Zen in the Art of Archery

Golf and Archery as practiced by the Zen masters are among the few sports in which the participant releases a shot without looking at the target. If you really want to "be the ball", you must read Eugen Herrigel's masterpiece. It's small, but with this and Michael Murphy's "Golf in the Kingdom", you'll be ready for cosmic consciousness.

I know this book has been on the recommended reading lists of most musicians for a long time, but I finally undertook to read it this year. It happened to be at a time when I was about to start a run of a Rossini opera, which is a very particular musical style requiring the players to play on the front of the beat with extremely precise articulation and unity (musicians are called upon to be able to control their timing by as little as one millisecond), and hold their focus for the duration of nearly three hours. This can sometimes lead to a lot of physical tension, exhaustion, and mistakes, or result in a less enthusiastic performance from the group as the task seems insurmountable. Learning from this book the technique of setting up your shot and it "happens" at the right time, I was able to shift my focus forward to setting up each note and "letting it happen" at the right time on the front of the beat. For thousands and thousands of short notes that each had to be (in theory, at least) precisely placed over the numerous performances, I found the sum of all my training and 35 year performing career comes down to putting it all on THIS eighth note, setting it up to do its part in telling the story. When I dedicated myself to it, I found I could hear a lot more of what my colleagues were playing, and be much more reliable to them, and I felt relaxed and free from worry. Large-scale performances are a pretty cool exercise in group dynamics, and there is a delightful synergy in dozens of people coming together to tell a story. Different than, but remarkably like, practitioners of kyudo coming in from all different careers and walks in life, and reaching new heights of personal achievement through an ancient form of archery.

While reading the book, I could easily think back to how it felt to fight in combat with a hand held machine gun in Viet Nam. At times the enemy tracers seemed to just float towards me, and while I fired my machine gun , I knew , deep down, that I could easily reach out and catch the brass cartridge as it was ejected from my gun. Violent combat is a Zen experience to those not afraid to die.

Classic zen intro. The author kind of drives you nuts as he intellectually stumbles along at a glacial pace in his personal quest for understanding of No Mind... what else can you expect, I guess, from a mid-century German professor adrift in post-war Japan. Thanks for the good service.

This book is not at all what I thought it was going to be. Actually, I don't know what I thought it was going to be. It's all about this guy and his philosophical journey to find zen. Or maybe I just don't get it. Check it out if you like those sort of books. I'm not a fan.

What to say for if one listen one will hear, question is what do you want to hear but a saying that only you expect. Read and draw your own conclusions for the art is for you to draw your own , vision, thoughts, your own way is that not what you seek.
Clearly one needs to do there own work to bear fruit that will benefit oneself.

I was assigned to read this book for an oboe studio seminar course. I had never read anything zen-ish before, and mostly discounted my professor's decision to include Zen in the Art of Archery. But oh, how I'm glad she did! This book is an easy read and a true piece of inspiration. I highly, highly recommend it.

I think that this is one of the seminal Zen texts for Western students. It is very readable, interesting, and has been in continuous print for some 60 years. It was my introduction to Zen, and I would rate it up there with "Siddhartha" as an introduction to life philosophy. Incidentally there is a companion text on flower arranging by Herrigel's wife which my wife enjoyed enormously.

This is one man's fascinating and profound journey to master not just

archery but himself. The story is the art of focus and determination, the

art of reaching a high level of accomplishment. Archery is the metaphor.

This book was recommended to me buy my public speaking professor and when I saw it for cheap on the store I did not hesitate to pull the trigger. It's a recollection of Eugene Herrigel a German philosopher who went to Japan to study archery under master Awa Kenzo. However, soon did Eugene realize that he would walk away with a lot more than the knowledge of a bow. It is a thinking man's book that challenges the reader to encrypt the masters message on their own and decide for themselves what it applies too. I greatly recommend this book to anyone interested philosophy, Buddhism, or Japanese culture.

This is one of the worst readings I have ever heard. The main text is only just bearable but what is unbearable is when the reader does the voice of the Zen master. He portrays the master in a tone both bombastic, impatient, and arrogant. To make matters worse there is a slight "Charlie Chan" accent he gives to the voice. Ugh! I thought if I listen to much more I will not love the book anymore.

This product shipped right away and as usual in dealing with the store it arrived sooner than stated and in stated condition.
I have not finished reading this book yet but find it very interesting in approaching the mental side of archery in a differnt fashion. For the price and the scope of its intent, it is suggested buy.

Would give zero if I could. My awful English professor made it required reading and at the end it states he was a member of the nazi party to the bitter end. I am part Jewish but even if I wasn't this angers me.

I liked this, but wanted to like it more. It might be partly the translation, by R.C.F. Hull, but I suspect that it is the essential German-ness of the writing: heavy and a bit plodding, a disease that affects most of the translated German writers I've read, even Hesse. (Or maybe even _especially_ Hesse?)

Anyway, it's either a memoir with embedded Zen musings, or a Zen tract with embedded autobiographical musings. Six of one; I suspect that the need to pick one over the other would be un-Zennish. (It would most certainly be un-Taoish.)

Herrigel was a professor of philosophy in Germany when he was invited to teach Western philosophy at the Imperial University at Sendai. Here, he took up instruction in kyūdō from master archer Awa Kenzô, and this book is a brief discussion of that experience and of what he learned about Zen from it.

I frankly learned little about Zen from this little book, that I did not already know - not that I'm an expert on Zen! My understanding of it is mostly intellectual (and "speculative"), so I essentially know nothing of Zen, if I understand correctly what I _do_ understand.

There are bits that might have been humorous if they were not so heavily narrated, but they were.

All in all, I'm kind of glad I read it, but not very.

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 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: The Psychology of Optimal Experience (Harper Perennial Modern Classics)", 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: Ancient China, Modern Science, and the Power of Spontaneity, 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.

Herrigel’s book is part autobiography of his experience learning Japanese archery (kyudo) from the distinguished master archer Kenzo Awa (and through archery, Zen,) and it’s part philosophical treatise on how archery can help one achieve a Zen state of mind.

The book is less than one hundred pages and has a Zen feel itself. Exemplary of this, the book’s divisions aren’t labeled or numbered into chapters—i.e. there’s a general trimming away of the extraneous features of a book. That said, there’s a clear organization to the book, and most of it follows the chronology by which the author (and others) progress in developing deep insight into the mind through the practice of archery.

There are nine sections.

The first section helps the reader understand why one might consider Zen and archery in the same thought--something that will by no means be obvious (even to many Zen Buddhists.)

The second section explains why Herrigel took up Zen and decided to use archery as his vehicle to understand it.

Section three describes the early learning process, and focuses heavily on the importance of breath.

Section four takes place after Herrigel has been practicing about a year, and the theme of purposeless action is at the fore. This idea is one of the recurring central ideas in the book.

Section five is Herrigel’s introduction to withdrawing from attachments, and—in particular—letting go of the ego. It’s not the point at which Herrigel masters this difficult practice, but he’s made aware of it.

The next section is one of the longer chapters and in it Master Awa tries to teach Herrigel the importance of letting “it shoot” rather than making the shot. This is clearly a challenging idea.

In the seventh section, Herrigel has been practicing for five years and Master Awa recommends that he take a test to help him move on to the next stage in his practice.

Section eight is a brief elucidation as to why kyudo is still relevant and how its relevance has long been tied to what it teaches about the mind.

The final section shifts gears into the relation between Zen and swordsmanship. There have been many works written on this subject, and Herrigel’s purpose may have been to convince the reader that kyudo isn’t uniquely a vehicle for Zen. One can engage in many activities (arguably any activity) with the mind of Zen, be it flower arranging, tea ceremony, calligraphy, or spearmanship.

I’d recommend this book for those interested in the mind / body connection. It’s short, readable, and filled with food for thought.

Zen in the Art of Archery book by German philosophy professor Eugen Herrigel, published in 1948, about his experiences studying Kyūdō, a form of Japanese archery, when he lived in Japan in the 1920s. - Zen in the Art of Archery, Volume 43 - A Vintage book A Vintage book, V-663 Volume 663 of Vintage Asian studies Zen in the Art of Archery, Eugen Herrigel Author Eugen Herrigel - Publisher Vintage Books, 1971 - February - pages 90- Mass Market paperback trade - Originally published: 1948- copyright 1953 by Pantheon Books Inc -Subjects Philosophy. Country: Germany-Spiritual -Self-Help / Personal Transformation- OCLC: 40962313 - LCCN 53 - 9945 - philosophy cover design by Joseph del gaudio vintage paperback b - 663

This book is fine, average thus three stars in expressing Zen as practiced as an art, in this book via Martial arts, the Art of Archery. However, keep in mind the period the book was written post world war two, Japan and the author Herrigel was a German professor of philosophy learning from a non-traditional teacher, so the book is his understanding of the art thus is inspiring, worth a read but limited and not a good primer into Zen especially as practiced in the Arts. Another and superior book is by Japanese Zen master Taizen Deshimaru titled "The Zen way to the Martial Arts" which states that the true kinship between Zen and the Martial arts lies in the fact that they BOTH can lead us toward "the spirit of the way" The core is "We must create our lives , free ourselves, become detached, simply attentive, intuitive to hear and now; everything lies in that. " Any conflict be it the body, mind or outside them is always a battle against the self".

I read this book when I studied kyudo in the late 1950s. It gives the impression that Japanese archery (kyudo) is synonymous with Zen practice. This is not so. (See The Myth of Zen in the Art of Archery by Yamada Shoji in the Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 2001 28/1-2) I was also disappointed to later learn that the author returned to Germany and became an ardent Nazi.

It has been 50 years since I first read this classic as a college student, and It took decades before I was able to internalize many of it's lessons. The book describes the experiences of a Westerner, Eugen Herrigal, and his experiences while a professor in Japan attempting to learn something of Zen Buddism through the study of archery. Each reader takes what they learn in this book through their own past experiences and perceptions, so I've found that others with whom I've discussed this book have often argued about the authenticity or accuracy of the presentation of Zen Buddism given here. I have to take issue with that.

I came to this book as a memoir, not an instruction manual. I respect the experiences of the author as his own, and I was intrigued with the way in which he interpreted his experience for the Western reader. This is not a "How To" or a philosophical treatise, it is a very linear description of the experiences of a Westerner who decides to master the art of archery, and proceeds as a true memoir in providing the author's experience. There is no right or wrong here folks; this is his experience, his truth, his "take away" from that experience. He does not attempt to "explain" Zen, he simply details his journey as a beginner in the study of archery, his initial frustration with, and final acceptance of, the methods of his Zen Master. I was able to travel along with him and his slow progress in learning some profound lessons, yet he never "went native" on me as so many authors on this subject do; he never lost his ability to think and write as a Westerner, understanding the cognitive blocks that the reader has, and respecting them as he tries to describe the slow evolution of his perspective on competition, mastery, and ego.

And so finally, I can tell you the profound lesson that I learned, and it is my lesson so it is not subject to anyone's acceptance or rejection, it is only something that I have found to be so helpful in my prosaic Western life. I have learned that I must not only master the techniques of a craft, whether poetry, painting, or even archery, but I must go the next step and internalize them so that the proper (meaning most effective) techniques are effortless, and the element of ego is removed,i.e. I no longer 'watch myself' doing things (my ego judging my performance), I simply DO them, and do them in such a way that I respect the forms with which I work. So there you are, this may not be Zen, but it is what I learned and profited from in this book.

The bottom line here is that I have followed the author on his journey and in doing so have learned things of value while being immensely entertained and enlightened as I followed his chagrin and frustration as he grappled with concepts that were familiar to neither he nor I. I could easily identify with his challenges as he was as logical, linear, and sequential as I, and as he adapted, I was able to adapt and even to expand and improve my understanding of myself. And become pretty good at both carpentry and cooking.

For me this book is first and foremost about Zen. Students of Japanese archery can come to it to take their craft to another level but for me the archery is just a mantle for the teachings to sit on. I've been studying Zen for ten years or so, and have read many great works on the subject. This book was a gentle reminder, ushering me back onto the path. It's wisdom can be applied to almost anything. For a more in depth look at some of the discussions in this book, see Suzuki's Zen and Japanese Culture.

One reviewer, with whom I disagree, says that this book is not a valid source of Zen because the master archer in the book had never "studied" Zen. I think he came in touch with the Zen Mind through his art. The Sixth Patriarch Hui Neng had never "studied" Zen either and came by his enlightenment through living life and carrying fire wood. "Studying" Zen, in terms of following the rituals of an institution, can be formative but is not necessary. Zenmind existed long before the Zen religion.

So whether you're studying Japanese Archery or looking to deepen your awareness of your own art (I study painting, music and Tai Chi), this book can help if you're ready for it.

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.

Professor Eugen Herrigel, a German-born professor of philosophy, taught at Tokyo University during the interwar period. During his stay in Japan he became fascinated by Zen Buddhism, then little known in the West, and undertook to study the art of archery with Bowmaster Awa Kenzo, who taught archery not as a technical skill but as a form of meditation practice.

I have read that Kenzo was not a Zen teacher and that this book misrepresents Zen, but I respectfully disagree. Zen has permeated the Japanese fine arts for centuries, and Kenzo's lessons express Zen, regardless of his formal status in the Zen community. Others have criticized Herrigel for coming at Zen obliquely, through Kyudo (the art of archery); again, I respectfully disagree. Zen is not just a segregated "practice" of chants, incense and sitting meditation, it is living life itself, fully. Hence, cooking, cleaning, eating, archery, or even motorcycle maintenance can be Zen practice if done with mindfulness.

Herrigel was writing long before any idea of "Zen" entered into the general Occidental mindset. Indeed, Herrigel's book title has inspired hundreds of copycat "Zen in the Art of . . .", "Zen and the Art of . . .", "The Zen of . . .", and "The Art of Zen in . . ." titles.

While there were other Western (and transplanted Eastern) exponents of Zen in 1948 when Herrigel's book appeared, Herrigel's book became the first "Zen bestseller".

Much of this short (90 page) book discusses the No-Mind necessary to successful mastery of any art. Since Herrigel is attempting to express what is essentially inexpressible, the book's language (in English translation) seems both esoteric and arcane in its utter simplicity.

For all its brevity, this is a dense book, and an interested reader will return to it many times over many years.

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.

The book isn't really about archery but Zen but I think just about everybody knows that by now. As well as being about Zen it is a self help book for if you never read another book about Zen or take up the practice you will benifit from reading this book. In it is the humble opinion of this reviewer if you read only one "self help book" this is the one to read. It is a powerful book that is as much about human psychlogy as it is about anything.

it is a must read and must be experienced to be appreciated but that being said let me elaborate on some of the topics in the book.

The bow is difficult to bend and so one must practce again and again to bend it. That is just one task of archery that is broken down in Zen archery training. Instead of the initiate begining by shooting an arrow at a target, every step of the task is broken down and each practiced until each is perfected.

This I would call the "neurotic" side of Zen. For by one interpretation neurosis that is not unbriddled or pathologic is necessary in the careful preparation for tasks.

Too many (especially of my generation) see Zen as an "anything goes" phiolosophy which is in my mind far from the truth.

So after the repitition of each of the various indivual parts of the process of archery is repeated over and over. The archer is finally ready. A this point (not to sound overly mystical) the archer, the arow and the target become one.

You don't have to be a mystic to get the mesage here.

Part of what the book describes is the psychological process called "chaining" but this book takes that process to a new height.

A book that is much more practical and concise than the 2005 best seller "Blink".

I recommend that everyone read it and an reflect on it.

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.

I like the following, from the book:

`whoever makes good progress in the beginning has all the more difficulties later on'

I think the book is good if you want to understand more regarding Japanese thought and consciousness. I am not attempting to suggest all Japanese are Zen masters - but I think that in general, as a society, we can see traces of highly reflective thought going in to their work. Japan, in general, is not a boastful society - and understands that progress is made after a lot of concerted efforts and acknowledging that the beginnings are simply this - a beginning.

I have had the great fortune to have spent 7 years in Japan and have witnessed this wonderful culture at work. This book is not about Japan - but about an adventure there. I think this mental adventure cascades itself onto the society and their collective consciousness in many ways - and if you have an interest in attempting to discover some of the underpinning thoughts of the Japanese, this book may be a great read.

If you are going to Japan out of interest for their culture this book may be good. If you are keen to enhance your focus as someone in martial arts it may also be good. If you are keen to lean about Zen Philosophy than this is obviously a relevant read. If this is the case, a deep interest in Zen, I also recommend another unique read from Austin from a very different perspective to round your library a bit, see: Zen and the Brain: Toward an Understanding of Meditation and Consciousness

Eugen Herrigel was not a Zen master- he was a German philosopher who came to Japan seeking spiritual experience through the "mysterious" practices of Zen.

What he finds is suprisingly un-mysterious, simple- and- abundantly practical.

In this little volume, Herrigel talks about how Zen is not solely a contemplative discipline, but the core of a "way of doing"- a way of living in the world, a way of practicing an art (in this case, archery), and an integral way of combining life in the world with spiritual practice. Herrigel, upon arriving in Japan, undertakes the study of Kyudo- Japanese Archery- under a master, who explains to him both the practical and spiritual principles of his archery style. The book takes one through Herrigel's practice, his insights, and finally his tests for mastership.

A good book, if a bit thin (a bit over 100 pages) and Herrigel's romanticism and use of western terms might put off some readers, but overall a quality presentation of one westerner's experience with Kyudo.

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!

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.

I've heard a lot about the book Zen in the Art of Archery by Eugen Herrigel, so I decided it was about time to read it. An interesting look at how a Westerner learned about Zen using the Japanese art of archery.

Herrigel went to Japan in order to teach philosophy, and while there took the opportunity to become immersed in Zen Buddhism. He is able to get a master of archery to teach him after searching for a mechanism to learn Zen principles. As a Westerner, he has a number of problems creating the right mental mindset that would allow him to understand Zen and release himself. But through years of perseverance and continued study, he finally learns the principles and experiences the Zen of becoming one with the bow and target.

It's an interesting look at how Zen principles can be applied to any activity. If you've never been exposed to any Zen philosophy before, you will probably struggle with much of the seemingly nonsensical statements you'll encounter. But if you have a basic understanding going into the book, you should be able to get the value that the author intended.

I read this book many years. It was J.D. Salinger who brought me to it. And the central idea that he taught from it was the art of 'aiming without aiming'. Or rather how wrong and forced effort which is wholly concentrated on ' result' and 'result' alone (i.e. hitting the bullseye) leads to missing the mark.

The great idea of this work is the idea of a kind of practice which leads to effortless effort, to a 'hitting the mark' without aiming , to somehow allowing one's own inner powers to be in harmony with the task one is doing. To let the whole of one's being flow into the activity and with it as one.

With this in mind I years ago wrote a small forgotten work 'Zen and the Art of Swimming' . I also practically ' felt the reality of the main idea ' of this work in surprisingly a ' basketball game ' Here it was not one individual but a whole team of flowing and moving right, only to have this of course be broken by the other- sides time- out.

There is a way of doing a thing in which we are so wholly within it that enjoyment naturally comes to us.

This is the 'Zen ' I understand as central to this book.

An excellent introduction to Eastern philosophy, if not for the fact that the book is a novella in its length and therefor easy to focus on. Many books attempt to express the art of Zen in everyday tasks, but do so through a perspective that roots itself in the West and not the East. Herrigel does not attempt to bring Zen to the reader. We are brought to it without our knowing, much like the arrow which finds its target.
The author is able to transport the reader to a Japanese archery range through prose that places the bow in one's hand and mind. The descriptions are powerful, yet subtle. You see the target. You can feel the taught string yearning to be set free from your grasp and let fly the arrow to its home. Herrigel translates Zen philosophy into the actions of your hands, that are linked to your mind, that is linked to arrow, that is linked to the target, and back again. It is this innocuous connection to everything outside the body that Herrigel aptly writes in a way that almost indirectly explains what Westerners have attempted to define in innumerous ways, but never quite understood.

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.

In the 1930's, Eugen Herrigel moved to Japan to teach philosophy. In an attempt to gain a more profound understanding of Japanese culture, Professor Herrigel and his wife began the study of archery with a Master Zen teacher. After six years of hard work, Herrigal obtained the title of Master.

This book is his attempt to explain to a Western audience his journey from a novice to a Zen Master. Herrigel's writing style is spare and even elegant. He avoided the temptation to frame a a cliche story of German "novice" being initiated into the mysteries of Zen by a wise, Zen Master. (i.e. the karate Kid line of stories)

The only thing disapointing about this book, it underscores the fact that most of us will never have the same type of quality of Zen experience. Afterall, how many readers will be able to spend six years working diligently with a Zen Master. But in the end, it is a nice fantasy and this book gives us an insight into what it would take to have such an experience.

This is a wonderful, erudite book, beautifully written and lived by the author. However, without a previous knowledge of Zen, or the dedicated time taken by monkls and Japanese culture to achieve and fully understand something, it may be a little above the heads of the beginner's mind.
If you ARE practiced and/or knowledgeable in these things, this book is a lovely companion to many Zen readings, and how it translates into archery is fascinating.

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 was left with the distinct feeling of having just completed a long journey after finishing this 80 page book. I have been practicing (traditional) western archery for over a year now and I completely agree with many of the tenets of archery that Master Kenzo Awa spoke of. I took up archery because I was interested in the idea of letting the arrow go versus the common mentality of shooting the arrow at the target and this book reiterates that kind of thinking.

I have never undertaken Kyudo so I cannot speak to the accuracy of what was written, but I do know that many of things written by Herrigel, such as breathing exercises and being surprised when you release the arrow, can applied to western archery. I found the author's prattling and difficulties a bit irritating but it is understandable due to Kyudo's complexity. However, I was left skeptical with the author's understanding of "zen", and while he mentioned this idea of the "Great Doctrine" (of archery), I could not find his definition anywhere.

At the end of this text there are a few pages dedicated to archery's relationship to swordsmanship which I understand but felt it was incongruous with the overall feeling of the rest of the book.

There are hundreds of books on Zen, almost all of them attempting to intellectualize Zen. Alas, Zen is fundamentally different in that it detests intellectualization and demands that its followers experience the spirit of Zen first hand, however hard that may be.

In this little big book, Herrigel summarizes his learning of Zen through the practise of archery. Each time I read it, it gives me new insights into how one can experience Zen in everyday life.

I recommend it whole-heartedly to those who are bitten by the Zen bug.

Zen Buddhism was nearly unheard of in the West, until this book. It is simple, easy to read, yet at times hard to understand to the Western mind. In short everything Zen is about. Zen sounds like a series of contradictions to the Western Mind, but Herrigel uses the archer as a way to convey the concepts of unity of mind and body. This book is not only a good introduction to the beginners' mind it was a great introduction for two cultures. The most compelling sense of what Zen is, is when his master demonstrates his abilities by hitting a bullseye in the dark and then splitting that arrow. Good book to start understanding an overused and misunderstood term - Zen.

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.

For my money, this short classic is the best explanation to the western reader of what Zen is about. Herrigel, a German, and his wife lived in Japan for five years and learned Zen through the practices of Archery and Flower Arranging, respectively. This fascinating account of Zen teaching at work (with a difficult learner) illumines the depths of the matter as well as any printed words can; plus, it's an entertaining true story. I especially like the part where the Master determines to try to see the westerner's point of view in order to help his pupil learn, so he gets a book of German philosophers, but gives up in disgust, noting that it's no wonder the man who concerns himself with such things can't shoot an arrow straight!

This is a book that you can relax and read, just letting your mind wander at times. It took me an hour to read this and, given the lack of pagination and dord, I can't see how people can complain about this book. I found it to be truly satisfying. I put this book down for a minute or two and my father-in-law picked it up and began reading it. My father-in-law is more of an audiobook kind of guy, considering the long hours of reading has had to undertake to become a doctor, he now enjoys Teaching Company Lectures and audiobooks. I think this is just one of those reads that doesn't feel like your even reading it.

I suppose this book appeals to some people but I didn't like the fact that it really is a Westerner's "interpretation" of what he learned about this subject while living in Japan. The thing that really makes me doubt the validity of this man's viewpoint about Zen is the fact that he returned to Germany and became a Nazi. To me, that is a paradox - how could anyone study Zen for years and then become a Nazi? Am I missing something? Sorry - this book is just not for me.

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 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.

This book had a real influence on my early spiritual development. I read it when I was a teenager; the impression I was left with was one of discipline, self-mastery, and the difficulty of the art of archery. I loved the author's earnestness and sincerity. For some time, I shot my own bow with what I took to be the spirit of the Zen approach. I wished I could travel to Japan and learn from a master.

From where I sit now, I'd have to acknowledge that this book is more a description or a memoir, rather than an actual guide. That is, for one determined to walk the spiritual path, this book will be more an inspiration than a manual. For some, that may lead to frustration.

I grew up with my father very active in Zen archery, and have been practicing meditation myself for about one year now. (Readers familiar with the Zen arts understand that this is a pitiful drop in the bucket; in his account, Herrigel spends that long learning to hold the bow.) Zen Buddhism is, by definition, a problematic subject to describe in words or in print. Herrigel seemed cognizant of the irreconcilability of the language of philosophy with the reality of Zen, but he did his best nonetheless. It also suffers from its status as one of the first Western works in its field. Some of the language is dated and anachronistic: e.g., "The Great Doctrine". These small criticisms aside, I would overwhelmingly recommend this book anyone with the slightest interest, not only in religion or philosophy, but in athletics or the arts. However, those coming from a background in Western religion or philosophy, no matter how sophisticated, may not know what to do with this book. In fact, such knowledge may impede the reader (p. 48):

"He [Herrigel's sensei]...tried to work through a Japanese introduction to philosophy in order to find out how he could help me from a side I already knew. But in the end he had laid the book down with a cross face, remarking that he could now understand that a person who interested himself in such things would naturally find the art of archery uncommonly difficult to learn."

"Zen and the Art of Archery" is not intended as a comprehensive overview of the Zen tradition. It is probably not the place to start for those that are completely unfamiliar with Zen, kyudo, Buddhism or Japanese culture. (I'm at a loss to recommend any one definitive work, but the works of D.T. Suzuki and Huston Smith come to mind.) What it is, is a fantastically written account of one man's historic experience as one of the first Westerners to study the Japanese art of archery. In proper Zen style, it is succinct; I read it in one hour-long sitting. It is packed with all manner of brilliant insights. My copy is virtually illegible from dog-earing, underlining, and note-taking. If you have some contextual knowledge of the aforementioned subjects, read this book immediately. If you don't, I might suggest that you hold off; it might strike you as so much "mystical mumbo-jumbo", as it did to my father (who subsequently dedicated his book--One Arrow, One Life--to Herrigel).

This slender book tells the story of Herrigel's efforts to learn about Zen, through the practice of archery, when he lived in Japan. In essence, he learns that he must clear his mind of all external clutter until all that exists is the bow, the arrow and the target. But the process of learning this seemingly simple lesson is continually stymied by his stubborn adherence to Western ideas.
This is a pleasant enough little book, but one problem with this and with the exaltation of Zen in general is that Westerners routinely do exactly what practitioners of Zen do, without making such an elaborate production out of it. There is a great scene in John McPhee's A Sense of Where You Are : A Profile of William Warren Bradley, when Bradley is just lighting it up in the NCAA tournament and he feels like he's hogging the ball, but he's so hot that his teammates just keep giving him the ball. He keeps making shots and they won't take any until he misses, so he starts taking increasingly ridiculous shots and they keep going in. In the cliche of the moment, he has found the Zone.
Anyone who has ever flashbowled, knows the sensation that occurs when you become one with the lights and start throwing 800's, and, hell, that's typically after 15 beers and you don't see me writing Zen in the Art of Flashbowling..
hmmmmmm?
GRADE: C+

Although Herrigel's work is not the most brilliant writing his message still stands. This is a very brief work and easy to read. The message is very universal and reflects the committment necessary to fulfill just about anything worth striving for. You will read one man's example of what it took for him to understand Zen. This story is told through the characters experience learning archery. This may help you decide if it is an appropriate journey for yourself or if it compares with the journey you have been on.

I very much enjoyed reading this book. It is a biographical account of one mans experience as he moves from a position of ignorance towards an understanding of Zen. The bewildering spritual "How to" which seems to have a lot more to do with what you don't do than what you do. The confounding realisation that all effort is false, whereas no effort can lead to superhuman feats of accuracy. It's a magical true story about how a mans confusion and understanding become fused into something of an incomprehensible truth: You don't understand it, but it works.

What I enjoyed most about the text is that it gives insipration to Zen learners, something to aim for, so to speak.

What I didn't like is that it doesn't really offer insight into how one combines an attitude of no presumed effort with the experience of splitting an arrow-shaft lengthwise from the far side of an unlit warehouse. In other words, the book sufficiently illustrates the effects of success with Zen practice but having read the book the cause still remains a mystery: A relaxed attitude alone will do nothing to improve your golfing average, so how does it work?

...and went back to university archery class and immediately shot a perfect round the next day. I then put the bow down, so as not to spoil the moment, and resumed looking at the girls in their summer shorts. By taking the book's advice and not attempting both at the same time, I improved the outcomes for both cases. If you have even the mildest interest in zen, buy this book, or the next arrow may have your name on it. (Linear thinkers should disregard the previous statement.)

I read this book (which was given to me by a friend) and I hated it. The author throws in extra words just to sound smart but adds nothing to the story. The first chapter was super boring. It gets better but still a waste of time overall.

This book is a narrative about a Zen experience. It does not delve into philosophical discussions. And that is exactly why it is so deep. No truly Zen master teaches the western way, in classrooms. Instead, it is necessary to have a living experience and "feel" it, since it can't be explained in words. That's what this book is about. A real living experience of the ubiquitous presence of Zen.

Zen and the Art of Archery is certainly a valuable book, but, in my opinion, it has been given inordinate attention by many reviewers on this site. Although it is valuable to an unspecialised reader, it is not a valuable resource for learning about Zen in Japan.

The best reviews I've read on the store about this book have been the extremely positive ones and the extremely negative ones. Each has a sort of understanding of the book that is valuable. The positive reviews of the book emphasize the importance that has had to specific readers. Herrigel's understanding of the "artless art" has been valuable for many artists in the West, and understandably so - the mysticism described in Zen in the Art of Archery doesn't exist in Western society in quite the way the Herrigel describes it. Zen in the Art of Archery is valuable because it reintroduces Western audiences to mystical understandings of the world which we have lost touch with as our society becomes more and more secular. As someone who played piano for 9 years, I can say from practical experience that an understanding of the piano as a purely mechanistic tool is, at a certain point, an impediment to excellent playing. As another reviewer has noted, a more nuanced, metaphorical understanding of the piano is crucial to playing well. Regardless of whether the piano is just a physical tool, a pianist should not have this attitude. Zen in the Art of Archery helps us take a more "mystical" stance towards aspects of culture that are often described mechanically.

But the negative reviews also point out something valuable in our understanding of this book. Although the book has become extremely important in the West, it is a very poor introduction to Zen, except insofar as Zen is a tradition which involves some amount of mysticism (but how much is open to dispute). It is also a poor introduction to the Japanese understanding of archery as understood when the book was written. I highly recommend the article by Yamada Shoji, "The Myth of Zen in the Art of Archery," available for free online, which lays these details out in great detail. The trouble is simply that the book does not describe Zen in Japan, and the connection made between archery and Zen is historically sketchy.
Part of this trouble is with Herrigel, part of this trouble is with his archery teacher, and part of this trouble is with the translator that Herrigel employed (as Herrigel could not communicate with his teacher). To summarise their relationship, Herrigel was a German philosophy professor with very little knowledge of contemporary Japan, interested in learning about a mystical tradition. To phrase it slightly more strongly, Herrigel was searching for mysticism, and determined to find it. He had no background in Zen, and very little understanding of Japanese culture, and the fact that he stresses the connection between Zen and archery underscores this - at the time of the writing of the book, most Japanese people considered archery to be an activity for recreation or for exercise, and not spiritual practice. The mystical elements of his training were further emphasized by the translator employed to help him communicate with his teacher. Despite his best efforts, the translator was forced to translate certain terms ambiguously, and much of Herrigel's understanding of the "mystical" nature of his training derives from these misunderstandings.
Finally, Herrigel's archery teacher, Awa Kenzo, was hardly typical among archers or archery instructors in Japan. Although his teachings might have value, they can hardly be considered to stand for the views of Japanese practitioners. It is also worth noting that Awa Kenzo had no formal Zen training, and his usage of religious language reflects the importance of Buddhism to Japanese culture rather than to archery.

I am not sure if I can recommend this book. While it does give valuable advice to artists and valuable information to people interested in mysticism, it does so in a way that perpetuates stereotypes about "the mystical East" - stereotypes that are false and somewhat insulting. And, despite being titled Zen in the Art of Archery, it is written by someone with very little experience with Zen, who was taught archery by someone who also had no formal training in Zen.

Too many big headed, complicated words to really explain simple things. It's like reading the Oxford Dictionary for bombastic folks. If you like a ton of extra words that really don't add to the story but go along ways in convincing you that the author must be the driest and longwinded fella, then this is for you. If you want simple stories that can be easily understood then no, move along.

This is a book to everyone who wants to learn the real essence of Zen.The author shares with us the great legacy he got from his archery teacher while living in Japan.If you want to start learning about Zen, this is the book to begin with.

Immensely popular and with a cult like following, this work is worthwhile if read with a grain of salt [sic?: rice]. Frequently assigned reading to students of the arts (pick one); I disagree with most of it.
With Zen in the Art of Archery Eugen Herrigel has secured his place among the great allegorical philosopher/comedians. Chevy Chase is in good company. Artists, as much as art, must be understood in perspective. Unlike Eugen Herrigel, Chevy Chase and his genre did not spend most of their adult life teaching philosophy in Tokyo between the wars. Professor Herrigel (or "Master" Herrigel as I am sure he would prefer) was German, and it is through a mid-nineteenth-century western perspective that he attempts to open our minds to a greater understanding of Zen Buddhism. Like other allegorical philosopher/comedians he has chosen sport as a metaphor to hasten our understanding. Two generations later Chevy Chase would do the same with golf. Golf was not popular in Japan between the wars so Professor Herrigel was faced with the limited choices of floral arrangement or archery as his allegorical theme. As the title to the book suggests: he chose archery. (His wife chose floral arrangement, but gender distinctions were more predictable between the wars.)
Archery has been around for at least 15,000 years. Mankind utilized it to hunt and fish with and to also kill other human beings with in the practice of that most exalted art form: warfare. But archery it is and Professor Herrigel utilizes the synthesis of archer-bow-arrow-target as an effective literary device by which to explain essential principles of Zen Buddhism and how one can, by seemingly indirect paths, come to be one with the universe. Zen in the Art of Archery was published in 1953 and unfortunately Professor Herrigel reached the highest state of consciousness conventionally accepted in western society in 1955 when he died at the age of 71. His death so soon after the publication of this work probably denied us its logical sequel based upon his experiences during the war years following his return to Germany after years abroad in Japan. It might have been called Zen in the Art of Rocketry. ("As the ascending V-2 rocket approaches the zenith of its arching ballistic course over the gently lapping waves of the English Channel, the minds of the rocket scientists, warhead manufacturers and children at play in Coventry at once become one and the rocket is thus involuntarily compelled to its target as if a greater force were at play.")
The author "for the sake of comparison," concludes the book by "cast[ing] a glance at another of these arts, whose martial significance even under present conditions cannot be denied: the art of swordsmanship." [p. 68] Cannot be denied? Tell every child who has seen Star Wars that it really is true that the way to total consciousness is to engage in mortal combat and simply "let The Force be with you."
My quarrel with Professor Herrigel is obviously with his choice of metaphor and not his message. To paraphrase one World War II fighter pilot, the medium could have been "kinder and gentler." Such was the comparative message I took from the movie Caddie Shack. Was not Ty Webb's (Chevy Chase) masterful instruction to the young caddie precisely what Professor Herrigel teaches us: "Be the ball."
The Zen Master teaches us, or so we are informed, that before we even pick up a bow (and by extension this is equally true of a club, bat, pen, brush or clump of clay), we must learn to breath properly. Now this is interesting. Breath control is critical to many undertakings: all sports, both the act of procreation and childbirth itself, oration and song, meditative thought and scuba diving -- just to name a few. Breathing, if the brain is functioning properly, is an involuntary act. Breathing occurs in both the conscious and unconscious state. Stresses in the higher brain functions will almost always cause disturbances in breathing patterns. (Anxiety, fear, or worry for instance will cause suppression of normal breathing, changing its patterns and manifesting itself in the form of frequent sighs or hypertension.) Stresses in the lower brain functions will cause similar disturbances, often with more serious consequences. (Blunt trauma, toxic drugs and organic brain disease will often repress breathing altogether.) So breathing is important and it is important that before the painter paints, the writer writes, the foul shooter shoots, or the pilot lands, it is best to stop banging one's head against the wall, breath naturally (really naturally), and try to "unabsorb" oneself from everything except the task at hand. (Mastering breath control was invaluable to the Kamikaze pilots -- an outgrowth of the ancient Samurai -- of World War II. If the pilots became gripped with fear, they would often hyperventilate and either overshoot their target or crash into the sea before their predestined evaporation into their holy part of the "Great Doctrine.")
The Zen Master teaches us that we are surprised by the strength of the grip of the infant to whom we offer our extended finger (this is undoubtedly true in not only eastern culture and western culture but all cultures in between, beneath and above), and we are struck by the inexplicable effortless of the baby's release, which is only possible because the baby does not think, it simply does. So it is with many athletic endeavors and we are taught thusly: relax your grip and let the club, bat, racket or what-have-you, do the work. But this grip thing attaches too much importance in the archer-bow-arrow-target synthesis to the bow and arrow components. It is sort of hyperbolic buck passing to the instruments themselves. (Have you ever seen a frustrated tennis player throw a racket to the ground as if it was the rackets fault?) This "be the ball" stuff cannot be understood in serial parts; the whole literally is greater than the sum of the parts.

A heard about this book for a long time, Zen in the Art of Archery by Eugen Herrigel, so I decided it was about time to read it. An interesting look at how a Westerner learned about Zen using the Japanese art of archery.

It took a moment to finish reading, but years to finally understand and feel the teaching of this book. Great for actors or anyone in the creative arts. The audio tapes are just as good as the read (the reader has a soothing voice especially matched to this type of book). Highly recommended to all!

As a Zen Buddhist--unlike a few of the reviewers who

are also Zen Buddhists and slam this book--I find

it very refreshing. An excellent book. Similar

to THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA in its brevity, clarity

and depth. The writing is exact, authoritative,

and moving. Herrigel's spiritual journey to and through

Zen Buddhism is eloquently detailed. Well-done. Five Stars.

long life and blue skies,

Mike Tucker

Author: THE LONG PATROL,

HELL IS OVER, & AMONG WARRIORS IN IRAQ

Living in Japan for a very long time and practicing Aikido, I was presented the book, which is a standard work in Zen in Japan by an old Japanese man. I think the book which I read in the original German language version puts the essence of Zen in a few words. I do not agree with the righteous comments of reader jbcave. And as to reader randmeister, if you accuse someone of being a nazi, even indirectly, you should at least put in the effort to check the records, otherwise your are just a rumor monger. By the way in 1953 when the boo
k was published, Germany was already firmly in the hands of American culture and politics.

Though the personal path in kyudo of Mr. Herrigel is very interesting, this book does not teach as well as newer books do. The book is a testimony of a person finally submitting his mind to teacher he experiences as rigid, written in order to master the art of kyudo. The idea of Zen remains cloudy which i think is essential to comprehend what it is all about. If you want to know, how it used to be with a Kyudo master in the twenties of the last century, read it. To me it was more a historic document.

This is not an "instructional" book on Zen (is there such a thing?), but nevertheless a great, timeless read. As a dabbler in Zen years ago, I re-read the book recently upon taking up archery, and it was just as wonderful as the first time.

There is the Zen of no mind in which you eat when hungry, rest when tired, and stop when finished. There is also the Zen known through the ritualized arts of discipline and beauty such as archery, swordsmanship, brush-and-ink, the tea ceremony, or flower arranging. This book is Herrigel's story of striking the target bull's-eye blindfolded.

A delightful, fascinating, and useful exploration of the relationship between student and teacher. Ties in well with George Leonard's book on "Mastery." Joel Herskowitz, Co-Author of "Swallow Safely. How Swallowing Problems Threaten the Elderly and Others. A Caregiver's Guide To Recognition, Treatment, and Prevention" and "The DOUBLE Talking HELIX Blues."

A delightful, fascinating, and useful exploration of the relationship between student and teacher. Ties in well with George Leonard's book on "Mastery." Joel Herskowitz, Co-Author of "Swallow Safely. How Swallowing Problems Threaten the Elderly and Others. A Caregiver's Guide To Recognition, Treatment, and Prevention" and "The DOUBLE Talking HELIX Blues."

masterpiece. even the way it is written brings the reader on a journey so that he himself can learn and experience what the author intends to convey. not by explicitly writing what he wants the reader to 'learn', but rather by guiding the reader through a path- that is the only way to truly gain.

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.

Books with Master and Pupil theme always work for me. I can hear all the variations of this myth and enjoy them. Again and again.
Yet, this book didn't work for me.
I failed to see a genuine learning in the voice of the author. It was almost caricaturish. Lately I have also become very sensitive to cultural appropriation, and I no longer enjoy reading books on Yog that are written by someone who can't read Sanskrit, or a book on Zen by someone who doesn't understand Japanese language.
Essence or what the author calls "It" in this book, is in roots.
Let the people from a culture tell their stories.
Let root be watered, and not fruits.
Please for heaven's sake, stop going to India, China, or Japan, learn a craft (or about a culture), and come back to Western countries to share the 'knowledge.'
If people born and raised in western countries truly want to bridge the cultural gape, they should create platform for indigenous people to tell the stories of their art and culture.

"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.

In "Zen Combat" author Jay Gluck states that Herrigel went on to become a fervent Nazi. If true (I lack the inclination to research this), it speaks poorly of the quality of his kyudo instruction. Decide for yourself.

This is not a book on kyudo. As Earl Hartman says in another review, Herrigel did have little contact with kyudo in Japan (3-4 years). This book could be about many interesting things (zen, misticism, ...), but I don't know of them. But it's not a book on Kyudo. It seems more a book on Herrigel himself.
I don't says this is the worst book someone can read if is interested on kyudo. Last years saw apearing one or two terrible book's with kyudo in title.
Should be read with precaution and specially doesn't substitute pratice and guidance from a teacher or a master. Many persons come to kyudo allready knowing this book but after a few sessions they give up. and many of them continue to claim that they know about kyudo only by reading this book.

This was a wordy and repetative account of one persons experiance in the ''hunt'' for an understanding of Zen. After reading the book I do not belive that the author was truly able to experiance zen because he describes it in far to many words and with far to many details of his account. I would not recomend this book unless you have to read it.