Philosiphy

Be like water making its way through cracks. Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way round or through it. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves.

Empty your mind, be formless. Shapeless, like water. If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water my friend. bruce lee

The highest technique is to have no technique. My technique is a result of your technique; my movement is a result of your movement.
A good JKD man does not oppose force or give way completely. He is pliable as a spring; he is the complement and not the opposition to his opponent’s strength. He has no technique; he makes his opponent's technique his technique. He has no design; he makes opportunity his design.
One should not respond to circumstance with artificial and "wooden" prearrangement. Your action should be like the immediacy of a shadow adapting to its moving object. Your task is simply to complete the other half of the oneness spontaneously.
In combat, spontaneity rules; rote performance of technique perishes bruce lee

Do not be tense, just be ready, not thinking but not dreaming, not being set but being flexible. It is being "wholly" and quietly alive, aware and alert, ready for whatever may come.
The danger of training with the heavy bag is that it doesn't react to one’s attack and sometimes there is a tendency to thoughtlessness. One will punch the bag carelessly, and would be vulnerable in a real situation if this became a habit ... bruce lee

In JKD, one does not accumulate but eliminate. It is not daily increase but daily decrease. The height of cultivation always runs to simplicity.
Before I studied the art, a punch to me was just like a punch, a kick just like a kick. After I learned the art, a punch was no longer a punch, a kick no longer a kick. Now that I've understood the art, a punch is just like a punch, a kick just like a kick. The height of cultivation is really nothing special. It is merely simplicity; the ability to express the utmost with the minimum. It is the halfway cultivation that leads to ornamentation. Jeet Kune-Do is basically a sophisticated fighting style stripped to its essentials.
Art is the expression of the self. The more complicated and restricted the method, the less the opportunity for expression of one's original sense of freedom. Though they play an important role in the early stage, the techniques should not be too mechanical, complex or restrictive. If we cling blindly to them, we shall eventually become bound by their limitations. Remember, you are expressing the techniques and not doing the techniques. If somebody attacks you, your response is not Technique No.1, Stance No. 2, Section 4, Paragraph 5. Instead you simply move in like sound and echo, without any deliberation. It is as though when I call you, you answer me, or when I throw you something, you catch it. It's as simple as that - no fuss, no mess. In other words, when someone grabs you, punch him. To me a lot of this fancy stuff is not functional.
A martial artist who drills exclusively to a set pattern of combat is losing his freedom. He is actually becoming a slave to a choice pattern and feels that the pattern is the real thing. It leads to stagnation because the way of combat is never based on personal choice and fancies, but constantly changes from moment to moment, and the disappointed combatant will soon find out that his 'choice routine' lacks pliability. There must be a 'being' instead of a 'doing' in training. One must be free. Instead of complexity of form, there should be simplicity of expression.
To me, the extraordinary aspect of martial arts lies in its simplicity. The easy way is also the right way, and martial arts is nothing at all special; the closer to the true way of martial arts, the less wastage of expression there is.
In building a statue, a sculptor doesn't keep adding clay to his subject. Actually, he keeps chiselling away at the inessentials until the truth of its creation is revealed without obstructions. Thus, contrary to other styles, being wise in Jeet Kune-Do doesn't mean adding more; it means to minimize, in other words to hack away the unessential.
It is not daily increase but daily decrease; hack away the unessential bruce

Too much horsing around with unrealistic stances and classic forms and rituals is just too artificial and mechanical, and doesn't really prepare the student for actual combat. A guy could get clobbered while getting into this classical mess. Classical methods like these, which I consider a form of paralysis, only solidify and constrain what was once fluid. Their practitioners are merely blindly rehearsing routines and stunts that will lead nowhere.
I believe that the only way to teach anyone proper self-defence is to approach each individual personally. Each one of us is different and each one of us should be taught the correct form. By correct form I mean the most useful techniques the person is inclined toward. Find his ability and then develop these techniques. I don't think it is important whether a side kick is performed with the heel higher than the toes, as long as the fundamental principle is not violated. Most classical martial arts training is a mere imitative repetition - a product - and individuality is lost.
When one has reached maturity in the art, one will have a formless form. It is like ice dissolving in water. When one has no form, one can be all forms; when one has no style, he can fit in with any style. bruce lee

In primary freedom, one utilizes all ways and is bound by none, and likewise uses any techniques or means which serves one's end. Efficiency is anything that scores.
Efficiency in sparring and fighting is not a matter of correct classical, traditional form. Efficiency is anything that scores. Creating fancy forms and classical sets to replace sparring is like trying to wrap and tie a pound of water into a manageable shape of paper sack. For something that is static, fixed, dead, there can be a way or a definite path; but not for anything that is moving and living. In sparring there's no exact path or method, but instead a perceptive, pliable, choice-less awareness. It lives from moment to moment.
When in actual combat, you're not fighting a corpse. Your opponent is a living, moving object who is not in a fixed position, but fluid and alive. Deal with him realistically, not as though you're fighting a robot. Traditionally, classical form and efficiency are both equally important. I'm not saying form is not important - economy of form that is - but to me, efficiency is anything that scores. Don't indulge in any unnecessary, sophisticated moves. You'll get clobbered if you do, and in a street fight you'll have your shirt zipped off you. bruce lee

When Bruce Lee died in 1973, he did not leave this world without making an impact. Beyond his success as a martial arts actor, which was transforming enough to the movie industry in bringing the martial arts genre to life, he was a teacher. The man who played the role of Kato in The Green Hornet and starred in four and a half films was a martial arts instructor, and more—he was a philosopher. He majored in philosophy at the University of Washington. A man who devoured books on a wide range of subjects, from Eastern philosophy to gung fu to psychotherapy, he yearned for knowledge. As he put it, he wanted to express himself, and to express himself honestly. In order to express himself honestly, he had to know himself well. The idea should remind us of Socrates’ admonition, “Know thyself.”

“All knowledge ultimately means self knowledge,” said Lee in an interview. For Lee, “to be a martial artist means also to be an artist of life.”

In Lee’s pursuit of personal perfection, he walked a life of deep philosophy that urged him to seek answers and improvement. Bruce Lee was perhaps the best martial artist because he made himself that way, because he sought answers and resolutions. What set him apart from other martial artists was his understanding of the human dynamics of change. Most traditional martial artists taught a style of fighting that was set in stone—they gave a fixed set of moves and attitudes that defined their specific form of fighting. It reflects a very old form of thought given in Western philosophy in the words of Plato who believed in another realm of eternally static perfection to which we must mold ourselves. In the traditional view, change is imperfect; perfection is sought by denying change any relationship to the deeper, metaphysical reality.

Denying this paradigm, Lee took an objective look at his life, and his art, and sought to improve himself. His success owed to his philosophy in that his growth was not thwarted by the strict dictates of a fixed list of eternal facts. Other martial artists might improve themselves to the standards of a fixed style, but Lee measured himself to the standards of human potential and creation: “Style concludes. Man grows.” This attitude almost made it impossible for someone as dedicated as Lee to not become such a revolutionary master of his art.

Lee wrote, “In the long history of martial arts, the instinct to follow and imitate seems to be inherent in most martial artists, instructors and students alike.”

“Each man,” wrote Lee, “belongs to a style which claims to possess truth to the exclusion of all other styles. These styles become institutes with their explanations of the “Way,” dissecting and isolating the harmony and firmness and gentleness, establishing rhythmic forms as the particular state of their techniques.” The consequence, wrote Lee, was to bypass the purpose of martial arts and create “flowery forms” and “artificial techniques” that become “ritualistically practiced.”

Noting that “real combat is not fixed and is very much ‘alive’,” Lee stated that the “fancy mess” created by ritualizing fighting “is nothing but a blind devotion to the systematic uselessness of practicing routines or stunts that lead nowhere.”

The philosophy promoted by Lee was repugnant to many people already mired in traditional habits of thought. Angry or not, they could not deny the success of Lee. His understanding of martial arts was too profound for traditional views to keep him back.

The logic of Lee’s philosophy, which he uneasily labeled jeet kune do (he was cautious of giving his philosophy a title for fear of its crystallization into yet another style), is quite simple: “The art of Jeet Kune Do is simply to simplify.” The martial artist must ask two questions. 1) What is it that I want to accomplish? 2) What is the quickest, most efficient and effective way to reach my objective?

Lee felt that much of the “fancy mess” in martial arts wasted time and energy, and that styles restricted action. Styles, which lead to specialization, make a person incapable of handling a true master of martial arts. A kick-boxer would be unable to handle a wrestler who had the kick-boxer on the ground. A wrestler would be helpless against a boxer if the boxer kept the wrestler at arm’s reach.

Wrote Lee, “There is a great temptation to exploit favorite strokes to the neglect of most others. While this may bring initial success, it is unlikely to enable one to gain regular results in the highest-class competition. All too soon one’s opponents will find the answer to a limited game; a routine system of defense, for instance, plays into the hands of an observant opponent.”

To that end Lee pushed himself to be a master of every form of martial arts, using whatever was useful and discarding whatever was merely ritual. Only a few months before he died, Lee said, “I am improving and making new discoveries every day. If you don’t you are already crystallized and that’s it.”
written phisosiphy