Joe Hyams (left) with Gene Kelly
Joe Hyams, June 6, 1923 – November 8, 2008
If you follow this blog, you may know that I consider Zen in the Martial Arts, by Joe Hyams, to be one of the defining books in my childhood that encouraged my lifelong interest in the martial arts. I recently received a note from Lisa Hyams thanking me for a previous mention of her late-husband’s book. (Lisa I wanted to connect with you, but did not have contact information – thank you for taking the time to write me)
I had not realized that Mr. Hyams had passed a few years ago and wanted to take this moment to again share with you my favorite chapter of this book, “Beginner’s Mind”, where Mr. Hyams shares his first meeting with Bruce Lee. My wish is that you all have a chance to read this book and that it may touch you as deeply as it did me. It’s the best $7.99 you’ll ever spend.
FROM ZEN IN THE MARTIAL ARTS, “BEGINNER’S MIND”
The air was muggy and fetid in the Long Beach Sports Arena on that summer day in 1962. The air conditioning was malfunctioning and the crowd at the International Karate Tournament was getting restless after watching hours of matches. The Ed Parker, sponsor of the annual event, took the microphone and introduced Bruce Lee, who was to put on a demonstration of jeet-kune-do. There was an instant hush and all heads craned forward. Before his movie career began Bruce Lee was already legend among martial artists.
Bruce walked onto the elevated boozing ring wearing a simple, black, tailor-made kung-fu uniform. He spoke quietly for a few minutes about his art and then began the demonstration. It is always impressive to watch a large, muscular man perform karate, overwhelming the observer with the display of sheer, vibrant power. But to me, it even more impressive to see a slightly built man executing techniques with blinding speed, his motions as quick and elegant as those of a bird in flight. When Bruce finished there was a moment of silence and then shattering applause.
Some weeks later a friend arranged for me to meet Bruce, from whom I hoped to take private lesions. Bruce was highly selective about the students he chose to teach, and this meeting was to be a kind of audition for me.
Since he gave only private lessons and had no formal studio, the meeting was at my home. He arrived promptly and I went out into the front yard to meet him. At first glance he appeared even smaller than he looked on stage. He was wearing snug-fitting, full-length athletic pants and a green tank top shirt that revealed rippling muscles. He was smiling when we shook hands, but he quickly got to the point.
“Why do you want to study with me?” he asked. “Because I was impressed with your demonstration and because I have heard you are the best.”
“You’ve studied other martial arts?” he asked.”For a long time” I answered, “but I stopped some time ago and now I want to start over again.” Bruce nodded and asked me to demonstrate some of the techniques I already knew. We went out to my driveway and he watched intently as I went through the various katas, or exercise, from other disciplines. Then he asked me to execute some basic kicks, blocks, and punches on a bag hanging from a rafter of the garage. “Do you realize you will have to unlearn all you have learned to start over again?” he asked. “No,” I said.
Bruce smiled and placed his hand lightly on my shoulder. “Let me tell you a story my sifu told me,” he said.
“It is about the Japanese Zen master who received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen. It was obvious to the master from the start of the conversation that the professor was not so much interested in learning about Zen as he was in impressing the master with his own opinions and knowledge. The master listened patiently and finally suggested they have tea. The master poured his visitor’s cup full and then kept on pouring. The professor watched the cup overflowing until he could no longer restrain himself. “The cup is overfull, no more will go in.”
“Like this cup,” the master said, “you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup”
Bruce studied my face. “You want me to empty my mind of past knowledge and old habits so that I will be open to new learning”
“Precisely,” said Bruce. “And now we are ready to begin your first lesson.”
This does not mean that Bruce prevented me from applying a critical mind to his teaching. In fact, he welcomed discussing, even argument. But when challenged too long on a point his reply was always, “At least empty your cup and try.”
Later I learned that Bruce practiced what he taught. As a youth in Hong Kong he had studied wing-chun, a branch of kung-fu, under the celebrated master, Yip Man. When he came to America as a teenager he observed Ed Parkers’ kenpo-karate, taking from it many hand techniques that appealed to him. From tae-kwon-do he borrowed the devastating kicks that make the Korean style so formidable. He also studied other styles of martial arts, taking from all of them whatever he thought useful. Although considered one the best martial artists of his time, he was always learning, always in a constant process of change and improvement. He truly kept his cup empty.
Bruce had not only developed his physical abilities to a point of perfection, he had also honed his mind with the study of Zen. His den in Los Angeles was stacked ceiling-high with worn volumes of the Zen masters written in Chinese and in English.
It has been more than a decade since my first lesson with Bruce, and I am now in my mid-fifties. With half a century of life experience behind me, I sometimes get impatient with a new idea or technique. But when I feel impatient or act dogmatically self-assured, I remind my self of the lesson Bruce taught me, and I try to empty my cup to make room for new methods and ideas.
That was my first real lesson in Zen in the martial arts and its application to life-although at the time I didn’t recognize it as Zen. It was merely good sense-which is what Zen really is.
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Zen in the Martial Arts on Amazon.
