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32 Responses to “Obsession (Zahir)”
Comment Page 1 of 11
is that possible for Zahir to be someone you know only by words?…
no touches….nothing carnal…only spiritual connection?
someone far away…yet so close….can someone be enrooted inside by mere spirit and thoughts?
well i wonder why should i ask that….i feel that…conclusion:
It is possible ….
my Zahir…..ohhhh….found at poker ….
so destiny has its own ways….
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I was thinking about this topic, because it is something that I have just become aware of, after many failures and disappointments as a result of the zahir (I am truly grateful for these failures).
Would it be safe to say this?:
A person we are attracted to the most in our life(I dont just mean sexually, but thats obviously important) that have been in the back of our mind through all relationships as a hope for companion (not always obsession, but possibly and quite probably periods of obsession), if they provoke the biggest fear response in us(caused by listening to and even embodying the adversary, opposition, or the zahir and associated spirits) that also the opposite of this fear would be possible?:
That they can alternatively are able to provoke the best in you too and that you can possibly be successful in your quest to their heart. ONLY IF you are aware of the opposition and all of its “bad advice”, and only listen to the voices of love, and its spirit(s) which can be tested by the fruits of the spirit?
Unless the relationship is truly beyond repair or you have not completely yet ruined it, out of weariness, etc. Sadly we tend only to learn after losing or coming close to losing most of this persons trust and companionship. Obviously Its a two sided thing, involving both people.
In thinking this way, all of the despair and acceptance of loss, lost hope are a bit of a cop out sometimes(the loser in us). I mean, obviously its up to you when you lose the good feelings about them, which is also made easier if they happen to meet someone that they really love.
But why lose hope if you still have that hunch, through periods of apparent seperation? Why settle for someone who you dont adore as much and arent able to learn as much from because its easier?
What do you think, its just my opinion
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sorry, i’d love Coelho to answer me. i’ve not been able to understand myself, eversince i read the zahir, something made sense to me, although it is still unclear, more like an answer you prefer rather than the answer you need.
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Paulo Coelho Reply:
August 27th, 2009 at 1:28 pm
I don’t understand myself either, I am a mistery to myself. Don’t waste your time in trying to know how you are, life will teach you and you will realize that you need to be a different person at every single moment
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Annie Reply:
August 27th, 2009 at 1:59 pm
Playing with the words…maybe only this way,when one is a mystery to oneself, or a ‘mistery’ (as you typed it :o)) one can reach mastery of himself… Hmmm..Ironic…
Love and Graditude
Annie
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fender Reply:
August 27th, 2009 at 11:19 pm
thank you. that answered everything.
the time I remember who I was, i’ll think of the regret of getting in touch with the zahir. but the time i see who i am, i realized how i’ve gained so much.
no matter how much it hurts, it is the pain that gives me a reason to live, i am now a friend of many, as many of others’ pain is in my understanding. it is my turn to help others.
thank you coelho. you have changed my life.
zahir might swallow your self control, the more you let it, the more it eats you, yet every man would love to think that his zahir is his true love, yet zahir may or may not be. the time we get possessed by the zahir is the time we have all the hopes and curiosity for true love. how do we know?
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first of kudos to paulo coelho for writing a marvelous book…..
in my opinion…..there is huge difference between obsession and love..
here i want to give a simple example….a smoker person is always obsessed with smoking….i live in college hostel…one of my colleague …he has to smoke cigarette to make pressure every morning..its like your are filling your physical requirements….
but love is just opposite of it….by love people nurture their souls..
in love there is no place for materialistic things…love is beyond of all these things….
pedophiles..what type of people they are..they have obsession to do sex with children….u can’t call it love…why??think over it….
if you think over it deeply…i think you will get the answer….
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Namaste,
For me, obsession wakes me up to something to which I need to pay attention. Once I figure out what drew me to that topic, I can let it go.
Within The Zahir, obsession lead to a variety of self realizations which opened the writer’s heart what he needed most.
Obsessions can be self destructive. I’ve seen that happen, but in this case, it lead to growth.
Love to you
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Now I know what the Zahir is like.
I was happy.
That’s what I thought. However , since I couln’t leave behind my dearest dream, I ended up asking God for true love.
And I found him. All of a sudden, I, who was proud of finding meanings for everthing couln’t find the meaning without him.
This Zahir has been there for eight months filling every single cell of my body with an unavoidable presence. Sometimes with joy, sometimes with pain.
I happened to understand Gibran’s words: ” To know the pain of too much tenderness”. It’s the sweetest pain.
I realized this feeling was a Zahir about five days ago, when I opened the book to a page that read something like this: for the first time in my life I understood I loved someone more than I love myself and that left me in a state of grace.
I still don’t know if my Zahir is good. It seems it can take you either to saintliness or madness.
I don’t like neither suffering nor pain. I relate to life better when I feel joy. It hasn’t always been like that, though. As a child, I used to be a martyr or a saint. I don’t know for sure. Am I to get back to that stage? I hope not.
Three days ago, I found myself practicing The exercise of the Seed in order to get rid of it.
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The title of this segment is “Obsession (the Zahir),” but I would like to speak a bit about that other Zahir mentioned in the novel - the societal Zahir. As Paulo defines it: the Zahir – “a fixation on everything that has been passed from generation to generation; it leaves no question unanswered; it takes up all the space; it never allows us even to consider the possibility that things might change….All-powerful…born with every human being (it) gains full strength in childhood, imposing rules that will thereafter always be respected.” In short, the Zahir is that monster machine of social norms and expectations which grinds us beneath its wheels and either crushes us completely or, at the very least, smashes the life out of us, leaving us as empty husks of our true selves.
I am facing this Zahir in this very moment in the form of one of the very “rules” which Paulo listed: “We must never make our parents sad, even if this means giving up everything that makes us happy.” I and my daughter are all packed up and prepared to move, ready to leave behind this abysmal small town where I grew up, this constricted life to which I would not dare condemn her. The question hangs heavy in the air, like a bell ready to toll: Where will you go?
My heart knows where it wants to go. I imagine the place night and day –this splendid city and its people. I have lived there before, and although that was a very long time ago, my memory of it remains vivid. These scenes flash through my mind almost continually: I and my daughter are walking down this same street where I have walked before, only now I am not alone. She is with me, and I have someone with whom to share these simple joys. We pass in front of the market stalls where fresh fish, organic fruits and vegetables, and flowers are sold. A little further along the street, on the opposite side, is a small wine shop, independently owned, where the proprietor always wears a smile and is eager to patiently assist even the ignorant, such as myself. Next door to this is a bakery – the scent of fresh bread and delicate pastries fills the air – and another shop where gourmet cheeses are sold. Then, just a few steps further on is a small grassy park, with a fountain at its center. Here we stop and sit down on the grass to enjoy our lunch, which we have carefully gathered up from among these shops. We are not alone. There is a woman with a stroller who has paused to nurse her infant. A band of small children sit on the rim of the fountain, dipping their hands in the water and splashing one another. Their laughter rings out over the crowd that has gathered around – a mixture of workers on lunch-break, tired shoppers taking a rest, lovers who view this as a romantic place to catch a glimpse of the bay stretched out below, teenagers just “hanging out” because this seems like a “cool” place to be, a few homeless people who like it both because the cushy grass makes a great place for a nap and because they have the opportunity to partake of the leftovers of other people’s lunches. A young man with long hair, wearing a vest with flowers embroidered on it sits down on the rim of the fountain and, taking his guitar out of its case, begins to play a song for us. He appears lost in time, like someone forgot to tell him that the sixties ended before he was born, but this is okay because his tune is a happy one and most – not all but most – of the people gathered around on the grass turn toward him to listen and watch him play. Soon, they begin to toss coins and bills in the case which is open at his feet. It is a fine day. The air is a bit crisp, even though this is only the first weekend of September. This slight chill makes the rays of the sun seem particularly delicious.
This is the place where my heart longs to take me – the place which makes me feel gleeful and enthusiastic every time I think about it. Still the question hangs there, unanswered: Where will you go? The bell does not toll, because I know that the only true answer will break my father’s aging heart in two. Yesterday was his seventy-fourth birthday, and with each passing year the obligation grows stronger for me, as his only daughter, mother of his only grandchild, to remain at his side, because this is what makes him happy and gives him reason for staying alive. This is a heavy burden to carry – the knowledge that you are the sole proprietor of another person’s happiness, the meaning that gives reason to their life. And yet this burden is not unreasonable according to society as it falls perfectly in line with that unspoken rule which we all know so well: “We must never make our parents sad, even if this means giving up everything that makes us happy.”
So then this brings us to the other option – a compromise. “You owe it to your father,” says one friend, “I mean, after all, how much longer will he be around? Surely you can wait to move until after he dies.” So then one finds oneself in this position where one is waiting for someone else to die so that they themselves can live. “What kind of existence is that?” I ask. And, yes, it is true, he could pass away tomorrow, or the day after we leave, but it is equally true that he might, like my grandmother, live to be ninety, or more. And meanwhile, my young daughter is growing, is becoming…. She is like a flower that needs water and sunshine in order to emerge from its bud. What about my obligation to her? How long can I possibly as her to endure the constricting, oppressive environment of this small isolated town, where there isn’t even one single decent school, where most of her beliefs, views and values are seen as “abnormal” and “absurd?” And what about my other obligation to her? The greater obligation to act as an example of how to live one’s life fully and completely – to be true to oneself, to listen to one’s heart when it speaks?
Nor am I alone in this. I am not the only person under the sun who suffers from the imposed obligation to keep one’s parents happy at all cost. My own cousin, a few years younger than I, who has never traveled at all, longs with her whole heart to leave behind this place and make a new life somewhere that is more in line with her values and her desires. She thinks not only of herself, but of her own daughter, who is a year younger than mine. When we speak of the possibility of leaving behind this place where we both grew up, leaving behind our parents, our families and everything that is “safe” and familiar, the word “opportunity” often comes up. We may not know of all the opportunities that exist out there in places unknown, but we both agree upon the marked “lack of opportunity” that exists here, particularly for young women, who all too frequently end up as mothers themselves well before the age of eighteen, young women who seldom pursue a higher education or a career of their own outside of their home and family – young women afraid to dream. So, my cousin too longs to go, to leave, to escape with her young daughter. Her burning desire for this is evident, and yet she speaks of it only in moments of complete privacy, when there is no chance that our conversation will be overheard. Even then, she speaks only in a whisper, as though she fears that the winds themselves will carry word of this secret, innermost desire of hers.
She, however, is in a different position than I – she is married, a very traditional marriage, and she must do as her husband says. All major decisions, such as where to live, are ultimately his. When they are alone in bed at night, he listens to her pleas, and even agrees that, yes, he too would like to move, yet he holds firm to his position: he will not move so long as his parents are alive. With firmness of intent, he has chosen The Compromise: waiting to live fully until someone else dies. When his parents pass away – tomorrow, or ten or twenty years from now – THEN he will take his family to live in a place that is conducive to their happiness and well-being, a place of opportunity. He has decided this because he is an “honorable” man who has chosen to honor the rules and norms of society, including the one which states: “We must never make our parents sad, even if this means giving up everything that makes us happy.”
He watches television a lot, my cousin’s husband. In fact, I never see him with his head NOT buried in some TV program, the sound blaring, everyone else in the house strictly forbidden to interrupt him, except to bring him food or drink. I look at him a bit with disdain, but also with sadness, thinking: maybe this is the way he downs out his dreams, keeps them from rising to the surface and tormenting him. This is his way of forgetting that there is anything else out there other than this little rat-maze that he calls his life. Of course, it also helps to drown out his wife’s voice, the expression of her own dreams. As he watches TV, she silently washes the dishes and cleans the kitchen. Her kitchen is immaculate. Her whole house, in fact, is spotless.
[Reply]
khaled Reply:
August 13th, 2009 at 7:36 am
actually, i don’t know what should i thank you for?
the genuine experience of your own dreams and wishes that you share with us.
or the beautifully crafted article you gave us the joy of reading.
sincerely, beautifull
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Savita Vega Reply:
August 14th, 2009 at 4:17 am
Thank you, khaled! That is very kind and generous of you to say.
Sincerely,
Savita
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Jennifer Estellore Reply:
August 31st, 2009 at 3:20 pm
Hi Savita,
As I was reading your post, I couldn’t help but relate my own personal story to it. Yes, I also turned blind and deaf to things that would truly make me happy. Instead, I’m obsessed with making my family happy that I felt a horrible dread just thinking that I’m going to disappoint them no end should I ever step out of my comfort zone one day and let nothing hold me from being the person that I want to be. Submissive, yes. I’m hopelessly bound to my love for them that because they’ve showered me so much love, I ought to give back and never mind if I sacrifice my own happiness, because according to them, my idea of happiness is fraught with danger, quixotic and it would totally destroy them if I mindlessly plunge headlong into it. Coupled with endless strings of emotional blackmails, and I just started telling myself, “yeah, maybe they’re right, or maybe I just wait few more years, and no one’s going to stop me. I’ll just stay put for a while, do my filial responsibilities, be the model daughter, and I’m off before I know it.” But looking back, almost a decade has gone by, and I’ve never been off. I’m still very much within their clutch. Along the years, their dreams has become my dream, my aspirations has become my future. I have almost completely forgotten that frail, dainty 18 year-old girl who braved to defy society’s definition of success, mold of a perfect daughter and went to hike mountains, cross rivers,rounding peasant communities in an effort to empower them. I was listening to their stories, to their plights, and I felt that I’ve found my place in the world. It was eureka! That’s how I wanted it. That’s how I defined happiness. But my family raised hell, they were devastated, and I was guilty as hell. I was feisty, confident and full of conviction when I left, but I was an emotional wreck, bowed, when I came back to their hugs and kisses. The black sheep had come back to their folds, and the reins have just tightened than ever. For more than a decade, I feel the fire rekindling in my spirit only to be doused with fears. Until one day, that 18 year-old girl was completely resigned to the innermost recesses of my being. I hardly knew her anymore. But reading Paulo Coelho’s books brought me a discovery, a treasure. My dream is alive. Maybe tomorrow, I’m off, for good.
I want to salute everybody here, especially you paolo if you are reading. this is my 1st participation and contribution to this forum, and it is not my 1st time to read for you.
zahir, as “aisha” perviously mentioned is an arabic word means the appearant, but it is also one of god names. which is, he is all around us, observable and easy to detect, but only for people with “pure” eyesight, this is why he also has another name called “batten” which means the opposit.
in here, the zahir came to me in the peak of a personal tragedy of me and my lover parting after a two years love relationship, and few months before marriage.
it was obssession, it was also pure, but it was also very deep and heart-touching, the question here is, what is love, and what is “not” ?
i’d like to quote from Stephen covey, that love is missinterpreted to us through media, that it is a “noun” something that happens and we are helpless infront of it, while love is a “verb” and we have all the control we can over it.
i guess that subtly, but still too narritively, i managed to show you how i seperate love from any other feeling of affection.
Blessing to you all, and i hope i can be an add to your community.
khaled
[Reply]
Dear Paulo Sir,
I would like to have your view on this:Does Zahir not reflect the basic truth that we human beings value everything including relationships, when they are beyond our reach or somehow become unattainable for us or simply when they embellish the world of some other person?
love n regards
sakshi
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Paulo Coelho Reply:
August 8th, 2009 at 5:21 pm
The first option.
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can infactuation make a zahir?
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Paulo Coelho Reply:
August 4th, 2009 at 11:30 am
probably
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I dont know… I got confused between love and obsession after I read your book… I loved the book though…
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Zahir… could be that person I have given my whole life and have thought me to love more than I than I thought I could… but did not worked out the way I dream it would be.. she have chosen another person and another path which made my heart bleeding for so long… obsessed with the pain of lost… I lost my own desire to dream…sense what meaning I have left with my life…I needed closure and assurance that she will be happier in her chosen path instead of staying with my chosen path… time heals as they say… but the scars remain… a living reminder of the story unknown what if???
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The Zahir is the first book I read for you , the title grabbed me right in. I wanted to know what it meant to the author. Since I am familiar with the Arabic language , I wanted to see if it about the term which literally means “the apparent” , but some terms get lost in translation and they lose their true meaning. In many cases , they don’t carry their true meaning since it requires feeling or emotion born through culture, tradition or a belief.
Sorry , I went off topic there.
I was inspired by this book; it was the first time I allowed my self to question what I was born into ot given . It is paradoxical how obsession can lead to discovery.
Since this book, I couldn’t help but read more of your work .
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ok I guess this term “ZAHIR” is something that is happening now in my life I thought it was love but it is not I mean love is something really imposible the real word for this feeling is “ZAHIR” it is what we feel with that someone or in other words “THE OTHER HALF” (brida) I think it is not love what you feel for someone it is something you cant explain you just feel it and that is it
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thats exactly what i feel its my love, i think im obsessed with him, for that when i read the zahir i understand what the writer was feeling.
the man of my life its far from me i know i have to start the journey to him
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In my adolescence, I conceptualised the theory of falling in love with an “OIL” - a person with who you feel uncontrollable feelings of obsession, infactuation and lust. (Teenagers call it “a crush”) The concept of the Zahir thus made sense to me.
You can never truly love an “oil”, because you will always feel inferior to them. You will always feel like they are in control, and for a relationship to work you need a complementary relationship, where perceptions of being in control shifts between partners.
[Reply]
Savita Vega Reply:
August 14th, 2009 at 4:28 am
Love your explanation, Claudia. I have been infatuated before, several times in my life, mostly with teachers and the like, and it was very much as you say. I did not really feel that I could ever “rise to their level,” although I admired them a great deal.
I don’t know very much about Jung, because I always get a bit confused when I read of his theories, but I think there is something in his work which pertains to this concept - basically the idea of falling in love with someone not for who they actually are but because of what they “represent” to us. We are attracted by the fact that they embody some attribute or aspect of ourselves that we recognize in them, and actually aspire to, yet which remains undeveloped in ourselves. That is basically when love is not love but “infatuation.” We fall in love with the shadow of ourselves.
[Reply]
obsession… is defined in terms of the other… what is love?
To love truly and wholy is so difficult now a days, specially when the other is not ready to understand what this kind of love is about.
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How thick is the line between love and obsession?
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This is what we call, pure love, or so called, “aşk”
However, it feels difficult when the other half of the apple thinks that this obsession is a maniac-behavior.
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Zulfa Reply:
August 4th, 2009 at 12:24 pm
I loved the Zahir. Obsession is not loving one person..its being obsessed with an idea; illusion of love; illusion of a dream. Love is not an obsession but a feeling that completes you, no masks needed no fears of loss, rejection or betrayal; true love does exist somewhere for many people, and many people may never find it and end up taking a journey through life in search for it, in search for themselves.
[Reply]
mariflo Reply:
August 5th, 2009 at 1:51 pm
it’s true
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Claudia Reply:
August 14th, 2009 at 10:25 pm
Agreed!