The Pilgrim

A woman came to a town where a famous king was once buried. She wandered the town, exploring the land and talking to the people who lived there. One day she met an old woman who looked her deep in the eye and said, “you’re a pilgrim, and there is a difference between pilgrims and tourists.”
“You see the busses that come here to town every day? And the tourists go running to the gravestone where some ancient king is said to be buried. They take their pictures and then hop on the bus and leave. They see my town through the lens of their cameras and through the list of things they are expected to do here.”
“But pilgrims are another sort of traveller, and over the years I have come to notice your sort. Pilgrims have another way of walking and seeing the world that sets them apart from other travellers. They are the kind who come to my town and stay for days, weeks and sometimes years. They listen to the stories of the land and follow the guidance of a star not many can see.”
“I see that spark in their eyes and I see it in you. And to be a pilgrim one must dare to step off the cliff of what is known and leap into the abyss of the unknown. In that leap, everything is possible. In surrendering to the mystery, the power of true magic is born.”


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