The Palmer, By Sir Walter Scott This poem speaks to me. It seems to me that the palmer is anyone who is hurt, lost, and separated from their normal support groups. At lest it feels that way. A Person who is currently having difficulties and in need of shelter from some sort of storm, be it physical, mental or emotional. It doesn't really mater what sort of shelter the person needs, it is clear that the need in eminent and that the help would be life saving. The ranger in the person who, safe and comfortable within their life, afraid that any change could damage their statues quo, declines to help. The person who shuts out the needs and friendship of others. I profiled someone on the BBS ISCA who was a prime example of this sort of cold callousness. Their profile simply read "I can not save you,.....I can't even save myself." the funny thing is that helping someone is not necessarily saving them it is helping them save themselves. This person clearly has never bothered to crawl out of their own self pity long enough to discover that sometimes the best way to save yourself is to help someone else with their problems. To learn that some times simple being around the person is enough to help them. I met someone once, who's presence enabled me to start to heal from a great many things that I have had the misfortune to live threw. Things that at the time I met this person had me so weather worn that I was ready to give up. He helped save my life, by simply and only being in my life. In the end We all have to save our selves. Some people simply need another help to guide them down that road. Sometimes when your hear someone else's problems you feel less allown Sometimes it makes your problems seem reduced in comparison, more manageable. At lest this has been my experience and I've had people coming to me with their problems since I was in grade school. Even people I had never meet before oe since have told me their troubles. Sometimes I can help - When they let me. Sometimes I can't - Often because people have to be ready to let go before they can be helped. We are all palmers at some time or another - Remember that the next time you are the ranger. The Palmer by Sir Walter Scott "O open the door, some pity to show, keen blows the northern wind! The glen is white with the drifted snow and the path is hard to find "No outlaw seeks you castle gate, from chasing the kings deer, though even an outlaws wretched state might claim compassion here, "A weary Palmer, worn and weak, I wander for my sin; O open for our lady's sake! A pilgrims blessing win! "I'll give you pardons from the pope, and relics from O'er the sea; Or if for these you will not ope, yet open for charity. "The hare is crouching in her form, the hart beside the hind; An aged man amid the storm, no shelter can I find. "You hear the Ettrick's sullen roar, Dark, deep and strong is he, And I must ford the Ettrick O'er unless you pity me. "The iron gate is bolted hard, at which I knock in vain; The owners heart is closer barr'd, who hears me thus complain. "Farewell, farewell! And Mary grant, when old and frail you be, you never may the shelter want, that's now denied to me." The ranger on his couch lay warm, and heard him plead in vain; but oft amid Decembers storm, he'll hear that voice agen. For lo, when threw the vapors dark, morn shone on Ettrick fair, a corpse amid the elder rank, the palmer welter'd there.