The title of my first column was a frequently used phrase by my teacher Bruce Lee, at the gym in Chinatown and at his house. What did he mean by this? He wanted us to be loose, with the joyful mind of a child at play. Yet he still demanded that we be serious in the training we were undertaking. He urged us to take our training seriously, but not ourselves. In this way, we could have that delightful sense of "play" that a child experiences when he loses himself in the moment. We could bring about perfection in our movements.
In my case, when I first started my jeet kune do training with him, I was eager to excel. I tried so hard that it became work and I developed the bad habit of tensing my shoulders into a knot before I moved or threw a punch. Bruce would walk over to me and rap me heavily on the back. "Play, but play seriously," he would whisper. Eventually, it sank in that my physical outward tension was a result of my mindset. I was taking myself much too seriously and focusing on the results rather than the process. The expression he admonished me with became my mantra. I regained my sense of play and it became a stepping-off point for complete self-expression in the martial way.
Today, the martial arts have taken an opposite path. So often there is a complete lack of joy in the movement, a lack of joy in the attitude, a lack of...play.
Martial artists now feel they have to grow to the size of Bigfoot, enhance their power with drugs, snarl and generally foam at the mouth to be "tough." They feel that their "killer instinct" has to be always in control for them to be victorious in a bout or self-defense scenario.
But when the Young Master moved, it was with an effortless grace and power that left you in awe of what can be achieved when mind, body and spirit work harmoniously as one. As someone privileged to be there, I saw him toy with challengers like a cat playing with a mouse. But that was only the beginning. For Bruce, merely beating an opponent up was not the goal of martial arts training. The study of martial arts has a much higher purpose.
Bruce seemed to float in the air; his movements were spontaneous and explosive. But this tremendous force was generated from a calm center. He did not need to work himself into a frenzy. He was having the time of his life, with the glee of a child at play.
As a young boy, I used to watch the pirate movies of the day. I made myself a sword from a piece of wood and my back porch became my "ship." Spinning and leaping with my pretend sword, I was defeating "attackers" from every angle. It was this sense of play that I recaptured, years later, thanks to my teacher.
In training sessions, I would see Bruce leap across the room or gym with a kick or strike, and when he looked back at us-his audience-he would see the wonder and disbelief in our eyes. Then he would giggle and do it again! We were witnessing countless hours of hard work culminating in incredible feats. But it was obvious that it was his sense of play and love of movement that helped him attain the seemingly impossible.
Where has that sense of play gone in the martial arts? Where is the joy? Regardless of what martial art you study, the next time you feel tense, tired or just bored, think back to your childhood. Remember the favorite game you used to play. Capture that time and memory in your mind and bring it to the present. You will be amazed at what you can do.
Play...but play seriously.
Jerry Poteet is an original Los Angeles Chinatown student of Bruce Lee and the
author of Jerry Poteet's Jeet Kune Do Secrets, Vol. 1. He can be reached
www.jerrypoteet.com
The name, likeness and image of Bruce Lee are owned by Concord Moon LP and are used with its express and prior permission. All Rights Reserved.
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Jerry Poteet (left) with fellow members of the Los Angeles Chinatown class, including teacher Bruce Lee (center).
Jerry Poteet (first row, second from left) and Daniel Lee (first row, left) pose for a class picture at the Los Angeles Chinatown school.
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