Status
Available
Call number
Genres
Collection
Publication
[Bern
Description
A classic work on Eastern philosophy, Zen in the Art of Archery is a charming and deeply illuminating story of one man's experience with Zen. Eugen Herrigel, a German professor of Philosophy in Tokyo, took up the study of archery as a step toward an understanding of Zen Buddhism. This book is the account of the six years he spent as a student of one of Japan's great kyudo (archery) masters, and of how he gradually overcame, his initial inhibitions and began to feel his way toward new truths and ways of seeing.
User reviews
LibraryThing member paradoxosalpha
This book is not so much about Zen, and hardly about archery. It is rather a study of the mystical possibilities of traditional technegogy. Given that, and its period, it is perhaps unsurprising that the other book of which it most reminded me was Hesse's Glass Bead Game. Zen in the Art of Archery,
In his aspiration to mystical experience, Herrigel writes that "the longing persisted, and, when it grew weary, the longing for this longing" (14). The book itself is a much briefer affair. And yet, it opens onto even broader vistas than the six years that the author spent in his archery training.
Show More
though, is not a sprawling pseudo-academic doorstop novel set in an imagined future, but rather a straightforward and concise topical memoir. In his aspiration to mystical experience, Herrigel writes that "the longing persisted, and, when it grew weary, the longing for this longing" (14). The book itself is a much briefer affair. And yet, it opens onto even broader vistas than the six years that the author spent in his archery training.
Show Less
LibraryThing member John
Herrigel seems to have been an interesting guy: a German who went to Japan between the wars to teach at the University of Tokyo, and who took up archery as a way to study Zen. He, and his wife, spent some years studying archery with a Japanese master (and ikebana). He had years of frustration in
There are so many parallels with other sports, martial arts, and even life in the importance of being relaxed, not straining the muscles and relying on strength, being calm, and developing technique and attitudes over years of training and application. I noted Herrigel's frustration in learning how to breathe properly in drawing the bow and releasing the arrow and his realization of the critical importance of not just "doing" this, but internalizing it so that it becomes, not even "second-nature", but integral to, and wholly natural with, the individual concerned. The same is true in judo or jujustsu, or aikido, or any martial art that is practiced seriously. I recall a conversation I had few years ago with Mr.Todd, at a martial arts symposium in Ann Arbor. Mr.Todd is an interesting person: lame now from a bad car accident years ago, but he was one of the first Americans to go to Japan post-WWII to study the martial arts properly; I think he may also have been the first black-belt American to return to the States and open his own dojo. He studied judo with Mifune, one of the great masters of this century, and a student himself of the great Kano, the founder of modern judo. Mr.Todd said that fighting with Mifune (who was not a big man), was like fighting an empty jacket: there was no strength involved, nothing substantial that one could push against, just lightness and movement and then suddenly the effortless throw that would have you on the mat. But at this level, the throw would not be a calculated, conscious effort, it would, for Mifune-sensei, simply flow from the moment, it would, in Herrigel's sense, apply itself because it would be the right thing to happen at that moment. I remember Mr.Todd saying how Mifune-sensei stressed the importance of proper breathing (a lesson I have heard repeatedly from my own senseis and sempais!), but Mifune-sensei was at another level and told Mr.Todd that he must learn to feel the breathing pattern of his opponent so that he could time his attacks when the opponent was inhaling. Again, for Mifune-sensei, this would not be a conscious plan, it would simply be as natural to him as his own drawing of breath.
From these perspectives, one can see what abominations most martial arts training are in North America where the emphasis is on speed, strength, and a very limited number of moves practiced because they are efficient in defeating opponents in competition. Totally alien to this view is that explained fairly well by Herrigel of the fusion of mind, body, and technique to the point where there are no discrete bits, but a natural unity that is not manufactured, not "learned" in the western sense, but which becomes part of one's being. I also liked the reference from Herrigel's Master that the student must stand on the shoulders of his teacher and go further. This egoless view is the essence of a great teacher, and again is sadly lacking in many western approaches to the martial arts.
Show More
learning that the essence of mastery of archery (as in other martial arts) is in the mind allied with the unconsciousness application of technique, the foundation for which is years and years of training until technique becomes natural, a part of the self, and is applied without thinking, without planning. In fact, in terms used by Herrigel, one would say that the techniques apply themselves; there is no separation of the technique and the person implementing it. This, perhaps, is a key difference between western and Japanese training: in the west there is awareness of the power of the mind, of concentration, of being "pysched-up" for an event, but there is still a dividing line between the athlete and his/her technique, no matter how well developed; it is something that is learned and honed, but not lived as it is in a Zen approach. A master does not "pysch" himself up for a specific event, because his technique and his knowledge are integral to his life and to his every-day existence.There are so many parallels with other sports, martial arts, and even life in the importance of being relaxed, not straining the muscles and relying on strength, being calm, and developing technique and attitudes over years of training and application. I noted Herrigel's frustration in learning how to breathe properly in drawing the bow and releasing the arrow and his realization of the critical importance of not just "doing" this, but internalizing it so that it becomes, not even "second-nature", but integral to, and wholly natural with, the individual concerned. The same is true in judo or jujustsu, or aikido, or any martial art that is practiced seriously. I recall a conversation I had few years ago with Mr.Todd, at a martial arts symposium in Ann Arbor. Mr.Todd is an interesting person: lame now from a bad car accident years ago, but he was one of the first Americans to go to Japan post-WWII to study the martial arts properly; I think he may also have been the first black-belt American to return to the States and open his own dojo. He studied judo with Mifune, one of the great masters of this century, and a student himself of the great Kano, the founder of modern judo. Mr.Todd said that fighting with Mifune (who was not a big man), was like fighting an empty jacket: there was no strength involved, nothing substantial that one could push against, just lightness and movement and then suddenly the effortless throw that would have you on the mat. But at this level, the throw would not be a calculated, conscious effort, it would, for Mifune-sensei, simply flow from the moment, it would, in Herrigel's sense, apply itself because it would be the right thing to happen at that moment. I remember Mr.Todd saying how Mifune-sensei stressed the importance of proper breathing (a lesson I have heard repeatedly from my own senseis and sempais!), but Mifune-sensei was at another level and told Mr.Todd that he must learn to feel the breathing pattern of his opponent so that he could time his attacks when the opponent was inhaling. Again, for Mifune-sensei, this would not be a conscious plan, it would simply be as natural to him as his own drawing of breath.
From these perspectives, one can see what abominations most martial arts training are in North America where the emphasis is on speed, strength, and a very limited number of moves practiced because they are efficient in defeating opponents in competition. Totally alien to this view is that explained fairly well by Herrigel of the fusion of mind, body, and technique to the point where there are no discrete bits, but a natural unity that is not manufactured, not "learned" in the western sense, but which becomes part of one's being. I also liked the reference from Herrigel's Master that the student must stand on the shoulders of his teacher and go further. This egoless view is the essence of a great teacher, and again is sadly lacking in many western approaches to the martial arts.
Show Less
LibraryThing member clothingoptional
Zen and the Art of Archery was written in 1953 by a German philosopher named Eugen Herrigel. It chronicles Herr Herrigel's progress towards an understanding of Zen through the teachings of the Great Doctrine as applied to the martial art of archery. That Herr Herrigel, along with Frau Herrigel,
I found the book instructive and very German.
[Update: I recently saw the film "Enlightenment Guaranteed" and was reminded of Herrigel's book. EG is an intellectual comedy about two German brothers who go on a pilgrimage of sorts to a Zen monastery in Japan. If you liked Bill Murray's "Lost in Translation" I highly recommend "Enlightenment Guaranteed".]
Show More
also studied Flower Arranging is mentioned but the author does not dwell upon the subject, rather focusing his very precise descriptions of lessons and ceremony solely on Archery.I found the book instructive and very German.
[Update: I recently saw the film "Enlightenment Guaranteed" and was reminded of Herrigel's book. EG is an intellectual comedy about two German brothers who go on a pilgrimage of sorts to a Zen monastery in Japan. If you liked Bill Murray's "Lost in Translation" I highly recommend "Enlightenment Guaranteed".]
Show Less
LibraryThing member CosmicBullet
One of my favorite 'small books', Zen in the Art of Archery so well captures what it is to practice any discipline as an exercise in no-self. It is so paradoxical to most of us that the culmination of one's training and study should not be to become 'larger' and 'better,' but rather to essentially
Other than practicing a little sitting Zen from time to time, I am on the outside looking in to this great tradition. It is humbling to read a work such as this, and realize what is apparently possible, given the proper frame of mind. Or perhaps: given the absence of no frame of mind.
Show More
disappear so that no credit is taken for what is accomplished. Other than practicing a little sitting Zen from time to time, I am on the outside looking in to this great tradition. It is humbling to read a work such as this, and realize what is apparently possible, given the proper frame of mind. Or perhaps: given the absence of no frame of mind.
Show Less
LibraryThing member iayork
wonderful insight...: there's an old adage in the acting world..'don't give a performance, let the performance give you'..so what does that have to do with this book? well, I read this wonderful book a few years back when I was studying acting in NYC and I really worked hard at incorporating some
Show More
Zen technique into my acting process..it wasn't easy..but I stuck with it and I feel as if I reached a different level consciousness and ability with my craft. This book is a wonderful teacher for the ways of Zen and incorporating those lessons into real life events not just archery. Show Less
LibraryThing member MeditationesMartini
There is only one thing the Zen Master has taught me, and it is that mud is better than words ("...boy"). So I feel kind of underwhelmed by Herrigel's attempt to Teutonize kyūdo into submission. Like, as long as he's trying to isolate its unique conceptual essence in the grand tradition of the
Show More
Romantic philosophers, you're all "yeah right man, I seen the Matrix or the Karate Kid, this never gonna work," and it doesn't, and then he learns to embrace irrationalism and wins the approval of his sensei (and who knows what that means really, since evidently it's not about whether the arrows hit their target exactly, but still kind of is) but he still hasn't emptied out entirely and you can see that unreason for him is still a kind of wild man way to break open and plumb this tradition and something doesn't sit right and then you look him up and sure enough, he was a committed Nazi right to the end and beyond. Presumably of the mystical variety, but still, ugh. Show Less
LibraryThing member pw0327
I read this book a long time ago and I have returned to it.
Zen and the Art of Archery is still, for its time, an excellent description of an occidental immersing himself into the cultural and philosophical depths of Asia. When Herrigel visited Japan, he was unique, for there were not too many
As a result, his account of his lessons with the master and his experience is about as pure as possible. But, he did still carry the Occidental ideas on learning, and training in an martial art. He was a skilled pistol shooter by his account so some of what his personal accounts were colored by that part of his makeup. His account though is relatively free of overt western arrogance and preconceived notions.
In the time that has elapsed between my first reading of this book and now, I have been changed by my own readings and prejudices. What Herrigel was trying to convey in this book, the modern writers call "flow", a term coined by Mihály Csíkszentmihályi. A state of being that conforms somewhat to what people used to call being in the zone, or the unconscious state of being completely comfortable with ones surroundings and being at such a heightened state of enhanced performance that performance is simple and unencumbered by the burden of thought. Indeed, the mind is completely unmoored from one's being, some have compared this to be a state of unconscious consciousness.
Ed Slingerland wrote about this in his book Trying Not To Try, a personal favorite. His concept of "flow" comes from Chinese philosophy, and it is called "wu-wei". There is indeed some differences between Slingerland's Chinese philosophy of Confucianism and Daoism versus Herrigel's Zen Buddhism. The Chinese school is much more formalized and more structured, while the Japanese is more mystical and less structured. Regardless of the formalism in their philosophy, the ideas are almost identical, different sides of the same coin.
The drawback for me is that Herrigel's account is showing its age, the accounts are somewhat naive and full of wonder at the vastly different turns of the mind that the master and other practitioners of archery practice versus his own Occidental mind.
I suppose I may be termed jaded after my own readings but Herrigel's account still carries a certain level of wonder as I read through it for the second time. It is indeed an excellent account of an Occidental's foray into the, for its time, mystery and mythical state of the Asian mind. It is still very worthwhile to read this short book and it is still very worthy of its place in the references on learning.
Zen and the Art of Archery is still, for its time, an excellent description of an occidental immersing himself into the cultural and philosophical depths of Asia. When Herrigel visited Japan, he was unique, for there were not too many
Show More
occidentals who ventured to Japan,nor were there too many who had the open mind or courage to enter into Asian art forms with guileless curiosity. As a result, his account of his lessons with the master and his experience is about as pure as possible. But, he did still carry the Occidental ideas on learning, and training in an martial art. He was a skilled pistol shooter by his account so some of what his personal accounts were colored by that part of his makeup. His account though is relatively free of overt western arrogance and preconceived notions.
In the time that has elapsed between my first reading of this book and now, I have been changed by my own readings and prejudices. What Herrigel was trying to convey in this book, the modern writers call "flow", a term coined by Mihály Csíkszentmihályi. A state of being that conforms somewhat to what people used to call being in the zone, or the unconscious state of being completely comfortable with ones surroundings and being at such a heightened state of enhanced performance that performance is simple and unencumbered by the burden of thought. Indeed, the mind is completely unmoored from one's being, some have compared this to be a state of unconscious consciousness.
Ed Slingerland wrote about this in his book Trying Not To Try, a personal favorite. His concept of "flow" comes from Chinese philosophy, and it is called "wu-wei". There is indeed some differences between Slingerland's Chinese philosophy of Confucianism and Daoism versus Herrigel's Zen Buddhism. The Chinese school is much more formalized and more structured, while the Japanese is more mystical and less structured. Regardless of the formalism in their philosophy, the ideas are almost identical, different sides of the same coin.
The drawback for me is that Herrigel's account is showing its age, the accounts are somewhat naive and full of wonder at the vastly different turns of the mind that the master and other practitioners of archery practice versus his own Occidental mind.
I suppose I may be termed jaded after my own readings but Herrigel's account still carries a certain level of wonder as I read through it for the second time. It is indeed an excellent account of an Occidental's foray into the, for its time, mystery and mythical state of the Asian mind. It is still very worthwhile to read this short book and it is still very worthy of its place in the references on learning.
Show Less
LibraryThing member humdog
when i was studying the harpsichord, my teacher, Margaret Fabrizio, gave me this book as a textbook. it was of course a brilliant idea.
LibraryThing member oursonmarron
It seems the oriental concept of selfless and that of Meister Eckhart, niht, met in the heart of Herrigel.
He thought that he lucks something, lucks some capability to accept and understand mysticism. And then he sought that in Japan, found the way to Unio Mystica in Zen in the art of archery.
Hard
But the point is what inspired he and not what he saw.
He thought that he lucks something, lucks some capability to accept and understand mysticism. And then he sought that in Japan, found the way to Unio Mystica in Zen in the art of archery.
Hard
Show More
to believe what he saw in a hall of archery in the night.But the point is what inspired he and not what he saw.
Show Less
LibraryThing member Niecierpek
A very interesting and enlightening little book on the essence of the spiritual experience in Zen Buddhism.
A German philosophy professor goes to Japan for six years and practises Zen through archery. The book is a summary of his experience.
A German philosophy professor goes to Japan for six years and practises Zen through archery. The book is a summary of his experience.
LibraryThing member sury.vemagal
An interesting and informative book on mind and action.
LibraryThing member terrygraap
This is a very interesting book. Archery in respects to the Japanese is not a sport. Learning archery involves a spiritual approach. You must detach yourself and learn to breath through everything. If you have enough time and patience, you should try it. The author took more than 4 years to become
Show More
a master. Show Less
LibraryThing member paradoxosalpha
This book is not so much about Zen, and hardly about archery. It is rather a study of the mystical possibilities of traditional technegogy. Given that, and its period, it is perhaps unsurprising that the other book of which it most reminded me was Hesse's Glass Bead Game. Zen in the Art of Archery,
In his aspiration to mystical experience, Herrigel writes that "the longing persisted, and, when it grew weary, the longing for this longing" (14). The book itself is a much briefer affair. And yet, it opens onto even broader vistas than the six years that the author spent in his archery training.
Show More
though, is not a sprawling pseudo-academic doorstop novel set in an imagined future, but rather a straightforward and concise topical memoir. In his aspiration to mystical experience, Herrigel writes that "the longing persisted, and, when it grew weary, the longing for this longing" (14). The book itself is a much briefer affair. And yet, it opens onto even broader vistas than the six years that the author spent in his archery training.
Show Less
LibraryThing member knightlight777
The lesson don't think, do.
Language
Original publication date
1948
1953 (English: Hull)
ISBN
350264280X / 9783502642800