ORIGINS: When the Brush speaks, we listen. The fox and the owl were already there, waiting to be brought to life.
I would be lying if I said that I have wings. But the owl in me tells me that someone hung the moon and the stars on the night. He tells me that I could do the same. That all I would have to do is stretch out my arms, in something akin to flight. But the fox tells me not to waste the gift I have been given. He tells me not to lift a finger. That the world is full of people waiting to take me closer to the sky. The crafty fox says that it is an art form. Something flight will never be because every bird can do it as easily as breathing. And I can’t even blame that dark, ever-present night. I find the thought of lying my way through life more appealing as each day goes by.
My inner fox has never been interested in being the center of attention. He is happy being the backdrop to the owl that hoots in my heart. When the sun sets, red barely grazes the horizon. But my red fox has finally drowned the night. And you know what? I don’t care if it is a lie. I don’t hear fear when my owl hoots anymore. I don’t hear resignation or hatred. When my heart beats, against that vivid backdrop, all I hear is zest. For the countless stars I have yet to dream up. I have something to look forward to and I don’t feel like my heartbeats are going to waste anymore. Tell me, does your hope, those tiny lights you keep pinning to the darkest night, work like a charm too?
My owl has taken a little fox under his wing. He has promised to shelter that red little thing from the sun. He has promised that its color won’t fade away and the little fox won’t have to learn to lie to soothe the pain. And I don’t have the heart to tell that trusting little fox, with its brand-new red fur, that it is just a replacement. That it won’t work. Because life is more than just the sun. And having its color fade away isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a heart. I would know. Mine was broken, while the red was still fresh.
Isn’t it fun? I have two beasts warring in my heart. The owl hoots in the dark. That the stars were lumped together a long time ago and all the lines that could be drawn have already been drawn. That each and every meaningful word has already been written and there is no need to disrupt the harmony. But the fox doesn’t feel welcome in that home. It needs to make up its own definitions. It needs to tell its own lies. To stake its claim to life instead of drowning in someone else’s lies. Is it any wonder that I prefer the silences between heartbeats?
I dug a grave. I am ready to bury my owl in it. If all he had ever shown me had been blue skies, I wouldn’t have had any reason to stretch out my hands, and I could have left him to that emptiness. But my owl showed me a starry night, and I failed to reach my dreams. So, I had no choice but to dig this grave. No matter what you say, I had no choice. My fox agrees with me. Lies are everything I have left. Everyday lies. Like I love you and I’m good. And, if I want to have a hope of believing them, that owl has to stay out of my sight.
It may be a shallow grave, but I worked with what I had. Did you really expect me to bury that farsighted owl in my heart? I may be young, but I don’t have stars in my eyes. My heart has to keep me alive, and I would never let it rot. Haven’t you seen what hope does? I took a cautious breath once, and disappointment bloomed in all the branches of my lungs. It’s a good thing that flowers wither away, and air doesn’t stay in the lungs. But hearts cling to their beats until the very end, and my fox would never forgive me if I ruined all his hard work. Happiness doesn’t grow on trees; it doesn’t appear out of thin air. It takes many lies, and you have to choose them carefully.
This is goodbye. My heart hurts, but this is the last time I will have to look that owl in the eye. I should say something before filling its grave. I should feel something other than relief. But my fox has told me not to waste any more lies on myself. Dreaming is what children do. They can lose themselves in faraway stars because there is someone taking care of their everyday needs. But I am about to join the other grown-ups, and it is high time I learned my craft. The lies that open most doors. And the ones that keep graves like this one closed.
You can glare all you want, my owl, but it won’t change anything. Your fate has been sealed. But I guess it wouldn’t hurt to be polite one last time. I will accept your parting gift, my owl. Put your best curse on me. I am not afraid of the night. I won’t run back into the arms of any stars. I won’t seek comfort in childish dreams anymore. I have learned to lie at a fox’s feet. I can find my way in the dark, and you can rest assured. Lies were always meant to pave the way to happiness. And I have learned to live from the best.
What are you doing here? You gave me your word. You told me that you would stay in the burrow I dug for you until I grew up. You promised me that I would get to dream my childhood away. That I would get to lose myself in my art. Beauty for beauty’s sake. Happiness for happiness’ sake. You agreed, and I wasn’t done with my owl. I still had faraway stars to gaze at and words to make up. I knew that I would never be able to bury you, and one day I would have to learn your craft, but it’s too soon. I should still be young enough to be the center of the universe. I don’t care what you say. Life can wait until I have done my dreams justice. Please. Just one more dream. Then I will be all lies for somebody else.
Why don’t we play a game? The winner gets to choose the next ten years of my life. You, my fox, have to find a lie I can live with, and I will send my owl to look for a dream I can’t live without. And just so you don’t accuse me of playing favorites, my fox, I have already dug most of the grave for you. There’s my heart. It’s yours. Go ahead. What are you waiting for? Burrow into the darkest, truest part of me, and find me that lie before my owl sets its sights on a star.
You have no one but yourself to blame, my fox. You should have stayed out of my heart. I thought you were clever, but apparently you couldn’t tell the difference. I was willing to follow your lead and lie my way through this life. Without qualms. Without looking back. If you had told me to say I love you, I would have done it, no questions asked. But you told me that my love was a lie, and you should have known better than to threaten my cornerstone. You left me no choice. I will take you to my grave even if it means loving my sweetheart from afar from now on. From a safe distance. Where the doubts you sowed can’t be proved to be true.
It’s not a punishment, my fox. Why would I bury you alive? It’s not a grave. What I dug for you was always meant to be a burrow. I want you to feel at home in my heart. Did you know that I used to keep an owl before I met you? My heart still remembers its hoots. But I want them gone. I have grown up, and I shouldn’t have to still be haunted by useless dreams. At least you get something out of lying to someone else. So, make yourself at home, my fox. Scatter your lies everywhere. Until my heart changes its tune, and those lies start rolling convincingly off my tongue.
Pearls of wisdom.
If you have something worthwhile in your life, you would do well not to breathe a word of it.
When the time comes, just wave goodbye to the thing you adore. There is a reason dreams don’t stay in the eyes. You won’t like the aftertaste it will leave in your mouth if you cling to it.
If you have something that makes you happy, you should focus on your heartbeat. It will keep you afloat. And, more importantly, it will drown every other noise out before they have a chance to drag you down.
You don’t live on the moon. Ideals have no place in this world. Do yourself a favor, and just keep your feet on the ground.
Crafty lies.
The best lie only requires three little words. Just say I love you, and let the other person’s heart build on that lie.
Just say that you will always be there for them. With any luck, by the time misfortune finally strikes, and you make yourself scarce, you will already have reaped a benefit or two.
I love you unconditionally. That’s it.
Look contrite, shed a lone, artful tear, and tell them that you are sorry.