The warrior is always in training, and to some extent, at some level of consciousness, training is always on his mind. Each morning when he climbs out of bed, he inventories his physical resources-notes the fatigue, stiffness, and pain remaining from the previous day-and weighs them against the training day ahead of him. As the fog of sleep clears from his head, he begins to review the day's obligations to his superiors, family, and friends, then schedules his training time around them. At some point, from some level of mind, memory of his weaknesses returns and with it his goals to overcome them. Then, the warrior calmly plans the specific exercises he will use that day to continue his slow, steady progress towards obtaining those goals.
To non-warriors, Oyama's words and mine in the foregoing paragraph sound irrational and fanatic. Let them think so. Warriors are distinctly different from the rest of society. Where the typical man in today's culture fills his spare time pursuing entertainment and pleasure, the warrior entertains himself cultivating his spirit. That is his pleasure. In fact, his very survival depends on it.
Warriors of old had two ever-present goals in life: to serve valiantly and to die well. Death was their profession and their constant companion; it hung over each of them like a specter, waiting for an unguarded moment to snuff out his existence.
This was never more true than in the case of Japan's samurai. For these warriors wielded razor-sharp swords, and each confrontation inevitably resulted in the death of at least one of the combatants. As the samurai faced his enemy, he expected one of only three possible outcomes. If he was significantly more skilled than his opponent, he would find katsu (victory) and the enemy would die. If, on the other hand, the opponent was the superior swordsman, our samurai would face make (defeat) and die himself. Often though, they were of relatively equal skill and al uchi (mutual killing) would result. In these circumstances, each warrior knew he had at best a one in three chance of surviving combat. Given these odds, you'd better believe he took his training seriously, and so should you.
You probably won't have to face a sword-wielding enemy, but your potential attackers today can be every bit as dangerous. We warriors rarely have to face one another in actual combat. Nor do we have much to fear from the other gentle folk of society. The threats we face are from the gun, knife, and club toting degenerates who thrive by preying on the weak. Fighting is still a life and death proposition. Even an unarmed man can injure you with every blow, and your attacker won't stop after he bloodies your nose. Once enraged, the alley mugger or the parking lot rapist will keep brutalizing you until you're completely helpless. Then, only if he's merciful, will he let you live. I don't trust his mercy. Do you?
Forrest E. Morgan. Living the Martial Way : A Manual for the Way a Modern Warrior Should Think (pp. 51-52). Kindle Edition.
