| Sitting by the fireside in the cold desert night, the | | | | its weight upon the traveler on this stage of the |
| sky above him pitch black and mysteriously void | | | | world. |
| of stars, he reflected on who he was and what | | | | It's the quotidian numbness of those who aren't in |
| he might have been and the history of the | | | | a war zone, who have food and shelter and |
| troubled times that were unfolding all around him. | | | | enough to meet their needs, who are well enough, |
| His name was Chief Joseph. Possibly the greatest | | | | and who move from day to day as shadows of |
| of the Nez Perce Indian Tribe. | | | | their own glory. |
| On a parchment in front of him, he wrote these | | | | If these numbers would step outside the hopeless |
| words. | | | | swamp of mediocrity, step outside the |
| "Let me be a free man. | | | | approximate dream, then they could heal the |
| Free to travel. Free to stop. | | | | major tragedies of war, hunger, and sickness. |
| Free to work. Free to choose my own teachers. | | | | Yet their genius and their collective will has been |
| Free to follow the religion of my fathers. | | | | trapped in the not-quite, the not-yet, and |
| Free to think and talk and act for myself." | | | | sometimes the not-at-all. |
| Then he began to reflect on what it might all | | | | They have let the heroism of their soul which |
| mean. If someone were with him this night of his | | | | bravely chose another incarnation fall to waste. |
| vision quest, what would he say? | | | | They are lonely for their own greatness. |
| Staring at the fire, he understood. For it spoke to | | | | They are frustrated with life and getting what |
| him. | | | | they don't deserve. |
| Your inner fire is the best part of you. | | | | They are not able to reach for that inner |
| It's who you are inside. It's who you want to be | | | | something that pulls at them. |
| on the outside. | | | | They do not wage battle against the stupidity |
| Every time you dream of what is possible for | | | | that keeps them locked into insignificance. |
| you, it sparks. | | | | Yet the world they desire can be won. |
| Yet almost everybody reacts to it with fear. | | | | It is authentic. |
| And this is why, more than anything else, our | | | | It is probable. |
| world is in such a sorry state. | | | | It is their own. |
| It's not even the major tragedies-the wars, the | | | | When we feel the world inside, then we will find |
| poverty, the sickness, and death that impresses | | | | the way to heal the world outside. |