Zen in the Art of Archery: Training the Mind and Body to Become One

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Lao-tzu could say with profound truth that right living is like water, which “of all things the most yielding can overwhelm that which is of all things the most hard.”

Zen in the Art of Archery by Eugen Herrigel | Goodreads

Nothing more is required of the pupil, at first, than that he should conscientiously copy what the teacher shows him. Just as one uses a burning candle to light others with, so the teacher transfers the spirit of the right art from heart to heart, that it may be illuminated. Bow and arrow are only a pretext for something that could just as well happen without them, only the way to a goal, not the goal itself, only helps for the last decisive leap. One can see in this an episode of the meeting or miscommunication between East and West, specifically that Japan became entranced with it's own medieval marital heritage as a result of exposure to the European Gothic revival - the Japanese liked all the castles and the knights and armour, but felt that the whole Romantic side with long-haired pre-Raphaelite ladies was all a bit soppy and not martial enough -their taste was for fewer Ladies in Lakes and more decapitations.Soltanto quando gli assicurai solennemente che un maestro che prendeva tanto sul serio il suo compito avrebbe potuto trattarmi come il suo più giovane allievo, perché volevo apprendere quell'arte non per divertimento ma per amore della 'Grande Dottrina', mi accettò come allievo… This was one of the first book I read on the subject. Given the choices made by Herrigel later in life, it is unclear what he took away from these experiences. The more he tries to make the brilliance of his swordplay dependent on his own reflection, on the conscious utilization of his skill, on his fighting experience and tactics, the more he inhibits the free 'working of the heart'" But after reading it, I would almost hesitate to say this book, or even really Zen as Herrigel describes it, contains much mysticism at all. Despite some of the language in this book being reverent on the unknowable, I think a lot of it might perhaps be better described as the unconscious. Herrigel's journey to mastery over the art of archery is one characterized by progressively growing more skilled at losing himself in the skill, in dissolving into the actions he's performing to the point where it's almost like he isn't doing anything at all. His master stresses this over and over - that any technical training available to Herrigel pales in comparison to the long-term gain that comes from abandoning himself to the skill. The “Great Doctrine” knows nothing of a target which is set up at a definite distance from the archer. It only knows of the goal, which cannot be aimed at technically, and it names this goal, if it names it at all, the Buddha.

Zen in the Art of Archery - Wikipedia

Historical Punctum: Reading Natasha Trethewey’s Bellocq’s Ophelia and Native Guard Through the Lens of Roland Barthes’s Camera Lucida The hand, exercising perfect control over technique, executes what hovers before the mind’s eye at the same moment when the mind begins to form it. This book is the result of the author’s six year quest to learn archery in the hands of Japanese Zen masters. It is an honest account of one man’s journey to complete abandonment of ‘the self’ and the Western principles that we use to define ourselves. Professor Herrigel imparts knowledge from his experiences and guides the reader through physical and spiritual lessons in a clear and insightful way. The version best known outside of Japan is seitei or “sport” kyudo: the basic form pulling elements from all the schools, and more grade-oriented and geared to competition. According to the Nippon Kyūdō Federation, the supreme goal of kyudo is achieving a state of shin-zen-bi, which roughly translates as “truth-goodness-beauty”.Another key difference between kyudo and competition archery is the commitment to a club and practising in a group. The very experienced can practice at home or on other ranges, but kyudo is very much a collective discipline: a display for an audience – both for your club mates, so that they can learn, and your peers, so that you might be assessed.