The Poem That Changed My Perspective
I would like to share a poem:
The Need to Win
When an archer is shooting for nothing, he has all his skill.
If he shoots for a brass buckle, he is already nervous.
If he shoots for a prize of gold, he goes blind or sees two targets.
He is out of his mind!
His skill has not changed, but the prize divides him.
He cares.
He thinks more of winning than of shooting.
And the need to win drains him of power.
(Chuang Tzu)
I first encountered this poem five years ago as it was reposted by someone I followed on social media. I still think about it. Chuang Tzu was also known as Zhuang Zhou and. Zhuangzi, which literally translates to “Master Zhuang.” He was a prolific Chinese philosopher over 2,200 years ago and credited with writing the Zuangzi, which is one of the two foundational texts for Taoism. The poem, however, comes from Thomas Merton’s The Way of Chuang Tzu, which is a series of his own interpretations of the Zhuangzi. All this is to say that Chuang Tzu may not have written the poem himself, but certainly inspired the interpretation by Merton. Regardless, Taoist philosophy is evident in it.
Taoism (also spelled Daoism) encourages humans to live in balance with the “Tao,” which is many metaphysical things, but may conveniently be reduced to “the universe.” A popular concept from Taoism includes Yin and Yang—two inseparable and contradictory forces.
Which brings me back to the poem.
Whenever I try to do something, I am confronted with two connected and, occasionally, opposing forces: my desire and my ability to do the thing. I’ve shared my experiences with resistance before, and how the closer I got to finishing my book, the less I wrote. This poem introduced some perspective, which led me to reframe my thinking around anything I do, but especially my writing.
My inability to do hard things doesn’t come from lack of skill, it comes from the pressure of caring. It took me five years to write the first draft of my book. It took me five months to write another on my phone. With the former, I carried all the weight of a writer trying to break into the publishing world. With the second book, all I carried was the need to write down a story before I forgot it.
I try not to say “I can’t do this” or even “I need to do this.” There’s too much pressure. Instead, I try to say “I want to do this.” For some tasks, the change is obvious. I want to write—it’s intrinsic to my life goals and creative fulfillment. Other tasks, I’m forced to think about why they matter to me. I want to take out the trash because it creates a more comfortable living space for me. I want to go get an oil change for my car because it means that I am maintaining a more reliable form of transportation.
When I write with my friend on Mondays, I am an archer aiming at nothing. When I publish my blog on Thursdays, I am an archer aiming at a brass buckle. When I draft my novel, I am an archer shooting for a prize of gold. I think of the pressure, the reward, and the potential for failure. I forget that in every instance, I am a writer doing what I love.