Archives for October 2007


In "The Zahir" his(the author’s) wife beleives that no one is really happy. They are either pretending to be. Or dogde from answering the question.She shifts to a war zone for she beleives that it is the only place where people are …
This article is written by ira. Please visit her blog to continue to read the article.

An interview with Brazilian spiritual fiction writer, Paulo Coelho

I gave this interview in 2000 and thought it would be interesting to share with you here.
Please visit Life Pozitive to continue to read the e-mail interview of Paulo Coelho with Anupama Bhattacharya.

The largest stones

By Paulo Coelho

The teacher placed a large glass jar on the table.
Then out of a bag he took ten stones, each the size of an orange, and began placing them, one by one, in the jar.
When the jar was filled to the brim with stones, he asked his students:
‘Is it full?’
They all agreed that it was. The teacher, however, took some gravel from another bag and by jiggling the large stones around inside the jar, managed to fit in quite a lot of gravel.
‘Is it full now?’
The students said, yes, this time it was definitely full. At that point, the teacher opened a third bag, this time full of fine sand, and he began to pour it into the jar. The sand filled up any empty spaces between the large stones and the gravel, right up to the top.
‘Right,’ said the teacher. ‘Now the jar is full. What do you think I’ve been trying to demonstrate to you?’
‘That it doesn’t matter how busy you are, there’s always room to fit in something else,’ said one student.
‘Not at all. What this little demonstration shows us is that we have to put the large stones in first because, afterwards, they won’t fit.
Now what are the important things in our lives? What are the plans we postpone, the adventures we never have, the loves we fail to fight for? Ask which are the large, solid stones that keep God’s flame alive in you and put them into your jar of decisions now, because very soon there will be no room for them.’

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Paulo Coelho talks in SECC @ Glasgow – Part Ten of Eleven

Interview with Blogger Ammar Yasir

Other then him I enjoy reading Paulo Coehlo, Robert Ludlum and Saadat Hassan Manto. What’s the first thing you notice about a person (whether you know them or not)? I try to discover that if that particular person is genuine or phony …
This article is written by Ghazala Khan. Please visit his blog to continue to read the article.

Book Review: The Zahir

A word to the wise: This is not a complete review on the book itself, but rather a synopsis of my interpretations from certain passages of the book, which struck a discordant note with me. …
This article is written by KC. Please visit his blog to continue to read the article.

Designing the look of of Laaga Chunari Mein Daag

The 28-year old Sabyasachi Nomad Collection was inspired by two books, Paul Coelho’s The Witch of Portobello and Kite Runner by Khalil Hosseini. …
This article is written by Screen Weekly. Please visit IndiaFM to continue to read the article.

The right stone

By Paulo Coelho

A man once heard tell that, in a nearby desert, a certain alchemist had lost the result of years of work: the famous philosopher’s stone, which could transform into gold any metal that it touched.
Driven by the desire to find it and to become rich, the man went to that desert. Since he did not know quite what the philosopher’s stone looked like, he began picking up every stone he came across; he would then hold it to his belt buckle to see what happened.
A year passed, and then another, and still nothing. The man, however, clung obstinately to his desire to find the magical stone. Mechanically, he walked every valley and mountain in the desert, rubbing one pebble after another against his belt buckle.
One night, just before going to sleep, he noticed that his buckle had been changed into gold!
But which stone had it been? Had the miracle occurred during the morning or the evening? How long had it been, in fact, since he had bothered to check the results of all his efforts? What had started out as a search with a clear objective had become a mechanical, joyless exercise with no real goal. What had started out as an adventure had become dull duty.
Now he had no way of finding the right stone, because his belt buckle was already gold and no other transformation could possibly take place. He had followed the right road, but had failed to notice the miracle awaiting him.

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When All Else Fails….

Warrior of the Light by Paulo Coelho ~ Simply the best book I’ve read in many years and one which I’ve re-read and re-read until I’ve felt the words burned into my soul itself. Best Business Book I’ve Ever Read: …
This article is written by Jo-Anne Smith. Please visit her blog to continue to read the article.

4 Ways to find the hidden messages in life

That was until someone gave me a gift; a book entitled ‘The Alchemist’ by Paulo Coelho. I am not going to talk about the book as many people have read it, if you haven’t it is definitely worth it. I do want to discuss the fact that the …
This article is written by Steven. Please visit his blog to continue to read the article.

A Birthday and a Beginning

As Coelho’s protagonist in The Zahir puts it, "The book writes itself, the writer is just the typist…". I wrote only when I felt this state, only when I became the typist, just the typist. And that didn’t happen as often as I would …
This article is written by soumya mukerji. Please visit her blog to continue to read the article.

Everything moves

Everything moves.  And everything moves to a rhythm.  And everything that moves produces a sound; that is happening here and all over the world at this very moment.  Our ancestors noticed the same thing when they tried to escape from the cold in their caves: things moved and made noise.

The first human beings perhaps looked on this with awe, and then with devotion: they understood that this was the way that a Superior Being communicated with them.  They began to imitate the noises and movements around them, hoping to communicate with this Being: and dancing and music were born.

When we dance, we are free.

To put it better, our spirit can travel through the universe, while our body follows a rhythm that is not part of the routine.  In this way, we can laugh at our sufferings large or small, and deliver ourselves to a new experience without any fear.  While prayer and meditation take us to the sacred through silence and inner pondering, in dance we celebrate with others a kind of collective trance.

They can write whatever they want about dancing, but it is no use:  you have to dance to find out what they are talking about.  Dance to the point of exhaustion, like mountain-climbers scaling some sacred peak.  Dance until, out of breath, our organism can receive oxygen in a way that it is not used to, and this ends up making us lose our identity, our relation with space and time.

Of course we can dance alone, if that helps us to get over our shyness.  But whenever possible, it is better to dance in a group, because one stimulates the other and this ends up creating a magic space where all are connected in the same energy.

To dance, it is not necessary to learn in some school; just let our body teach us – because we have danced since the darkest times, and we never forget that.  When I was an adolescent I envied the great “ballerinos” among the kids on the block, and pretended I had other things to do at parties – like having a conversation.  But in fact I was terrified of looking ridiculous, and because of that I would not risk a single step.  Until one day a girl called Marcia called out to me in front of everybody:

“Come on!”

I said I did not like to dance, but she insisted.  Everyone in the group was looking, and because I was in love (love is capable of so many things!), I could refuse no further.  I was ridiculous, I did not know how to follow the steps, but Marcia did not stop; she went on dancing as if I were a Rudolf Nureyev.

“Forget the others and pay attention to the bass,”  she whispered in my ear.  “Try to follow its rhythm.”

At that moment I understood that we do not always have to learn the most important things; they are already part of our nature.  In youth, dancing is a fundamental rite of passage: for the very first time we feel a state of grace, a deep ecstasy, even if for the less tuned-in it is all just a bunch of boys and girls enjoying themselves at a party.

When we become adults, and when we grow old, we need to go on dancing.  The rhythm changes, but music is part of life, and dancing is the consequence of letting this rhythm come inside us.

I still dance whenever I can.  With dancing, the spiritual world and the real world manage to co-exist without any conflicts.  As somebody once said, the classic ballerinas are always on tiptoe because they are at the same time touching the earth and reaching the sky.

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Edií§í£o nº 158 : Tudo se move

Tudo se move. E tudo se move com um ritmo. E tudo que se move com um ritmo provoca um som; isso está acontecendo aqui e em qualquer lugar do mundo neste momento. Nossos ancestrais notaram a mesma coisa, quando procuravam fugir do frio em suas cavernas: as coisas se moviam e faziam barulho.

Os primeiros seres humanos talvez tivessem olhado isso com espanto, e logo em seguida com devoí§í£o: entenderam que esta era a maneira de uma Entidade Superior comunicar-se com eles. Passaram a imitar os ruí­dos e os movimentos í  sua volta, na esperaní§a de comunicar-se também com esta Entidade: a daní§a e a música acabavam de nascer.

Quando daní§amos, somos livres.

Melhor dizendo, nosso espí­rito pode viajar pelo universo, enquanto o corpo segue um ritmo que ní£o faz parte da rotina. Assim, podemos rir de nossos grandes ou pequenos sofrimentos, e nos entregarmos a uma experiíªncia nova sem medo. Enquanto a oraí§í£o e a meditaí§í£o nos levam até o sagrado através do silíªncio e do mergulho interior, na daní§a celebramos junto com os outros uma espécie de transe coletivo.

Pode-se escrever o que se quiser sobre a daní§a, mas de nada vale: é preciso daní§ar para saber do que se está falando. Daní§ar até a exaustí£o, como se fossemos alpinistas subindo uma montanha sagrada. Daní§ar até que, por causa da respiraí§í£o ofegante, nosso organismo possa receber oxigíªnio de uma maneira que ní£o está acostumado, e isso termina por fazer com que percamos nossa identidade, nossa relaí§í£o com o espaí§o e o tempo.

Claro que podemos daní§ar sozinhos, se isso nos ajuda a vencer a timidez. Mas sempre que possí­vel, é melhor daní§ar em grupo, porque um estimula o outro, e termina-se criando um espaí§o mágico, com todos conectados na mesma energia.

Para daní§ar, ní£o é necessário aprender em academias; basta deixar que o corpo ensine – porque daní§amos desde a noite dos tempos, e ní£o esquecemos isso. Quando eu era adolescente, ficava com inveja dos grandes “bailarinos” da minha turma da esquina, e fingia que tinha outras coisas para fazer durante as festas – como ficar conversando, por exemplo. Mas na verdade eu tinha pavor do ridí­culo. Até que um dia uma menina, chamada Márcia, me disse na frente de todo mundo:

– Venha.

Eu disse que ní£o gostava; ela insistiu. Todos do grupo ficaram olhando, e por que eu estava apaixonado (o amor é capaz de tantas coisas!) ní£o pude recusar mais. Fiz um papel ridí­culo, ní£o sabia seguir os passos, mas Márcia ní£o parou; continuou daní§ando, como se eu fosse um Rudolf Nureyev.

– Esqueí§a os outros e preste atení§í£o no baixo – sussurrou ao meu ouvido. – Procure seguir o seu ritmo.

Naquele momento, entendi que nem sempre é necessário aprender as coisas mais importantes; elas já fazem parte da nossa natureza. Na juventude, a daní§a é um rito de passagem fundamental: experimentamos pela primeira vez um estado de graí§a, um íªxtase profundo, mesmo que para os menos avisados tudo ní£o passe de um grupo de rapazes e moí§as divertindo-se em uma festa.

Quando ficamos adultos, e quando envelhecemos, precisamos continuar daní§ando. O ritmo muda, mas a música é parte da vida, e a daní§a é a conseqüíªncia de deixarmos que este ritmo penetre em nós.

Continuo daní§ando sempre que posso. Com a daní§a, o mundo espiritual e o mundo real conseguem conviver sem conflitos. Como disse alguém que ní£o me lembro, os bailarinos clássicos ficam na ponta dos pés porque estí£o ao mesmo tempo tocando a terra e alcaní§ando os céus.

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Édition nº 158 : Tout bouge

Tout bouge. Et tout bouge en rythme. Et tout ce qui bouge en rythme provoque un son ; cela se passe ici et partout dans le monde en ce moment. Nos ancíªtres avaient remarqué la míªme chose, quand ils allaient se mettre í  l’abri du froid dans leurs cavernes : les choses bougeaient et faisaient du bruit.

Les premiers íªtres humains ont peut-íªtre fait ce constat avec étonnement, et aussití´t après avec dévotion : ils avaient compris que c’était le moyen pour une Entité Supérieure de communiquer avec eux. Ils se sont mis í  imiter les bruits et les mouvements qui les entouraient, espérant communiquer í  leur tour avec cette Entité : la danse et la musique venaient de naí®tre.

Quand nous dansons, nous sommes libres.

Plus exactement, notre esprit peut voyager dans l’univers, tandis que le corps suit un rythme qui ne fait pas partie de la routine. Ainsi, nous pouvons rire de nos grandes et petites souffrances et nous livrer sans crainte í  une expérience nouvelle. Tandis que la prière et la méditation nous mènent au sacré par le silence et la plongée en nous-míªme, dans la danse nous célébrons avec les autres une espèce de transe collective.

On peut écrire ce que l’on veut sur la danse, mais cela n’a aucune valeur : il faut danser pour savoir ce dont on parle. Danser jusqu’í  l’épuisement, comme si nous étions des alpinistes gravissant une montagne sacrée. Danser jusqu’í  ce que, la respiration devenant difficile, notre organisme puisse recevoir l’oxygène d’une manière inhabituelle, et que cela finisse par nous faire perdre notre identité, notre relation í  l’espace et au temps.

Bien sí»r, nous pouvons danser seuls, si cela nous aide í  vaincre notre timidité. Mais chaque fois que c’est possible, il vaut mieux danser en groupe, parce que l’on se stimule mutuellement, et il finit par se créer un espace magique, tous connectés í  la míªme énergie.

Pour danser, il n’est pas nécessaire d’apprendre dans des cours ; il suffit de laisser notre corps nous enseigner – car nous dansons depuis la nuit des temps, et nous ne l’avons pas oublié. Quand j’étais adolescent, j’enviais les grands « danseurs » de ma bande du coin de la rue, et je faisais semblant d’avoir autre chose í  faire pendant les fíªtes – discuter, par exemple. Mais en réalité j’avais peur du ridicule. Jusqu’au jour oí¹ une fille, du nom de Márcia, m’a dit devant tout le monde :

« Viens. »

J’ai dit que je n’aimais pas í§a ; elle a insisté. Toute la bande regardait, et parce que j’étais amoureux (l’amour peut faire tellement de choses !) je n’ai pas pu refuser davantage. J’ai fait une prestation ridicule, je ne savais pas suivre les pas, mais Márcia ne s’est pas arríªtée ; elle a continué í  danser, comme si j’étais un Rudolf Noureí¯ev.

« Oublie les autres et fais attention í  tes pieds, a-t-elle murmuré í  mon oreille. Essaie de suivre ton rythme. »

í€ ce moment-lí , j’ai compris qu’il n’était pas toujours nécessaire d’apprendre les choses les plus importantes ; elles font déjí  partie de notre nature. Dans la jeunesse, la danse est un rite de passage fondamental : nous éprouvons pour la première fois un état de grí¢ce, une extase profonde, míªme si pour les moins avisés tout cela n’est rien d’autre qu’un groupe de garí§ons et de filles qui se divertissent dans une fíªte.

Quand nous sommes adultes, et quand nous vieillissons, nous avons besoin de continuer í  danser. Le rythme change, mais la musique fait partie de la vie, et la danse est la conséquence de la permission que nous donnons í  ce rythme de pénétrer en nous.

Je continue í  danser chaque fois que je le peux. Avec la danse, le monde spirituel et le monde réel peuvent cohabiter sans conflits. Comme le dit je ne sais plus qui, les danseurs classiques restent sur la pointe des pieds parce qu’en míªme temps ils touchent la terre et atteignent les cieux.

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Edición nº 158 : Todo se mueve

Todo se mueve. Y todo se mueve con un ritmo. Y todo lo que se mueve con un ritmo produce un sonido. Esto está ocurriendo aquí­ y en cualquier lugar del mundo en este momento. Nuestros ancestros percibieron esto mismo, cuando procuraban huir del frí­o en sus cavernas: las cosas se moví­an y hací­an ruido.

Los primeros seres humanos tal vez advirtiesen esto con espanto, e inmediatamente después con devoción: comprendieron que esta era la manera que una Entidad Superior tení­a de comunicarse con ellos. Empezaron entonces a imitar los ruidos y los movimientos de lo que les rodeaba, con la intención de comunicarse también con esta Entidad: el baile y la música acababan de nacer.

Cuando bailamos, somos libres.

Mejor dicho, nuestro espí­ritu puede viajar por el universo, mientras el cuerpo sigue un ritmo que no forma parte de la rutina. Así­, podemos reí­rnos de nuestros grandes o pequeños sufrimientos, y nos entregamos a una nueva experiencia sin miedo. Mientras la oración y la meditación nos conducen hasta lo sagrado a través del silencio y del viaje interior, en el baile celebramos junto a otras personas una especie de trance colectivo.

Se puede escribir lo que se quiera sobre el baile, pero no servirá de nada: es necesario bailar para saber de qué se habla. Bailar hasta quedar exhausto, como si fuésemos alpinistas subiendo una montaña sagrada. Bailar hasta que, en virtud de la respiración agitada, nuestro organismo pueda recibir oxí­geno de una manera a la que no está acostumbrado, lo que acaba llevando a la disolución de la identidad, y a la pérdida de nuestras referencias del tiempo y del espacio.

Claro que podemos bailar solos, si eso nos ayuda a superar la timidez. Pero siempre que sea posible, es preferible bailar en grupo, pues unos estimulan a los otros, y acaba creándose un espacio mágico, con todos conectados en la misma energí­a.

Para bailar, no es necesario aprender en escuelas: basta dejar que nos enseñe nuestro propio cuerpo, pues bailamos desde la noche de los tiempos, y eso no lo olvidamos. Cuando era adolescente, los grandes “bailarines” de mi pandilla del barrio me daban envidia, y en las fiestas fingí­a tener cosas más importantes que hacer, como quedarme charlando, por ejemplo. Pero en realidad lo que yo tení­a era pavor al ridí­culo, y por eso no me arriesgaba a dar ni un paso dentro de la pista. Hasta que un dí­a una chica llamada Márcia me dijo delante de todo el mundo:

-Ven aquí­.

Yo dije que no me gustaba, pero ella insistió. Todos los del grupo se quedaron mirando, pero como estaba enamorado (¡el amor es capaz de tantas cosas!) no pude escaquearme más. Hice bastante el ridí­culo, no sabí­a seguir los pasos, pero Márcia no cejó en su empeño: continuó bailando, como si yo fuese un Rudolf Nureyev.

-Olví­date de los demás y presta atención al bajo -me susurró al oí­do. -Intenta seguir su ritmo.

En ese momento entendí­ que no siempre es necesario aprender las cosas más importantes: éstas suelen formar parte de nuestra propia naturaleza. En la juventud, el baile es un rito de pasaje fundamental: alcanzamos por primera vez cierto estado de gracia, un éxtasis profundo, aunque los menos sagaces apenas vislumbren un grupo de chicos y chicas pasándoselo bien en una fiesta.

Cuando nos hacemos adultos, y cuando envejecemos, tenemos que continuar bailando. El ritmo cambia, pero la música es parte de la vida, y el baile es la consecuencia de la penetración de este ritmo en nuestro ser.

Continúo bailando siempre que puedo. En el baile, el mundo espiritual y el mundo real consiguen convivir sin conflictos. Como dijo alguien que no recuerdo, los bailarines clásicos se mueven sobre la punta de los pies porque están al mismo tiempo tocando la tierra y alcanzando los cielos.

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Edizione nº 158 : Tutto si muove

Tutto si muove. E tutto si muove con un ritmo. E tutto cií² che si muove con un ritmo provoca un suono: questo sta accadendo qui e in qualsiasi altro luogo del mondo in questo momento. I nostri antenati notarono la stessa cosa, quando cercavano di vincere il freddo nelle caverne: le cose si muovevano e facevano rumore.

Puí² darsi che i primi esseri umani avessero considerato questo fenomeno con sgomento, e poi con devozione: lo intesero come il modo in cui un’Entití  Superiore comunicava con loro. Cominciarono a imitare i rumori e i movimenti intorno a loro, nella speranza di mettersi anch’essi in comunicazione con questa Entití : nascevano cosí¬ la danza e la musica.

Quando danziamo, noi siamo liberi.

O meglio, il nostro spirito puí² viaggiare nell’universo mentre il corpo segue un ritmo che non rientra nella routine. Cosí¬, possiamo sorridere delle nostre grandi o piccole sofferenze e ci abbandoniamo a un’esperienza nuova senza paura. Mentre la preghiera e la meditazione ci conducono al sacro attraverso il silenzio e l’approfondimento interiore, nella danza celebriamo insieme agli altri una sorta di trance collettiva.

Si puí² scrivere cií² che si vuole sulla danza, ma non vale a nulla: è necessario danzare per sapere di cosa si sta parlando. Danzare fino all’esaurimento, come se fossimo degli alpinisti che scalano una montagna sacra. Danzare finché, a causa del respiro ansante, il nostro organismo possa ricevere ossigeno in un modo cui non è abituato, il che finisce per farci perdere la nostra identití , il nostro rapporto con lo spazio e il tempo.

Certo, possiamo anche danzare da soli, se questo ci aiuta a vincere la timidezza. Ma, ogni qualvolta sia possibile, è meglio danzare in gruppo, perché l’uno stimola l’altro, e si finisce per creare uno spazio magico, in cui tutti sono collegati nella stessa energia.

Non è necessario apprendere la danza nelle scuole, basta lasciare che sia il corpo a insegnare – perché danziamo fin dalla notte dei tempi, e non lo abbiamo dimenticato. Quando ero adolescente, provavo invidia per i grandi “ballerini” della mia comitiva e, durante le feste, fingevo di avere altro da fare – come star lí¬ a chiacchierare, per esempio. Ma, in realtí , avevo terrore del ridicolo. Finché un giorno una ragazza, di nome Márcia, mi disse davanti a tutti:

– Vieni.

Io le risposi che non mi piaceva, ma lei insistette. Tutto il gruppo mi stava guardando e io, che ero innamorato di lei (l’amore è capace di tante cose!), non potei rifiutare oltre. Feci una figura ridicola, non sapevo seguire i passi, ma Márcia non si fermí², continuí² a danzare, come se io fossi un Rudolf Nureyev.

– Dimentica gli altri e presta attenzione quaggií¹ – mi sussurrí² all’orecchio. – Cerca di seguire il tuo ritmo.

In quel momento, capii che non sempre è necessario apprendere le cose importanti: esse fanno gií  parte della nostra natura. Nella gioventí¹, la danza è un rito di passaggio fondamentale: sperimentiamo per la prima volta uno stato di grazia, un’estasi profonda, anche se per i meno accorti tutto non è altro che un gruppo di ragazzi e ragazze che si divertono a una festa.

Quando diventiamo adulti, e quando invecchiamo, abbiamo bisogno di continuare a danzare. Il ritmo cambia, ma la musica fa parte della vita e la danza è il risultato del fatto che ci lasciamo penetrare da questo ritmo.

Io continuo a danzare ogni volta che mi è possibile. Con la danza, il mondo spirituale e il mondo reale riescono a convivere senza conflitti. Come ha detto qualcuno di cui non ricordo il nome, i ballerini classici danzano sulla punta dei piedi perché, cosí¬, sfiorano la terra e nello stesso tempo raggiungono il cielo.

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Encounter in Posto Seis

By Paulo Coelho

Father José Roberto from the Church of the Resurrection in Rio de Janeiro, was setting off early one morning when his car was stopped by three adolescents.
‘We’ve been up all night, Father,’ said one of them defiantly. ‘Guess where we’ve been.’
Like any other normal human being, José Roberto chose to say nothing. He could imagine what being up all night at their age was likely to involve and he shuddered at the risks the boys must have taken and thought how worried their parents would be.
The boy who had initiated the conversation finally answered his own question.
‘We were at the Church of Our Lady in Copacabana, praying to the Virgin. We left there on such a high that we walked all the way here [about 3 kilometres], singing, laughing and talking to everyone we met. At least one person said to us: “Aren’t you ashamed, boys of your age being drunk at this hour in the morning?”.’
Father José Roberto started his car and set off for his appointment. On the way, he said to himself over and over: ‘I let myself be taken in by appearances and I committed an injustice in my heart. When will we ever fully understand Jesus’ words: “Judge not, that you be not judged. For with what judgment you judge, you shall be judged, and with what measure you mete, it shall be measured unto you”.’

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