So what if after all that hard work, the fox discovers the grapes really are sour after all?
Should the fox just suck it up and appreciate the bitter taste or sit around thirstily, waiting for the grapes to ripen?
Oh! How about if the fox just ran off about its business and checked back often? But what if by then those precious grapes have fallen, or gotten eaten, trampled? What if they end up staying on the vine past their prime and simply turn to rot?
Maybe the first fox was right to just go bitterly on its way, forever haunted by the waste...
Lately I have been consumed with concepts that have stayed with me from youth. I believe that if they have lingered this long in my psyche, they must carry some serious weight, have some connection to the life I would live, or a past one that was never resolved. Perhaps they are simply a few maps or tools I was allowed to bring with me out of the land of innocence.
This this particular memory is an Aesop fable that always stopped me in my tracks. Not only did I love the beautiful watercolor illustration of the actual book I owned, but the story particularly stirred and haunted me.
The Fox & the Grapes
A Fox one day spied a beautiful bunch of ripe grapes hanging from a vine trained along the branches of a tree. The grapes seemed ready to burst with juice, and the Fox's mouth watered as he gazed longingly at them.
The bunch hung from a high branch, and the Fox had to jump for it. The first time he jumped he missed it by a long way. So he walked off a short distance and took a running leap at it, only to fall short once more. Again and again he tried, but in vain.
Now he sat down and looked at the grapes in disgust.
"What a fool I am," he said. "Here I am wearing myself out to get a bunch of sour grapes that are not worth gaping for."
And off he walked very, very scornfully.
Yes, it is easy to scorn that which you cannot have. But as a child, I mourned for the fox and his anguish. It occurred to me: what if the fox never gave up-- but instead just tried something different? What if he fought for what he wanted?
On a misty spring night
With the moon at its peak
I rounded the corner fast
And saw you there
Encased in glass
I could barely speak
You dared to smile,
That gentle, squinty half-smile
That smile that told
The stories of your eyes
That lit the room with gold
Against the deepening cobalt skies
I splashed in your laugh
Like a bird in a fountain
And stumbled into your depths
Heard the clanging of ships
Under a Red Eclipse
And warmed myself in your breath
Into waves of wonder
I've inhabited the leagues of your heart
Every year must end,
A new one has to start
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Thank you all for the love!
Please know I appreciate your attentions. You are cherished!
Thank you for your ongoing interest and support!
Even in a toxic world, there is beauty.
Find it, and the future is yours!