Archery without Bow and Arrow

The archer made a hubris-filled proclamation at the royal court that he was ‘the God among archers’. He claimed to shoot perfectly without looking at the target. The king wondered if ‘the God’ was superior to the zen monk in the mountain. The archer stood stupefied. Who’s this monk who could outdo him in archery? Besides, why hasn’t he heard of him? A week later, out of curiosity, the archer went up the mountain. After an arduous journey, he met an aged man with a hunchback. The archer inquired regarding the monk. The man said, ‘Oh! You’re the archer in the king’s message!’ It seemed he was the zen monk the king referred to. The monk asked, ’So, you’re the God among archers. Why continue to carry bow and arrow?’ The question puzzled the archer. What’s the meaning? What’s an archer without his gears? When he asked for clarification, the monk chuckled and insisted that the archer follow him.

When they were at the top of the mountain, the monk asked the archer the number of birds he could shoot with one arrow. Yet another bizarre question! ‘Of course, one. Unless the birds fly in a certain symmetrical formation and I manage to find for myself a particular angle,’ the archer replied. The monk shook his head and said, ‘What a waste of arrows! My master would never allow it.’ By now, the archer was getting exasperated and, as if in retaliation, asked the monk if he could shoot multiple birds at one time. That’s when a flock of birds flew above their heads. The monk stared at the birds intently. The archer found it odd. However, what he noticed was mind-numbing. Seven birds fell to the ground. The archer wondered if it was magic. ‘No, it’s not magic,’ said the monk, as if reading his mind. ‘When you watch with wholeness, there’s harmony, a unity. Your sight becomes the arrow, doing what a physical arrow cannot. Also, remember that you are not different from your target. In fact, you are the target. You no longer remain fragmented and become one. Then there’s no need either for equipment or effort.’

Actually, beyond our endeavour lies the state of effortlessness. Haven’t we, at times, seen a sportsperson perform without any exertion? A musician singing or playing an instrument as if it were an extension of her/his body and soul? A dancer dancing as if possessed by a greater power? A painter making vibrant, and even seemingly erratic, strokes on the canvas? Or, for that matter, a cook mixing ingredients without measuring them? Yet, in all these, the final outcome turns out to be enchanting, much beyond our expectations. What’s happening in these instances? Would you call it divine intervention? Actually, these are moments of being whole. It’s crossing the threshold. You put in your efforts, but after a point, the external energy merges with you and doesn’t stand as a disjointed entity. So, when you, your efforts, and your target transform into one unit, you manage to shoot perfectly and without an arrow. In other words, you create a communion with nature and reach the core. That’s the state we ought to aspire to reach in all our endeavours.