Stillness Is the Key by Ryan Holiday

“Everyone tries to shoot naturally,” Kenzo wrote, “but nearly all
practitioners have some kind of strategy, some kind of shallow,
artificial, calculating technical trick that they rely on when they
shoot. Technical tricks ultimately lead nowhere.”
Mastering our mental domain—as paradoxical as it might seem—
requires us to step back from the rigidity of the word “mastery.” We’ll
get the stillness we need if we focus on the individual steps, if we
embrace the process, and give up chasing. We’ll think better if we
aren’t thinking so hard.
Most students, whether it’s in archery or yoga or chemistry, go
into a subject with a strong intention. They are outcome-focused.
They want to get the best grade or the highest score. They bring their
previous “expertise” with them. They want to skip the unnecessary
steps and get right to the sexy stuff. As a result, they are difficult to
teach and easily discouraged when the journey proves harder than
expected. They are not present. They are not open to experience and
cannot learn.
In Kenzo’s school, it was only when a student had fully
surrendered, when they had detached themselves from even the idea
of aiming, having spent months firing arrows into a hay bale just a
few feet in front of them, that he would finally announce, “Our new
exercise is shooting at a target.” And even then, when they would hit
the target, Kenzo wouldn’t shower the archer with praise.
On the contrary, after a bull’s-eye, Kenzo would urge them to “go
on practicing as if nothing happened.” He’d say the same after a bad
shot. When the students asked for extra instruction, he’d reply,
“Don’t ask, practice!”
He wanted them to get lost in the process. He wanted them to
give up their notions of what archery was supposed to look like. He
was demanding that they be present and empty and open—so they
could learn.
In Hinduism, Buddhism, Sikhism, and Jainism, the lotus flower
is a powerful symbol. Although it rises out of the mud of a pond or a
river, it doesn’t reach up towering into the sky—it floats freely,
serenely on top of the water. It was said that wherever Buddha
walked, lotus flowers appeared to mark his footprints. In a way, the
lotus also embodies the principle of letting go. It’s beautiful and