Each of us is an arrow. We are flying through the air. What propels us is the bowstring. What we are arcing towards is a target.
In this conception of the human condition, there are only two forces at play. The first is the bowstring that shoots us through the air. The bowstring represents the thing that is pushing us away, that we are fleeing from. For some, it is a specific situation like poverty or humiliation. For others, it is the abstract notion of pain or fear itself. The target, which we are flying towards is the other force. It is what we desire to reach and hit. For some, the target is known and comprehensible. For others, it is obscured by a cloud of fog. But exist it does.
Of course, one question remains about this metaphor of human existence. If we are arrows, propelled by a bowstring towards a target in the distance, who is the archer? Who is notching the arrow, taking aim, pulling the string taut and loosing us?