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jet's personal journey
In 1997, I decided to retire from making movies. For one thing, I was very tired. Think about it: starting from the age of eight, you practiced wushu eight hours a day for 10 years. Then you start make movies, and it's more of the same. And whenever you talk to reporters, they're always cajoling you to strike a pose for the camera. But you become famous. You earn a good sum of money. You've also had some major injuries.
The years had passed by. Each stage of life has its own logic, and I had come to certain conclusions. I honestly wasn't interested in accumulating more fame or power. It was enough to do right by my mother, my family and my children--to provide for them. I made the decision to retire.
At this time, I met Lho Kunsang Rinpoche, a spiritual master of Tibetan Buddhism. He asked me why I was retiring. And I told him: "To study Buddhism. To live a religious life."
The Rinpoche said to me: "You can't retire--not yet."
Now, in the course of my career, I'd met many learned teachers, and all of them had told me that my fate was linked with Buddhism. Even during the filming of Shaolin Temple, when I was learning the various rituals for my character, people at the temple said to me: "You should become a monk!" (And the director said, "No, wait! Don't do that--we've got a movie to finish!!")
But I, too, had felt for a long time that I was meant to truly explore the Buddhist path.
I said to the Rinpoche, "Everybody else has urged me to become a monk or renounce the world and study the scriptures. Yet you, of all people, tell me: 'Go back to work.'"
He said, "You haven't completed your mission in this lifetime."
"How can that be?" I asked. "I'm content with what I've been given, and what I've been able to give. I'm satisfied with my career, my reputation, my family. I've accomplished everything that I set out to do. What more can anybody ask of me?"
"It's not something that you owe to an individual. You still have a larger responsibility."
"Well, tell me what it is," I replied. If I knew what it was, maybe I could disagree and decline to take on this responsibility.
"There's no way for me to identify it for you," he answered. "You will realize it on your own through experience."
"Alright," I said dubiously. "If you say so. I'll look for it." I had no idea what he was talking about.
But in the meantime, I did continue to make movies. I filmed Lethal Weapon 4, and then, for the next year or two, I busied myself trying to figure out what this responsibility could be.
By the time the Rinpoche came to visit me last year in America, I had begun to feel like I had a hint of what he had meant. I'd found various clues about what I was supposed to do. And it did have to do with my motivation for making movies.
What kind of reason could motivate me to keep at this career, with its grueling physical work and constant risk of injury? As I said before, I'm the type of person who doesn't crave more money or fame. I have made enough money to take care of my family for a long time. And fame, as we all know, is fleeting. How many famous people have existed throughout history? How many movie stars have there been in Hollywood alone? And how many of them have faded from memory? Time dilutes everything. Teenagers don't even know the names of last generation's stars. If you see through the lure of fame, you certainly won't let that drive you.
But last year, I finally figured it out. I had a responsibility to help introduce Buddhism to the West--in non-traditional ways and through non-traditional media.
There are several main ideas in Buddhism. I'll talk about two of them right now.
- One of the concepts is karma: that your actions determine your destiny.
- The other idea is loving-kindness, or compassion. To treat everybody in a loving way.
I had started to notice how much everybody likes to complain. About their health, their job, their boss, their relationships, their family. People go on and on about what's wrong with their life and how everybody else is making life difficult for them. But the things that happen to you are created by the actions in your immediate past. By the same token, the things you do in this life--your actions, words, behavior--all determine what happens to you in the next life. Now, just imagine if you had to write up your own "account statement" at the end of your life. You can hide from other people but you can't lie to yourself; you know who you've complained about, what tasks you've left unfinished, and which promises you failed to keep.
If you think about it this way, you could say that you've created a pretty exciting plot. You've set the stage for a character with all sorts of interesting motivations, unresolved issues, mistakes that he or she needs to address or redress or correct the next time around. In fact, you might say that you are constantly writing the script for your next life. Or that you might think twice when you complain about your current situation--because who do you think is responsible for making it happen? Who do you think arranged for certain characters to show up at certain moments? Who fashioned tragic twists in the story, and the difficult challenges and situations? Karma writes the script, and you alone are responsible for your karma.
If more people thought about it this way, the world might be very different. There would be less complaining. People might make big changes in their attitude. Maybe they'd be nicer to other people, and start acting in a more loving way.
This is just the surface. I'm still learning new things every day.
My main goal in making movies nowadays is not the movie itself. Instead, it is my hope to use the medium of film or TV or the Internet to share my understanding of Buddhism with those who are willing to listen. In the future, if I should gain more influence or money, I plan to use it to help me carry out this responsibility. There are many great Buddhist masters and rinpoches, but because they are not well-known, their valuable teachings go unheard. I would like to help them spread their wisdom. I have the ability to use these media to say a few things about their philosophy, and how important a role love plays in this drama of human existence. That's my motivation now. I'm not making movies for myself anymore. I see now that I can't retire yet--not before I make a few movies that may help inspire greater wisdom and more sane behavior in the world. I'm looking further, much further, than box office returns.
Not everybody will listen; not everybody will understand. That's fine.
I just want to do my part to promote the Buddhist philosophy of loving-kindness and unconditional love, so that some can understand, even just a little, how to make the most of this human opportunity, this lifetime. I'm not trying to convert my audiences; I just want to offer information--to expose them to ideas they might not otherwise encounter. If they're not interested in the message, they may not even notice it. If they're ready to listen, they will.
