What do they have in common? They're all archers!
There have always been certain things that I've always wanted to do but either never found time, or didn't push myself, to do. Archery has always been one of them. Over the past month I've taken it up, and I have to admit, it fits like a glove -- or better yet, fits like a nocked arrow!
I'm still very new to the art, but I think what I appreciate about it is that it's based in routine and precision, but is also incredibly meditative. I've always been a creature of routine and habit -- sometimes to my detriment, as it has led to complacency and stagnation in the past -- but archery is a sport that channels those qualities in a good way.
Judging by what one might see on a surface level, either from watching the Olympics or on movies or TV, it would be a piece of cake. This is far from the case, however. There's much more that goes into the art form than just point and shoot. There's a complete mental and physical checklist one has to go through before even releasing the first arrow.
That's where the meditation comes in. One must be aware of what one is doing at all times. It takes skill and lots of practice to not just draw back and let it fly. Each step needs to be carefully considered, thought out and put in motion. In this way, one is engaging both their mental faculties (remembering all the steps, focusing on the destination), their physical bodies (muscle memory and repetition play into this), and also their spiritual selves.
What do I mean by this? Well, it's hard to put into words. Suffice it to say, this was the one thing I wasn't expecting when I signed up for the course. There's just something that feels so natural when you're engaging all your faculties in this way. It demands absolute focus. You can't be distracted, or half-ass it. And while hitting your target is a wonderful feeling, that is not the point of the exercise (at least in a non-competitve view); you have to be prepared for failure, and be willing to accept that. You can hit the target and still fail in your routine, or you could be a bit off and have the perfect technique. It's really a metaphor for life.
So how does it make me feel, as I take my turn in line? The first few times, there was nervousness. How would I compare to my fellow students? After the first couple of attempts, however, that all fell away. My mind, my body, and my bow and arrow are the only things on my mind. The rest is silence.
There's a real peaceful feeling, a certain calmness, that descends on me, when I direct my focus inwards and silently proceed through the my own personal rosary of archery. Breathing and posture are key, and focus is always topmost. The drawing back of the arrow is when the mental switches -- nay, not switches, perhaps flows, as the mental is always engaged -- into the physical. I find it to be a sharpening of focus, as it's from that time forward that there's no going back. In a sort of way, I am in control of my destiny from thereon in, and there's a freedom and satisfaction to it that knows no bounds. Once the arrow is released, everything needs to be retained yet forgotten at the same time, and proceed on to the next one. The shot has been completed, there is nothing more to do about it, move on.
A great metaphor for life.
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