Archery Zen Quotes

Don't think of what you have to do, don't consider how to carry it out!" he exclaimed. "The shot will only go smoothly when it takes the archer himself by surprise.

What stands in your way is that you have a much too willful will. You think that what you do not do yourself does not happen.

If you understand real practice, then archery or other activities can be zen. If you don't understand how to practice archery in its true sense, then even though you practice very hard, what you acquire is just technique. It won't help you through and through. Perhaps you can hit the mark without trying, but without a bow and arrow you cannot do anything. If you understand the point of practice, then even without a bow and arrow the archery will help you. How you get that kind of power or ability is only through right practice.

You worry yourself unnecessarily. Put the thought of hitting right out of your mind!

...being able to wait without purpose in the state of highest tension...without continually asking yourself: Shall I be able to manage it? Wait patiently, as see what comes - and how it comes!

The right art," cried the Master, "is purposeless, aimless! 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 willful will. You think that what you do not do yourself does not happen.

The right shot at the right moment does not come because you do not let go of yourself. You do not wait for fulfillment, but brace yourself for failure.

You must learn to wait properly... By letting go of yourself, leaving yourself and everything yours behind you so decisively that nothing more is left of you but a purposeless tension

Again, like the Zen approach to archery or anything else, you identify the goal and then forget about it and concentrate on the process. Measure

The shot will only go smoothly when it takes the archer himself by surprise.

He who has a hundred miles to walk should reckon ninety as half the journey,” he replied, quoting the proverb.

archery is still a matter of life and death to the extent that it is a contest of the archer with himself;

... the Master's warning that we should not practice anything except self-detaching immersion.

The more one concentrates on breathing, the more the external stimuli fade into the background.

I learned to lose myself so effortlessly in the breathing that I sometimes had the feeling that I myself was not breathing but—strange as this may sound—being breathed.

The more one concentrates on breathing, the more the external stimuli fade into the background... In due course one even grows immune to larger stimuli, and at the same time detachment from them becomes easier and quicker. Care has only to be taken that the body is relaxed whether standing, sitting or lying, and if one then concentrates on breathing one soon feels oneself shut in by impermeable layers of silence. One only knows and feels that one breathes. And, to detach oneself from this feeling and knowing, no fresh decision is required, for the breathing slows down of its own accord, becomes more and more economical in the use of breath, and finally, slipping by degrees into a blurred monotone, escapes one's attention altogether.

This exquisite state of unconcerned immersion in oneself is not, unfortunately, of long duration. It is liable to be disturbed from inside. As though sprung from nowhere, moods, feelings, desires, worries and even thoughts incontinently rise up, in a meaningless jumble.... The only successful way of rendering this disturbance inoperative is to keep on breathing quietly and unconcernedly, to enter into friendly relations with whatever appears on the scene, to accustom oneself to it, to look at it equably and at last grow weary of looking.

You have described only too well," replied the Master, "where the difficulty lies...The right shot at the right moment does not come because you do not let go of yourself. You...brace yourself for failure. So long as that is so, you have no choice but to call forth something yourself that ought to happen independently of you, and so long as you call it forth your hand will not open in the right way--like the hand of a child.

And what impels him to repeat this process at every single lesson, and, with the same remorseless insistence, to make his pupils copy it without the least alteration? He sticks to this traditional custom because he knows from experience that the preparations for working put him simultaneously in the right frame of mind for creating. The meditative repose in which he performs them gives him that vital loosening and equability of all his powers, that collectedness and presence of mind, without which no right work can be done.

How far the pupil will go is not the concern of the teacher and Master. Hardly has he shown him the right way when he must let him go on alone.

The instructor’s business is not to show the way itself, but to enable the pupil to get the feel of this way to the goal by adapting it to his individual peculiarities

In the classic Zen in the Art of Archery, Eugen Herrigel’s teacher urged him always to take his next shot unburdened by previous failures to hit the target; as he improved, his teacher urged him not to be influenced by his successes either, to stay in the present moment.

I must only warn you of one thing. You have become a different person in the course of these years. For this is what the art of archery means: a profound and far−reaching contest of the archer with himself. Perhaps you have hardly noticed it yet, but you will feel it very strongly when you meet your friends and acquaintances again in your own country: things will no longer harmonize as before. You will see with other eyes and measure with other measures. It has happened to me too, and it happens to all who are touched by the spirit of this art.

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.

You had to suffer shipwreck through your own efforts before you were ready to seize the lifebelt he threw you. Believe me, I know from my own experience that the Master knows you and each of his pupils much better than we know ourselves. He reads in the souls of his pupils more than they care to admit.

I must only warn you of one thing. You have become a different person in the course of these years. For this is what the art of archery means: a profound and far-reaching contest of the archer with himself. Perhaps you have hardly noticed it yet, but you will feel it very strongly when you meet your friends and acquaintances again in your own country: things will no longer harmonize as before. You will see with other eyes and measure with other measures. It has happened to me too, and it happens to all who are touched by the spirit of this art.

Put the thought of hitting right out of your mind! You can be a Master even if every shot does not hit. The hits on the target is only an outward proof and confirmation of your purposelessness at its highest, of your egolessness, your self-abandonment, or whatever you like to call this state. There are different grades of mastery, and only when you have made the last grade will you be sure of not missing the goal.

...the preparations for working put him simultaneously in the right frame of mind for creating... that collectedness and presence of mind...the right frame of mind for the artist is only reached when the preparing and the creating, the technical and the artistic, the material and the spiritual, the project and the object, flow together without a break.

Your arrows do not carry,’ observed the Master, ‘because they do not reach far enough spiritually.’ Eugen Herrigel Zen and the Art of Archery

One should approach all activities and situations with the same sincerity, the same intensity, and the same awareness that one has with bow and arrow in hand

You had to suffer shipwreck through your own efforts before you were ready to seize the lifebelt he threw you.

why try to anticipate in thought what only experience can teach?

If you are upset or nervous, that is proof you lack something. Do not be sad or gloomy - foster virtue, feel compassion, and you can save even devils.

Thousands of repetitions and out of one's true self perfection emerges.

In the Ways, ji connotes skill and ri connotes inspiration. When one sees into the underlying principles, one's performance becomes inspired.

only the truly detached can understand what is meant by “detachment”,

What must I do, then? " I asked thoughtfully. " You must learn to wait properly. " " And how does one learn that? " " By letting go of yourself, leaving yourself and everything yours behind you so decisively that nothing more is left of you but a purposeless tension. " " So I must become purposeless˙on purpose? " I heard myself say. " No pupil has ever asked me that, so I don’t know the right answer. " " And when do we begin these new exercises? " " Wait until it is time.

[EM] Forster was the only living writer whom he would have described as his master. In other people’s books he found examples of style which he wanted to imitate and learn from. In Forster he found a key to the whole art of writing. The Zen masters of archery—of whom, in those days, Christopher had never heard—start by teaching you the mental attitude with which you must pick up the bow. A Forster novel taught Christopher the mental attitude with which he must pick up the pen.

You only feel it because you haven’t really let go of yourself. It is all so simple. 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.

It is generally admitted that Dhyana Buddhism, which was born in India and, after undergoing profound changes, reached full development in China, to be finally adopted by Japan, where it is cultivated as a living tradition to this day, has disclosed unsuspected ways of existence which it is of the utmost importance for us to understand.

Tikrasis menas yra betikslis, nesąmoningas! /.../ Jums skersai kelio stoja tai, kad turite per daug klusnią valią. Manote, kad tai, ko nepadarysite, neįvyks.

He who has a hundred miles to walk should reckon ninety as half the journey,

What must I do, then?” I asked thoughtfully. “You must learn to wait properly.” “And how does one learn that?” “By letting go of yourself, leaving yourself and everything yours behind you so decisively that nothing more is left of you but a purposeless tension.” “So I must become purposeless – on purpose?” I heard myself say. “No pupil has ever asked me that, so I don’t know the right answer.” “And when do we begin these new exercises?” “Wait until it is time.

Assuming that his talent can survive the increasing strain, there is one scarcely avoidable danger that lies ahead of the pupil on his road to mastery. Not the danger of wasting himself in idle self-gratification – for the East has no aptitude for this cult of the ego – but rather the danger of getting stuck in his achievement, which is confirmed by his success and magnified by his renown: in other words, of behaving as if the artistic existence were a form of life that bore witness to its own validity.

You see what comes of not being able to wait without purpose in the state of highest tension. You cannot even learn to do this without continually asking yourself: Shall I be able to manage it? Wait patiently, and see what comes – and how it comes!

But he who has it, said the Master with a subtle smile, would do well to have it as though he did not have it.

You worry yourself unnecessarily,” the Master comforted me. “Put the thought of hitting right out of your mind! You can be a Master even if every shot does not hit. The hits on the target are only the outward proof and confirmation of your purposelessness at its highest, of your egolessness, your self-abandonment, or whatever you like to call this state. There are different grades of mastery, and only when you have made the last grade will you be sure of not missing the goal.

What are you thinking of?” he would cry. “You know already that you should not grieve over bad shots; learn now not to rejoice over the good ones. You must free yourself from the buffetings of pleasure and pain, and learn to rise above them in easy equanimity, to rejoice as though not you but another had shot well. This, too, you must practise unceasingly – you cannot conceive how important it is.

penetrating into the spirit of the Great Doctrine.

Zen in the Art of Archery was translated into more than five languages and became a worldwide bestseller. The Japanese version was published in 1946. Hand in hand with the Zen and New Age booms in Europe and the United States, it was very fashionable as a trendy kind of "wisdom" from the 1950s through the 1970s. There is a surprisingly large number of foreigners who have said they formed their image not only of Japanese archery, but of Japanese culture itself, from reading Zen in the Art of Archery. The book became a widely discussed topic among the Japanese cultural elite as well. It is no exaggeration to say that it was accepted as a central text in the discussion of "Japaneseness" which took place form the 1960s through the 1970s. Proclaiming that the book presented the ideal image of Japanese culture and believing in Herrigel's writings 100 percent, countless numbers of people took it as the starting point for the development of their theories of Japaneseness. I do not know of any other document on the theory of Japaneseness that has been accepted this uncritically. Zen in the Art of Archery was a magic mirror that, for Japanese people, reflected the ideal image they had of themselves.

To be free from the fear of death does not mean pretending to oneself, in one’s good hours, that one will not tremble in the face of death, and that there is nothing to fear. Rather, he who masters both life and death is free from fear of any kind to the extent that he is no longer capable of experiencing what fear feels like.

When drawing the string you should not exert the full strength of your body, but must learn to let only your two hands do the work, while your arm and shoulder muscles remain relaxed, as though they looked on impassively. Only when you can do this will you have fulfilled one of the conditions that make the drawing and the shooting ˆspiritual˜.

You cannot do it ", explained the Master, `because you do not breathe right. Press your breath down gently after breathing in, so that the abdominal wall is tightly stretched, and hold it there for a while. Then breathe out as slowly and evenly as possible, and, after a short pause, draw a quick breath of air again − out and in continually, in a rhythm that will gradually settle

Especially in competition. Victory, Zen says, comes when we forget the self and the opponent, who are but two halves of one whole. In Zen and the Art of Archery, it’s all laid out with crystal clarity. Perfection in the art of swordsmanship is reached… when the heart is troubled by no more thought of I and You, of the opponent and his sword, of one’s own sword and how to wield it.… All is emptiness: your own self, the flashing sword, and the arms that wield it. Even the thought of emptiness is no longer there.

One more point must be made with regard to the general conditions of learning an art. One does not begin to learn an art directly, but indirectly, as it were. One must learn a great number of other — and often seemingly disconnected things — before one starts with the art itself. An apprentice in carpentry begins by learning how to plane wood; an apprentice in the art of piano playing begins by practicing scales; an apprentice in the Zen art of archery begins by doing breathing exercises. 1 If one wants to become a master in any art, one's whole life must be devoted to it, or at least related to it. One's own person becomes an instrument in the practice of the art, and must be kept fit, according to the specific functions it has to fulfill. With regard to the art of loving, this means that anyone who aspires to become a master in this art must begin by practicing discipline, concentration and patience throughout every phase of his life.

...kdokoliv činí rychlý pokrok na začátku, má tím více potíží později.

Ten, kdo má ujít 100 mil, by měl pokládat 99 mil za polovinu cesty.

首先是拉弓的困境：拉弓時如果用力會發抖，但是那些弓又非常強硬，不用力怎麼拉得開？然後是放箭的困境：放箭不能出於自己的意識，有意識的放箭都會造成箭的顫動，但是無意識又怎麼放箭？最後是擊中箭靶的困境：老師一再告誡射箭時不要有射中目標的欲望，不要瞄準，那麼要如何射中箭靶？每一個困境在知性上似乎都沒有合理的解答，學生沒有其他的辦法，只有信任老師的引導，全心全意的繼續努力，逐漸放下更多的自我投射，變得無所求與無我，於是就在自己都意想不到的情況下，突然就水到渠成，體驗到了箭術中的禪心，以最自然而無痕跡的方式完成了困難的動作。事後看來，每一個困境的解決其實都是一次「當下真心」的顯現，都是一個悟。

So understood, the art of archery is rather like a preparatory school for Zen, for it enables the beginner to gain a clearer view, through the works of his own hands, of events which are not in themselves intelligible.

That’s just the trouble, you make an effort to think about it. Concentrate entirely on your breathing, as if you had nothing else to do!” It took me a considerable time before I succeeded in doing what the Master wanted. But—I succeeded.

純粹以意識的觀點來看，就是我們的意識幾乎永遠被困在自我的投射之中，如果不是對於未來的憧憬或擔憂，就是對於過去的緬懷或悔恨，而無法真正忘我地活在當下。「當下真心」的狀態，如果勉強地加以描述，可以說是不帶絲毫貪求，也不帶任何憎惡的平衡心境，對一切事物都平等無分別地全然接納，於是就可以從所有的煩惱痛苦中解脫。如果要引伸到日常生活中，說起來很簡單，譬如「餓了就吃，睏了就睡」，可是對於我們這些頑冥不靈的凡夫俗子而言，實在很難參透其中的真義。