Pursuing their own ‘Zen thing’ is great for children

My son Joseph, age 9, is a toxophilite, though I freely confess that, until a few minutes ago, I didn't know there was such a word, or that such a word was even necessary. But Joseph's in love. It was a sudden, incendiary romance. He fell like a tree.

Like all great loves, it was a chance encounter. Or, like all great loves, it was destiny. Truth be told, I don't know how the universe works.

He was hangin' with a friend. The friend's father pulled out a child's bow and arrows, set up a target, and walked my boy through the rudiments of shooting. When I went to pick Joseph up, I had to pry him out of there with a metaphorical crowbar. A few weeks later, in a move of joy and generosity I've come to expect from this particular dad, he simply gifted the bow and three arrows to Joseph.

The collection of cardboard moving boxes at my house never had a chance. The boxes were collected, assembled and arranged in my backyard as tanks, warriors and assorted animals. Joseph, long a fan of the television show "Deadliest Warrior," was quite simply in rapture of character. He was lost for hours. He shot the arrows, already well-worn, into oblivion. The plastic fletching fell off. The points didn't take well to hitting block walls. One of the arrow shafts shattered.

When your child falls in love -- that is, when your child stumbles into a great passion -- you want to "go" with that. If it's at all possible, you want to support it, resource it, equip and encourage it. Because you never know if such things are pure whimsy or some significant piece of destiny. I remember, still with some dismay, becoming a serious basketball player at the age of 8 -- at a baseball camp! I stunk at baseball. But during a break, I somehow got included in a pickup basketball game. I fell in love.

Toxophilite equals "one who loves archery." OK, having learned that word, I'm thinking I'll never use it again, given that its only real usefulness now is when my family plays Dictionary Dabble. (Great game, by the way.) But, next thing you know, Joseph and I meet Jackie at Pacific Archery Sales, where a simple exercise reveals Joseph is right-handed but left-eye dominant. She selects a left-handed bow. Joseph will learn to shoot left-handed.

I stand there, shaking my head and grinning to myself. For me, one of life's great pleasures is setting my abject ignorance at the feet of pretty much any expert in any endeavor. And, since I'm a card carrying toxolidoofus, I'm glad that Jackie is in the world. The closest I ever got to archery was Colleen who, while an eighth-grader, had the fortune or misfortune of being the first girl I ever kissed. In high school, she was our state champion in archery. The honor fell to me to stand in front of the Peoria High School Sports Hall of Fame trophy case, point at the 1974 State Archery Champion trophy and say, "I kissed that girl!"

Toxolidoofus equals "one who has never given so much as a passing thought to archery and doesn't know jack about it."

About $220 later, Joseph possessed a terrific wooden "recurve" bow, five quality arrows and some targets. If I didn't call him in for dinner, I don't think he'd even notice that the sun has gone down.

Archery has this "Zen thing" going on. When I say "it's a Zen thing," I mean an endeavor that asks the mind and body to join as one. At once, it's discipline and art. It's not about intense effort or "trying hard." It's about concentration, breathing and experience. Bowling has this. So does a golf swing. Shooting a free throw in basketball. Kicking a field goal in football. Standing in a batter's box, staring down a major league pitcher. By the way, activities that include this "Zen thing" are terrific for ADD and ADHD kids.

I'm happy for Joseph, not to mention filled with renewed wonder in a universe that regularly delivers gifts to our doorstep -- gifts that, until we embraced them, we never knew we wanted.

Most modern kids would do well to have more "Zen thing" activities in their lives, if only as counterbalance to Zen's evil twin, Glazed-Eyed video games. Archery requires you to hone your mind to a laser point, whereas multiple hours per day of electronic media entertainment affords you the chance to turn your mind into lumpy, lukewarm oatmeal.

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Las Vegas Psychiatry and the author of "Human Matters: Wise and Witty Counsel on Relationships, Parenting, Grief and Doing the Right Thing" (Stephens Press). His columns appear on Sundays. Contact him at 227-4165 or skalas@reviewjournal.com.