Musashi's Dokkodo (The Way of Walking Alone)

Insurance Executive:
“Regrets, I’ve had a few…,” sang Frank Sinatra. “But then again, too
few to mention.” He goes on to sing how he did it his way. I would
venture to say that he didn’t look hard enough at his life if he could
only come up with regrets that are “too few to mention.” I’m also
guessing those words were chosen to make a rhyme, as opposed to
being truthful about ol’ Blue Eyes and his hard drinking ways.

---

Writing about another precept here, I talk about the concept of
practice. The fact doctors call what they do “a practice” makes me a
little nervous, though it’s a proper word to describe what I do on a
daily basis in my effort to live a righteous life, one in which I strive to
be the best person I can be not only for myself but to those with
whom I come into contact. Do I have anything to be regretful about in
my past? Oooo yeah... I can think of large and small ones in virtually
every aspect of my life. Some were people I hurt, paths I shouldn’t
have taken, and opportunities I missed. Do I dwell on them? No, at
least I practice not to.
Making mistakes is part of the human condition. Learning from them
is key; acknowledging them to those I’ve harmed as well as to myself
is an absolute. A sincere apology comes with your admission and
regret that you did something wrong, and a promise to try to never
let it happen again. When done sincerely, the person harmed feels
the legitimacy of the apology and it helps both of you move forward
and out of the past.
I feel proud when I have the courage to admit my wrongdoing. I feel
good about being a fair person and my sense of self-respect gets a
boost. The simple act of apologizing—simple but admittedly
sometimes difficult—lessens and possibly negates any sense of
regret and shame that I was feeling.
Now that I’ve reached the ripe old age of… forget about it, I’m not
telling. Let’s just say, now that I’ve been around for a while, I
sometimes wonder how my life would be different right now if I’d
taken that other job I was offered; if I’d stuck with my first martial arts
school instead of switching; if I hadn’t met my husband; if I’d rescued
a different dog, and so on. Fun to think about occasionally, but never
to feel regret over. If some of my decisions didn’t pan out, or I hurt
someone, or caused suffering, I try to learn from those things. I also
try to learn from the good decisions, because they have much to
teach too.
It’s clear by the title of this precept that Musashi understood
Buddha’s teaching—in this case, his guidance on living in this very

---

moment. I believe the great warrior understood that the past is past,
the future is in the distance, and what is left is right here, right now.
I say acknowledge your past, including your errors, but don’t allow
yourself to suffer from what you have done. What does it accomplish
other than to make your present self miserable? Apologize to those
you can, honor those you should apologize to but have lost contact
with, and strive to never repeat your error.
Case in point: On one occasion, the great Buddhism teacher the
Dalai Lama was teaching others about rebirth. One student took it to
heart and committed suicide so he could be born again into a better
life. When the Dalai Lama found about it, he was devastated
because he felt responsible. Today whenever he is asked if his
feelings about it are still with him, he says, “Yes, still there.” They are
there because they are part of him. But it’s clear that he doesn’t
dwell on them.
Reflect on errors you have made and work on ways to never do
them again. Besides, do you really want past bad decisions to bump
into the ones you will inevitably make tomorrow and the next day?
No. Guilt and regret are pointless; they are excess baggage that
serves only to cause you suffering. The past is gone and cannot be
changed.
Musashi undeniably knew that the Buddha taught all human beings
should move forward, never backward. To that end, be kind and be
compassionate right here, right now. Let that fill your time, not regret
for something that can never be changed.