Archery and the Singer

“ The bow is life: the source of all energy. The arrow will leave one day. The target is a long way off. But the bow will stay with you and you must know how to look after it.”

Paul Coelho, The Archer

I used to shoot a bow and arrow every summer. And I had completely forgotten this fact until I recently read a short novel by Paul Coehlo called, “The Archer.” It’s a story about a master archer sharing the ‘way of the bow’ to a young, inquisitive boy and it is filled with beautiful parallels to the singing journey.

So why did I shoot a bow and arrow every summer? 

I used to spend my summers as a staff kid at a kids camp. I would do lots of work in the barn, the kitchen and with the maintenance crew. I would also get to participate in camp activities whenever there was extra space (a homesick camper spending time in the infirmary was good news for me because I could take their spot in activities for the day).

One of those camp activities was archery and it wasn’t my favourite thing - I didn’t spend my days hoping and praying I could shoot an arrow at a target. But I did find something about it intriguing and would take the opportunity to grab a bow and arrow when I could. 

Looking back I think there was something in the process of archery that struck me as a young girl, as being profound. And as I read Coehlo’s book, he put into words something that I sensed vaguely in my experience with archery, and which I would discover profoundly in the journey of singing:

“There are two types of shot. The first is the shot made with great precision, but without any soul. In this case, although the archer may have great mastery of technique, he has concentrated solely on the target, and because of this, he has not evolved, he has become stale, he has not managed to grow, and one day, he will abandon the way of the bow because he finds that everything has become mere routine.

The second type of shot is one made with soul. When the intention of the archer is transformed into the flight of the arrow, his hand opens at the right moment, the sound of the string makes the birds sing, and the gesture of shooting something over a distance provokes - paradoxically enough- a return to and encounter with oneself.”

As a singer who went through a period of time singing in a way akin to the ‘first kind of shot,’ with a singular focus on technique, and a disconnect from soul - these words struck me. That way was not sustainable or nourishing and I luckily realized that fairly quickly. I found (and continue to find) my way back to singing in the way of the second shot - a way anchored in meaning, connection and heartfelt expression.

But here’s what makes singing in the way of the second shot challenging. It is a rebellion against the dominant messages we get in regards to what makes singing “valuable.” Value is most often placed on singing and having a ‘success” story at the end - a sort of bullseye of the singing world.

Here are some examples of these success stories that are most often valued:

The singer started singing as a refuge amidst a painful childhood and went on to win ‘America’s Got Talent’ and make millions of dollars, achieving fame and recognition.

The singer struggled with rejection due to issues in intonation but overcame this challenge through perseverance to become one of the greatest opera singers of all time.

The singer was never taken seriously but continued to hone their craft until they were discovered late in life and recognized worldwide for their unique talent.

We love a story of perseverance and triumph over struggle when it ends in a particular result. And don’t get me wrong, these are great stories! And it’s important to have goals and dreams with your singing. 

But if we hold these stories up on a pedestal as the only stories of true value for a singing life, it places a shadow of expectation over the whole process that robs singing of its most potent life force. It leaves the singer grasping onto the need for a certain outcome to validate their journey. 

So, my question is, what if the value was the process itself? What if the value of singing was singing with soul? What if the value was in the simple act of singing for the love of it? What if that was enough? 

What if these were the stories we began to fall in love with?

The singer loved to sing but got rejected in audition after audition. Despite that, they continued to find deep joy and connection to themselves through singing, and sang for the rest of their life.

The singer struggled with letting her voice be free. So she practiced every day and step by step, her true, full sound emerged. And so she continued to find joy in singing sometimes a little and sometimes a lot every day.

The singer found his capacity to communicate with others through his singing, so he shared his voice and his heart with abandon to anyone who wanted to listen. 

So my hope for you and for me is that, like the master archer, we sing in the “second shot” kind of way. That we continue to find deep meaning in the simple act of singing. That our growth and singing outcomes are anchored in a love of process, connection to self, others and the natural world around us. That we delight in the beauty of singing simply for the profound human experience that it is.