Three-Hundred and Sixty Degrees.

A glimmer of hope born of idealized fanaticism, seemingly, that is what it was to me at the time, although If you looked close enough you would surely see the thing I would now call something that was just beyond sheer belief, a concrete knowing- so innate; within my little sister Xanadu’s eyes, like it existed there within her before she even did. Something ancient, something entirely familiar yet so completely foreign sat in her gaze.

Xanadu told stories like she’d lived a thousand lives, so vivid was the detail, so elusive and enchanting was the atmosphere of her fictional recitals.

She told me one of a life, lived by a man told all his life, to be wise like the Barn Owl, he took heed to such advice and put much weight on gaining wisdom in his life, in books of History, Science, Mathematics, even the Arts.

The man knew about all there was to know, he thought. Although, In his endeavors to acquire such knowledge, he neglected to put any importance on anything much else.

Whenever somebody would ask to sit by him, he would shoo them away and gesture a ‘shush’. He had forgotten the value of connection and true interaction.

One day after studying at the library, just like any other time, the Man walked home in the late amber afternoon, he raced home, walking too fast to admire the beauty that surrounded him, that the hour captured so well. The man had forgotten to slow down and acknowledge what was all around him. As he near reached his street, he entered around a sharp bend, as a Sedan came screeching around the corner, and had hit something as the brakes slammed on, what was hit was a Huge, regal looking White barn Owl.

The man screamed at the driver that could dare to be so entirely careless and unaware, yelling profanities and expressing profusely intense anger until he stormed off home. He appeared to have no regard for the virtue of understanding. Maybe he had forgotten that too.

Days passed, the Man couldn’t stand it, and had begun to unravel. He had started to realize how unfulfilled he was in his life, and started to resent the Owl. All that his personal totem had taught him about wisdom truly didn’t bring him any happiness at all. He reveled in his contempt for a long while after the incident, until one night, that very same majestic white barn owl flew ever so elegantly onto the wooden fence, as he viewed In disbelief from the kitchen window. In a moment of madness, the man could swear he heard;

‘Wisdom is acquired in keeping your wits, In close observation of all that exists. My head makes a swift three-hundred and sixty twist, taking in the entirety, not just little bits. To know is to see, and you could not possibly be learning from me, If only the forest were seen for the trees. Open your eyes and wise you will be.’