If you are wondering what Bruce Lee has to do with religion, you have my sympathy. I concede that the connection is not the most obvious, but please indulge me for a little while. I swear there is a point to this. While he may be better known as the star of the kung
fu movie genre, Lee was also a brilliant philosopher who successfully applied his insights to the martial arts. What this book intends to do to religion, in fact, is exactly what Bruce Lee did to the martial arts.
At a time when the Confucian reverence for tradition characterized the martial arts world, Lee came along to challenge it all with an antiauthoritarian approach that was unlike anything anybody had ever seen in the West. While the exponents of different martial arts styles argued among themselves about which art was the best, they all agreed on one basic concept: there is such a thing as one perfect art, with a perfect methodology and perfect techniques, which alone embodies the Truth in regards to combat. Naturally, much like the members of many organized religions, each claimed their art was the One. But according to Lee, they were all wrong because the very concept of separate “styles” of martial arts is wrong. He considered styles to be ideological prisons limiting the individual freedom to pursue one's own path. In Lee's view, they all had good ideas and good techniques, but they were all hopelessly deluded if they thought their partial truths were the Only Truth. Not all knowledge can be found in the house of the same teacher. Certainly agreeing with Thomas Paine's idea that “Every person of learning is finally his own teacher,” Lee believed individuals needed to be exposed to different methods in order to figure out what works for them.
Long before Lee's time, many great innovators in the history of martial arts had created new styles by mixing ideas and techniques from various systems. Lee took a much more radical step. Following the ideas of Zen Buddhist master Hakuin, Lee coined the motto “Using no way as the way.” This cryptic slogan meant it was not enough just to create a new style, with its inevitable rigid methodologies and fixed curriculum. Instead, Lee advocated cross-training, picking and choosing what suits one best from all different styles
of martial arts. Lee's revolutionary yet simple approach was broken down into four steps:
In other words, people should experiment with as many paths as possible and extract the best out of all of them. In doing this, Lee invited martial artists to resist the temptation to crystallize their discoveries into a fixed style. Instead, he invited them to engage in a process of research that would keep their ideas fresh, and would spur them to constantly evolve as fighters and as human beings. As Lee further wrote about his martial arts philosophy, “Jeet Kune Do favors formlessness so that it can assume all forms and since Jeet Kune Do has no style, it can fit with all styles. As a result, Jeet Kune Do utilizes all ways and is bound by none and, likewise, uses any techniques or means which serve its ends.”
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Lee's plan was to be able to use the strengths of any style without being bound to its weaknesses.
Following a method—any method—too closely robs us of the flexibility necessary to face life since, by its very nature, life is vaster than any law or rule. Too many rules suffocate individuality. People are different by talent, taste, and experience. To expect everyone to follow the same formula is a fascist dream that is completely out of touch with the essence of life. As Chuang Tzu puts it,
Water is for fish
And air for men.
Natures differ, and needs with them.
Hence the wise men of old
Did not lay down
One measure for all.
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If you have ever seen any great chef at work, you know that they don't follow a recipe. They follow their nose. A recipe may be a good guideline for people who are lost. But if you develop timing, awareness, and sensitivity you no longer need recipes. And this is precisely what Bruce Lee was trying to teach: develop the tools to trust in yourself more than a method.
To put it mildly, most of the martial arts community didn't respond kindly to Lee's ideas. They were outraged by what they perceived to be an arrogant slap in the face of tradition: Who is this young punk, they wondered, to question the teachings passed down by our masters? It takes a lifetime to learn and perfect the practice of one art, and yet this guy has the audacity to think he can briefly dabble in many arts, and based on that experience extract the best out of them? By abandoning time-honored methods, all he is going to accomplish is to become a stereotypical jack-of-all-trades, and master of none.
This is the same reaction that most anyone rejecting ancient dogmas in favor of exploring new paths has encountered. The idea of “creating your own” (whether it be a martial art, a religion, or anything else) always arouses hostility. Many people object that by merging separate traditions we end up watering down the truths contained in each. These people tell us that any type of syncretic mixing leads to hopeless confusion and spineless relativism. The do-it-yourself approach, they insist, is for people who are looking for
an easy way out by custom-making comfy beliefs tailored to their needs; these people lack the discipline and commitment to explore the depths of a single tradition.
If you are an acute observer and you actually still remember the title of this book, you may have noticed that I'm not exactly in agreement with this position. To put it more bluntly, I see this hard-line insistence on absolute values, and on the sanctity of traditions written in stone, as a tough-guy act that stems from insecurity, poor self-confidence, and fear. To argue for a greater possibility of choice is anything but relativistic. Not only is mixing more in tune with the globalized world, it is more in tune with the biological essence of life itself. Mutts are always healthier than purebred dogs. A person who develops the many talents necessary to explore a variety of different sources, discovering their strengths and mixing them together harmoniously, is not showing weakness or lack of discipline. They are making a choice that is born out of very strong convictions—strong enough as to be willing to experiment and change one's mind. This is definitely not the easy way out. If anything, the easy way out is buying into beliefs and adhering to them without question. It takes incredible guts to leave the herd behind, to become your own leader, forging yourself in the fire of unfiltered experience.
Much of the hostility toward “creating your own” comes from a deep fear. Most people are too scared of their own shadow to dare taking full responsibility for their values, actions, and lives. The prospect of having to rely entirely on themselves, without a group to fall back on or a dogma to reassure them, terrifies them to the core. Deep down they know they lack what it takes to live up to the challenge.
Freedom, in fact, is not for everyone. Besides sounding horribly undemocratic, the sentence I just wrote may also seem
counterintuitive. Freedom, after all, seems to be everywhere around us. Most people list it as one of their primary values. Hardly any war is fought without at least one side (and usually both) claiming that they are fighting for it. Songs and movies always talk about it. Politicians use the word when they are shopping for votes. Advertisers use it to sell their products. Freedom is the star in plenty of catchy slogans, songs, movies, political rhetoric, advertisements, etc. With such an overabundant use of the word “freedom,” and with so much lip service paid to it, it would be easy to be fooled into thinking people actually love freedom. Nothing could be further from the truth.
What people love is the
idea
of freedom. They love to think that they are not slaves. They go to great lengths to convince themselves they are independent, and that no one can boss them around. But reality tells a different story. Most people badly want some parent figure—whether that's a teacher, president, gang leader, pope, guru, God, or Santa Claus—to whom they can delegate their power of choice, for they would much rather trust anyone other than themselves. Having to figure things out on their own and take responsibility for their lives is too scary of a prospect. Following a path is much easier than creating one. This accounts for the popularity of dogma; and this is why, despite all the rhetoric suggesting otherwise, real freedom terrifies people.
What they crave is not freedom but authority figures to give them orders. If I can go on record with another runner-up for the most undemocratic sentence of all times . . . most people seem to be born to obey commands. They probably resent the commands, often complain about them, and occasionally secretly break them only to feel guilty later, but the truth is they would be totally lost without them. If you try to take away their chains, they'll scream and shout because their security, their very identity, is in their chains.
Give them real freedom and they'll run back to their dogmas crying “please mama hold me tight.” Dogma is what reassures them and lulls them to sleep at night. “No, dear child—dogma whispers softly in their ears—you don't need to venture alone in that big, scary world. Stay by my side instead, and I will always take care of you. I promise you will never have to make difficult choices all by yourself. I will map out the path for you, and all you'll have to do is follow. You will never be lost again.”
Forget freedom as a family value. Real freedom is scary. Real freedom is for people with broad shoulders and big hearts. So, if the thought of refusing to surrender your power to authority and becoming the leader of your own life scares you, I strongly recommend you quit now. The rest of the book is not going to get any easier.
OK, now that I've had a chance to get off my chest just how deeply I dislike the critics of the “create your own” approach, let me freely admit that sometimes they are right. Exhibit A in their favor is the New Age movement.
If I listen carefully, I can hear my publisher crying somewhere. No, Bolelli, c'mon. You have already pissed off scores of militant atheists. Fundamentalists from different religions are united in gloating at the thought of you burning in hell. At least, be nice to the new agers . . . Do you want to sell books or not?
Sorry, man, but I got to tell it like it is.
The New Age movement bugs me precisely because it takes some beautiful ideas, and turns them into a parody. Don't get me wrong. Plenty of great people with nothing but good intentions are connected with the New Age phenomenon. But the whole thing most
often appears so painfully superficial as to give ammunition to those opposing the notion of anyone “creating their own.”
Today after yoga, I'll try Tibetan meditation. Tomorrow I'm off to healing with crystals, and then I'll complete my spiritual joy-ride playing with the dreaming techniques of Australian aborigines.
Mixing different elements together is an art. Tossing a bunch of random ingredients together without truly understanding any of them is not. Even though many individuals are genuine—albeit somewhat desperate—seekers, just as many are on an ego-inflating trip taking them from one spiritual fad to the next. Besides making me sick, the pseudo-mystical posing that characterizes plenty of new agers ends up giving a bad name to the very ideas I am advocating, and this is why it bothers me to no end.
Everyone has the right to be free to pick and choose the best from different ideas and practices, thereby creating his or her own path. But clearly, merely rejecting traditional dogmas and creating your own way is no guarantee that you'll come up with something good. Talent and intelligence—unfortunately—are not distributed equally. The abundance of choices is welcome to those who have the skills to choose wisely, but is overwhelming for those who don't. If you combine the right elements together, you can come up with a masterpiece. I worship daily whoever first departed from tradition by deciding to throw in the pan noodles from Asia and tomatoes from the Americas, and came up with Italian pasta. On the other hand, mix the wrong ingredients, and you end up with Alfredo sauce.
This is probably why Benjamin Franklin promoted freethinking in matters of religion for highly educated people like himself or Thomas Jefferson, but at the same time he argued for the necessity to keep the masses anchored to traditional forms of religion. In his
opinion, in fact, they lacked the wisdom and self-discipline necessary for a healthy use of freedom.
This same elitist attitude has characterized the history of many philosophical schools of Taoism. They rarely ever tried to recruit people to their ideas. Most often, they tried to discourage them. If, like most people, you are too stupid to play with us—argued the Taoists—you better stick to Confucianism. There, they will give you rules to limit the amount of damage you can do, and feed you fairy tales to comfort you. It's better for you. If you try to play with the big boys, you may get hurt.
In the same spirit, Nietzsche wrote, “And he who is not a bird should not build his nest over abysses.”
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An echo of this is heard in Hermann Hesse's warning at the entrance of the Magic Theater in his famous novel
Steppenwolf
, “M
AGIC
T
HEATER
—E
NTRANCE
N
OT FOR
E
VERYBODY
.”
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Call me idealistic, but I see no reason to discourage freedom just because most people use it poorly. Sure, not everyone can create something wonderful, but everyone can and should be pushed to honestly express themselves. Despite all the possible problems, I agree with Bruce Lee. I'll take a daring experiment that fails over a safe, wimpy devotion to dogma any day.
The task of weaning people from dogma is challenging in all times and contexts, but Bruce Lee had an advantage in his antiauthoritarian quest. Because of the very physical nature of martial arts, one can go on talking for only so long before he or she is invited to step up and put their theories on the line. Martial arts theory is tested
not through flowery debates but combat. At the end of the match, you are either the one left standing or the one on the floor. No arguments there. Fighters can spout the best speeches in the world about the superiority of their art and training methods, but if they keep getting knocked out, they will be forced by reality to revise their ideas.