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Zen in the Art of Archery

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To those who already practice Zen Buddhism, this book will seem awkward. To those nonpractitioners who would like to understand how to practice Zen Buddhism, this book will be a delightful enlightenment -- especially valuable to those who live outside of Asia. Eugen Herrigel takes on the almost impossible task of describing in writing something that has to be experienced to be understood, and is remarkably effective.

The author spent six years in Japan just after World War II, and decided that he wanted to understand Zen Buddhism. He was correctly advised that Zen needed to be experienced as the path to achieving that understanding. Several possible areas were suggested, from sword fighting to flower arrangement to archery. Because he had experience with rifle target shooting, the author chose archery. He was fortunate to be taken on by a Zen master who normally refused to teach Westerners, because they are so difficult to teach.

As a typical high-achieving Westerner, Mr. Herrigel wanted to make rapid progress and to achieve conscious competence in archery. His instructor wanted him to achieve unconscious competence based on experience and build from there into spiritual awareness. This conflict in perceptions created quite a tension for both of them. This tension was ironic, because the purpose of Zen practice is to achieve the ability to be strong like the flexible water. Tension is the enemy of that state of being.

Mr. Herrigel also learned from attending flower arranging classes from his wife, who was studying Zen in this way. He also benefited from finding some wonderful commentaries on sword fighting as a path to Zen that are included in this book. These are more eloquent than Mr. Herrigel, and he chose wisely in saving them for the end.

I suspect that this wonderful book will mean the most to people who have regularly practiced either meditation or Eastern-style breathing. Having followed both kinds of practices for the past six years, I found it was easier to relate to the Zen concepts in that way than through trying to imagine myself performing the archery described here.

By the way, this archery is not at all like what you did in camp as a youngster. It is both much more stylized and difficult. Think of it as being more like a Japanese tea ceremony than like Western-style archery.

You will love the many descriptions of how Zen masters helped their students learn through experience rather than lecturing or demonstrating to them endlessly. Mr. Herrigel makes a good point concerning how Japanese teaching in these ancient arts has remained the same, while newer subjects are taught much differently.

Some of the most beautiful parts of the book are the explanations that employ natural metaphors. The concept of the Samurai is explained through the fragile cherry blossom, for example, in a way you will not soon forget. The metaphors used in the archery are also very compelling and vivid. They spoke very eloquently to me, especially about how the shot is "released."

I got a lot personally from this book in reconsidering how I could and should step back more often to "go with the flow" of the moment rather than trying to orchestrate everything very rationally. The book made me much more aware that I operate in both styles, probably too often in the totally preplanned rational one.

I am also reminded of books about golf that I have read that cite similar principles for becoming more competent. I also remembered how all of my best golf shots have come when I was totally egoless. That lesson was very profound for me. I wonder what will happen in other areas if I follow that lesson, as well.

If you have never tried meditation, I encourage you to experience this if you find this book interesting. That will probably be your best way to begin to explore what is described here. Naturally, if you can find someone to teach you one of the Japanese arts, that will further expand your soul.

A good Western-style book to help you rethink your approach to life that parallels this one in many ways is The Art of Imperfection. The title is a misnomer. What we often think of as perfection is really the height of imperfection, as the author discovered when he began substituting his own methods for those of his Zen master.

Aim straight for yourself!

If one desires to pursue the path of enlightenment under Zen, one must select as a vehicle one of the Zen arts - archery, swordsmanship, brush-and-ink, the tea ceremony or flower arranging. Eugen (pronounced OI-gen) chronicles his struggle to overcome his "much too willful will" and master the bow. This interesting story is very moving, educational and inspiring, while never becoming heavy as it easily could have under less skillful authorship.

The ultimate challenge Eugen faces ends up being the smooth release of the bowstring and arrow without conscious intent, "like the ripe fruit falls from the tree", "like a baby's hand releases one object to grasp another", "like the bamboo leaf slowly bends under the weight of the snow, then releases the clump of snow without thought". Eugen, during a summer sabbatical, develops a "technique" that he believes will solve this problem and nearly gets himself thrown out of the program for "offending the Spirit of Zen". There is also an interesting account of an after-hours meeting where his teacher gives an amazing demonstration of quiet mastery in order to raise Eugen's morale and level of understanding.

There is much that this little book has to offer and its message will live in your heart for a long time.

This is an unpretentious,no-nonsense narrative about the author's initiation into the art of archery and, ultimately, into the concept of Zen Buddhism. It speaks in plain language and tries to avoid mystical jargon. Ironically, it is also a story of self-perfection - ironically because Zen Buddhism teaches the abandonment of the idea of a "self".

There are many ways one may go from this book: One of the main themes of Zen in the Art of Archery is "art becoming artless", which is also at the core of Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi's bestselling study of creativity in "Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience".

Someone who is interested in the spiritual qualities that (sometimes) come with the practice of martial arts might like to read "Iron and Silk" by Mark Salzman - don't expect anything holy or warrior-like, though.

Zen-Buddhism is covered in countless books. One of my favorites is Alan Watts's "The Spirit of Zen". A rather unorthodox, funny, skeptic and disrespectful look at Zen Buddhism can be gained from Janwillem van de Wetering's trilogy "The Empty Mirror" (my favorite of the three), "A Glimpse of Nothingness", and "Afterzen".

I have played the piano for thirty-five years and taught it for over twenty. I have written a book on teaching piano that is in the Lincoln Center Library for Performing Arts. The ideas and examples in this book, along with my mentor, helped me achieve breakthroughs in music when many other methods failed. In a way, I owe much of my teaching success to this book.

The book's beauty lies in a westerner's desperate attempts to make logical sense of concepts that are irrational and experiential. For example, the master told the author to let go of the string but also to not let go... Let the spirit "It" pull the string from the hand. Gradually releasing it, the string should leave the hand as though passing through butter.

I can attest to this idea's power. In piano, achieving pleasant tone is a contradictory skill. On the one hand, you have to play with enough force to project tone, on the other hand, you have to attack the key gently to create a rounded sound. The solution I found is called the "controlled drop," where you must let the arm drop but catch it. Like letting go of a bowstring, letting go of my arm to make pleasant sound at the piano is a joint effort between conscious and unconscious will.

Illustrating the sometimes difficult ideas are great anecdotes and quotes in the book. Like when the author challenged the master to shoot blindfolded, thinking it would be a rhetorical request. Instead, the master did just that, hitting the bullseye and splitting the first arrow with a second. And like when the master said, when you make a good shot, do not celebrate, bow and thank the spirit It. You are not responsible.

Perhaps the quotes and stories in this book anger some students of kyudo because they are kind of movie cliches by now, but at the time, it was new. And more important than the sensational stories are the concepts and conundrums present in an entertaining, short memoir.

I have read it many times and will go back again. Perhaps it is not exactly what Zen masters are teaching nowadays, but it has the solid feel of strong, cogent ideas. And the reader works struggles to understand the ideas along with author in what seems like real time.

Before I begin, I would like to mention that I have been a student of Zen Buddhism for some years and have also been a kyudo practitioner for some time. Thus, I think I can speak a little from both sides.

I shall first state that this book is truly an inspirational account of Mr.Herrigel's own personal, spiritual journey and should be recognized as a good read. It is also a good starting point for a Western beginner of Zen Buddhism as it gives him/her a glimpse from a Westerner's perspective.

Having said that, Zen in the Art of Archery has some fundamental problems and errors that misrepresents both Zen Buddhism and kyudo.It might surprise some readers to learn that it has been severely criticized by modern teachers and practitioners of kyudo.

To start with, as stated in the book, Herrigel has only one intention of learning kyudo-to become a Zen mystic. Thus his heart is not in kyudo at all. Just as one should do zazen for the sake of zazen one should also do kyudo for the sake of kyudo. Herrigel came to study kyudo with his cup half-full.

Next, one must also know that Awa, Herrigel's teacher himself has never been a Zen practitioner and has never done a formal Zen training at all, which is all-important for someone who wishes to understand Zen. Awa, while a fantastic archer, has also been regarded as highly unorthodox in his teaching and views and one should thus not equate his teachings to be the norm of kyudo and Zen.

Another glaring problem is that Mr. Herrigel himself does not understand Japanese and relies on an interpreter, Mr. Komachiya. Mr. Komachiya has himself wrote that he has taken liberty in explaining some of Awa's words to Herrigel.

One of the most important part of the book, the Target in the Dark, highlights this problem. The careful reader will realize that in the entire episode, Herrigel is trying to understand Awa without an interpreter at all. One can easily speculate the misinterpretations that might have taken place. Another famous incident is where Awa supposedly says, "It Shoots". Scholars of both Japanese and German have speculated that what Awa meant was that "It just happened." Meaning that he was lucky. For those looking for a more detailed criticism, one should read Yamada Shoji's excellent essay, The Myth of Zen in the Art of Archery.

My contention in this review is not to debase Zen's relationship with Kyudo. Indeed Kyudo is heavily influenced by Zen and one can absorb traces of Zen in the practice of Kyudo. But one should also try to read this book with an open eye and should not treat this book as a reliable, definitive account of both Zen and Kyudo.

"Zen In the Art of Archery" is, hands down, the absolute worst book one could possibly read if, by reading it, one hopes to get a clear understanding of what kyudo is.

I am the translator of the article "The Myth of Zen in the Art of Archery" by professor Yamada Shoji, mentioned upthread by another reviewer. Professor Yamada is an experienced kyudo practitoner. I also have been practicing kyudo for 30 years, 11 of them in Japan under the tutelage of some of the most senior instructors in Japan.

To put it bluntly, Herrigel got everything, and I mean everything, wrong. He himself only practiced kyudo for three years, if his translator Sozo Komachiya is to be believed (he started in 1926 and returned to Germany in 1929). He spoke no Japanese. He was himself a mystic (or he wanted to be one, anyway) intent on understanding Zen, not archery, and he had very definite pre-formed ideas about what he was looking for and what he believed Zen, and, by extension kyudo, to be. Given such a situation, the impending disaster was a forgone conclusion. Even with the best instruction he would not have understood kyudo.

His book is very seductive, filled as it is with tantalizing mystical stories about a seeker on the road to "enlightenment". So, it will appeal to romantics who have no experience in either Zen or kyudo, and it has been my experience that the book indeed appeals primarily to such people. It is instructive to note that those people who have experience in either discipline are quick to point out how thoroughly Herrigel bollixed it up.

I began kyudo under the influence of his book, and it was only after many years that I fully realized exactly how pernicious that influence was. I strongly urge those people who are interested in kyudo to never read it or only to read it after they have been practicing kyudo for a long time under competent instruction. To read it with the intent of forming an informed opinion of kyudo is not only inadvisable, it is positively dangerous.

Read "Kyudo: The Essence and Practice of Japanese Archery" by Onuma and DeProspero instead. It is as good an explanation of kyudo as Herrigel's book is a bad one.

If one desires to pursue the path of enlightenment under Zen, one must select as a vehicle one of the Zen arts - archery, swordsmanship, brush-and-ink, the tea ceremony or flower arranging. Eugen (pronounced OI-gen) chronicles his struggle to overcome his "much too willful will" and master the bow. This interesting story is very moving, educational and inspiring, while never becoming heavy as it easily could have under less skillful authorship.

The ultimate challenge Eugen faces ends up being the smooth release of the bowstring and arrow without conscious intent, "like the ripe fruit falls from the tree", "like a baby's hand releases one object to grasp another", "like the bamboo leaf slowly bends under the weight of the snow, then releases the clump of snow without thought". Eugen, during a summer sabbatical, develops a "technique" that he believes will solve this problem and nearly gets himself thrown out of the program for "offending the Spirit of Zen". There is also an interesting account of an after-hours meeting where his teacher gives an amazing demonstration of quiet mastery in order to raise Eugen's morale and level of understanding.

I had read the book several times and decided to get the tape to listen to while driving. Ralph Blum's sonorous voice is perfect for the reading and I enjoyed listening to the book as much or more than reading it. There is much that this presentation has to offer and its message will live in your heart for a long time.

I'm shocked at the mean spirited, narrow minded attacks on this book from the few self righteous intellectual bigots who have posted reviews here.
This inspiring account of Eugen Herrigel's encounter with Zen through the art of Zen archery is such a rare example of beauty and wisdom expressed in a truly humble, poetic manner. I've read lots of Zen literature and while there may be some inconsistencies with orthodox views on Zen philosophy and practice, beauty and truth are beauty and truth no matter what package they come wrapped in.
If you insist on only accepting enlightenment when it conforms to your preconceptions or your intellectual prejudices then you've already circumvented the process before it's begun.
The fact that this book has had such an immense impact on so many lives, including my own, for so many years speaks volumes about the profound truths that it encompasses in it's modest dimensions.
Thank you professor Herrigel wherever you are in the ethers for this extraordinary gift.

The task Professor Herrigel set himself was to experience true Zen, he did this without realising that abandonment of self was a primary objective. In other words the pratice or the decision to undertake anything very much is a step into the unknown even when the person involved never considers the possibility of his very self undergoing radical change, somehow one believes "I" will always remain afterwards. Little by little Herrigel underwent powerful changes in his Zen experience which literally must be undertaken in an authentic way ie by the sort of practice having no limits or bounds, a wholehearted approach somewhat alien to most westerners. The book is an honest and clear account of his experience in japan and is somehwat akin to that of Jan Whilhelm van de Wetering in "The Empty Mirror", humourous experiences such as when the master wishes to find out more about what he does and in this way try to understand why the practice of archery is so difficult for him : exclaiming after he reads a philosophy book that "no wonder you have so much difficulty", adds to the humanity of the story. Although a small book it is rich in personal experience and a treasure of a book which can be read again and again to revitalise one's own practice. It is also far more readable than his other books which are full of difficult philosophical concepts and lack the depth of humanity shown in this one. The book stresses what must be said again and again, Zen is about doing rather than knowing (in the conventional sense) and Herrigel realises that only in the practice of Zen rather than just reading about it can it be truly "known". He also demonstrates the great challenges to be faced in this practice especially as regards the conflicts which arise between the "artless art", Zen, which is free of thought and that of his profession which is never free of the constricting domain of thought. A superb book which never fails to inspire.

I have just re-read Zen and the Art of Archery, by Eugen Herrigel.

I was a philosophy student in my undergraduate days, and my primary focus was on Zen, so I had underestimated that little volume in my youth; it was too short, and too easy to read. And the author didn't make the process sound exotic enough for my arrogant youthful tastes.

But now, Zen and the Art of Archery talks to me through a megaphone. The book recounts the experiences of a German philosophy professor who studied Kyudo (traditional Japanese archery) for several years. He undertook the study to develop his understanding of Zen Buddhism.

As you read the book, you will see that the concepts and practice of traditional Japanese martial arts have leaked into popular U.S. culture. See Karate Kid and Star Wars, for example.

And there's nothing wrong with that.

But when you read this book, you get to see one of the real-world prototypes of Mr. Miyagi and Yoda.

So read it, and thank me later. But don't think you're going to learn to fire arrows. This isn't an instruction manual.