Bruce Lee: On the Three Stages of Art (and No-Mindedness)

This morning I realized that since I didn't post anything in 2011, the blog missed out on my whole "Bruce Lee phase." Thankfully, I had written several Facebook notes and posts on the topic, which I would now like to transfer to the blog. Here is the first in the series - in a slightly different form than it appeared on Facebook.

Bruce Lee: On the Three Stages of Art (and No-Mindedness)

Here is of my favorite Bruce Lee quotes of all time:

Before I studied the art, a punch to me was just a punch, a kick was just a kick.
After I'd studied the art, a punch was no longer a punch, a kick no longer a kick.
Now that I understand the art, a punch is just a punch, a kick is just a kick. 

At first glance this might sound like Eastern/Zen mumbo jumbo. Thankfully, by the time I encountered this quote, I had read enough of Bruce Lee's writings to know that he is a thinker, and my emunas chachamim propelled me forward in my reading and eventually led to a more lucid passage which unlocked the meaning of this more cryptic one.

In an unpublished article written in 1964 - which was posthumously published in Artist of Life (1999) - Bruce Lee identifies the "three stages in the cultivation of gung ku" (a.k.a. "Kung Fu"). In truth, these are the three stages of cultivating any art, skill, and craft. As you read about these three stages, think about the arts which you have cultivated. I think you'll find that he is correct. Personally, I've seen myself go through cycles of these stages in Gemara (specifically, my training in the Brisker Derech), Mishlei, teaching, writing, and Magic: the Gathering - but I highly recommend finding your own examples: 

There are three stages in the cultivation of gung fu: namely, the primitive stage, the stage of art, and the stage of artlessness.

The primitive stage is the stage of original ignorance in which a person knows nothing of the art of combat. In a fight he simply blocks and strikes instinctively without concern as for what is right and wrong. Of course, he might not be so-called scientific, but he is, nevertheless, being himself.

The second stage, the stage of art, begins when a person starts his training. He is taught the different ways of blocking and striking, the various ways of kicking, of standing, of moving, of breathing, of thinking. Unquestionably he is gaining a scientific knowledge of combat, but unfortunately his original self and sense of freedom are lost, and his action no longer flows by itself. His mind tends to freeze at different movements for calculation and analysis. Even worse, he might be "intellectually bound" and maintaining himself outside the actual reality.

The third stage, the stage of artlessness, occurs when, after years of serious and hard practice, he realizes that, after all, gung fu is nothing special and instead of trying to impose his mind on the art, he adjusts himself to the opponent like water pressing on an earthen wall, it flows through the slightest crack. There is nothing to "try" to do but be purposeless and formless like water. Nothingness prevails; he no longer is confined. 

Here is the same idea expressed in a more descriptive language: 

To state it in terms of gung fu, the genuine beginner knows nothing of the way of blocking and striking, and much less about his concern for himself. When an opponent tries to strike him, he “instinctively” parries it. This is all he can do. But as soon as his training starts, he is taught how to defend and attack, where to keep the mind, and many other technical tricks – which makes his mind “stop” at various junctures. For this reason whenever he tries to strike the opponent he feels unusually hampered (he has lost altogether the original sense of innocence and freedom). But as months and years go by, as his training acquires fuller maturity, his bodily attitude and his way of managing the technique toward no-mindedness comes to resemble the state of mind he had at the very beginning of his training when he knew nothing, when he was altogether ignorant of the art. The beginning and the end thus turn into next-door neighbors. In the musical scale, one may start with the lowest pitch and gradually ascend to the highest. When the highest is reached, one finds it is located next to the lowest.

In a similar way, when the highest stage is reached ... a gung fu man turns into a kind of simpleton ... Intellectual calculations are lost and a state of no-mindedness prevails. When the ultimate perfection is attained, the body and limbs perform by themselves what is assigned to them with no interference from the mind. The technical skill is so automatic it is completely divorced from conscious efforts. 

Now you'll be able to appreciate the pithiness and clarity of the initially a cryptic statement: 

Before I studied the art (the primitive stage), a punch to me was just a punch, a kick was just a kick.
After I'd studied the art (the stage of art), a punch was no longer a punch, a kick no longer a kick.
Now that I understand the art (the stage of artlessness), a punch is just a punch, a kick is just a kick. 

But one must exercise caution and patience if he wishes to advance. As my Mishlei rebbi constantly reminded us, one must never attempt to skip steps. The beginner will only enter the second stage once he begins to realize the limitations of his "primitive way" and naturally seeks out training as a means of enhancing his abilities and sharpening his skills. If he is forced into the rigorous training without seeing it as a way of expanding his capacities - that is, if he still believes in his heart that the primitive way can lead him to victory - then he will view the training as an obstacle to his success, and will resist it and abhor it. 

Likewise, the transition from the second to the third stage cannot be forced, but must come about naturally and gradually. One cannot simply quit in the middle of training and say, "I want to be free, so I'm going to stop thinking about how to implement my techniques, and instead, just 'be' myself." Rather, he must continue to diligently apply himself to his training of technique until one day, it dawns on him that he is no longer "thinking about" his method, but is simply thinking and simply doing. Only then will he experience what Bruce Lee describes: 

I'm moving and not moving at all. I'm like the moon underneath the waves that ever go on rolling and rocking. It is not, "I am doing this," but rather, an inner realization that "this is happening through me," or "it is doing this for me." The consciousness of self is the greatest hindrance to the proper execution of all physical action. 

This is what Bruce Lee refers to as "wu-hsin" (the state of "no-mindedness")*. The great mistake is to believe that one can attain this state without the use of mind, intellect, and reason. Those who labor under this error have effectively surrendered themselves to the clutches of their primitive emotions and imagination, and will inevitably end up in the realm of mysticism, deluding themselves into believing they have achieved some form of "enlightenment."

To the contrary: the only way one can attain wu-hsin is by rigorously training and applying one's mind to the art, thinking through each aspect of each move and governing every step with the faculty of reason. It is only after one has attained technical mastery through the powers intellect that the intellect can let go. Once the techniques become second nature, the intellect is no longer needed for their execution. The mind can then be free to respond to the reality at hand, as Bruce Lee writes: 

Absence of thought as doctrine means not to be carried away by thought in the process of thought, not to be defiled by external objects, to be in thought yet devoid of thought. 

To the extent that one has mastered the stage of art and is practicing his craft at the stage of artlessness, one can practice his craft in the freedom from thinking about results: 

Approach Jeet Kune Do with the idea of mastering the will. Forget about winning and losing; forget about pride and pain. Let your opponent graze your skin and you smash into his flesh; let him smash into your flesh and you fracture his bones; let him fracture your bones and you take his life! Do not be concerned with your escaping safely – lay your life before him!

The great mistake is to anticipate the outcome of the engagement; you ought not to be thinking of whether it ends in victory or in defeat. Let nature take its course, and your tools will strike at the right moment. 

If a beginner attempts to "let nature take its course," he will probably lose. How could it be said of him that "[his] tools will strike at the right moment" when he has no tools? And even if he does have a few tools, how will they "strike at the right moment" if these tools haven't been trained? Likewise, the Second Stage practitioner cannot "let nature take his course." His set of tools is still incomplete and his use of them is unskilled. His greatest chances of victory lie in the conscious, methodical, thinking-driven application of the techniques he has learned.

Only after rigorous (and restrictive) training can one be both free and successful in one's art. 

* I suspect that if I had encountered these ideas even one year ago, I would have immediately dismissed them, saying, "No mind?! That's BAD! Intellect GOOD, no-intellect BAD!" I would have hastily judged these ideas based on the superficial meaning of the terminology. Thank God, I have become a slower and more open-minded thinker.