Soulful Sundays: Finesse

“The less effort, the faster and more powerful you will be.” — Bruce Lee

In the Daoist classic Zhuangzi, there’s a story about a butcher named Cook Ding whose skill with a knife becomes a lesson in mastery and effortless action. One day, as he carves an ox for Lord Wen Hui, his movements are so fluid and precise they resemble a graceful dance. His blade slips through the animal’s joints without resistance, and even after nineteen years of use, it’s still as sharp as ever. Amazed, the lord asks how this is possible. Cook Ding explains that in the beginning, he saw the ox as a whole, but over time, he learned to perceive its inner structure—the natural spaces between bones and sinews. Now, he no longer relies on sight or force but lets his intuition guide him. He follows the Dao, moving with the path of least resistance. His secret isn’t brute strength—it’s finesse: the quiet precision of knowing where to move, when to wait, and how to let the work unfold on its own.

Wú wéi, roughly translated as “effortless action,” is a concept from Daoism that describes an ideal state of consciousness. Also known as a “flow state” or “being in the zone,” wú wéi describes a kind of relaxed concentration that makes impossible tasks suddenly attainable. We’ve all likely experienced glimpses of this state—moments when every move comes naturally and lands with perfect effect, no matter what we’re doing. These flow states were studied extensively by psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi during his time at the University of Chicago. For many of his subjects, they represented the peak of human experience—the metaphorical summit they sought to reach again and again.

Few sensations produce such a deep sense of fulfillment as flow. Whether the activity is playing basketball or chess, becoming immersed in a movie or conversation, or losing yourself in a meaningful project or book, the feeling is the same. We lose track of time and shed intrusive thoughts—we’re fully present. The sensation is not just rewarding; it can become addictive if not properly channeled. When the desire for peak experiences outpaces the discipline required to sustain them, disaster often follows. This explains the mindset of climbers or kayakers who keep chasing bigger risks, or people who are addicted to the thrill of the chase itself. It becomes a treadmill of escalating stimulation and chronic dissatisfaction.

Finesse is the way off that treadmill. It is the art of using less effort—not more—to reach flow. Finesse works in the opposite direction of the dopamine-addiction pathway common in extreme thrill-seeking. Instead of relying on external stimulus, developing finesse requires a shift inward. Many of the flow states Csikszentmihalyi described were the result of intense external activity overpowering inner noise. While effective, this method depends on ideal circumstances. If we want to access wú wéi more often, we can’t wait for everything to be just right—we have to let go of expectations and commit fully to the process. This creates a paradoxical state of intense relaxation, or what could be called intentional no-mind—a condition that’s difficult to describe but instantly recognizable once experienced.

More tangibly, finesse is a commitment to mastering technique. The best performers in any field are the ones who refine their technique relentlessly. Talent is irrelevant without the hours of intentional practice needed to harness it. NBA legend Michael Jordan reportedly took 1,000 practice shots every single day. Shooting became as second nature to him as breathing, allowing him to enter flow the moment he stepped onto the court. He didn’t have to think about how to make baskets—he focused on how to create openings. The same was true of Bruce Lee, widely regarded as the greatest martial artist of all time. Though he was small (5’7” and 130 pounds), his punches and kicks were more powerful than those of men twice his size, and his speed was unrivaled—not because of brute force, but because he trained obsessively to become more efficient.

Building finesse requires devotion to intentional, disciplined practice. In The Book of Five Rings, Miyamoto Musashi—the legendary Japanese swordsman—wrote that the first imperative on the path to mastery is simple: “The Way is in training.” To become excellent at something, we must grow so intimate with it that we begin to perceive its inner structure, just like Cook Ding and the ox. At that point, we’re no longer separate from the task—we’re fully integrated with it. Flow is the state where mind, body, and spirit move as one. Finesse is the key that unlocks it. When we focus on doing less, we actually achieve more.