A woman stands alone in the forest. She gently strums a bow and arrow as though it were a musical instrument instead of a weapon. Her face is calm. Her eyes are downcast.
She has already seen the destruction that arrows can cause and has turned her back on all of them. No more pain. No more suffering. No more killing. Enough is enough for one lifetime. She now finds peace in solitude and pursuing her passions.
She respects the bow for it has given her the ability to survive in a harsh world. But now, the time has come to teach it how to sing.
A Tale from our Modern World
It is midnight. I am by the ocean with an old friend. The black waves come and go. It is just us here. And that’s when I see an owl. I love them, you know.
“What happened tonight?” he asks me.
I shake my head. I don’t want to talk about it. I know I’m supposed to cry, but I’m so shocked I have no tears. He reaches forward and takes my hand in his. There’s nothing romantic about it. His nurturing touch is warm and familiar. I relax a little.
“Why do you like owls so much?” he asks, changing the topic.
I can always count on him to know what to do when I’m feeling down.
“They’re birds of prey,” I say. “But they’re not predators. They’re solitary. Nocturnal. Independent. They don’t need anyone. They’re content to just perch themselves on a tree and stare into the night. In their intense eyes, I see all the wisdom that the world has to offer. Female owls are also considerably larger than male owls.”
He laughs, says nothing. I notice that familiar spark in his eyes. I shift my gaze away from his. Nostalgia never did me any favours.
I look at the owl that’s keeping us company. It’s eyeing a mouse that’s rummaging through the rubbish that some inconsiderate morons have left on the beach. If we don’t take care of the earth, it’s not going to take care of us.
The owl strikes. With a silent sweep – the mouse is gone. Not my kind of dinner, but hey.
“Mother nature,” he says.
I smile. Yes – we must all hunt to survive in this world, but must we go around mindlessly destroying just because we can?
“I know you’re tough,” he says. “A fighter. Always have been. But it’s time to stop fighting battles that you don’t need to. Create the life you want. Find your bliss.”
I nod. He’s right. He always is. I will never tell him that.
“Have you thought about moving to Japan?” he asks. “It was one of your dreams, wasn’t it?”
I nod. He squeezes my hand a little tighter. I know what I need to do.
On the drive home, he’s still holding my hand. I’m a bit worried about his one-hand driving. Good thing it’s late and the streets are empty. I don’t want to let go and neither does he.
When I arrive home, I wonder if anyone has noticed my absence. Not that it matters, anyway. There is no point in fighting anymore. There is nothing left to win.
“I hope I find my bliss,” I tell him.
“I hope your bliss finds you,” he says finally letting go of my hand.
It was the last time I ever saw him.
Four years have passed since that night. I’d like to say I remember it like it was yesterday, but I really don’t. My memories are fading with the passage of time. I do remember him, though. I could never forget him – not even if I wanted to.
We can never forget the people who take our hand in theirs and teach us how to sing. And like the woman in the Nine of Arrows, I dedicate this to him.
I hope he found his bliss, too.
About the author
Hi, I’m Dipa. I tell stories with tarot. An astrology enthusiast from birth, I enjoy stargazing, cooking and spending time with owls. Check out my Tarot Tales from Tokyo at dipasingapuri.com. Psst…I also do free tarot readings.