The Role of Friendship

It had been a long, lonely, and difficult flight... ...and high in the drab gray sky, flying small circles, seemingly oblivious to the chilly wet rain which had turned his once graceful feathers into a sodden mess, the Old Gull flew on. The long flight had left him weary, without hope, and feeling very empty. The Northeasterner had blown hard and soft, warm and cold, one way and then the other. Its only consistency was its unending variability. The Old Gull reacted to the changes late and ineffectively. He was benumbed, dizzy, rebuffed, tumbled, and completely spun about.

When he thought he had reached a haven from the tumult, in the shelter of a shimmering white cloud, he encountered the brilliant dazzle of the Eldest One. Here in the warmth of this small sanctuary, the Eldest One asked the Old Gull to tell him his purpose. The Old Gull's mind, deprived of spiritual purpose and lacking in any physical purpose was unprepared for the Great Question, and it flickered and sputtered into a state of numbness. His life-purpose was undecided. His emulation models unchosen. His soul had found no one to share in the pleasure of binding, of sharing. The Eldest One fully tested him with a simple question and found him totally wanting in life-purpose.

From the warmth of the temporary shelter of the shimmering white cloud he was flung back into the merciless storm, and the increasingly desperate and fruitless flight went on. He strove forward, not knowing where he was heading or even knowing why. Time stretched and dissolved, becoming endless, then meaningless. The joy of flight had become the tedium of remaining aloft. Presently, he became aware of another, the Other had the same faceless bleak grayness of many, and flew with laboring strokes of the wing. The Old Gull approached the Other for no reason but to have company to share the effort in flying pointlessly to nowhere. The Other seemed not to notice and the Old Gull did not try to force a greeting. Together they flew, on and on through the endless chilly rain.

After what seemed to be a considerable time although it may not have been, the Old Gull noticed the Other's labored flight had become erratic and unsteady. The steady beat required to maintain a given height was lost. A sharp stabbing sense of anguish swept through the Old Gull, for a gull to fly like this meant the distressed bird was close to giving up and letting their spirit fly unbounded. The Old Gull knew not his companion, his purpose, his aims, his hopes, or history, but the Other was someone who had shared the terrible storm. The Old Gull's numb mind started to seek the reason for the emotions he was experiencing, the emptiness and meaninglessness slowly dissolved into a deep-seated distress. In the nexus of the storm, all of his being, all of his purpose, was to feel, absorb, reflect, and to grow. Understanding was not important. It was important only to be aware, to sense, to grow, and to empathize.

The Old Gull's mind became a mirror of the storm, it had no form or direction, but rather, it slowly shifted and swirled beyond control. And when the Old Gull had shared the pain of the Other, he at long last understood. He felt a need to help and his caring grew and grew. It grew beyond the bounds of his once proud feathers and reached outward. It searched, not in a thinking way, but as an liberated energy, outward it flowed, seeking a way to help the Other. The Other had turned ashen gray and had little power behind his wings, his strokes became ever weaker. A small break appeared in the somber clouds ahead, and the Old Gull silently urged the Other to turn and move toward it.

On they went, the Other seemed to draw strength from the Old Gull. And the Old Gull had found the source of life-energy, his unselfish caring had tapped its source. They entered the calm bright daylight together, one aiding the other. In the warmth of the sun, the Other grew pristine and glowed with ethereal brilliance. His feathers became smooth, long, and orderly. His wingtips became black, a black not seen since the Other's childhood. The pain left his eyes, the milky sheen faded and turned a dizzying orange. The Other regained the rhythm of flight and flew with great strength and power. He circled the Old Gull once and then followed the rainbow to another existence.

With a flash of warm yellow light, the Other was gone. The Old Gull was left behind and the storm clouds collapsed, leaving him in the wet, chilly winds once more. But the storm had broken, its intensity slowly tapered and soon only a cool light rain fell from the moody skies.