The Match
“What is happiness?” Twilight asked.
“Burning alive,” Rarity answered. And with a smile, she lit a match.
What is happiness? It is freedom. To hop from moment to moment, acting upon every whim. Happiness is seeing a hungry pony on the street and giving them twenty bits that was meant for lunch. It is seeing a Help Wanted sign in a window and changing careers. Happiness is meeting a beautiful mare and saying you don’t have plans.
Reality is imperfect. Some imperfections are obvious -- beggars are dangerous, jobs are unfulfilling, it’s hard to find a good date. But these are only manifestations of a deeper flaw.
The happy pony, the free pony, doesn’t get to know what will become of these actions before they take them. They leap blindly.
Then they fall.
“And then you wanted to work on the Jasmine Dragon dress on Saturday. You asked me to remind you that you need to have it done before the gala.” Sassy droned on, reading aloud from a clipboard she levitated in front of her. “Sunday you have blocked off, but only until six, and I was hoping that you could find some time to come in and look at the new numbers. It’s okay if not though, don’t feel obligated. It’s—”
Rarity’s cutie mark had begun to flash. The map was calling her.
“Goodness,” said Sassy. “Is that what I think it is? An actual magical friendship adventure?”
Rarity lifted a hoof and dropped it down to her desk. It landed with a thump.
It felt heavy, her hoof. All her limbs were heavy. Her thoughts were clouded. And she was tired. She was so tired.
“Rarity?”
There were mundane explanations. She’d slept poorly last night, worked all day, concentrated for hours on end. Oh, her friends would say, she needed a rest. To lay down her head and let sleep take her. And such a tempting thought that was.
But she’d been tired so much lately, sad so much, afraid so much, drinking more than she should, overworked, overscheduled, every second of every day committed to something and someone. Dresses for her clients, tea with her friends, adventures to go save the world all of it worthy all of it calling, binding her to where she stood.
“Rarity?” Sassy raised her voice.
Rarity’s head snapped up from her desk. “I’m sorry, what was that? I think I… spaced out.”
“Your flank is glowing.” Sassy pointed. “I was asking if that was the… well,” she put a lot of breath into the words, “the call to adventure.”
“Oh.” Rarity shrugged. “Yes.”
After a long, awkward silence, Sassy asked, “Are you going to… go do something?”
“There will be another adventure tomorrow, I am sure.”
Ponies would say, Rarity had so much to live for. So many things tied her to the world, bound her to it.
Her soul was chained to the earth.
What is happiness? It is a lake of ice, lifeless and dead, but beautiful because spring will return. It is a flame, hot and smokey, but treasured because it will soon go out. It is lightning, reflected in the eyes of a filly.
Happiness ends. This is not a flaw of implementation, but inherent to its design. Creatures desire to be free, but they also desire to matter. One whose actions have no consequences may be free forever, but only as a gust of wind. One who matters greatly may in every instance do as they feel they must, but they are a slave in their heart.
An artist creates, and when she sees her work in the world, she knows it matters. It elicits joy, in others and in herself.
Then it all goes so wrong. She gets popular.
“Nice try, Nega Trixie!” Twilight spread her wings wide, encompassing the great cavern around them. “But the power of friendship overcomes all challenges, even your negative energy beams.”
“Hah!” Nega Trixie looked a lot like regular Trixie, except that her mane parted on the other side, and she could talk like a normal pony. “You don’t stand a chance. Step forward, princess, and we’ll see how immortal you really are.”
“You think I’m afraid?” Twilight stepped forward, four of her friends behind her. “We’ve conquered countless villains before you: Discord, Tirek, the Storm—”
“Twilight,” Rarity said, she was still in the back. She hadn’t stepped up into formation with the others. “Can we wrap this up? Skip the speech, I mean?”
Everypony stared at her. Even Nega Trixie lifted an eyebrow. Under the weight of their collective gaze, Rarity turned away. All she could do was shrug.
Finally she managed to mumble: “It’s a bit cliche, isn’t it? I’m sure we’ve done this before.”
What is happiness? It is the shedding of expectations. The lightening of the soul. The shrugging off of burdens.
Priests have said, “the origin of suffering is desire.” To restate in a manner more precise, though less succinct, when a creature’s desires are in conflict, suffering must result.
Some desires are in conflict with the world. A creature desires to pass, and finds a wall in their way. But walls can be destroyed, and dreams erected in their place. This is the lesser form of suffering.
The greater is when the desires of a single creature are in conflict with each other. Suffering is the artist who wants every creation to feel as grand as her first, but also to be confident and sure in herself. Who wants to ascend to ever-greater heights, but also to take life at an easy pace. Who wants to be challenged at every point, but never fear defeat.
When she rids herself of one of these desires, the conflict abates, and she is happy. She has surrendered herself to joy.
“Gosh, Rarity, you really seem down lately. You know what would help? A party!”
“We’re all so worried about you. I’m going to check in every day, alright? And tell me if things get any worse.”
“Rares, I don’t know what’s wrong, but we’re all there for you. I promise, we’ll support you every step of the way.”
“I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but please, remember that we all love you.”
“Are you okay?”
So was Rarity bound to the world. Friendship was, as Twilight said, the strongest force in Equestria, and it made bindings of equal strength. There was no hope of escape, nowhere for her to go, every action laid out clear in front of her.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said.
In the dark interior of Carousel Boutique, Twilight squinted at Rarity. Slowly, she bit her lip and folded her ears back behind her head. Then she asked, “Why are you lying to me?”
“Heh.” Rarity smiled, looking down at her table. “I’m sorry, Twilight. I truly am.”
“I believe you. But please don’t say you’re sorry. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“If I tell you, it’ll make a liar out of you as well.” She glanced up at Twilight for a moment, meeting her eyes. Then she went back down to looking at the table. “I wouldn’t want to do that to your friendship.”
“Try me.”
“Fine.” Rarity drew in a breath. “My best years are behind me. Nothing I ever do shall be as grand, as liberating, or as joyful as what I have already done.”
“That’s crazy.” Twilight sat up, spreading her wings. “You’ve got a wonderful life ahead of you. You can always do better!”
“Really?” Rarity asked. “I can help defeat a thousand years old dark goddess, restore the Equestrian diarchy, prove myself as an artist for the first time, become famous for my crafts, and establish a thriving business? You think I can do all that and more, in my remaining years?”
“Well…” For a split second, Twilight froze. Then, too hard, she said, “Yeah!”
Rarity lifted a hoof. She waggled it in the air. Then she laughed. “You hesitated.”
What is happiness? It is getting to play the game again.
Imagine a pony who, after years of diligent work, constructs their dream house. Freely, they have leapt, and in falling, their happiness comes to an end. It will happen in this way.
First, they will notice flaws in the house. This is not to say the house is not fine, but unless they are the most empty-headed of creatures, they will continue to imagine, and in time will imagine what they might have done better.
Second, they will plot and they will plan how these visions might be made manifest. They will add drywall, remove barriers, rearrange furniture, hang tapestries, and with each step make their house greater. It shall become greater than even they initially conceived, perhaps an architectural masterpiece, or perhaps simply the home of a happy family.
But in time, they will come to a flaw which is fundamental to the structure. Perhaps to the frame, perhaps to the foundation, perhaps to the core aesthetics or design. A flaw that they could have corrected in the design phase, but which is now, in the finished house, out of reach.
The dream of the house is born, in blooms into radiance, and inevitably, it dies. The house ceases to be a dream house, and is simply a building. The joy fades.
But imagine the pony’s rapture, if they could go back in time and do it all again. If they could design their house having already known what it was like to live in it. If they could start again.
Time travel is possible. But there is a price to pay for such magic. A pack of matches is required.
An amulet, shaped like a phoenix. A boutique, full of mementos of a life well lived. Rarity gathered up her dresses, her books, pictures of her and her family and her friends. By these artifacts, she remembered her life, and found it not unworthy.
She’d had a pretty good run.
Twilight was there, a book of spells held in front of her, and she asked Rarity one last time: “Are you sure? Are you completely sure? This spell is not reversible.”
“I’m sure, Twilight.” Rarity stepped up to her friend, tears forming in her eyes. “You know, few ponies would have done this. They’d have given me a hug and told me everything will be okay.”
“It will be okay. I will.” Twilight brushed Rarity’s shoulder, and Rarity started to cry, and soon they were both hugging and crying. It all lasted some time, until they each had no more tears. Then Rarity stepped away.
One last time, she looked over the artifacts of her life, and treasured the memories. Then she doused them, and herself, in kerosene.
“Ready when you are, Twilight,” she said, touching the phoenix amulet around her neck with a hoof.
Twilight read aloud from her spellbook. “What is happiness?”
The Boutique was full of flammable fabric. Within minutes, flames poured from every window.
When the sun set, and the flames went out, and the air was cool and ashes flew upon the wind, something moved inside the remains of the Boutique. Twilight was waiting nearby.
It was Rarity, no younger than she was, no different in any physical way. She still had that mole upon her neck, and her mane was still obviously dyed.
“I don’t understand.” Twilight frowned. “I thought you’d be… younger. The spell is supposed to renew you. Like a phoenix. It…”
“Hush.” She slipped the phoenix amulet from her neck, and returned it to Twilight. “I assure you, I am a satisfied customer.”
She was smiling, and Twilight couldn’t help but smile back. “What are you going to do now?” Twilight asked.
“Whatever I feel like, I suppose. I think I’ll travel for a bit. See the world.” She kissed Twilight on the cheek. “Thank you again. You are a true friend. I’ll always remember what you did today.”
“Sure.” Twilight laughed. “I’m just happy you’re okay.”
“Then I’m off to the train station.” Rarity turned and began to trot away, but before she got four steps, she was cut off by Twilight’s shout.
“Wait!” she reached out with a hoof. “You’re leaving now? I thought…” She hesitated. “When are you going to be back?”
“Oh, Twilight.” Rarity’s smile softened. “Never.”
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fucking hell
9873737
The place where new Rarity will send ponies who've done very bad things.
Hm, an interesting read.
Seems like there ought to be a bit more to say, but the words aren't coming to me at the moment.
Did enjoy it, though!
i.imgur.com/ebQfadA.png
i.imgur.com/hzAOi9g.jpg
What is happiness? Happiness is seeing others do well for themselves, writing what they enjoy and emerging as stronger people in the end because of it.
So I'm happy right now, really. A lot of other things, too, but mostly happy. This is...wow. I feel like I'm going to sleep on this, reread it again in the morning, learn ten new things, sleep on it again, and learn another ten. It'll take me a long time before I'd feel confident enough to leave a proper analytical comment on this.
So sincerely. Thank you.
Living a life to the full is hard, and keeping on living it to the full is harder still. I can definitely empathsize with Rarity there. Then again, I guess there's nothing like setting everything on fire just to start a new life.
Strange but interesting
That was too deep for this early in the morning...
I find myself agreeing with Rarity in principle; however, I'm also thinking of a Piers Anthony story which is much the opposite of this.
Didn't expect the ending, although in hindsight it was obvious.
Well done!
The meaning of life = Alondro
(everyone crumples to the ground in despair, for clearly there is no hope)
9874096
Aren't you some kind of lich, though?
Wait. So Rarity still knows her friends and everything, but her past adventures have been wiped away?
9874150 That would assume I was once alive in the first place.
"How do you kill that which has no life?!" -South Park "Make Love Not Warcraft"
Also, 3 cheers for Matt and Trey on having the guts to give China the finger. Hollywood, the NBA, NFL, and others have proven that they, in contrast, are gutless virtue-signaling pricks who allow any and all protests against America but bow instantly when their communist masters demand it. F them in the A.
I still like my idea better. But this is okay.
9874393
My point is that you don't equal life because you don't even equal alive. At least in the sense that Bleakbane doesn't equal alive, which is admittedly a sense I'm reluctant to use due to the existence of people like you and Bleakbane.
To me it seems like the phoenix spell was probably just a fire immunity spell and the idea would be that you 'died', and like Rarity you would simply leave and start brand new and have the opportunity to make those critical changes you couldn't before.
A revival spell that revives the mind rather than body.
Anyway, I really liked this! It's really nice to read something that can really make you think about the meaning behind it.
9874302
I'm guessing the amulet just made her immune to the fire. That's it. Everything else is social.
9874743
Ahh, ok. I've re-read the last section as well, and it's a bit clearer now. Thanks for the assist. :)
9874743
This is the intended interpretation.
Twenty years later, Ponyville finds itself annually engulfed in the counterculture festival that has come to be known as "Burning Mare."
(Thirty years later, the counterculture declares itself "so over" Burning Mare, citing the proliferation of magically-climate-controlled pavilions and members-only parties)
I wish the best for her.
9874480 I am the Lawnmower Man...
And therein lies the flaw in Rarity's reasoning. If she wants to speak of it as a game, well, it's true that she may never achieve the same peak in rate stats. But counting stats? Those accrue until the end of her career.
On another level, I suspect it's also because this Rarity doesn't seem like she ever truly knew what she wanted. She'll be in the same situation, only worse, in another decade.
Twist ending: The spell did nothing. Arson is the real magic of friendship.
An artfully crafted story, well done.
I understand this stance and yet feel opposed to it on a fundamental level. Something about it feels logical but intrinisically wrong, and I can't put my finger on what or why. I suspect that in the end, it's more that I don't want it to be right.
Heck of a story. Well done.
Rarity is simply running away. She's now experiencing the delusions of 'changing', while still in effect remaining exactly the same inside. This momentary euphoria will fade. It always does. Happiness and sorrow are merely two sides of the psyche. You can only escape them forever by removing the source: your mind.
A tree thinks no thoughts, and is content to grow in the same spot on the mountainside it had sprouted in when the Pyramids were being built. And in doing so, its roots split the rocks and delve deep into the mountainside. Its offspring pour down the mountainside like a river cascading in slow motion. It has lasting effects upon the world without have any intentions whatsoever.
The arrogance and vanity of mortals is that they delude themselves into believing they matter at all, when nothing outside of this little speck of rock in space is aware they even exist. To the atheist POV, that is.
To the religious viewpoint, well, then we really matter even less. For from that viewpoint there are powers inherently beyond our comprehension.
So, as the wisest among us have discovered, seek not transient pleasures nor wallow in pointless despair... there is a middle way.
I would suggest people think of it this way: Rarity in this story is likely half my age.
And she's already lost herself to discontent.
We should find that pitiable, not admirable. All of her thoughts, ALL OF THEM, are based entirely around her own selfish designs for herself. SHE is not pleased, SHE doesn't find enjoyment with friends and family, SHE cares nothing for them... she is pure hedonism. And she will destroy herself in the end. I know this, for I've seen others just like her. The end swiftly, often by their own hand when they can find no lasting satisfaction in anything, for their only goal is their own pleasure.
Generosity indeed; this Rarity was never worthy to be a Bearer.
Success is just an ending. There must then be a new beginning. COUMMCGH
9876217
How can there be a middle way between unquantifiable extremes? When two qualitatively different ways have been ruled out, there can only be a third entirely unique way.
I'm always floored how profound you can be while barely even trying. Makes the rest of us look like monkeys throwing feces all over our keyboards.
9876828 If there are two ends, there is always a point between them.
9877430
Only if the difference between them is quantifiable. If there is no quantifiable difference between two qualitative states, then they are not extremes at all, merely definitively unique concepts.
9877673 Well, despair seems to lead to a definite quantifiable endpoint. So that's one.
9876232
You should reread the story and pay attention next time.
9877988
I would strenuously disagree with that assessment.
I'm just going to say that I find the comments section as interesting as the story itself.
It's naivety that we think we can simultaneously be dependable, important, and free. It's arrogance that we think we wouldn't slowly give up our freedom as the things we do become more important. It's hard to be satisfied with being small, and it's hard to find peace without freedom. It's almost like we're made to be broken.
Rarity goes on to live a second life. A thousand years later, Twilight has still lived only one, with all thousand years defined by her youth. It's hard to be content with such a small slice of life, and it gets lonely having to explore every new life on your own. Almost like we're made to be broken.
I think the only satisfying resolution is to grant friendship the same importance you would any other worthwhile pursuit.
That was a beautiful story.
Wonderful. I now feel a deep longing for the things I have never experienced. I've always wanted to survive a Siberian winter, climb a mountain, and topple the status quo. In a way, I am experiencing this now. I get tempted to just cut my ties, close my bank account, drop my phone and walk away. Forever. Somewhere. Anywhere. I want to not only see the world, but be a part of it. I hate tourism. What's the point of visiting a culture if you don't truly understand it? What's the point of visiting nature if you don't truly embrace it? I want to make history. That would be the easy part. It's easy to look at the massive scope of the World Wars and forget that all that bloodshed and destruction was triggered by one man with one gun and one bullet.
In a way, this perfectly describes what I've already figured out. In a way, I'm scared of Heaven, because if everything is perfect, what do I have to work towards? For me, freedom and happiness are not one and the same, nor are they mutually exclusive. I embrace freedom and fear perfection. And we all have the chance to make an impact.
I predict that the 2020s will be a critically important decade for the Western world. Life as we know it hinges on what happens in the next ten years. Society is changing fast, and the people most upset are just now getting their voice. As the saying goes, Rome wasn't built in a day. It didn't fall in a day, either. And to quote myself, there is no point in accepting a status quo that will change before the decade is out. So why not become the architect of that change?
For me, I've found my happiiness in what I build, what I destroy, and what I become one with.
9925560
Me too.
That's what this story is about. I was struggling to express those feelings.
You are, as the philosophers would say, radically free. Anyone can change history. But you don't necessarily get to decide what your legacy will be when you do.
I think you're the sort of person this story was meant for. We live in the time when the fate of humanity for the next century is being decided.
Thank you. Go change the world.
9925764
`Thank you. Go change the world.`
Reminds me of Always welcome (Everybody, come together, change the world).
Damn, it's been nearly a year since I told myself I'd reread this. I hate how quickly that time passed me by.
Admittedly, I didn't understand this at all the first time I read it. Looking back, it seems I dunno, vaguely Buddhistic? To me, it's both a testament to the power of the individual and an impossible roadblock in the search for inner happiness.
I do wonder, though. What happens if Rarity's life becomes a little longer, and eventually she gets tired of starting anew, too? Dunno if that's even worth me thinking about haha
Maybe I'm just too young to understand the full scope of this. Maybe I'll give it another reread next year.