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.
It's about two neurotic people, a chocolate maker and a chocolate factory owner. I cried... there is the clue again. The man unexpectedly, both for himself and for the woman, kisses her long and hard, then runs away.
The thought bubbles up: I am not lovable. No one can love me.
I haven't had that thought in a long time. Decades.
I have expected that it wasn't there any more. But a thought like that is not like a cloud that disappears when the wind blows.
In fact, that sentence is more like the sky. No matter what season, no matter what the weather, no matter where, the sky is always there... unnoticed, unobserved: we only look at the clouds.
My sky says: I am not lovable.
And then it comes to me.
During my 7 years for my two degrees in architecture, I saw three guys I thought I could be with. I spoke with one of them, and he rejected me. I didn't go past "hello" with the other two, this dead guy, the guy that died yesterday, was one of the two I really never spoke with.
Why would not I talk to someone I like? This is where the sky talks louder than the clouds. I am not lovable.
I have gone through the heartbreak of that with my mother... she never loved me. She beat me, mercilessly. With my guitar teacher: she had me beaten up. I called her mother, I loved her. More than my "real" mom. But they both told me with their actions that I was not loved. That I was going to be punished if I get too close, too hopeful, too attached.
There is a saying that says: it is better to love and lose, than to never love.
I disagree. My life is a story of avoiding loving, because the pain of not being loved is worse than anything.
Of the hundred feelings I have tested on myself, only the "I can feel love coming to me" tested negative. I can't tell what being loved feels like... If anything, I feel pain. Massive pain.
In the Activate Divinity Workshop we find the incidents when we decided to abandon the part that is too painful to stay aware of, to own up to, to belong to.
I am not just a teacher, I am a participant in every course I take, the Activate Divinity Workshop is no exception. It is time for me to tackle this issue: I am 90% whole and complete... it is like saying: I am 90% pregnant.
You are not complete and whole, until you are 100% whole and complete.
It is my time to finish to restore the innocent, divine me.
How about you?