Fox lay down early in the morning. She had been walking about swishing her tail her whole life. It was raining, and her tail felt very heavy and wet. She was so tired she said, “I will sleep forever”, and she closed her eyes. She slept, breathing slower and slower.

Porcupine found her lying by a flowing river at noon and thought, “She looks so peaceful I should not wake her, but I am so happy to see my friend that I will just sit by her for a while until she wakes.” Porcupine passed the time picking flowers and making rhymes. She wrote a note, a poem in part; and placed the note and flowers flat on Fox’s heart.

In the afternoon along came Bear, and full of joy she was to find both her best friends there by the river. Bear had not seen Fox in such a long time that she thought, “I will wait with my friend Porcupine for Fox to wake, and such a racket we all shall make!”

Bear and Porcupine talked as friends will talk. They talked about swimming in the river when Fox woke up, and they talked about finding and filling teacups.

The sun sank low in the sky and they each began to think that Fox was sleeping for a very long time. Not only that, they were hungry. They said to each other, “We cannot leave Fox sleeping here in the night, there are hungry things that will find her and eat her.” Just then, Raven came to settle in the dead dark tree just above their heads.

Porcupine and Bear felt dreadful. “Now we know we cannot go and leave our friend asleep just so.” Porcupine and Bear both knew that when Raven appeared, black as night, that Fox, their sleeping friend, might truly never wake up again. They began to feel sad, and they began to fret that Owl might come too.

Raven was bad enough, but if Owl appeared, then Fox would surely never wake up to swim and drink tea. They knew that whenever Owl hooted near, someone sleeping soon disappeared. The sun went down, and night fell upon them. They were so hungry, and they were so sleepy that they leaned against each other and began to dream. With their heads touching, they shared the same dream.

When they woke, Fox was gone. Both Porcupine and Bear knew from their dream that Owl had come and hooted, but instead of feeling dreadful they felt happy. For in their dream Fox had spoken to them with a golden light and assured them that Owl is beautiful and is not to be feared.

Written for David Sobel’s ‘Ecology of Imagination’ course at Antioch University New England

Will I touch upon ecology? I will try. I will try a study of my house as a means to build a map of a journey, successful I trust, across the bridge of years. The archaeology of identity we all must face in knowing the way of our inner terrain awaits my continued attention. I am trapped in its story, evidenced not just by the photographs, childhood artworks and other ephemera touched by my hand, but by my obsession with the endeavor.

It is Monday.

The demands of technology are ancient friends, and I cannot avoid entirely the embrace of their programming. Fuck, I wish I could sometimes. Yet without the media of our age, my visions would have to be beat out crudely upon a drum with a bone. I am not kin to blunt trauma upon a dead skin. I choose to paint in melliferous hues for I have found even those to be but a layer to lick off before tasting of the true spirit.