I got an email today: A classmate of mine died yesterday.
He wasn’t the first one to die, he was the first one I cried over his death.
I pay attention when I cry. It is part of my guidance system. It takes me to places I need to go. Not forcefully go, not mind-directed go, instead go like a child goes, his hand in the hand of an adult, and they just go together, and the child doesn’t even consider worrying: the child is safe as long as the two hands touch.
It’s like a pilgrimage… not like I know what a pilgrimage is, this is the word that came, and I am going to trust it.
I had no idea why I would cry over the death of this guy. I don’t remember talking to him more than once, for maybe one sentence… that’s it. This is going to be interesting…
I am going about doing the things I do, webmastering, answering emails, making lunch, tea… nothing extra. I know that I am still being guided, I feel it.
Next piece of the “becoming conscious pilgrimage” is a movie I loved.