Bulls’ eye - This is how I shoot
Often those who teach cannot do and those who find the fault cannot fix it. Nothing wrong in this provided you understand to take from each what they can offer instead of believing foolishly that he who can do more can do less too. This reminds me of a story:
Around the tents of the big encampment everyone was busy at the king's orders. The slaves were slaving, the horses horsing, the scribes scribing and - of course - the soldiers soldiering.
The Mullah only, as Tamerlane's fool or advisor - nobody knew for certain - was free to roam about and mingle with everything and everyone he liked. Which he did.
By the right side of the royal pavilions, the dismounted archers of the Guard, the elite of the Chagatai Horde, were practicing their skill, observed now and then by the sharp eye of Tamerlane who knew better than anyone else the old truth: it is the eye of the owner that gets the cow fat.
Nasreddin, always helpful, provided rich comment about the best manner to string a recurved saddlebow and on the subject of the never failing ways to aim at a moving target.
The royal archers were trying to keep the pace of the drill and to empty their arrow-full quivers but listened with deep respect. Who in his right mind would dare to look down at a man so highly placed, close to the ear of the Emir? In their souls, they all hoped Hoça would proceed elsewhere. It was not a good thing to play a role in one of the funny stories of the Hodja, especially when Timur could get involved in the ending.
"The golden rule is to let your eye and arm aim freely. First look at the target and be the target. Then work back from it to your eye and the hand that pulls the bow. Let the arrow depart by itself as if you plucked a ripe cherry. You must simply let it go where it belongs, into the target, instead of trying to thrust and push the arrow towards it." This is what Nasreddin said.
"Deep thought indeed," intervened Tamerlane, emerging suddenly from behind a tent flap. "You must be familiar with archery to know all this."
"I am, Sublime Sultan," answered modestly the Mullah. "I had some practice once, at the fair in Konya when I was young."
The guards kept unsmiling and busy.
"Is that so... Then, show my men with your own hand and eye. Take a bow and give this lazy bunch a lesson."
Hoça stepped bravely forward, bent a bow and shot his arrow.
It went astray, quite far above the target. Without losing his composure, Nasreddin turned towards the archers and said sternly:
"Did you observe this? Too high! This is how your captain aims."
The captain grew pale.
Nasreddin tried another shot. This one dipped into the ground under the target. He pointed a finger towards the soldiers on his left and said,
"This is how some of you bahadurs shoot. Too low under the belt!"
The archers lowered their eyes towards their belts.
The third arrow somehow touched the target before being lost.
"This is what most soldiers di in battle. They are too busy to throw their arrows. They don't aim for perfection, just shoot."
And he threw another arrow.
By sheer luck, this one went right into the bull's-eye.
"Now did you see this?" said Nasreddin. "This is how I shoot!"
The Mullah only, as Tamerlane's fool or advisor - nobody knew for certain - was free to roam about and mingle with everything and everyone he liked. Which he did.
By the right side of the royal pavilions, the dismounted archers of the Guard, the elite of the Chagatai Horde, were practicing their skill, observed now and then by the sharp eye of Tamerlane who knew better than anyone else the old truth: it is the eye of the owner that gets the cow fat.
Nasreddin, always helpful, provided rich comment about the best manner to string a recurved saddlebow and on the subject of the never failing ways to aim at a moving target.
The royal archers were trying to keep the pace of the drill and to empty their arrow-full quivers but listened with deep respect. Who in his right mind would dare to look down at a man so highly placed, close to the ear of the Emir? In their souls, they all hoped Hoça would proceed elsewhere. It was not a good thing to play a role in one of the funny stories of the Hodja, especially when Timur could get involved in the ending.
"The golden rule is to let your eye and arm aim freely. First look at the target and be the target. Then work back from it to your eye and the hand that pulls the bow. Let the arrow depart by itself as if you plucked a ripe cherry. You must simply let it go where it belongs, into the target, instead of trying to thrust and push the arrow towards it." This is what Nasreddin said.
"Deep thought indeed," intervened Tamerlane, emerging suddenly from behind a tent flap. "You must be familiar with archery to know all this."
"I am, Sublime Sultan," answered modestly the Mullah. "I had some practice once, at the fair in Konya when I was young."
The guards kept unsmiling and busy.
"Is that so... Then, show my men with your own hand and eye. Take a bow and give this lazy bunch a lesson."
Hoça stepped bravely forward, bent a bow and shot his arrow.
It went astray, quite far above the target. Without losing his composure, Nasreddin turned towards the archers and said sternly:
"Did you observe this? Too high! This is how your captain aims."
The captain grew pale.
Nasreddin tried another shot. This one dipped into the ground under the target. He pointed a finger towards the soldiers on his left and said,
"This is how some of you bahadurs shoot. Too low under the belt!"
The archers lowered their eyes towards their belts.
The third arrow somehow touched the target before being lost.
"This is what most soldiers di in battle. They are too busy to throw their arrows. They don't aim for perfection, just shoot."
And he threw another arrow.
By sheer luck, this one went right into the bull's-eye.
"Now did you see this?" said Nasreddin. "This is how I shoot!"
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