Archery is mentioned as a metaphor for focus, and for spiritual discipline, because it requires silencing the rest of the world outside of our target; visually silencing, auditorily silencing, and even silencing any bodily/tactile sensation apart from the mechanics required to draw and shoot.  

Arjuna of the epic Mahabharata (and implicitly: of the Bhagavad Gita, which is framed as an expanded episode from that tale) is the best archer in his world, with the possible exception of his unacknowledged brother and rival Karna.  It’s no coincidence that Krishna (supreme lord of creation, in this tale) chooses Arjuna as his friend and devotee; he’s got the ability to focus unrelentingly on a goal, and also the ability to listen to wisdom to aid in his discernment, after spending most of his childhood-time around forest mystics and spiritual teachers.  But it all starts with his ability to focus; which takes him a long way past situations (with Krishna’s help and guidance) that his other shortcomings would ordinarily prevent him from surpassing.

When he is still young, but old enough to begin learning the secrets of archery, he is asked a sort of “test” question by his martial guru, along with his brothers (who all fail the test).  When Arjuna is asked to report on what he sees, when drawing and aiming at his target, he reports that he can’t describe all he sees; he can only see the eye of the stuffed bird which is his practice target.  He can only see the eye; not the rest of the bird, not the sky, not the ground, not anything else surrounding the very center of his target.  His guru tells him to fire, and Arjuna strikes the eye; whereas his brothers and cousins were told to put down their bows.

When we as beings with spiritual intent set ourselves to one or another kind of meditation, in the East, the metaphor is often that we are “stringing our bow”; particularly when we take a seated posture with an upright spine for said meditation.  But the world will take every opportunity to keep you from sitting still and drawing your bow.  It will relentlessly provide you with distractions, and even multiply your duties, to discourage you from your determined path.

To be honest, in this life where we must have at least some share of obligations and exchange, such distractions are inevitable.  And yet, your determination to seize opportunities to focus must be equally inevitable; whether you are carving out ten minutes or an hour, you must be married to your archery (meditation, perhaps) practice.  You must improve your skill, and sharpen your dedication, every day.  Whatever other obligations pile up, you must have a sacred boundary line that says “no further than this”.  And if you need a rationale surpassing your own goals to justify it, here is one: to be of best service to others, you must build your capacity as a servant.  The more your focused disciplines are maintained, the scope of service you can provide will grow as well.

So, pick up your bow, aim, and practice shooting again, and again, and again, until you are little more than a repetition of ever-improving bullseyes.  Until it is time to fulfill one or another inevitable obligation… which is only a rest interval between yet another practice session.

Practice only seeing the bird’s eye.