Donald liked to travel all over the world.
It was while on one of these trips, when he was in Nebraska, USA, where he met an old Sioux Indian Shaman, called, “Gray Sun”.
Gray Sun had been named that name, because he had a gift to heal anyone who was feeling gray, and to help them to feel sunny again.
“Hold onto love, even if you do not feel it yet,” was written down on a plaque, on the wall, of the room where Donald had met him in.
Donald had asked the old man what that had meant, as, underneath that plaque, the writer’s name was signed. It was signed, “Gray Sun.”
The old Indian Shaman was its author.
“Find love, for, it is only love, that can heal you. If you hold onto love, when everything around you is unloving, this will heal you, and definitely then, you will feel love working in you then. Never let go of love.”
“It means something like that,” Gray Sun, told Donald.
“Love respects all, but love grovels to none. The strength of love speaks to everyone. If they listen, their heart soars.”
“Each one of us has received God’s hug of love, our lives reflect the results of this love.”
“Love is God’s cornerstone in our hearts.”
“Sometimes, it’s the unseen that has the power. Love is unseen, but not unfelt.”
“Love’s purpose is to give you purpose. Nothing else can do so.”
Donald left the old guy, still seated in his easy chair, in the Indian reservation, where he had visited that day.
“Who would have thought,” he thought to himself, as he left, “that I would have heard a sermon on love, from an old Indian elder, today, when I came here, just out of idle curiosity really.”
Donald went out, and had himself some lunch, at a cafeteria, still on the plantation.
He was still eating up, when someone came over to him, and said something to him.
He was surprised to see that it was none other than this old Indian Shaman, “Gray Sun.”
“May your days be sunny, not grayed by non-love,” he said,
“Grasp love with both hands, and only let it go when God replenishes you with more. The thing is though, he is always doing this, so always let it go. Love is never-ending, and has to flow, not to stifle itself in you, by it being holed up in you like an old waterhole, which turns rancid over time, if it is not being refilled continuously with incoming fresh waters from its underground source.”
“Love is like that too.”
And just as fast, as he had been there, he was gone.
Photo Credit: The photos used in this article were sourced from the free media site, pixabay.com