songs

MTV shows and why I hate them

And a youth said, "Speak to us of Friendship."

Your friend is your needs answered.

He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.

And he is your board and your fireside.

For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.

When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay."

And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;

For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.

When you part from your friend, you grieve not;

For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.

And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.

For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.

And let your best be for your friend.

If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.

For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?

Seek him always with hours to live.

For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.

And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.

For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

Once, when I was going to the Community College, I stopped by the smoking lounge to see who was in there.  I don't smoke, but it was a nice distraction for me, and I had a lot of friends in there.  This particular day, however, nobody was in there, and I took a deep sigh.  This was going to be a long boring day.  A REALLY long boring day.

There was one old man sitting over in the corner, and he had been there for what seemed like days.  He had on a trucker's cap and a strange shirt that I doubted he had been in the marathon that it mentioned.  He was well into his 60s, and it puzzled me that he was there.  People were talking, lots of people, but he sat alone.  Then he motioned for me to come over to him.

"You are blood." he said to me, looking at me with a depth I couldn't place, "I saw you over there, brother.  Come, lets talk about your journey."

"My journey?" I looked puzzled.  Of course, I knew that he had seen my medicine bag and knew that I was a member of the Deleware Tribe.  Then he said something very unusual to me.

"Who are you, little brother?"

I began to tell him how I'm going to college, and information about myself.  I told him about the tribe I belonged to.  I mentioned a number of things.  His response, always the same.

"No, who are you little brother?"

I grew tired of it and finally asked him what he meant by the strange comment.  His answer was soft spoken, "When I ask you who you are, I do not mean like these white men do.  You walk the red path.  You see everybody around you as sacred.  I see it in your eyes.  Your soul is young, but very old as well.  So your life is to find out who you are and set people on a spiritual journey, and to learn from them as well.  When I ask you who you are, I ask the soul who the man clothes.  I ask you who you are, not what you have done.  Think about it, little brother."

I never saw him again after that day.  I doubted if I'd even met him, or if he'd really existed.  Nobody else claimed to have noticed him, and when I mentioned him they only vaguely knew that he had been there.  They said he was a strange old guy, quiet.  It was very strange, but I've taken the words of that man... thought about them.  And when I stand next to a man or woman and call them an equal... it is the presense of the Creator... no... the divinity of them that I address.  And I only ask them... who are you again?