In the “Analects,” a collection of conversations attributed to Confucius, moral life is compared to archery: When the arrow misses the target, the archer looks inward, not outward. Confucius’ message:
“Competing does not at all help one achieve victory. One must seek for victory within oneself … 'if you miss the center of the target, turn and look for the cause within oneself.’ One seeks the bull's-eye by means of deference and self-cultivation, not for the sake of competing for victory in order to shame others.” (Confucius, trans. Slingerland 19)
For us (almost) graduating seniors — and really for everyone — I think this passage is worth dissecting. What follows is my own reading (maybe biased by the phase I find myself in), but the insights, I believe, apply far beyond this moment, speaking to nearly every phase of life.
Consider the first sentence: “Competing does not at all help one achieve victory.” How much of our time is spent measuring ourselves against others: comparing grades, internships, offers, salaries and trajectories? And how much of this competition prevents us from taking risks, from following the path that genuinely calls us, not the one that looks good on our resume? If we’re not careful, external validation might dictate our trajectories, and before we know it, we might look back at a life validated by everyone except ourselves.
“One must seek for victory within oneself.” How often do we blame the circumstances for our losses, rely on chance to dictate our fate and base victory on where we stand against others? Our understanding of victory is inseparable from how we define success — and too often, success is measured by metrics that are shaped by collective expectations rather than by any (genuine) sense of personal fulfillment.
“One seeks the bull's-eye by means of deference and self-cultivation, not for the sake of competing for victory in order to shame others.” Confucius forces a harder question beneath ambition itself: What is actually driving our goals? So often, our motivation is external — recognition, prestige, approval, the reassurance that we are doing “better” than someone else. Yet self-cultivation asks for a different orientation: progress measured not by applause, but by genuine alignment between who we are becoming and what we are aiming at.
For anyone at a crossroads, I think this is a passage worth lingering on. Confucius reminds us that, in a world where success is so often measured by salaries, titles and external validation, we must pause and ask what target we’re actually shooting for, and whether it’s worth hitting at all. This might mean taking the time (amid the pressure of applications, interviews and expectations) to return to prayer, reflection, service or intentional studies. We must stop and ask whether our daily choices reflect, not just where we want to go next, but who we hope to become.
So, as an (almost) graduating senior, who is all too familiar with the question that worries us all: “What comes next?” I encourage you to think of life as an archery practice: look within when things don’t go the way you might have planned, and focus less on hitting others’ targets and more on improving your aim, discipline and self-correction. This way, when we do hit the intended target, we can be sure it looks and feels like our own — because along the way we’ll have cultivated not only our skills but our hearts.
