Paulo Coelho

Among the dignitaries who went to Zurich, Switzerland, for the announcement were Romario, national team coach Dunga and author Paulo Coelho. …
 
This article is written by Michelle Kaufman. Please visit MiamiHerald.com to read the rest.

every warrioir of light has hurt someone he loved that is why he is a warrior of light, because he has been through all this and yet has never lost hope of being better than he is. — paulo coelho, from his book "manual of the warrior …
 
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I’m currently reading Paulo Coelho’s The Witch of Portobello. Last night, this entry on page seven caught my eye…
 
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By Paulo Coelho

The wars between the conquerors of the American West and the Indians grew ever more violent. Shortly before he died, the father of Chief Joseph (1840-1904) called him to his side.
 
‘My son, my body will soon return to Mother Earth,’ he said. ‘When I leave, this land is your inheritance. I am not leaving money or wealth, and the power you receive from me is not a motive for pride, but a responsibility. I leave in your hands our people and the ground that you walk on; I hope you will prove worthy of the task. Soon the white men will have us completely surrounded and they will try to buy our Mother. Remember that my body lies there and that I am part of Her.’
 
Joseph took his father’s hand, pressed it to his breast and promised never to sell the land.
 
The white men tried to buy the land, and the chief refused to sell. The conflict grew ever bloodier, and Joseph led his army into battle against the American soldiers. When he was captured, he was asked why he was fighting to defend a lost cause.
 
‘A man does not sell his father’s bones,’ he said.

Welcome to Share with Friends – Free Texts for a Free Internet

I enjoyed reading the book so I decided to try another of his books which brought me to "The Zahir". Coelho’s books deal with spirituality and a search for the meaning of life, at least that’s my opinion of his writing. …
 
This article is written by deb. Please visit his blog to read the rest.

The famous Brazilian Paulo Coelho, Robin Sharma (one of the highly sought-after speaker, leadership coach and consultant to organizations like Micro Soft, Nike, FedEx, NASA, KPMG, and the Young presidents’ Organization) talks about …
 
This article is written by Mohamed Saeed. Please visit his blog to read the rest.

"The Witch of Portobello" is about Barbara daring to take steps towards an unconventional spiritual path. The word witch is full of judgement and prejudice in the religious world. This book speaks to what I am feeling as I wonder into …
 
This article is written by JoyDancer. Please visit her blog to read the rest.

Recentemente, em uma entrevista, eu disse que fazer 60 anos é igual a fazer 35 ou 47: bolo de aniversário, soprar velinhas, etc. Mas ní£o é exatamente assim, e gostaria de dividir com os meus leitores como eu decidi comemorar esta data.

Normalmente celebro meu aniversário no dia 19 de marí§o, festa de meu santo padroeiro, Sí£o José. Este ano, em fevereiro, eu estava lendo meu blog, vendo a alma dos meus leitores, e tive um impulso: por que ní£o convidar 10 pessoas para a festa? Coloquei a mensagem, e disse que os primeiros que escrevessem seriam bem-vindos. Acontece que no dia seguinte, as dez primeiras mensagens vinham de lugares mais variados do planeta: Brasil, Japí£o, Inglaterra, Venezuela, Qatar, etc. A festa seria em Puente La Reina, no Caminho de Santiago – ou seja, longe de aeroportos ou meios de transporte normais. Por outro lado, ní£o tinha certeza se os leitores entenderam direito a mensagem: eu convidava para a festa, mas ní£o pagava as despesas de viagem.

Mandei um correio eletrí´nico explicando. Os dez disseram que tinham entendido perfeitamente. Eu senti uma imensa responsabilidade, mas mantive minha palavra, e creio que todos se divertiram e passaram uma noite especial (pelo menos eu passei!). Até hoje eles se comunicam entre si.

O tempo passou, e chegou a véspera do dia que nasci. Meu plano era fazer o que sempre faí§o, e assim foi. No dia 23 de agosto as 23:15 fui para Lourdes, de modo a passar as 00:05 hs do dia 24, momento que nasci, diante da gruta de Nossa Senhora, agradecer pela minha vida até entí£o, e pedir proteí§í£o para o futuro. Foi um momento muito forte, mas enquanto dirigia de volta para St. Martin (onde tenho um pequeno moinho para passar o verí£o) me senti extremamente só. Comentei com minha mulher. “Mas foi vocíª que escolheu isso!” Respondeu ela. Sim, eu tinha escolhido, mas comecei a ficar incomodado. Nós dois estávamos sós neste imenso planeta.

Liguei meu telefone portátil. Na mesma hora ele soou – era Monica, minha agente e amiga. Cheguei em casa e outros recados me esperavam. Fui dormir contente, e no dia seguinte vi que ní£o tinha a menor razí£o de sentir aquela opressí£o na véspera. Comeí§aram a chegar flores, presentes, etc. Pessoas em comunidades na internet tinham feito coisas extraordinárias usando imagens e textos meus. Tudo tinha sido organizado, na maior parte dos casos, por gente que nunca vi em minha vida – exceí§í£o feita a Márcia Nascimento, que fez um trabalho mágico, e que me dá a alegria de dizer: sou um escritor que tem um fí£-clube (do qual ela é a presidente mundial)!

E nesse momento, entendi duas coisas muito importantes. A] por mais famoso que vocíª seja, sempre terá a sensaí§í£o de estar sozinho. B] por mais desconhecido que vocíª seja, sempre estará cercado de amigos, mesmo que jamais tenham visto suas faces. Mesmo quando eu ní£o era conhecido, sempre tive uma mí£o estendida no momento que precisei.

Deixo, portanto Kahlil Gibran descrever, com sua maestria única este sentimento (adaptei por causa do tamanho da coluna):

“O seu amigo é o campo onde vocíª semeia com amor, e colhe com agradecimento. É o seu lar, e a sua mesa”.

“Quando ele estiver calado, saiba que mesmo assim os dois coraí§íµes continuam conversando”.

“Quando tiver que separar-se dele, ní£o sofra. Porque verá melhor a importí¢ncia da amizade por causa desta ausíªncia, da mesma maneira que um montanhista víª melhor a paisagem a sua volta distante da planí­cie.

“Que o que tiver de melhor, possa dividir com seu amigo”.

“Permita que ele conheí§a e participe ní£o apenas dos seus momentos de alegria, mas também dos momentos de tristeza”.

“E saiba que um amigo ní£o está ao seu lado para ajudar a matar o tempo, e sim para ajudá-lo a viver em toda a sua plenitude”.

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In a recent interview I said that turning 60 is the same as turning 35 or 47: a birthday cake, blowing out candles, and so on. But it’s not quite the same, and I would like to share with my readers how I decided to commemorate that date.

I normally celebrate my birthday on the 19th of March, the feast day of my patron saint, Joseph. One day in February this year, I was reading my blog, looking at my readers’ souls, and was seized by an impulse: why not invite 10 people to my birthday? I wrote the message and said that the first ten to write me would be welcome. It so happens that on the next day the first ten answers came from the most varied places on the planet: Brazil, Japan, England, Venezuela, Qatar and so on. The party would be at Puente La Reina, on the Way to Santiago – in other words, far from airports or normal means of transportation. On the other hand, I wasn’t certain that the readers had quite understood the message: I was inviting them to my party, but wasn’t paying for their travel expenses.

I sent an e-mail explaining the situation. All ten said they had understood perfectly well. I felt an immense responsibility, but kept my word, and I think that they all had a good time and enjoyed a very special evening – at least I know that I did! They all still communicate with one another.

Time passed, and soon it was the eve of my birthday. My plan was to do what I always do, and that’s what happened. At 23:15 on the 23rd of August I went to Lourdes so that at exactly 00:05 of the 24th, the moment I was born, I could be at the grotto of Our Lady to thank her for my life up to that moment and ask her to protect me from that moment on. It was a very powerful experience, but while I was driving back to St. Martin (where I have a small mill to spend the summer) I felt extremely lonely. I said so to my wife. “But you’re the one who chose it to be so!” she replied. Yes, I had indeed made that choice, but now I began to feel bothered. We were both alone in this immense planet.

I turned on my mobile phone. It rang immediately – it was Monica, my agent and friend. When I arrived home there were other messages waiting for me. I went to bed happy, and the next day I saw that there was absolutely no reason for me to feel the oppression of the night before. Flowers and presents began to arrive at the house. Communities of people over the Internet had done some extraordinary things using images and texts of mine. In most cases, this had all been arranged by people I had never seen in my life – one exception being Márcia Nascimento, who did some magical work and it gives me pleasure to say that I am a writer with a fan-club – and she is world president!

At that moment I understood two very important things. The first is that no matter how famous you may be, you will always have the feeling that you are alone. The other is that no matter how unknown you may be, you will always be surrounded by friends, even if you have never seen their faces. Even when I was unknown, there was always a hand held out to me when I needed it.

So I let Kahlil Gibran – with his unique mastery – describe this sentiment (which I have adapted because of the size of the column):

“Your friend is the field where you sow with love and harvest with gratitude. He is your home, he is your table”.

“Even when he is silent, two hearts continue to talk”.

“When you have to leave him, don’t suffer, for you will see the importance of the friendship all the better because of this absence, just as a mountain climber sees the landscape around him better when he is far from the plains”.

“May you be able to share with your friend all that is good”.

“Let him know and share not only your moments of joy but also your moments of sorrow”.

“And know that a friend is not by your side to help you kill the time, but rather to help you enjoy life in all its fullness”.

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Recientemente, en una entrevista, dije que cumplir 60 años era lo mismo que celebrar los 35 o los 47: tarta de cumpleaños, velitas, etc. Pero no es exactamente eso, y me gustarí­a compartir con mis lectores cómo decidí­ celebrar esta fecha.

Normalmente, la fiesta de mi cumpleaños es el 19 de marzo, dí­a de mi santo patrón, San José. Este año, en febrero, estaba leyendo mi blog, viendo el alma de mis lectores, cuando tuve un impulso: ¿por qué no invitar a diez de estas personas a la fiesta? Publiqué el mensaje diciendo que los primeros que escribiesen serí­an bienvenidos. Los diez primeros mensajes que recibí­ al dí­a siguiente provení­an de muy diversos lugares del planeta: Brasil, Japón, Inglaterra, Venezuela, Qatar, etc. La fiesta se celebrarí­a en Puente La Reina, en el Camino de Santiago (esto es, lejos de aeropuertos o medios de transporte normales). Por otro lado, no estaba seguro de si mis lectores habí­an entendido bien mi mensaje: yo los invitaba a la fiesta, pero no iba a pagar los gastos del viaje.

Les envié un mensaje de correo electrónico explicándolo. Los diez respondieron que lo habí­an entendido perfectamente. Sentí­ entonces una inmensa responsabilidad, pero mantuve mi palabra, y creo que todos acabaron divirtiéndose y que fue para todos ellos una noche especial (¡para mí­ al menos lo fue!). Estos diez lectores mantienen el contacto hasta hoy.

Fue pasando el tiempo, y llegó la ví­spera del dí­a en que nací­. Mi plan era hacer lo que hago siempre, y esto mismo fue lo que ocurrió. El 23 de agosto, a las 23:15, partí­ hacia Lourdes para poder estar a las 00:05 del dí­a siguiente, momento en el que vine al mundo, frente a la gruta de Nuestra Señora, dar gracias por mi vida hasta ese momento, y pedir protección para el futuro. Fue un instante cargado de emoción, pero mientras conducí­a de regreso a St. Martin (donde tengo un pequeño molino para pasar el verano) me sentí­ extremamente solo. Se lo comenté a mi mujer. -¡Pero fuiste tú quien quiso que fuera así­!- me respondió. Era verdad, yo lo habí­a elegido, pero empezaba a sentirme incómodo. Los dos estábamos solos en este enorme planeta.

Conecté mi teléfono móvil. Al momento tocó, y era Mónica, mi agente y amiga. Llegué a casa, y allí­ me esperaban otros recados. Fui a dormir contento, y al dí­a siguiente comprendí­ que no habí­a motivos para haber sentido aquella opresión el dí­a anterior. Comenzaron a llegar flores, regalos, etc. Miembros de comunidades de Internet habí­an hecho cosas extraordinarias a partir de imágenes y textos mí­os. Todo habí­a sido organizado, en la mayorí­a de los casos, por gente que yo no habí­a visto en la vida -con la excepción de Márcia Nascimento, que realizó una labor mágica, y gracias a la cual ahora puedo decir con alegrí­a: ¡Soy un escritor con club de fans (del que ella es la presidente mundial)!

Y en ese momento, comprendí­ dos cosas muy importantes: a) Por más famoso que uno sea, siempre podrá tener la sensación de encontrarse solo. b) Por muy desconocido que sea alguien, siempre estará rodeado de amigos, aunque nunca les haya visto las caras. Cuando yo no era conocido, tampoco me faltó nunca una mano extendida cuando la necesité.

Voy a dejar que Kahlil Gibran, con su maestrí­a inigualable, describa este sentimiento (he tenido que adaptarlo debido al tamaño de la columna):

«Tu amigo es el campo donde siembras con amor, y cosechas agradecido. Él es tu hogar, y tu mesa.

»Has de saber que, cuando él esté callado, a pesar de eso los dos corazones continúan conversando.

»Cuando tengas que separarte de él, no sufras. Pues por esta ausencia reconocerás más fácilmente la importancia de la amistad, al igual que un montañero ve mejor el paisaje que le rodea desde lejos de la planicie.

»Que lo mejor que tengas, puedas compartirlo con tu amigo.

»Permí­tele conocer y participar no sólo de tus momentos de alegrí­a, sino también de los momentos tristes.

»Y entiende que un amigo no está a tu lado para ayudar a matar el tiempo, sino para ayudarte a tener una vida plena».

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Récemment, au cours d’une interview, j’ai déclaré qu’avoir soixante ans, c’était comme en avoir trente-cinq ou quarante-sept : gí¢teau d’anniversaire, bougies í  souffler, etcetera. Mais ce n’est pas tout í  fait exact, et j’aimerais partager avec mes lecteurs la faí§on dont j’ai décidé de fíªter cet événement.

Normalement, je célèbre mon anniversaire le 19 mars, fíªte de mon patron, saint Joseph. Cette année, en février, alors que je lisais mon blog pour y voir l’í¢me de mes lecteurs, une idée m’est venue brusquement : pourquoi ne pas inviter dix personnes í  la fíªte ? J’ai déposé le message et annoncé que les premiers qui écriraient seraient les bienvenus. Il se trouve que le lendemain, les dix premiers messages venaient de tous les coins de la planète : Brésil, Japon, Angleterre, Venezuela, Qatar, etcetera. La fíªte devait avoir lieu í  Puente la Reina, sur le Chemin de Saint-Jacques, c’est-í -dire loin des aéroports et des moyens de transport habituels. D’autre part, je n’étais pas certain que les lecteurs aient bien compris le message : je les invitais í  la fíªte, mais je ne payais pas les frais de voyage.

J’ai envoyé un courrier électronique pour l’expliquer. Les dix ont affirmé qu’ils avaient parfaitement compris. Je me suis senti terriblement responsable, mais j’ai tenu parole, et je crois que tous se sont amusés et ont passé une nuit spéciale (moi du moins, j’en ai passé une !). Aujourd’hui encore, ils communiquent entre eux.

Le temps a passé, et la veille du jour de ma naissance est arrivée. Mon projet était de faire ce que je fais toujours, et je l’ai réalisé. Le 23 aoí»t í  23 h 15 je suis allé í  Lourdes, pour passer í  00 h 05, le moment oí¹ je suis né, devant la grotte de Notre Dame, remercier pour la vie que j’ai vécue jusqu’í  présent, et demander protection pour l’avenir. Ce fut un moment très fort, mais tandis que je retournais en voiture í  Saint-Martin (oí¹ je possède un petit moulin pour passer l’été) je me suis senti extríªmement seul. Je l’ai dit í  ma femme. « Mais c’est toi qui as fait ce choix ! » a-t-elle répondu. Oui, j’avais choisi, mais j’étais mal í  l’aise. Nous étions seuls tous les deux sur cette immense planète.

J’ai allumé mon téléphone mobile. Il a sonné immédiatement – c’était Monica, mon agent et amie. Je suis arrivé chez moi et d’autres messages m’attendaient. Je me suis couché content, et le lendemain j’ai constaté que je n’avais pas eu la moindre raison de ressentir cette oppression la veille. Des fleurs, des cadeaux ont commencé í  arriver. Des membres de communautés sur Internet avaient fait des choses extraordinaires en se servant de mes images et de mes textes. Tout avait été organisé, dans la plupart des cas, par des gens que je n’ai jamais vus de ma vie – sauf Márcia Nascimento, qui fait un travail magique et qui me donne la joie de dire : je suis un écrivain qui a un fan-club (dont elle est la présidente mondiale) !

Et í  ce moment, j’ai compris deux choses très importantes. A] vous avez beau íªtre célèbre, vous aurez toujours la sensation d’íªtre seul. B] vous avez beau íªtre inconnu, vous serez toujours entouré d’amis, míªme si vous n’avez jamais vu leurs visages. Míªme quand je n’étais pas connu, une main m’a toujours été tendue au moment oí¹ j’en avais besoin.

Je laisse donc Khalil Gibran décrire, avec son extraordinaire maestria, ce sentiment (j’ai adapté í  cause des dimensions de la colonne) :

« Votre ami est le champ que vous ensemencez avec amour et moissonnez avec reconnaissance. Il est votre foyer et votre table.

« Lorsqu’il est silencieux, sachez que vos deux cÅ“urs continuent pourtant de converser.

« Lorsque vous devez vous séparer de lui, ne souffrez pas. Car, grí¢ce í  cette absence, vous verrez mieux l’importance de l’amitié, de míªme qu’un ascensionniste voit mieux le paysage autour de lui en s’éloignant de la plaine.

« Que le meilleur de vous-míªme, vous puissiez le partager avec votre ami.

« Permettez-lui de participer non seulement í  vos moments de joie, mais aussi aux moments de tristesse.

« Et sachez qu’un ami n’est pas í  vos cí´tés pour vous aider í  tuer le temps, mais pour vous aider í  vivre dans toute votre plénitude. »

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Recentemente, in una intervista, ho detto che compiere 60 anni è come compierne 35 o 47: torta di compleanno, spegnere le candeline, ecc. Ma non è proprio cosí­, e vorrei condividere con i miei lettori come ho deciso di celebrare questa data.

Normalmente festeggio il mio compleanno il giorno 19 marzo, festa del mio santo patrono, San Giuseppe. Quest’anno, a febbraio, mentre leggevo il mio blog, vedendo l’anima dei miei lettori, ho avuto un impulso: perché non invitare alla festa 10 persone? Ho messo il messaggio, e ho detto che i primi che avessero scritto sarebbero stati i benvenuti. Si da il caso che l’indomani, i primi dieci messaggi provenivano dai luoghi piú svariati del pianeta: Brasile, Giappone, Inghilterra, Venezuela, Qatar, ecc. La festa sarebbe stata a Puente La Reina, sul Cammino di Santiago – ossia, lontano da aeroporti o mezzi di trasporto normali. D’altro canto, non avevo la certezza che i lettori avessero capito bene il messaggio: io li invitavo alla festa, ma non pagavo le spese di viaggio.

Ho mandato percií² un messaggio elettronico spiegandolo. Tutti e dieci hanno risposto che avevano capito benissimo. Ho sentito allora una responsabilití  enorme, ma ho mantenuto la parola data, e credo che tutti si siano divertiti e abbiano passato una serata speciale (io, almeno, l’ho passata!). Fino ad oggi sono in comunicazione fra di loro.

Il tempo è passato, ed è arrivata la vigilia del giorno in cui sono nato. Il mio programma era fare quello che faccio sempre, e cosí­ è stato. Il giorno 23 agosto, alle ore 23.15 sono andato a Lourdes, in modo da passare la mezzanotte e cinque minuti del giorno 24, orario in cui sono nato, davanti alla grotta della Madonna, ringraziarla per la mia vita fino ad allora e chiedere protezione per il futuro. íˆ stato un momento molto intenso, ma mentre guidavo di ritorno a St.Martin (dove possiedo un piccolo mulino in cui trascorro l’estate) mi sono sentito estremamente solo. Ne ho parlato con mia moglie. “Ma sei tu che lo hai scelto!” ha risposto lei. Sí­, lo avevo scelto io, ma cominciavo a sentirmi disturbato. Noi due eravamo soli su questo immenso pianeta.

Ho acceso il mio cellulare. Nello stesso istante il telefono ha squillato – era Monica, mia agente ed amica. Sono arrivato a casa e lí­ mi aspettavano altri messaggi. Sono andato a dormire contento, e l’indomani ho realizzato che non avevo alcun motivo per sentire quell’oppressione della vigilia. Sono cominciati ad arrivare fiori, regali, ecc. Persone nella comunití  di internet avevano fatto delle cose straordinarie usando immagini e testi miei. Tutto era stato organizzato, nella maggior parte dei casi, da gente che non avevo mai visto in vita mia – ad eccezione di Márcia Nascimento, che ha fatto un lavoro magico e che mi dí  la gioia di dire: sono uno scrittore che ha un fan-club (del quale lei è la presidente mondiale)!

E in quel momento, ho capito due cose molto importanti. A] per quanto famoso tu sia, avrai sempre la sensazione di essere solo. B] per quanto sconosciuto tu sia, sarai sempre circondato da amici, sia pur non avendo mai visto le loro facce. Anche quando non ero conosciuto, ho sempre avuto una mano tesa nel momento in cui ne ho avuto bisogno.

Lascio dunque a Kahlil Gibran descrivere, con la sua maestria unica, questo sentimento (ho adattato il testo per via della dimensione della colonna):

“Il tuo amico è il campo dove tu semini con amore e raccogli con gratitudine. íˆ il tuo focolare, e la “Quando egli si manterrí  silenzioso, sappi che anche cosí­ i due cuori continuano a conversare”. tua tavola”.

“Quando dovrai separarti da lui, non soffrire. Perché vedrai meglio l’importanza dell’amicizia a causa di questa assenza, proprio come un alpinista vede meglio il paesaggio circostante lontano dalla pianura.

“Che quanto avrai di meglio, tu possa condividerlo con il tuo amico”.

“Permettigli di conoscere e partecipare non solo ai tuoi momenti di gioia, ma anche ai momenti di tristezza”.

“E sappi che un amico non sta al tuo fianco per aiutarti a passare il tempo, bensí­ per aiutarti a viverlo in tutta la sua pienezza”.

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By Paulo Coelho

The emperor summoned the Zen master Gudo to his presence.
 
‘Gudo, I have heard it said that you are a man who understands everything,’ said the emperor. ‘I would like to know what happens to both the enlightened man and the sinner when they die?’
 
‘How should I know?’ asked Gudo.
 
‘Well, you’re an enlightened teacher, aren’t you?’
 
‘Yes, but I’m not a dead teacher!’

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I felt the need to title this blog after a Paulo Coelho book I have been reading. Wow. Enough said so far… The River Piedra is one that whenever you throw anything into it (a rock, dead insects, ect) It becomes apart of the rocks that …
 
This article is written by Souljah. Please visit her blog to read the rest.

The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho. Got the recommendation from a friend. I enjoyed reading it and since then and I tend to read his other books. The LOLA-Principle, by René Egli. I came across this book looking for computer books in a …
 
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We all have the Zahir in our lives. I too have one. He is the one I cherish every moment. He is my faith and I know he will remain in my life forever. I call him ‘Love’. Yes, my Zahir is the Love of my life. …
 
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By Paulo Coelho

My friends in myspace touch some subjects that are really important for us. In the previous post, one of them mention that love was not a priority, and many of you had a chance to manifest your vision of love ..:

(By the way, as myspace was mentioning “sorry an expected error…etc”. I posted three times the subject, then I had to delete two, and some comments were also deleted). The same thing happened with this one, so if you subscribe, please forget the previous and make the comment using this post.

This time, one of the friends mentioned that her child has Attention-Deficit Disorder (ADD). It is funny because the first time that I heard about it was from Nancy, an American myspace friend who came to Paris to meet me. According to Nancy, you put a child in a room with several toys, and IF the child does not get lost, she does not have ADD.

I can guarantee you: I would be immediately diagnosed as a severe case, because being a child (and even as an adult) I pay attention to everything and nothing.

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From that conversation with Nancy on, the subject started popping up in several conversations, and I got this as a sign. I started reading on the subject, and besides some concrete medical cases (like brain injury, for example), I really don’t believe that this is something that should be taken into consideration. Allan Greespan, the former Fed Chairman, was a musician till very late in his life, before deciding to go in economics. I am a writer, but I can be totally distracted if someone starts talking about archery (one of my passions).

I am not a doctor, but I lived in times where we took life as it is. I found a quite interesting text on internet, saying that people who are now between 40 and 60 years could not technically survive if we take the parameters that we use today.

Cradles were painted in bright colors that are now considered “dubious” because they could contain lead or some other dangerous element.
I am part of a generation that built the famous ball-bearing carts (I do not know how to explain this to today’s generation – let’s say they were metal balls held between two iron arcs) and we would roll down the hilly streets of Botafogo using our shoes as brakes, falling, hurting ourselves, but ever so proud of our high-speed adventure.
There were no cellular phones, our parents had no way of knowing where we were: how could that be possible?

Children were never right, they were always being punished, but even so they did not have psychological problems of rejection or lack of love.

At school there were good students and bad students: the good ones passed, the bad ones had to repeat the year. This was not a reason for consulting a psychotherapist – they just had to repeat the year.
And even so we survived with some scratched knees and few traumas. Not only did we survive, but we also fondly remember the time when milk was not poison, when children had to solve their problems without any help, fought when they had to, and spent a great part of the day without electronic games, inventing their own games with their friends.
I am worried about the children of tomorrow, with their parents with mobile phones, psychotherapists helping at each defeat and – above all – being diagnosed with ADD when curiosity is very important to be able to find our personal legend.

Now please feel free to comment or even insult me. This is an open forum.