Sixty Paces and an Apology

The competition ground was silent as a held breath. The stands were packed with spectators, yet no one dared to make even the smallest sound. Along the long shooting lane, distance markers stood in neat rows. All eyes focused on three men standing behind the starting line, each holding a bow, their expressions concentrated and serious.

This was the final round of an archery contest gathering many talented individuals. After several qualifying rounds, only three archers remained, considered the most excellent: one American, one Frenchman, and one Vietnamese. Everyone had already passed difficult challenges, so the audience awaited this final performance with a mix of excitement and tension.

The organizers did not merely want to see who could hit a target. The three men had to demonstrate precision by aiming at targets placed directly on top of a young woman’s head. Each time the distance increased or the target shrank, the danger grew accordingly. The girl stood at the end of the lane, trying to keep her back straight and her head still. Nevertheless, her hands clenched tightly. Even the slightest deviation could lead to consequences no one wished for.

A person standing near the shooting lane lowered his voice and asked, “Are you ready?”

The girl took a deep breath and replied, “I am ready. Please place the target.”

The official looked at her for another moment and said, “You must stand perfectly still.”

She nodded very slightly. The atmosphere on the field seemed to thicken. The demonstration began.

The American archer stepped forward first. He held an apple, placing it carefully on the girl’s head before stepping back. His footsteps carried him further from the target until the distance reached twenty paces. He stopped, turned, nocked an arrow onto the string, and raised his arm.

The audience held their breath. The girl stared straight ahead, afraid to blink. The bowstring stretched taut, emitting a faint vibration. The American held his pose for a moment before releasing his hand.

The arrow flew swiftly. The apple popped off the girl’s head and flew to the side. Applause immediately erupted throughout the stadium. The girl exhaled, and her tense shoulders relaxed slightly.

The American archer walked forward, calmly introducing himself. Upon hearing his name, many recognized him as a famous archer. Whispers of admiration rippled through the seats: “No wonder he shoots so accurately.”

But the contest did not stop there. The Frenchman stepped out with a pear smaller than the apple. He placed it on the girl’s head and retreated to forty paces, double the distance of the previous competitor. From where he stood, the pear appeared as nothing more than a tiny dot.

The official looked at him and asked, “Forty paces—are you certain?”

The Frenchman kept his eyes on the target. “I am ready.”

He drew the bowstring. His arm held the bow steady, as if locked into the air. The girl far away tightened her fingers again, while the audience seemed to forget how to breathe. When the arrow left the string, it tore through the wind, flying straight toward the pear.

In an instant, the small pear was knocked off the girl’s head. A louder cheer exploded. Hitting a small target at forty paces was no easy feat. The Frenchman stepped forward, introducing himself as Robin Hood, the famous forest knight from folklore.

Now, all eyes turned to the Vietnamese archer. The two predecessors had successfully shot at distances of twenty and forty paces. If he wanted to create a stronger impression, he had to choose a smaller target and stand even farther away.

The Vietnamese man picked up a longan fruit. It was so small that from the end of the shooting lane, it was hard to see clearly. He placed it on the girl’s head and began to retreat. He passed the twenty-pace marker, continued past the forty-pace marker, and only stopped when he was sixty paces from the target.

The crowd immediately buzzed with surprise. One person exclaimed, “A longan that small, and he is standing at sixty paces?”

The person next to him replied, voice filled with suspense, “If he hits it, he will surpass both previous competitors.”

The girl remained still, but her face had tightened. Previously, she had endured two arrows flying close to her head. This time, the target was smaller, the distance greater, and there seemed to be no room for error.

The Vietnamese archer nocked an arrow. He raised the bow, aiming forward. At sixty paces, the longan appeared as nothing more than a blurry spot. He pulled the string tight. The entire competition ground fell into a silence so profound one could hear the bowstring vibrating under the strain.

Then, he released his hand.

The arrow flew very fast. But instead of knocking the longan off, it struck the girl’s forehead directly.

There were no cheers. The entire stadium went dead silent. Those who had been waiting for a superior performance froze in shock at the completely opposite result. Sixty paces was still sixty paces. The longan was still smaller than the pear and the apple. Yet, all those overwhelming numbers no longer signified victory, because the arrow had not reached its intended destination.

The Vietnamese archer lowered his bow. His earlier confidence vanished. He stepped forward, faced everyone, and offered an apology.

It was this apology that became the unexpected conclusion of the contest. The American introduced himself after hitting the apple. The Frenchman announced his name after knocking off the pear. As for the Vietnamese man, having chosen larger numbers and a smaller target but failing, he could only admit fault for what had just happened.

Only then did the crowd understand that a greater distance does not necessarily prove higher skill. A smaller target does not guarantee victory. What determines success is not the numbers that impress others, but the actual result of the arrow. Twenty or forty paces, if shot accurately, holds more value than sixty paces that misses the mark.

The story closes with a situation that is both surprising and bitter. It makes listeners smile, but behind the smile lies a clear reminder: numbers reflect only a superficial part. If people chase bigger, more numerous, or farther things just to create an impression, they easily forget the essential question: are we doing it correctly?

The Meaning of the Story

Large numbers do not automatically prove true value. Just as affection cannot be measured solely by the number of admirers, everything must be judged by quality, depth, and actual results, rather than chasing appearances to satisfy the ego.

Compiled from the dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang