“Absorb what is useful, reject what is useless, and add what is essentially your own,” the San Francisco-born, Cantonese-speaking martial art icon Bruce Lee once famously said.
In many ways, “Little Dragon” Lee—his screen name more commonly known in the Chinese-speaking world—had defied expectations by following his advice. After discovering a love for martial arts at a young age—initially because he hated being bullied by bigger kids—Lee studied the seemingly unrelated subject of philosophy at the University of Washington. Unlike the kung fu traditionalists who viewed martial arts as closed, exclusive clubs, Bruce Lee welcomed students of all races and backgrounds when he opened his martial arts school in Oakland’s Chinatown in 1964 (the traditionalists challenged him to a fight and sloppily lost). In that same year, he married an American woman when interracial marriage was still frowned upon in America. Shortly after, Lee invented his own martial arts philosophy Jeet Kune Do (截拳道 or ”the way of the intercepting fist”), by blending his primary martial art form of Wing Chun (詠春, or “singing spring”) with Tai Chi, taekwondo, boxing, fencing, jujutsu, Zen Buddhism, and Taoist philosophy.
Despite a short life of 32 years and only five released films, Lee broke the glass ceiling in Hollywood, transformed the world’s perception of Asian cultures, and paved the way for the proliferation of mixed martial arts.
One theme threading through Lee’s life is “emptying your cup,” an idea he repeatedly explored in his private journals. The origin of this idea came from a Zen story he once heard, as his surviving daughter Shannon Lee—who lost her father at the age of four in 1972—records in her part memoir, part biography Be Water, My Friend:
A learned man once went to a Zen master to inquire about Zen. As the master talked, the learned man would frequently interrupt him with remarks like, “Oh yes, we have that too,” and so forth.
Finally, the Zen master stopped talking and began to serve tea to the learned man; however, he kept pouring, and the teacup overflowed.
“Enough! No more can go into the cup!” the learned man interrupted. “Indeed, I see,” answered the Zen master. “If you do not first empty your cup, how can you taste my cup of tea?”
Bruce Lee’s story has inspired this week’s theme: “Emptying oneself.”
Finding what one is not looking for
In 1928, Scottish physician and microbiologist Alexander Fleming had been studying a type of bacteria called staphylococci before he went on a two-week vacation. He left behind in his lab at St. Mary’s Hospital in London an array of Petri dishes containing bacteria cultures. Fleming should have placed the dishes in an incubator but inadvertently left them on the lab bench.
When he returned, Fleming found that most of the dishes were mold-contaminated. Amid the mess, one dish piqued his curiosity. This dish showed a zone where the bacteria seemed unable to grow, suggesting the possibility that a particular kind of mold had stopped the bacteria from spreading. It would take another decade of hard work before Fleming and his colleagues discovered penicillin as an antibiotic treatment for bacterial infections that had killed millions, but the discovery began with Fleming’s openness. Instead of throwing away the ruined experiments, he saw an opportunity knocking.
Student photographer
When I took my first photography class 20 years ago, the teacher gave the class an exercise of taking 30 photos of an object of our choice. The assignment’s point was to develop a photographer’s eye.
“It’s easy to assume that you already know the subject and that there’s only one or two ways to take the photo,” the instructor said. “But when you really practice and study the subject closely, you discover many angles: top-down, sideways, bottom-up. Each gives you a different set of lighting, shadows, and backgrounds. Combine that with the various settings of your camera—aperture, shutter speed, zoom—the possibilities are endless. And don’t forget your feet. You should move closer, away, and around.”
I took away two lessons from that class. First, a great photo requires many bad ones. Second, a photographer must study the subject and its surroundings, observe with a beginner’s mind, and let go of any preconceived notion of what a photo should look like.
Lobster shell
Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski once read a curious article about how lobsters grow while waiting his turn at a dentist’s office. He explains that lobsters live inside rigid shells that don’t expand well. As a lobster grows, the shell becomes tight and holds the lobster back. The stress the lobster experiences signals growth, but growth requires emptying itself from the shell that once felt cozy. Since the new shell needs time to form, the lobster faces a vulnerable period with less protection, so it goes under a rock formation to protect itself from predatory fish, casts off the old shell, and produces a new one. As the lobster’s tender flesh absorbs sea water, the new casing hardens, and the lobster becomes stronger and heavier. The lobster will repeat this process many times throughout its life.
Caterpillars
This week, a magazine that came in the mail featured an article about how caterpillars transform into butterflies.
“The metamorphosis begins when the caterpillar spins a little silk pod called a chrysalis.” the article goes. “Once the body is entirely wrapped in the silk pod, the caterpillar’s body digests itself from the inside out until all that remains is liquid goop.”
What used to be a body is broken down into “imaginal cells”—undifferentiated cells that can now become any kind of cell. Some cells turn into wings and legs; others become antennae and organs. It’s fascinating that a caterpillar must completely dissolve itself before transforming into something new and beautiful.
Cup from the potter’s oven
Lastly, Bruce Lee’s idea of “the usefulness of a cup lies in its emptiness” reminds me of a snippet from Khalil Gibran’s Prophet (Chapter 8):
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.