Just when you are feeling strong,
You've had a lifetime of goodbyes,
and you are used to it.....
Besides, you have plenty of friends,
You have the Comforter,
You love the road, ever passing places and people......
Just when you think you have gained all the beautiful people you need as friends,
Some more come along to prove to you there is no end of snowflakes,
and you just can't help feeling the pull as the weight of sadness swings below you,
knowing they will go somewhere....
as if they were that important to you,
like the friends you always had
It boogles the mind to think that there are even more of them out there somewhere - people that you have no indication that they exist, that if you did know them, you wouldn't be able to live without them. On the other hand, people who think they cannot live without beer do not realize that had they never tasted it in the first place they would be able to enjoy life fine since beer would be only one of an infinite number of things out in the universe that they had not tried and are currently living without. So if beer is not important, the people must not be. Right? Hmmm. Maybe there's more to it.
If the weight of sadness swings below you (it's tied to your ankles and weighs about 150 lb, and you are hanging onto a bar up in the air), you know you're living. Some cultures value all emotion equally, sad and happy. To them, it is the intensity that is valuable, happy or sad. This can be better understood when you consider the passing of a loved one: the real sadness would be if it didn't hurt because you didn't really care. They refer to material property and temporal emergencies both as Sorrow because the maintenance of each taxes your attention to things that matter.
I like to think of everyone I have ever considered a friend or someone I admire, as a cult. Once in, you can't get out. And whoever has the most friends, or the most that they have been a friend to, when they die - wins. You cannot get out of the cult simply by moving away and not having any contact for 5, 25 or 100 years, or by offending me. I will still remember you from time to time and pray for you, the way (almost the way?) my mother did for me. And I hope and like to think that if and when you ever surface again that I will do all I can to give you some good stuff.
Now ain't that Special? I guess so.