mind is unable to move on in this fashion, it is sure to lose the combat somewhere between two encounters.
The mind is present everywhere because it is nowhere attached to any particular object. And it can remain present because, even when relating to this or that object, it does not cling to it. The flow of thought is like water filling a pond, which is always ready to flow off again. It can work its inexhaustible power because it is free, and it can be open to everything because it is empty. This can be compared with what Chang Chen Chi called “Serene Reflection.” He wrote: “Serene means tranquillity of no thought, and reflection means vivid and clear awareness. Therefore, serene reflection is clear awareness of no-thought.”10
As stated earlier, a gung fu man aims at harmony with himself and his opponent. Also, being in harmony with one’s opponent is possible not through force, which provokes conflicts and reactions, but through a yielding to the opponent’s force. In other words, a gung fu man promotes the spontaneous development of his opponent and does not venture to interfere by his own action. He loses himself by giving up all subjective feelings and individuality, and he becomes one with his opponent. Inside his mind, oppositions have become mutually cooperative instead of mutually exclusive. When his private egos and conscious efforts yield to a power not his own he then achieves the supreme action, nonaction (wu wei).
Wu means “not” or “non” and wei means “action,” “doing,” “striving,” “straining,” or “busyness.” Wu wei doesn’t really mean doing nothing, but letting one’s mind alone, trusting it to work by itself. Wu wei, in gung fu, means spontaneous action or spirit-action, in the sense that the governing force is the mind and not the senses. During sparring, a gung fu man learns to forget about himself and follow the movement of his opponent, leaving his mind free to make its own countermovement without any interfering deliberation. He frees himself from all mental suggestions of resistance and adopts a supple attitude. His actions are all performed without self-assertion; he lets his mind remain spontaneous and ungrasped. As soon as he stops to think, his flow of movement will be disturbed and his opponent will immediately strike him. Every action therefore has to be done “unintentionally” without ever “trying.”
Through wu wei, a “reposeful ease” is secured. This passive achievement, as Chuang-tzu pointed out, will free a gung fu man from striving and straining himself:
A yielding will has a resposeful ease, soft as downy feathers,
A quietude, a shrinking from action, an appearance of inability to do.
Placidly free from anxiety, one acts
with the opportune time; one moves and revolves in the line
of creation. One does not move ahead but responds to the fitting influences.
Establish nothing in regard to oneself. Let things be
what they are, move like water, rest like a mirror,
respond like an echo, pass quickly like the nonexistent,
and be quiet as purity. Those who gain, lose. Do not
precede others, always follow them.11
The natural phenomenon which the gung fu man sees as being the closest resemblance to wu wei is water:
Nothing is weaker than water,
But when it attacks something hard
Or resistant, then nothing withstands it,
And nothing will alter its way.12
The above passages from the Tao Te Ching illustrate to us the nature of water: Water is so fine that it is impossible to grasp a handful of it; strike it, yet it does not suffer hurt; stab it, and it is not wounded; sever it, yet it is not divided. It has no shape of its own but molds itself to the receptacle that contains it. When heated to the state of steam it is invisible but has enough power to split the earth itself. When frozen it crystallizes into a mighty rock. First it is turbulent like Niagara Falls, and then calm like a still pond, fearful like a torrent, and refreshing like a spring on a hot summer’s day. So is the principle of wu wei:
The rivers and seas are lords of a hundred valleys. This is because their strength is in lowliness; they are kings of them all. So it is that the perfect master wishing to lead them, he follows. Thus, though he is above them, he follows. Thus, though he is above them, men do not feel him to be an injury. And since he will not strive, none strive with him. 13
The world is full of people who are determined to be somebody or to give trouble. They want to get ahead, to stand out. Such ambition has no use for a gung fu man, who rejects all forms of self-assertiveness and competition:
One who tries to stand on tiptoe cannot stand still. One who stretches his legs too far cannot walk. One who advertises himself too much is ignored. One who is too insistent on his own view finds few to agree with him. One who claims too much credit does not get even what he deserves. One who is too proud is soon humiliated. These are condemned as extremes of greediness and self-destructive activity. Therefore, one who acts naturally avoids such extremes.14
Those who know do not speak;
Those who speak do not know.
Stop your sense
Let sharp things be blunted,
Tangles resolved,
The light tempered
And turmoil subdued;
For this is mystic unity
in which the wise man is moved
Neither by affection
Nor yet by estrangement
Or profit or loss
Or honor or shame.
Accordingly, by all the world,
He is held highest.15
A gung fu man, if he is really good, is not proud at all. “Pride,” according to Mr. Eric Hoffer, “is a sense of worth that derives from something that is not organically part of oneself.”16 Pride emphasizes the importance of the superiority of a person’s status in the eyes of others. There is fear and insecurity in pride because when a person aims at being highly esteemed and achieves such status, he is automatically involved in the fear of losing his status. Then protection of his status appears to be his most important need, and this creates anxiety. Mr. Hoffer further states that: “The less promise and potency in the self, the more imperative is the need for pride. One is proud when he identifies himself with an imaginary self; the core of pride is self-rejection.”17
As we know, gung fu is aiming at self-cultivation, and the inner self is one’s true self. So in order to realize his true self, a gung fu man lives without being dependent upon the opinion of others. Since he is completely self-sufficient he can have no fear of not being esteemed. A gung fu man devotes himself to being self-sufficient and never depends upon the external rating by others for his happiness. A gung fu master, unlike the beginner, holds himself in reserve, is quiet and unassuming, without the least desire to show off. Under the influence of gung fu training his proficiency becomes spiritual, and he himself, grown ever freer through spiritual struggle, is transformed. To him, fame and status mean nothing.
Thus wu wei is the art of artlessness, the principle of no-principle. To state it in terms of gung fu, the genuine beginner knows nothing about 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