Zen in the Art of Archery

The German professor Eugen Herrigel (1884-1955) was one of the first people who brought the Oriental philosophy of Zen to public attention in the West. Inspired by his love of Eastern philosophy, he travelled to Japan and taught at Tohoku Imperial University in Sendai. Under the mentorship of master archer Awa Kenzô, Herrigel studied traditional Japanese archery, or “kyudo”, from 1924 to 1929 before returning to Germany. After the conclusion of the Second World War, he published a book called Zen in the Art of Archery (Herrigel, 1948), which recounts his enlightenment through the process of learning kyudo, and it soon became one of the most famous works on Zen Buddhism of all time.

A key concept in the book is the idea of “non-doing”. It means to let things happen without the interference of the subconscious mind, as his teacher Awa put it: “You can learn from an ordinary bamboo leaf what ought to happen. It bends lower and lower under the weight of snow. Suddenly the snow slips to the ground without the leaf having stirred. Stay like that at the point of highest tension until the shot falls from you. So, indeed, it is: when the tension is fulfilled, the shot must fall, it must fall from the archer like snow from a bamboo leaf, before he even thinks it.”

Therefore, an archer shall become “purposeless on purpose”, and not to consciously intervene in the process of shooting an arrow. “The more obstinately you try to learn how to shoot the arrow for the sake of hitting the goal, the less you will succeed in the one and the further the other will recede. What stands in your way is that you have a much too wilful will. You think that what you do not do yourself does not happen.”

Instead, one shall let go of oneself, and leaving everything behind so decisively that nothing more is left of you but a “purposeless tension”, because the shot will go smoothly only when it takes the archer himself by surprise. “This, then, is what counts: a lightning reaction which has no further need of conscious observation. In this respect, at least, the pupil makes himself independent of all conscious purpose.”

It all sounds simple and easy in theory, but it actually took Herrigel five painstaking years to master the art. For the first four years, Herrigel was only allowed to shoot at a roll of straw just a few feet away, because his teacher wanted to ensure that he had absolutely mastered the basics before moving on. And when Herrigel was finally introduced the practice hall to shoot targets at a standard distance, his arrows always flew wayward. Herrigel was discouraged and started to question his teacher’s method, but his teacher insisted that he should become “mindless” and not to worry about the outcome.

Finally, out of frustration, Herrigel blurted out:

“Then you ought to be able to hit it blindfolded.”

His teacher was a little shocked, but then he paused for a moment, and replied:

“Come to see me this evening.”

In that evening, Herrigel and his teacher returned to the practice hall. His teacher instructed Herrigel to place the target in the darkened end of the hall, and the bullseye only illuminated by a barely visible candle. Then the master walked over to his normal shooting location, drew the bow string tight, and released the first arrow into the darkness of the courtyard. Herrigel recalled, “I knew from the sound that it had hit the target.”

Immediately, the teacher shot a second arrow, and Herrigel ran across the courtyard to inspect the target. “When I switched on the light over the target stand, I discovered to my amazement that the first arrow was lodged full in the middle of the black, while the second arrow had splintered the butt of the first and ploughed through the shaft before embedding itself beside it.”

It was only after witnessing such an amazing feat of hitting the bullseye back-to-back in complete darkness, Herrigel came to find out that, when entering a state of perfect performance, “The archer ceases to be conscious of himself as the one who is engaged in hitting the bull's-eye which confronts him. This state of unconscious is realised only when, completely empty and rid of the self, he becomes one with the perfecting of his technical skill, though there is in it something of a quite different order which cannot be attained by any progressive study of the art.”

This book has a widespread influence in the sports psychology literature. Athletes are encouraged to approach sport and life as opportunities for learning “inner cooperation”. They should give up the dualistic confrontation between themselves and the outside world, and see their participation as a struggle. Instead, they shall recall a naive state of mind which is known was the “inner child” idea in humanistic psychology, and align their goals with their subconscious mind. If this is done, then one could remain at ease no matter how much difficulty mounts. As famous trader Ed Seykota said, “A fish at one with the water sees nothing between himself and his prey. A trader at one with his feelings feels nothing between himself and executing his method.”

Reference: Herrigel, E. (1948). Zen in aer Kunst des Bogenschiessens (Zen in the art oi archery). Muenchen-Planegg: Otto Wilhelm Barth-Verlag