Truly Amazing People
From Eugen Herrigel’s Zen in the Art of Archery, quoted in Yamada Shoji’s essay “The Myth of Zen in the Art of Archery”:
"We entered the spacious practice hall adjacent to the master’s house. The master lit a stick of incense, which was as long and thin as a knitting needle, and placed it in the sand in front of the target, which was approximately in the center of the target bank. We then went to the shooting area. Since the master was standing directly in the light, he was dazzlingly illuminated.
The target, however, was in complete darkness. The singly, faintly glowing point of incense was so small it was practically impossible to make out the light it shed. The master had said not a word for some time. Silently he took up his bow and two arrows. He shot the first arrow. From the sound I knew it hit the target. The second arrow also made a sound as it hit the target. The master motioned to me to verify the condition of the two arrows that had been shot. The first arrow was cleanly lodged in the center of the target. The second arrow had struck the nock of the first one and split it in two." (82)
I like this passage for two reasons. First, it reminds me of the cartoon version of Robin Hood where Robin splits an arrow, officially knocking the socks off Maid Marian. But mostly I like what Shoji says about the passage. He sums up the story with the statement: “Anyone would be moved by this story.” In the essay Shoji is basically mocking the emotional effect of Herrigel’s story, as he proceeds to illustrate the improbability of such a feat through both statistical and cultural evidence. But all his evidence aside, I’m still moved by it and I’m holding on because the thought of a person stepping into dark space, lit only by a needle-thin light, pulling out two arrows, and directing them swiftly, perfectly through the same small tunnel of air seems like something worth holding onto. It’s one of those stories that make us wonder and hope and imagine new possibilities for ourselves and for the parameters of our lives. And why not? Why not let this person transcend the rules and understand a dark space in a defiant way?
And then there’s the image of Beej crossing that finish line, running faster than anyone else out there. Ab wrote about it so beautifully she made me cry. Her husband ran and ran with no one in front of him, legs burning from all those previous runs, stomach aching, and yet he kept running and crossed the finish line before anyone else. Until today, I had never really stopped to think about what something like that might feel like. I guess I’ve imagined myself winning a race in a Hollywood movie sort of way, but never in the real life way that Beej made me think about today.
And then there's Ab (see comment).
There are truly amazing people creating stories all the time—stories that, as far as I’m concerned, are worth holding onto.
1 comment:
Not to toot my own horn, but do you remember my archery story? I took archery in college (we needed two gym classes and i took bowling and archery. nice) and the instructor was completely worthless. I learned absolutely nothing. For the final, we had to score a particular number on the target, and I can no longer remember what that number was. See? I learned nothing. Basically we had to get it into no the bullseye, but the next ring out twice. It's not easy. We had an hour to do it, all of us split into rows of eight or ten, rotating until one got it, then that person could leave.
I was struggling. I landed an arrow then shot another and the second arrow SPLIT THE FIRST! I called over our jerkface instructor and argued that that should be enough for me to pass. I just pulled a Robin Hood. Luck, he said. N'uh, I said. Do it again and you pass.
So I shot another arrow into the target, then released yet another arrow THAT SPLIT THE FIRST ONE IN HALF!!!
Jerkfaced instructor STILL wouldn't pass me. Luck again he said.
Whatever, I told him. I retrieved my arrows, two of them broken, replaced the broken ones, waited my turn, and then, as he watched, sunk them all near the bullseye, smiled, handed him my bow, and left.
Ta-Da! Total magic.
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