The Mind Behind the Arrow
After winning numerous archery contests and being hailed as the greatest archer of all time, a young man’s ego swelled with pride. Riding high on his reputation and accomplishments, the champion decided to challenge a Zen master—also known for his archery skill but who had never competed.
Without waiting for a response, the young man pulled two arrows from his quiver. With impressive precision, he fired the first arrow, hitting a distant bull’s eye dead center. Then, with steady hands, he shot the second arrow, splitting the first perfectly.
“There,” he said, grinning. “Try to match that.”
The Zen master didn’t reach for his bow. Instead, he calmly motioned for the young man to follow him up the mountain.
Curious and confident, the champion climbed behind him. They walked until they reached a narrow chasm bridged by a shaky, flimsy log. The master stepped carefully onto the bridge, balanced himself in the middle, and picked out a distant tree as his target. Without hesitation, he drew his bow and released an arrow that struck the tree cleanly.
“Your turn,” the master said, stepping back onto solid ground.
The young man stared at the log, his confidence faltering. The dizzying drop on either side made his heart race. He couldn’t bring himself to step onto the unstable bridge, let alone aim and shoot.
The master watched him quietly and finally spoke, “You have great skill with your bow, but your mind—the part that lets the arrow fly—that is where your true challenge lies.”
