I only had a single arrow, and I spent hours shooting it at targets in the fields. In time I became a fairly good, instinctive marksman, as was later confirmed to me by a real world champion from eastern Europe who was conducting a workshop in a sports shop in Kiel. I imagined I could send the arrow into the bulls-eye by sheer will-power, and was certain that I could direct and control it to the last. Nonetheless I sometimes missed my target. This means that I did what the Bible calls "sinning" (= missing one’s aim). When I missed – to take a Confucian view – I was able to blame nobody else and learned very early on to take responsibility for every "misdirection".
The result of my "error" was that I would have to travel to the "Lüneburg Sports Shop" in Kiel (which has now been turned into an excellent restaurant) to buy another arrow. This was such a burden on my pocket-money that I could not afford it. If I missed the target or if the arrow was somehow deflected, it was almost impossible to deduce where it might have gone, as it would disappear into a cornfield and snake through the sods of grass to embed itself deeply in the ground, where it was invisible and practically impossible to find. At first I searched for hours, which was hopeless.
Then I suppose I remembered my childhood prayers, and prayed to God to lead me to the arrow. I would close my eyes and trustingly, gratefully walk over to a random spot in the rough direction of the arrow’s travel – and after a short time I would emerge with the arrow as if by magic.
I don’t know how often each day I used this incantation or prayer to find my arrow – the only one I owned. I suppose I did it hundreds of times over the years, and always successfully.
Sometimes it did not work at once, which I blamed on my lack of concentration, but not once did I have the slightest doubt that I would find it again – my faith was that strong.
It is also indicative that I told nobody about this, not even my father.
What is more, I now know why not: I did not think it was anything special or unusual, anything to write home about.
Only many years later, when in search of the miraculous, did I realise and try to regain what I had been capable of as an innocent country boy.

Later still, when I told my friend Prof. Tepperwein about it and tried to explain that I had once developed the gift of finding lost objects and people, he gently shook his head with an indulgent smile: "No, finding is not what you were doing!"
At first I was disappointed, but when he explained I realised that this experienced life-teacher was by no means detracting from my achievement:  I had not "found" the arrow, I had "caused" it to be where it now was. I had "ordered" it to be there by being absolutely sure that it already was, by the fact that I considered it was nothing special and not an unreasonable desire, and that I had already shown myself grateful before I went over to retrieve it.
Once I had done everything right without knowing it, life was unable to deny me delivery of my correctly placed order.
Why am I writing about this? To show the power our thoughts can have if we believe in our capabilities.