Picking Up the Bow Again: What Archery Taught Me About Returning After a Break
After a 19-year gap, I recently stepped back into archery. The bow felt both familiar and strange in my hands, like greeting an old friend you haven’t seen in years. My muscles remembered more than I expected, but my mind was full of questions: What if I can’t do it anymore? What if I embarrass myself? What if the person I once was—the one who loved this—has long gone?
What I noticed most wasn’t just the act of drawing the string, but the emotional mix that came with starting again: nerves, excitement, self-consciousness, and a deep sense of vulnerability.
And yet, that’s the heart of returning. Whether it’s a hobby you’ve let go of, a relationship you want to rebuild, or even your own personal healing journey, stepping back after a long pause always brings both doubt and possibility. Doubt whispers: Am I good enough? What if I’ve lost it? But possibility offers something gentler: rediscovery, growth, and the chance to see things with fresh eyes.
Archery, as it turns out, is a perfect teacher in this. It has reminded me of qualities that also shape therapy and personal development:
Focus – You can’t force the arrow to land where you want it. You need to slow down, find your centre, and breathe. Focus isn’t about perfection, but about presence—paying attention to where you are right now rather than where you think you should be. In counselling, we often start here: noticing the present moment, the thoughts and feelings we carry, before aiming for change.
Grounding – The first thing I learned was to plant my feet firmly, to let my body feel balanced and connected to the earth. Without that, nothing else worked. In life, grounding means creating steadiness when things feel overwhelming—whether through breath, routine, or self-care. It’s the base we return to when uncertainty threatens to pull us off course.
Patience – Not every arrow flies straight. Some wobble, some fall short, some miss entirely. But each one teaches you something if you’re willing to notice. Patience is also key in the therapeutic process. Change rarely happens in one giant leap—it’s made of small shifts, attempts, and the willingness to keep showing up, even when it feels slow.
Letting Go – Once you release the string, the arrow is no longer in your control. You can learn from it, but you can’t pull it back. In the same way, we often have to let go of past attempts, past versions of ourselves, or expectations of perfection. Each new shot, like each new step in life, is its own beginning.
Archery reminded me that progress is rarely linear. Some days you hit the target, other days you don’t—but both are part of learning. Therapy works much the same way: the journey isn’t about constant improvement, but about allowing space for setbacks, reflections, and new understandings.
What struck me most was this: each arrow doesn’t need to carry the weight of the last one. Each shot is a fresh chance. Each return, no matter how small, is still forward movement.
So if you’re thinking about revisiting something you once loved, or taking the brave step of returning to yourself after a difficult season, remember this: it doesn’t matter how long it’s been. You haven’t lost it. You’re simply meeting it again, with the wisdom and perspective you’ve gained along the way.
Picking up the bow again isn’t about going back to who you were. It’s about stepping into who you are now—stronger, wiser, and willing to begin again.
Perhaps take a moment this week to reflect: What might you want to pick up again? Where in your life are you being invited to take a fresh shot, no matter how long it’s been? And if that feels daunting, remember—you don’t have to step back into it alone. Sometimes, the first arrow is simply allowing yourself to begin.
