After many days on the road, the traveler met an old Indian Chief, and his grandson. The traveler and the chief shared a handshake, but when the boy offered his hand out, the traveler did not shake it. The traveler asked the boy, “How about a high-five instead?” The boy’s arms dropped to his sides as a confused look took over his face. “What’s that?” asked the boy. The traveler knelt down and explained it to him.
“It is when I put my hand out like this, and you slap it as hard as you can, with yours.”
Excited to learn a new thing, as the traveler put up his hand, sure enough the boy slapped it with such force, that he hurt his own hand. “Why does it hurt like that? When you and my grandfather shake hands it doesn’t hurt you, does it? Why would you teach me something like that?”
The old Indian chief closed his eyes and smiled, as the traveler knelt down once more. The chief wondered how he might justify his reasons to the boy.
The traveler spoke,
“Well you see, when two hands touch, so do their souls. As you smack my hand, the pain you feel is your soul touching mine. Your soul is bitter that it cannot ask my soul more questions, so it stings as tries to push through your hand. So if our hands touch for too long, your soul will learn too much, too quick. You need to grow into your hands. As your hands grow stronger, you will be able to hold back your soul.”
“Why would I want to hold it back?” asked the boy, mesmerized.
“Because, child, there are some who walk among us, without souls. If your hands are not strong, your soul will rush out of you, into them looking for another soul. And neither me or your grandfather would be able to put it back.”
“What happens if my soul leaves?” the boy asked trembling.
The grandfather spoke in solemn tone, “Then my grandson, you become a traveler.”