The Young Man and the Fox
A Partially Fictitious Story About My Non-fictitious Reality
It’s 9 pm on a Monday, and my legs begin to buckle under my exhausted body as I wait for my train home in Nakameguro, Tokyo. As I begin to shift my lazy eyes around, I see lines of businesspeople, each scanning the pages of a book waiting to board the next train. From where I stand, these people all seem like successful individuals with a great future. I start reflecting on how unsuccessful I feel. My life was far more straightforward in America and far more successful, I think to myself.
Those around me always appear successful.
Just as every morning for the last year, I pass the Shinto shrine near my house and take a few minutes to visit and make an offering to the nature spirits in Japan. I gaze upon the beautifully depicted fox statue and utter the same request I have said many times before, “Thank you for your guidance and protection. Please, help me become the successful person I strive for.” Then I leave feeling slightly better.
Today’s difficulties urge me to the shrine during dusk. The rain is heavy. The walkway of the shrine has become mostly submerged, leaving only the tallest cobblestones as small islands to leap across. Apart from the rain hammering my umbrella, little to no is sound entering my ears as I make my way to the shrine’s steps hopping from stone to stone. From this point on, the act of pulling 5 yen from my wallet is part of a tradition that started nearly 700 years ago during the Muromachi period. I ponder what it might be like to offer cloth-wrapped rice grain to a shrine in the years before the Muromachi era. Following tradition, I politely place the 5 yen offering into the box, bow twice, clap twice, and press my hands together, and utter, “please, help me change my life. I’m exhausted.” I take one final bow and finish the offering, then turn to surprisingly meet a small fox taking shelter from the rain at the edge of the steps.
His beautiful fur, scattered with tiny drops of rain, glistened like snow, granting me comfort. I decide not to disturb him and sit for a while. As I listen to the rain swell, I notice the fox has fixed his gaze directly on me. Pretending he can understand, I jokingly say, “Hey, friend, are you looking to change your life too?” The fox’s expression alters as if he wanted to say something. Then words suddenly come from his mouth.
“For a year now, you have visited here,” he continues, “always asking to turn your life around.”
I reply with a blank expression, “…… that……that is true,” I regain my posture and return, “but nothing has changed.”
“That may be correct,” he says in a kind voice, then continues, “if I gave you success, are you sturdy enough to bear it?”
“What do you mean?” I thoughtfully question.
“When success is built, what happens?” he remarks coldly.
I reluctantly reply, “I guess, to be honest, I never thought about what happens after success.”
“Becoming successful is hard work,” he says kindly, then continues, “but truthfully, one does not work hard only to become successful. One works hard also to bear the weight of success when it does come.” He then goes on to say, “You have been here every day asking for change, but what have you done every day to change?”
“Not much, I suppose,” I reply, and lower my head in embarrassment. “I have my dreams, but they are so big I don’t know where to start,” I add.
He slightly nods in agreement and says, “Many want to change, but many let smugness get in the way.”
I take a long breath for thought, then ask, “So my success is being held back because I’m comfortable?”
“Yes,” he sharply replies, then goes on with a soft tone, “you work hard at work, but do you work hard on your dream?” He then adds, “The people at the station, what are they doing?”
I respond, without hesitating, “They are reading,” and recall the night at the station. I suddenly remember speaking about the train station here at the shrine. The fox must have overheard me that day.
“They are not only reading. The people you look at with jealous eyes are working.” He continues, “Reading may appear to be small but, they are building success.”
“So, if I start reading, I will become successful?” I bashfully ask while thinking how stupid the question may sound.
“No, by only reading, you will not change. You will only gain knowledge to forget afterward.” he pauses and adds, “You will, however, start to build success by taking action on what you read.” He then goes on to say, “Every day for a year, you gave this shrine five or more yen each visit. In one year, that is two thousand yen. What appears to be a small amount daily can grow to a large amount over the span of years.” He then adds, “Success is hard work, but a little each day will fill the offering box and build a shrine that is strong enough to bear the heavy rain of success.”
The fox suddenly dashes off into the rain.
Even today, I continue to visit the shrine, but I also carry a book wherever I go, and when I return home, I boot up my computer and do a little building.
