The path in ancient Japanese culture, and still for many today, is of
paramount importance to the mastery of the skill in question, the
steadfast development of the practitioner’s character, and his or her

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loyalty to his/her 
sensei
, the teacher. Japanese culture has, of
course, dramatically changed since Musashi’s precepts were written.
While there are many Japanese people who strive to retain the old
customs, many more have “modernized,” so to speak, to ways less
severe, freer, and more laid back, if you will.
Our culture in the United States is remote from the ways of old in
Japan, and to many of their new ways too, for that matter. For
example, while studying with more than one martial arts teacher was
rarely done in days of old in Japan, it’s quite common in the United
States to train with multiple instructors. Case in point, I trained in
taekwondo
for many years earning a black belt, and later switched to
American Free Style, a system that combines three fighting arts,
earning a black belt in it as well. Before training in 
taekwondo
, I
earned colored belts in three other fighting styles.
Following the path of any endeavor for an extended period is
important to learning it, potentially mastering it. But the absolute of
“never straying,” especially in these modern times and even more so
in the culture of the United States, is virtually impossible. It’s not
necessary and, perhaps arguably, it might even limit your potential.
Here is another personal example: I have been designing jewelry for
many years. If I were making jewelry in the culture and times the
precepts were written, I would be a student under the guidance and
possibly dictatorship of a master jewelry maker. I would learn
everything he had to teach me and, in time, I might also become a
master in my own right, but my skill and creativity would be strongly
influenced by, and I would argue limited by, the 
sensei
’s way.
But today in the United States, I have the advantage of expanding
my art beyond just jewelry to include leatherwork, metalwork,
painting, and other art forms. Because I can research disciplines off
the classical path, I have expanded my interest and skill in other arts,
which has made me a better jewelry designer.
Athletics has a term for this: cross training. In my martial arts, for
example, training in the Filipino fighting art of 
arnis
, in which we
practice with 26-inch rattan sticks to attack, block, work practice

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drills, and spar, has improved my empty-hand skills. Training with
body weight exercises and weights has made me stronger in the
martial arts while simultaneously increasing my knowledge and
control of my body.
To conclude, I respect “the way” as it relates to karate, my art craft,
my spiritual life, and to some degree my employment. While I
respect it in these areas, I refuse to limit my personal growth in them
by never straying from their paths. In fact, I don’t think of it as
straying at all. I consider it as a way to expand my skill set to not only
make me the best I can be at these things, but also help me be a
better teacher of them by virtue of my broader knowledge.