The quiet side of a man of action.
In the preface to his book, Li writes that despite his worldwide success as a martial-arts master and action-movie star, he never allowed himself to enjoy his triumphs for too long: “My desires and fears ruled over my mind like the cruel tyrants I’d face off against in my martial arts films; they were my boss, and I was their employee.” Li was still a teenager when he became a star in China and Hong Kong with Shaolin Temple (1982); before the movie’s release, he suffered a gruesome leg injury that nearly derailed his career. He persisted, though, becoming a bankable star in Asia, and later, the U.S., after he made his Hollywood debut in Lethal Weapon 4 (1998). Li doesn’t spend much ink on his career in film, instead focusing on the spiritual insights he gained along the way. In the late 1990s, he became “passionate” about Buddhism, and he draws from it extensively in the book, with a particular emphasis on zi zai, which he describes as “not a concept—it’s the embodied experience of being perfectly at home in the universe, unburdened and utterly alive, yet beyond self, beyond life, and beyond death.” He writes movingly about surviving the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, which nearly killed him and his family, and about his struggles with injuries, stomach illness, and hyperthyroidism. It’s a lot like reading a book by an all-star quarterback that focuses not on his Super Bowl victories, but on his various muscle strains, fumbles, and incomplete passes—and that’s what makes it such a fascinating read. “Life is a constant dance of mastery: balancing effort and surrender, wisdom and compassion, the child’s wonder and the sage’s perspective,” he writes, and he makes a startlingly effective argument in this self-effacing and enlightened book.
There’s ample food for thought in this action star’s reflections.