Quills and Sofas (and the Sun)
🔆 This is a story about you... 🔆
You gave the sun a name once. You named him, Steve Ferguson. Yes, “Steve Ferguson”. This was when you were younger, of course, a small colt. A creative and imaginative small colt. Whenever he'd come up you'd thank him. Thank him for giving you a morning to play in. A morning to discover yourself. To set out and try to find a meaning to it all. To most, that was the journey to finding one's cutie mark. To you, it was that as well.
Simpler times are fond to think about.
Even now you still thank the sun, because it just kinda stuck. Funny how things stick like that. In fact, you thanked him this morning. Thanked him for bothering to get up in the morning, as you did too. For deciding that it was worth it, yet again, to go out in the world and see what it had in store for him this time, as you did too. You admire the sun.
This is just a you thing though, others don't thank the sun. They just see him come, and they see him go. Then they see the moon rise, and then fall to its temporary demise.
Ponies don't thank the sun or moon. They instead thank Celestia and Luna, of course, for simply doing what they do best. Their job. They have to do it. They were destined to do it. Destined to do a pretty great thing.
Not all of us are destined to do something great. We are all destined to do ’something’, but not all of it is "great". You yourself may see your own destiny as great now, and to that we say good for you. Good for you for being proud of your own accomplishments thus far, despite them being so insignificant to the grand scheme of things.
Oh, you sell quills and sofas? Great! That is wonderful. Just wonderful, yes, for now. Wait until it kicks in. The dread, as it slowly builds within you, allowing you to realize more and more that what you have been doing with your life all this time has meant absolutely nothing. It's not been "great".
Not really.
There is a world out there. A world full of important ponies. Important ponies doing important things. Unlike yourself. You sell quills and sofas. You are only of value to the ponies who need quills and sofas, you will only be the supplier to their own selfish and greedy desires for a mere moment. And then that moment will pass, leaving you to reflect on your job well done.
"Great!" you will think "Another pony who I have had the honor of impacting the lives of. Slightly but surely. They now have a quill and or sofa in their possession that they hadn't had before. I did that. I have gifted them that item that they will use in time. Create memories with in time. Get rid of in time. And then forget in time."
And this would feel good. And then it would feel bad. Sometimes the other way around. Sometimes the thought of you having this little of an impact on things would comfort you. Let you know that the world doesn't have to worry about you messing stuff up too much.
"Thank goodness for that." You'll think, as your will to go on has been restored once again. And realizing this you will think once again, "Thank goodness for that."
And so you go on. Doing your job, living your life, and glancing at the sun. Wishing to be more like it, because you admire the sun. It serves as a reminder to you, to do as it does.
”Thank you again, sun” you say, just as a pony trots into your shop.
”Time to make a small difference in another pony’s life” you think to yourself. “My job is important” you convince yourself “I am living a fulfilling life” you reassure yourself.
”My destiny is in fact great.”
And sure enough, you assist another pony with their need for a quill and or sofa and then wish them well on their way. You assist many that day, and you feel glad.
“What a productive day of helping others.” You think “doesn’t that just feel swell.”
It does feel swell. It feels swell for now, and you try to hold on to that moment, try and keep it close. However, no matter how many times you try it always manages to slip away from you, and then you forget. You forget, and then you wonder, and then you worry, and then you doubt. An endless carousel of hope and despair.
But not for now. Right now you feel good.
“You. Feel. Good.” You tell your mind through imaginary gritted teeth.
You glance out the window and at the sky full of light blues, pinks, and oranges all scattered around, slowly sinking and melting into each other. You see the sun, setting, and you tell it goodbye.
The sun is going to rest, and so can you now.
You then pause for a moment and consider the sun. Its job. Its destiny. To shine light upon the world, give us a day, give us a chance. Now that is a great destiny. The sun impacts the whole world, no doubt about it. It doesn’t just impact those who seek them out first.
But then you stop to consider something else. You value the sun, so maybe, the sun values you back? I mean it only seems fair. This is silly, of course you realize this, wondering if the sun itself has any real opinion about you. But you let yourself imagine for a bit. You let yourself travel back to simpler times. Back when you were just a colt. A creative and imaginative small colt.
”Wouldn’t it be funny” you began to think aloud “if you admired me the same way I admired you?” you smile, taking a second to sort your ideas and put them into words for no one but yourself to hear.
Yourself and the sun, that is.
“Like, you do all these great things, but no one thanks you for it. And I don’t count, we both know that, ‘cause I’m weird.” you chuckle “But as for me, ponies come to me first. They know me and go to me for what I have to offer. That holds some sort of importance, doesn’t it? To be consciously wanted. To be someone’s first choice...” your eyes graze the rest of the town out your shop window.
”and that, now saying it aloud, feels pretty great.” your smile grows wider and your words become more lively with your thought “And maybe I’m getting excited over nothing. Maybe I’m just really tired. Or maybe I’m just so desperate for a purpose that I’m grasping at straws, but regardless, I feel-“ your words are cut off by the sight, or rather, lack of sight of the sun. It has now completely sunken down beneath the clouds, and houses and trees that stretches out as far as the eye can see.
You sigh. “great”.
🔆 —————————————————————— 🔆
Author's Note
Life is what you make of it. You are in charge of your own destiny. You create your own luck. And you give yourself your own value. Give yourself a good one full of wonderful moments you choose to create for yourself. I mean, after all...
This is a story about you ;)
