Time does seem to fly by, doesn’t it? It’s almost June, and for many, there’s still a good deal of hard work ahead before a well-deserved break. I hope you made the most of the extended weekend. As for me, I’m right here, preparing for an upcoming event – more on that later.
Now, let’s talk about self-expression, a topic which Bruce Lee valued greatly. Well, I’ve since completed reading Matthew Polly’s biography on Bruce Lee. And I must say, the author did an exceptional job. He left no stone unturned, reaching out to everyone and digging up every tidbit of information available. I was impressed by how he painted such a vivid portrait of Lee, delving into the smallest details, tracing his lineage back to his parents and following his journey until that fateful end in his mistress’s apartment.
In case you haven’t gathered it already, it’s a book I wholeheartedly recommend – provided you have an interest in Bruce Lee, of course. And also, as long as you’re willing to face his less flattering aspects as well. I believe that’s the key if you want to understand his interest in ‘self expression’. In short, Lee was an outsider throughout his life, struggling to find his footing. He was plagued by restlessness, unable to sit still for a moment. This wasn’t your average childhood fidgetiness; it was more like an internal energy reactor that continued to burn well into adulthood.
As you can imagine, this restlessness didn’t translate into academic achievement or a clear-cut career path. Lee had to search for something that truly resonated with him. He channeled his energies into his passions, such as acting and martial arts. If you’re familiar with his acting career, you’ll know his first major role in the United States was playing Kato, the Green Hornet’s sidekick during the 1960s. At times, you see glimpses of his talents, but often, he just stood around, waiting for something to do. His true breakthrough only came when he landed roles that allowed him to fully express himself – think “The Big Boss” and “Fist of Fury,” relatively low-budget Chinese martial arts films, mostly held up by the strength of his charisma and physical presence. In essence, self-expression proved to be the key to his meteoric rise.
It seems obvious in hindsight, doesn’t it? I mean, here’s a hyperactive youngster, with an obsession for martial arts and a passion for acting. Shouldn’t he obviously become the leading man in some martial arts film? Yet, I can’t help but think that back in his twenties, many people had trouble envisioning such a future for him – and perhaps he did as well. For a long while, he toyed with the idea of opening martial arts clubs across America, a notion more aligned with a businessman than an actor. It was a journey for him, one likely riddled with self-doubt, and I’m sure he occasionally wondered if he would have been better off pursuing a more traditional path.
The same happened for George Carlin, who recognized his calling as a comedian early on but clung to a more conventional style for quite some time because, well, that’s what you did, so to speak.
It took Carlin a while to discover how he could creatively express himself through comedy in a way that truly aligned with his identity, to finally find his authentic comedic voice. When he finally did, he became the Carlin we think of today, crafting stand-up bits that continue to be shared and cherished. If you’re familiar with Carlin’s material, you’ll know exactly what I mean. The pieces of his that endure are not the earlier psychedelic vocabulary lessons, but his quasi-philosophical musings from his later years.
And I guess we all have the same struggle. We come into this world with the only instructions being the DNA strands in each of our cells, and even those don’t paint the full picture. But finding what we’re meant to do? To plot our own paths? It’s more difficult than anything you can imagine, I find. Food for thought.
Kind regards
Vincent J. Dancet