Zen in the Art of Archery, Eugen Herrigel

Most serious practicioners of a sport will, at one time or another, find themselves performing unconsciously.  Perhaps their minds will wander off towards next weekend’s chores, and then off to Uncle Eric’s hip replacement, and Lucy’s odd obsession with death metal.  Then, unexpectedly, they may realize that perhaps they should be concentrating instead on the task at hand, after which they immediately realize that the task at hand is well taken care of inspite of their careless lack of regard for technique, concentration or will.

A skier, for instance, may realize that his body is functioning perfectly, and has infact somehow combined with equipment and environment in such a way that all three seem improbably united into one and the same.  A mountain biker with a technical bent may all of a sudden realize she has thoughtlessly cleared an obstacle previously never cleared.  A squash player may come to the sudden realization that every shot he hits goes where its intended, at the pace its intended to go, and furthermore, may find himself always perfectly balanced and in place to return the next shot.

At this juncture he or she can do one of two things; retake the venture and bring consciousness back into play, or remain outside of one’s self and let the body do what the body will while the mind marvels. The first option is the option of the novice, the second is the option of the adept. 

To illustrate further:  my own good day on skis, Jay Peak, March 2005.  The sun is shining, the snow is soft and all is as should always be.  The skiing is not without effort, yet it is effortless. The body gasps for breath, the legs collapse. The mind is conscious of it all, but the mind controls none of it.  Turn follows turn.  Terrain is absorbed.  Thoughts such as; ”perhaps I will go there,” or “let’s pop off that stump,” or “there’s an opening in the trees over there” are enough.  The body somehow communicates with the skis which connect to the environment, which then communicates back. I, as a skier, am in complete control of where I go and what I do, but not in the slightest controlling how it happens.  It just happens.  It becomes memorable.  It is as should be.

“When the body is working, let it work,” says the wise coach, “get out of way.”  Be it the unconscious, be it muscle memory, be it what it may, atheletes describe it as being in the “zone.” Herrigel in, Zen in the Art of Archery, calls it the “artless art.”

Zen in the Art of Archery

Written in the late 1940’s, first in German, and then later translated to English, Zen in the Art of Archery, has long been held as a classic of eastern philosophy.  The extended essay seeks to instruct such that an accolyte transcends technique, desire and conscious thought.  It is, however, problematic.  Herrigel approaches the sport of archery with the idea that it is a doorway through which he will come to enter the unknowable spiritual practice of Zen Bhuddism and then, right off, smacks the reader with this conundrum:

 (Zen texts) …have the peculiarity of disclosing their life-giving meaning only to those who have shown themselves worthy of the crucial experiences and who can therefore extract from these texts confirmation of what they themselves already possess …

Paragraphs later he expresses his hope that his will be the text that succeeds in helping the uninitiated understand “that” which cannot be understood.  He is no more helpful later in the book when he quotes Master Awa.

He dwelt longest on the “artless art” which must be the goal of archery if it is to reach perfection.  “He who can shoot with the horn of the hare and the hair of the tortoise, and can hit the center without bow (horn) and arrow (hair), he alone is Master in the highest sense of the word — Master of the artless art”

In their own way, such passages are perfectly sophmoric and they go a long way to explaining the enduring affection people have for the book.  They offer the sportsman or budding archer very little, however.  The millenial mind recoils at the thought that only by breathing can one pull back the string, only by not releasing the arrow will the arrow be released, and only be not aiming will the target be hit.  Instead, we accept that the opposite and scramble to figure out, not what he meant, but how he was mistaken.

Later analysis of the book, along with study of Herrigel’s teacher Master Kenzo Awa, indicates indeed that Herrigel have muddled the teachings and that Zen in the Art of Archery is an altogether too mystic view of the the sport.  The tireless repetition and patterning is no different than what the squash player does during his hour after hour of drills; only after repeating the same successful motion 10s of 1,000s of times is the skier ready to let his body take over entirely.  Only after repeated crashes and non-successes does the mountain-biker effortlessly loft her bike off a granite drop. 

It is entirely possible (likely, infact) that Kenzo Awa was doing nothing more than drilling into the body of Herrigel the muscle memory required by any athelete training to become an accomplished archer.  The process was dressed in a language which the non-Japanese speaking Herrigel interpreted as the essence of Zen … none of which is to say, he didn’t experience a true spiritual metamorphosis. It would be churlish to suggest otherwise.  It simply may NOT have been intended entirely as such.

It would be churlish too, to suggest that others have not been deeply affected by the book; they certainly have. For 50 years Zen in the Art of Archery has been a best seller on the spiritual books lists.  It has engendered a host of titles and books travelling the same road (repetitive tasks become a path to spiritual enlightenment).  It has been used by coaches and gurus alike as inspiration for their own coaching methods.

Finally, one would be remiss in not endorsing the book as thouroughly entertaining.  It is short.  It is well written.  It easily engenders thought. It stimulates those with a spiritual or mystic bent.  It instructs those with an athletic will.

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