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April 10, 2014

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Archery lesson: Bow to target, each other

ON Sunday, I tried ancient archery for the first time. It was by chance, and the experience changed my attitude toward the art and skill forever. I had thought archery was all about fighting and competition, but it was really about contemplation and benevolence.

On a sunny morning, my wife and I joined my senior colleagues and their families at Daqian Ecological Manor, a suburban farm in Qingpu District, to reenact an ancient late spring ritual beside a river to cleanse body and soul.

We walked for a while to the site through the landscape filled with wildlife, from swans to Tibetan mastiffs.

Halfway there, we were pleasantly surprised to come upon an archery field. Two professionals greeted us with a demonstration. Instead of immediately launching arrows, as I had expected, they moved slowly toward us and bowed deeply. Then, they turned around and bowed deeply to the target. Shooting came last, and one by bone, all hit the bull’s eye. Awed by their prowess, many of us took up bows and tried but failed miserably. Fired up by a desire to compete and excel, we kept trying and failing, missing the center target by ever wider margins.

Until the instructors taught us how to position ourselves, hold the bow and release the arrows, the others and I had thought we only needed stronger muscles to match the pros’ performance.

How headstrong I was.

In fact, the way I had stood, the way I held the arrow and moved my arms were all wrong. After I was corrected, I tried twice, and twice I hit the target. “Chinese traditional archery is not really about competing,” explained Mr Pan, one of the instructors from Reng Gong Tang, the Hall of the Benevolent Bow. “It’s about reflection, about benevolence.”

Six arts

Inspired by his words, I researched the history of Chinese archery the next day and came to understand why it was one of the six arts that Chinese nobility were expected to master. The others are ritual, music, driving a carriage, literature and calligraphy, and mathematics. Mastering the six skills and arts teach a person to be enlightened.

Of the six, archery is most easily misunderstood to infer a fighting spirit.

Mencius famously said: “Benevolence is like archery. One must first discipline himself before he shoots. If he fails to hit the target, he shall not harbor hatred toward the winner. Instead, he should reflect upon his own faults.”

Confucius said: “Junzi (a man of noble character) will never fight. If they must shoot, they first bow and show respect to each other. After shooting, they withdraw and drink together. Such is a ‘fight’ between junzi.”

In retrospect, I didn’t bother to bow to my colleagues or other onlookers on Sunday when I picked a bow and released arrows at will. All I cared about at that moment was my own “face” (mianzi) — I had to prove that I could win. And when I twice hit the target after the coaches corrected me, I jumped in self-indulgent pleasure, rather than in thankfulness to others.

How great it was, I now realize, that ancient Chinese chose archery — an unlikely symbol of peace and benevolence — as a necessary skill to help contain ego and contemplate shortcomings.

According to Mr Pan, an archer should not treat an arrow as simply a missile; he or she should treat it as if it were their own heart. So when someone shoots an arrow, he or she is trying to align the heart with the correct target.

And as I wrote this article yesterday, it dawned on me that the English word “bow” also implies benevolence on the part of an archer, because “bow” is both the weapon for shooting and the humble gesture of an archer.

In today’s world, the more we understand the benevolence part of the word “bow,” the better.




 

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