Tag Archives: bow

Archery

Archery has been an interest of mine for several years. I had signed up to a local beginners course several years ago, but my Complex PTSD and associated anxiety kicked in and meant I had left after just 2 classes.

In the years that followed I joined a re-enactment group and never missed an opportunity to get onto the range, this time shooting a 25lb long bow rather than the sporting 18lb recurve. I also had a go at axe-throwing and knife throwing, but didn’t enjoy these as much as the archery.

Spending time on the range with my recurve bow is therapeutic. My groupings improved when I wasn’t thinking too much, but the spread got worse when I began to think about what I was doing.

My 25lb draw weight, as low as it is, is at the limits of what I can safely handle based on my current fitness levels and equipment; but when I didn’t think about what I was going, my groupings got tighter.

I was using a weapon that has been about for between 20,000 – 40,000 years, and this was entirely present in my mind with each draw of the bow.

The rest of the world failed to exist. It was just me and the target. My fellow archers, despite only being feet away, melted into the void whilst I took aim and released my instrument of death.

6, 12, 18, 24, 30 arrows flew. I took a brief break and then unleashed the next volley.

The weight of my own bow feels comforting in my hands, and my arrows feel like an extension of my mind. Tunnel vision takes over and the rest of the world melted into a distant background.

Subtle changes in my aim and how I held the bow made an instant difference to my target 18m away. Not a great distance, but I tend to take a methodical approach to certain things and think about what I am doing. This is a type of mindfulness that I have employed in the past and which has leached into those activities which I want to improve on and I notice the difference.

Even walking…I tend to pivot on my ankles without actively engaging my calves, but if I want extra speed with little effort, I purposefully push off with my calves and my speed increases and this changes my gait which I then have to compensate for.

Archery, like swords, helps me feel grounded by giving me something else to think about which then helps with my PTSD. But unlike swords, which I only collect, I am able to use the bow and arrow. This is a skill and my only competition is my self and the target pinned to the foam background.

When I began to think and my aim drifted, I was starting to berate myself, but rained this in. I reminded myself I was only there to compete with myself and I would get getter as the weeks go by. I also reminded myself that I am doing ok. I allow myself to relax and enjoy the experience, which I did immensely.

This was one of the closest I have gotten to completely zoning out since my days of riding motorbikes, though not as easily or readily available as the bike. Close enough.

I remember being a child and being in the car with my dad and seeing these bikers overtaking us. They were exciting and mysterious at the same time. I was in awe of them and then one day I became one of them.

I remember going to a rally and riding along the Ormeau and Antrim Roads in Belfast, Northern Ireland. The marshals riding through red lights and stopping traffic whilst a group of 40+ bikers rode as a group. I remember seeing some young kids by the side of the road and their faces lit up when they saw us. I know I had the same expression when I was their age, and now I was one of the lucky bikers rather than a spectator. And also knowing I had a readily available supply of adrenaline available on tap should I want to crack open the throttle and feel the bike surge beneath me with enough force to have me sliding back on my seat, forcing me to hang on with my hands and brace with my feet. Nothing can compare or compete with this. Combined with the anonymity with a dark visor, my face hidden. I could be anyone. That armour kept the world out and made me feel safe in a way that I rarely experience.

I have tried many things over the years, always searching for that compromise between hiding in the shadows and being in the light. I feel this is my comfort zone – on the periphery of the light/shadows. The best of both worlds. Here I feel safe in that I can step into the light when my confidence grows and retreat into the shadows when it wanes. Sometimes the light scares me more than the dark, and sometimes the dark proves more comforting than the light. Duality at its finest reacting to the current environment.

First hand experience also enables me to appreciate the skills employed by our ancestors.

You have my Sword, and my Bow, and my AXE

It’s a different world when you begin to practice what you research.

I’ve read books on medieval swords, fighting, and design evolution from softer Bronze blades through stronger Iron and finally Carbon Steel, but all the research in the world cannot prepare you for when you pick up a real metal sword for the 1st time.

This instrument of surgical precision and finesse is a thing of beauty, and terror when on the receiving end, even in just training. My time with the sword was very short, though my love of it has never faded and I have been fortunate enough to add a few different versions to my personal collection, which includes, amongst others: a Norman Sword, a modern take on the Japanese Wakazishi, a Short Sword which looks like Gandalfs Glamdring (sheer coincidence that this is the case), right down to the runes carved into the cross guard, and a 13thC Lake Neuchatel Arming Sword.

Archery is no different…well, in a way it IS a little different. Different muscles used, same dedication to training to build skill is required. Different muscle groups used in different ways. And both safer and deadlier at the same time.

Safer because you are in a controlled environment. Deadlier as there are fewer legal restrictions on ownership and ranged weapons come with their own advantages and history. It’s much more open and easier to access than medieval sword fighting, with more opportunities to progress.
Swords have always fascinated me. Their simplistic looks hide a complex design and have been used both in combat and as symbols of authority for years.

In a modern world dominated by bullets and bombs, these iconic weapons still retain a spiritual hold over us that is hard to shake.

From movies such as Conan, Lord of the Rings and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, to Pirates of the Caribbean and Deadpool, the classic blade has featured in them all and more.

And, thanks to George Lucas and Star Wars, the blade lives on in the form of the lightsabre, which has a strong and iconic place in a futuristic galaxy far far away.

I mirror these movies and my fascination with the sword never wains with time.

Every time I pick up a sword or a bow, these instruments speak to me on a 1-2-1 basis. I follow in the history of their makers from centuries past. Their design, weight, balance point, draw weight all conspire to speak to me on a spiritual level.

Over the years I have been fortunate enough, through re-enactment groups, to have held: Falchions, Viking sword, Norman sword, Katana, Broad sword, Arming sword, Conan sword, and some polypropylene swords as well as a collection of blades ranging from large to small knifes of various historical origin. I have also shot a longbow (at 25lb draw weight) and practice archery as a hobby with a recurve bow.

And every single time I pick one up I can hear history whispering in my ear. The ghosts of the past echoing their history with every swing and every draw of the bow.

I have also given talks on the history and evolution of the spear, atlatl, and bow with focus on different arrows from Neolithic to modern.

I love history and I love holding historical artefacts, both real and replica. Doing this helps to erase an aspect of time and allows the historical and modern to coexist for a short period. It makes the intangible tangible. And if one thinks carefully about what one is holding, especially if the artefact is genuine, then I try and think about the hand that made it.

Who was this person? What did they see? What was their environment like? How, where and when did they live? How was this implement used and how did they hone the skill to make it? And what happened to them?

When I visited a small church on the Antrim Coast in Northern Ireland, the oldest person was born in the 1600s. I stood there, beside their final resting place, and tried (and failed) to imagine their life, their home, and this ever-changing country that they knew, but which would be a stranger to them now.

And yet some things never change. I know the moon is the same moon that the dinosaurs looked up at, hundreds of millions of years ago, though they seen stars that no longer exist and some that I see now have been born since the time of their extinction. I have walked on rocks older, and younger, than the dinosaurs, and I have literally walked in their footsteps in Fossil Rim in Texas, USA. I have held a meteorite that formed in the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter around 1 BILLION years ago.

Somewhere in the world today, someone is unknowingly making footsteps for future generations to find and ponder about us, what I have pondered about the generations that have came before me…