The Tiger’s Eyelash

I first read this metaphor of The Tiger’s Eyelash, in Women Who Run With The Wolves, by Clarissa Pinkola Estes

It’s a story about finding that all the resources you need, the likes of patience and kindness, you have within you already.

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Once, long ago in Japan, there lived a young woman, Michi, who had a husband gone off to the war.

Before he’d left, they had done many things together: walking, cooking, singing, writing and drawing. They had enjoyed each other’s company, and the young husband was very kind and indulgent to his beautiful wife. While he was gone during the war, she worried about him and longed for his company.

The day finally came when her husband, Mamoru, returned home. Michi had prepared Mamoru’s favourite foods. She seated him at the dining table, and brought out his food with delicate gentleness and honour. She sat with her husband, waiting for him to eat.

Mamoru stared at the table for a moment, eyes clouded with confusion, then a growl started low in his throat. His eyebrows puckered and his hands reached for the table. Before Michi knew what had happened, her husband had overturned the table and stalked outside of their small house. Michi quickly cleaned the overturned food. Her husband sat in silence on the front steps, looking into the orange twilight as the sun lowered toward the horizon.

“My husband,” Michi bowed to him, “What has happened? How has my cooking offended you?”

Momaru grunted. Michi glanced quickly at her husband, he was so changed. He still wore a scowl and refused to look at her.

Finally, she asked, “Would you like to sing a song together?”

“I want to be left alone!” her husband roared at her. Michi stumbled back a few steps, surprised by her husband’s fury. Never before had he raised his voice to her.

“Come inside and go to bed,” she reached toward him. His hand sped toward hers faster than she realised. His blow stung her hand and unbalanced her.

“I said, leave me alone! I will sleep out here!”

He turned way from her. That night Michi continued to sleep alone in her bed. Her husband had returned, but the war had taken him.

For many days, the young woman continued like this. She prepared, coaxed, sang, smiled, and tried to make her husband happy. He continued to avoid her, sleeping outside at night as he had become accustomed to during the battles.

One night, she ventured outside to check on him, to shake him and perhaps see if he would like to come inside the house. It had been a mistake. When she touched his shoulder, she found herself pinned on the ground underneath him before she even knew what happened. His grimace and rage told her he wasn’t really seeing her, so she stopped struggling. Thankfully, that calmed him, and he fell back to the ground to sleep once more.

Michi went to see the village healer.

“Please, sir,” she asked, “There must be some kind of potion or herb that will calm my husband’s anger and bring him back to himself again.”

The healer’s wispy white eyebrows rose on his balding forehead. He nodded, “Yes, yes, my dear. I do have a potion that can help your husband overcome his trauma, but I am out of one very important ingredient. Tiger’s eyelash.”

“Tiger’s eyelash?” the young woman inquired.

“Yes,” he said, “I’ve been so busy with infected cuts and bee stings lately that I haven’t had time to ascend the mountain and retrieve eyelashes from the tiger that lives near the summit.” He stopped and looked at her piercingly.

“My sweet young lady, if you want to save your husband, you must gather the tiger’s eyelash for the potion.”

Michi’s breath came a little faster, and she whispered, “That’s it? I just have to bring back the eyelash and you will make the potion?” The old healer nodded.

Michi responded, “Oh, venerable sir, I would climb a thousand mountains if it would restore my husband to me.”

Michi ran home and packed a travelling bag to scale the mountain. Inside she put extra provisions and a coat. She selected thick-soled shoes so she could manage the rocky terrain. She could see Momaru sitting in the living room, staring out the front window at… nothing. She sighed, lifted her shoulders and head, then walked out the door.

The mountain, Ibuki, was richly shaped and full of trees and wildlife. Michi walked through a forest of beautiful trees whose feathery white blossoms caressed her cheeks and reminded her how Momaru’s eyelashes would tickle her when they pressed their faces together.

Next, she encountered a region of boulders, odd-shaped and sometimes difficult to pass between.

Finally, she entered the tiger’s territory. A light snow coated the ground, and scrawny, thorned trees surrounded her. It was cold, and she put on her coat. She found a cave, one of the many dotting the mountain side. She fell asleep from weariness.

In the morning, she resolved to find which cave belonged to the tiger.

She pulled out some dried fish, ate it, and went to the cave opening. Just as she reached the edge, she spied a tiger walking along the ridge.

“What luck!” she thought, and she blessed the ancestors for her good fortune at finding the tiger so quickly. She followed him from afar, noting the cave he entered. She crouched down and waited, and waited. She dozed. She awakened.

Then, she had an idea.

Hurrying back to her pack in her cave, she withdrew some dried fish and a piece of wood. She went back to the entrance of the tiger’s cave and laid out the food.  She backed away and hid behind a fallen tree. The tiger eased its way out of its cavern lair, sniffing the air as he checked his environment. Seeing nothing else, he ate the dried fish and then bounded down the mountain.  

Michi walked back to her cave smiling to herself.

Michi continued to leave food for the tiger everyday. Everyday, she cut the distance between herself and the tiger until she could plainly be seen. The tiger glanced at her, but he seemed to take her as part of the environment instead of a threat.  

Within a few more days, Michi was sitting next to the tiger while he ate her dried fish. She attempted to speak to him:

“Please, Mr. Tiger,” she began, “I have come so far and been so patient. I need to get one of your eyelashes so I can save my husband. Please, please, would you let me have one.”

The tiger eyed her then bowed his head toward her.

“You have patiently fed me this entire month so you could simply gain an eyelash. I have enjoyed your food very much, and you haven’t startled me once. I will freely give you an eyelash, and I will remember your kindness forever.”

He closed his eyes and thrust his head toward Michi. Timidly, she reached out a plucked a single eyelash from the tiger. He opened his eyes as she gazed in wonder at the long hair.

Then, she jumped up and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you so much, tiger!  Thank you!”

Without waiting another second, Michi gathered her bag and ran down the mountain. The thorny trees scraped her pink skin. The boulders bruised and cut her feet in spite of the thick shoes she wore. The fronds of the small trees at the base of the mountains tickled her nose and caused her to sneeze a hundred times.

Still, she kept going, onward, toward her village and the healer who would make the potion to cure Momaru.

She breathlessly dashed through the healer’s door, wielding the tiger eyelash and shouting, “I have it! I got it! It took so long, but I have the tiger’s eyelash!”

The old man caught Michi by the shoulders and slowed her down.

He gently pinched the eyelash away from the girl and muttered, “Yes… yes… so you have got the tiger’s eyelash. Very good, girl, VERY good.”

He stopped in front of his fireplace. In a wink, he tossed the eyelash onto the fire, and it disappeared.

“What have you done!” gasped Michi, “I spent all that time and hurt myself so I could bring the eyelash for you to save my husband!”

Tears welled in her eyes. She pressed her hand to her chest.

The healer smiled. “The eyelash is not the medicine you’ve returned with.” He took a deep breath. “The way you treated that tiger… with patience, kindness and awareness, go home and treat your husband the same way.”

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I’m happy to report that Michi followed her plans exactly as she had done with the tiger and, in time, her husband returned to his kinder and gentler, if sadder and sterner, personality.