Archive for the 'Stories' Category

We dont need no thought control

We don’t need no education
We dont need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teachers leave them kids alone
Hey! Teachers! Leave them kids alone!
All in all it’s just another brick in the wall.
All in all you’re just another brick in the wall.

We don’t need no education
We dont need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teachers leave them kids alone
Hey! Teachers! Leave them kids alone!
All in all it’s just another brick in the wall.
All in all you’re just another brick in the wall.

“Play it!” (Rick, Casablanca)

Chris, estou longe de ser o “bom moço” ou o “marido ideal”, mas é isso que faz de 30 anos de casamento uma festa: Feliz dia de São Valentim!

Chris, I am far from being the “good guy” or the “ideal husband”, but that’s why our 30 year old marriage is a constant party: Happy Saint Valentine’s Day!

The boy and the devil

Paulo Coelho ( in “Like a flowing river” )

The boy was walking to buy bread when the mayor of the city crossed the street.

‘The reason he is so powerful, is because, he’s made pact with the devil,’ a very devout woman in the street told the boy, and he was intrigued.

Some time later, when travelling to another town, the boy saw a beautiful corn field. He asked who was he owner as soon as he arrived at his destination

‘All this land belongs to the same man. I’d say the Devil had a hand in that.’ – answered one of the villagers.

Later the same day, a beautiful woman walked past the boy. A priest also saw her and said aloud:

‘That woman is in the services of Satan!’

From then on, the boy decide to seek the Devil out. One day he managed to see him face to face.

‘They say you can make people powerful, rich, and beautiful.’

‘To be totally honest, this is not true’ replied the Devil. ‘You have just been listening to the views of those who are trying to promote me.’

The accommodating point

Paulo Coelho

In one of my books (The Zahir), I try to understand why people are so afraid of changing. When I was right in the middle of writing the text, I came across an odd interview with a woman who had just written a book on – guess what? – love.

The journalist asks whether the only way a human being can become happy is to find their beloved. The woman says no:

“Love changes, and nobody understands that. The idea that love leads to happiness is a modern invention, dating from the late 17th century. From that time on, people have learned to believe that love should last for ever and that marriage is the best way to exercise love. In the past there was not so much optimism about the longevity of passion.

“Romeo and Juliet isn’t a happy story, it’s a tragedy. In the last few decades, expectation has grown a lot regarding marriage being the path towards personal accomplishment. Disappointment and dissatisfaction have also grown at the same time.”

According to the magical practices of the witchdoctors in the North of Mexico, there is always an event in our lives that is responsible for our having stopped making progress. A trauma, a particularly bitter defeat, disappointment in love, even a victory that we fail to quite understand, ends up making us act cowardly and incapable of moving ahead. The witchdoctor finds and gets rid of this “accommodating point”. To do so, he has to review our life and discover where this point lies.

Why?

Because, according to the story that we were told, at a certain moment in our lives “we reach our limit”. There are no more changes to be made. We won’t grow any more. Both professionally and in love, we have reached the ideal point, and it’s best to leave things as they are. But the truth is that we can always go further. Love more, live more, risk more.

Immobility is never the best solution. Because everything around us changes (including love) and we must accompany that rhythm.

I have been married to the same person for 30 years, but methaphorically speaking, the same marriage contains several “new marriages” during our relationship. Our bodies and souls changed, and we are still togeher. If we wanted to keep on as we were in 1979, I don’t think we would have come so far.

Friendship

Once upon a time there was a poor but very brave man called Ali. He worked for Ammar, a rich old merchant.

One winter’s night Ammar said: “nobody can spend a night like this on top of the mountain without a blanket or food. But you need money, and if you can manage to do that you will receive a great reward. If you don’t, you will work for thirty days without pay”.

Ali answered: “tomorrow I shall do this test”.

But when he left the shop, he saw that a really icy wind was blowing and became scared, so he decided to ask his best friend, Aydi, if it was crazy of him to accept that bet.

After reflecting a while, Aydi answered: “I shall help you. Tomorrow, when you are at the top of the mountain, look ahead. I will be on the top of the mountain next to yours, where I will spend the whole night with a bonfire lit for you. You look at the fire and think about our friendship – that will keep you warm. You will manage, and later on I shall ask you something in return.”

Ali won the test, got the money, and went to his friend’s house: “You told me you wanted some payment.”

Aydi answered: ”Yes, but it isn’t money. Promise that if at any time a cold wind passes through my life, you will light the fire of friendship for me.”

The two drops of oil

Paulo Coelho

A merchant sent his son to learn the Secret of Happiness from the wisest of men. The young man wandered through the desert for forty days until he reached a beautiful castle at the top of a mountain. There lived the sage that the young man was looking for.

However, instead of finding a holy man, our hero entered a room and saw a great deal of activity; merchants coming and going, people chatting in the corners, a small orchestra playing sweet melodies, and there was a table laden with the most delectable dishes of that part of the world.

The wise man talked to everybody, and the young man had to wait for two hours until it was time for his audience.

With considerable patience, the Sage listened attentively to the reason for the boy’s visit, but told him that at that moment he did not have the time to explain to him the Secret of Happiness.

He suggested that the young man take a stroll around his palace and come back in two hours’ time.

“However, I want to ask you a favor,” he added, handling the boy a teaspoon, in which he poured two drops of oil. “While you walk, carry this spoon and don’t let the oil spill.”

The young man began to climb up and down the palace staircases, always keeping his eyes fixed on the spoon. At the end of two hours he returned to the presence of the wise man.

“So,” asked the sage, “did you see the Persian tapestries hanging in my dining room? Did you see the garden that the Master of Gardeners took ten years to create? Did you notice the beautiful parchments in my library?”

Embarrassed, the young man confessed that he had seen nothing. His only concern was not to spill the drops of oil that the wise man had entrusted to him.

“So, go back and see the wonders of my world,” said the wise man. “You can’t trust a man if you don’t know his house.”

Now more at ease, the young man took the spoon and strolled again through the palace, this time paying attention to all the works of art that hung from the ceiling and walls. He saw the gardens, the mountains all around the palace, the delicacy of the flowers, the taste with which each work of art was placed in its niche. Returning to the sage, he reported in detail all that he had seen.

“But where are the two drops of oil that I entrusted to you?” asked the sage.

Looking down at the spoon, the young man realized that he had spilled the oil.

“Well, that is the only advice I have to give you,” said the sage of sages. “The Secret of Happiness lies in looking at all the wonders of the world and never forgetting the two drops of oil in the spoon.”



from the book “The Alchemist”

Comments on “Not in my country”

Read the original article of Mail Online here

Blair’s appointment will lower Brazil’s reputation in the eyes of the world. He has no standing in his own country, he failed as a negotiator in the Middle East, he lost his job because of the Iraq War and he has the blood of English soldiers on his hands.
My sentiments exactly.
- hadenough, UK, 3/2/2010 0:52
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As a Brazilian I will more than welcome Mr. Blair’s trip to Rio. A young politician that took great risks and at the end got real results. Yet, I never understood Mr. Coelho, perhaps the French can figure him out better, for he writes and speaks like the silly and boring Petite Prince.
- munir Helayel, Yonkers, NY, 3/2/2010 4:53
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A very enlightening article, thank you Paul and Tom! There are people in this world, that are motivated by love. Those who sincerely care about life, how precious it is, and about all of the little children trying to grow up. Paulo is one of them. He is expressing his opinion, and I understand how he feels! Sporting events unify; bring people together.
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Now, shall Mr Coelho honor Mr Blair, for a war waged that was totally unnecessary?
Thank you, Love, Jane
- Jane Stewart, Las Vegas, NV, 3/2/2010 4:53
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HEAR HEAR
- antipolitician, Eastbourne, UK, 3/2/2010 6:31
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Mr. Paulo Coelho,
Thank you for your comments. I actually thought I was going mad when I first heard of this.
To make this very clear, Olympics and all that are entailed in them are phenominally complicated. Rio does not need these events played out or their memories tarnished by having a ‘War Criminal’ promote them.
- Anon, London, 3/2/2010 7:27
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Well said Mr Coelho, Why people pay large sums to hear this man spout lie’s and rubbish is way beyond me. He has never said anything that has done any good for this country ! I keep reading war crime charges may be pending….but WHEN ?
- Glad 2B Gone, Philippines, 3/2/2010 7:38
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Why the hell is he being employed and paid.
He has no relevant knowledge so it has to be another “job for the boys”
I wish he and his partner would just go away.
- Mike, Sydney Australia, 3/2/2010 8:42
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Put this specimen on trial for war crimes!
- Bri&Mel (ex pats, uk tax payers), South West France, 3/2/2010 8:49
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At last someone who speaks the truth. But will enough people listen? He ought not to be able to cash in on his notoriety. He has no other attributes. I would not trust him to recommend a brand of tea bags.
- linda, hertfordshire, 3/2/2010 9:04
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Madonna’s favorite auther? Do we really need to know that? Bonkers. Who cares?
- dunitburger, Coventry UK, 3/2/2010 9:21
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Seems that the more you decieve and lie the more rewarded you will become.
- rodney, swiss cottage, 3/2/2010 9:31
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You can fool all of the people all of the time. Especially the ones that vote labour.
- dennis shambley, wigan England, 3/2/2010 9:37
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Well Done Sir!!!!
Somene from outside the UK believes what Bliar did was illegal.
- DS, Hamburg, 3/2/2010 9:51
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I agree with the Brazilians, drop him.
- Terry McCarthy, Chiang Mai, Thailand, 3/2/2010 9:53
(The Brazilian politicians so far are silent, Terry – Paulo Coelho)
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What a leech,it must be a big payout he would not have done it for nought.
- Murray, Christchurch New Zealand, 3/2/2010 10:09
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Bravo Coelho! Keep Blair away from everyone in Palestine, in Britain and in Brazil. He is a toxic asset.
- Professor Robin Meakins, ashford, kent, 3/2/2010 10:11
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Well done Paulo for speaking out! If we get more people branding bliar as a war criminal then may maybe we can get him on trial!
- chu, glos, uk, 3/2/2010 10:17
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It never fails to astonish me that presumably sane and rational people will pay ridiculous amounts to listen to the self serving remarks this charlatan spouts.
I cannot as a british citizen recall any memorable speeches made by Teflon Tony in ten years, they were all delivered in that irritating “trust me guys” style that screamed LIAR!
- doofus, Newbury uk, 3/2/2010 10:20
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its where all war criminals go to hide. its funny, of all the people that attended the chilcot inquriy, only one used the back door,guess who.
- vincent barrett, spain, 3/2/2010 10:42
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I don’t hear anyone referring to Blair’s partner in crime, George W.Bush as a war criminal and asking that he be brought to justice. Why is that? George Bush is the biggest war criminal responsible for the deaths of thousands of Iraqis, Afghans, Brits, Americans etc.
- Treasured, FL USA, 3/2/2010 10:58
(He was not invited to be a consultant, Treasured – Paulo Coelho)
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I’m with Team Coelho all the way!
Blair is a war criminal with the blood of tens of thousands of innocent Iraquis, Afgans & british soldiers collectively on his hands. Some time in the future a visit to The Hague on charges is going to happen.
- SirMikeThe Right, Bromsgrove, England, 3/2/2010 11:03
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Well we don’t want him in Cyprus and he has to go somewhere.
South America sounds good to me.
- toto kubwa, Cyprus, 3/2/2010 11:11
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So now Tony Blair is an expert on the Olympic Games! Things must be pretty desperate here in Brazil if a local governor is actually willing to pay the man as a so-called ‘advisor’. It just shows what the Games are really all about = power and money.
- alex, brazil, 3/2/2010 11:16
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He would sell his own parents to got to an orphans party.
- Mac McKenna, Hannover Germany, 3/2/2010 11:38
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As a brazilian living in England I would like to agree with Mr. Coelho…….OUT OF MY COUNTRY MR. BLAIR!! NOT IN BRAZIL, you are not welcome.
- Paula, North Yorkshire, 3/2/2010 11:44
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What does Bliar know about organising the Olympics exactly?
- michael, newbury, berks., 3/2/2010 11:54
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What does Blair know about organising an Olympic Games ? Nothing as far as I can estimate. There are far more well qualified people in the world who have actually spent years organising their own Olympic Games from the first piece of paper destined for the protracted bid and all the way through to sweeping up the mess when it its all over.
In any case, perhaps Mr Blair will be too busy on his defence in The Hague for him to jet into Rio.
- John Whetton, Nottingham UK, 3/2/2010 12:00
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Well done Mr Coelho on speeking out against tony Blair… I hope it does some good, i feell sick of these people who (payed by us) use their power and position to hoard and steal from the public at large, they lie and cheat and to make themselves above the law!! When will we have so called leaders we can be proud of! I’m ashamed of what this man has done in the name of our country and I’m sure I’m not the only one.
- graig, cornwall, 3/2/2010 12:05
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Blair is fast becoming an ”International Pariah”! and will be welcome nowhere except The Hague!!!
- Jeff Richardson, Ex Pat and Taxpayer – France, 3/2/2010 12:19
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I am ashamed of Brazil for doing this but proud that Paulo has voiced his opinion with such passion!
If Rio want ‘advice’ on how to lie, canive and cowtail to the USA, he’s the man for that!!!!
- Stu, Asia Pacific, 3/2/2010 12:21
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I think its appropriate that he ends up in Brasil, after all many of Hitlers cronies ended up there as well.
- stuart, chesterfield,derbyshire, 3/2/2010 12:36
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I can’t understand how Tony Blair (or Tony B-liar as Paulo Coelho is calling him on his blog) can make so much money. In Brazil when an important politician is out of the post there are legal obstacles to prevent them from sharing crucial information with the private sector (government strategies with banks, for example). It strikes me as odd that Blair, John Major and others can make the transition so easily to JP Morgan and the Carlyle Group amongst others and be so highly payed to “consult”.
- Vanessa M, Cambridge, 3/2/2010 12:39
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And no one in the UK has the balls to say this? I agree 100% Blair is as shifty as they come, and nice that he deosnt want to pay his tax fairly and squarely, hiding behind ltd companies and trsust. Some left winger he is. Add fraudster to his many titles.
- jason Piers, london Uk, 3/2/2010 13:12
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This charlatan (Blair, not Coelho) makes me feel physically sick, and ashamed to share a nationality with him.
- VB, Harrogate, 3/2/2010 13:28
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I am a fan of Brazilian football. Now I am very very mad of the appointment. Why the hell have the Brazilian to reward the war criminal ? Paulo you are a righteous man, please use your influence and voice louder to oppose the appointment. Millions of people are behind you.
- Ms D.Lee, Hong Kong, 3/2/2010 13:37

Read the original article of Mail Online here

Rio 2016 x Tony Blair

Paulo Coelho

Quero acreditar que tudo não passou de um pesadelo de final de semana – quando abri o jornal O Globo de domingo e vi, horrorizado, a foto de Tony Blair recebendo a camisa 10 da Seleção Brasileira, junto com um convite para ser consultor dos Jogos Olimpicos 2016. Indignado, coloquei quatro ou cinco mensagens no Twitter, que foram retransmitidas por agencias do mundo inteiro (como EFE e ANSA). Entre muitos convites para entrevista, estava o da BBC; recusei todos, porque não podia explicar o inexplicável.

Tenho certeza que o setor privado brasileiro vai apoiar gente de nosso país na organização do Jogos Olimpicos 2016. Logo depois das minhas mensagens no Twitter, o portal do jornal O Globo fez uma pergunta: Você concorda que o ex-primeiro-ministro britânico Tony Blair seja consultor dos Jogos Olímpicos de 2016 no Rio?” Uma esmagadora maioria, 83,86% ( no momento em que escrevo estas linhas) respondeu: NÃO.

Ao contrário do que foi dito hoje, 2 de feveiro, no jornal o Globo (“[Tony Blair] é um dos mais importantes chefes de estado dos últimos 25 anos”), quero lembrar que:

A] apesar do apoio (constrangido) do Primeiro Ministro Gordon Brown, ele não conseguiu se eleger presidente da nas recentes eleições da União Europeia

B] as negociações de paz no Oriente Médio, onde tem seu único posto político, estão como sempre estiveram – estagnadas. Em 2006, por ocasião da guerra Israel x Hezbollah, embora ainda fosse Primeiro Ministro da Inglaterra, foi duramente criticado pela mídia internacional por não ter pedido um cessar-fogo imediato.

C] está sendo investigado pela insana decisão de invadir o Iraque (Comissão de Inquérito de Chilcot) . Segundo comunicado da Agencia Reuters há alguns minutos, uma ministra de seu governo, Claire Short, diz que em 2003 Blair mentiu para o publico e para os membros do governo.

D] seu índice de desaprovação na Grã-Bretanha beira os 90% (estimativa conservadora). Não deve ser muito diferente no resto do mundo.

E] ainda ontem, uma bomba matou dezenas de de peregrinos em Bagdá. Sim, Blair não estava sozinho nessa insanidade, mas o “outro” não foi convidado para ser consultor.

É esse o homem que desejamos associar com os Jogos Olimpicos Rio 2016?

Eu posso me estender sobre o assunto, mas só farei isso caso tamanha barbaridade siga adiante. Os empresários brasileiros não vão gastar dinheiro e prestígio com Tony Blair, mesmo que seja um “precinho camarada”, como foi afirmado hoje na rádio CBN. Ninguém em sã consciência vai procurar investimentos junto à uma pessoa que tem as mãos sujas de sangue.

Até maio, as pessoas responsáveis pelo contato com Tony Blair vão entender que não pode haver pior embaixador para o evento.

Assim espero.


ENGLISH

This Sunday, returning from Davos, I was appalled to see that Tony Blair was invited to be consultant of Rio 2016 Olympic Games. I immediately posted in Twitter that I don’t want a person who has lied to his country and to the world, who has blood in this hand, to participate in an event where peace and healthy competition is to be celebrated.
My tweets reached the mainstream media in Brasil and UK. An online survey by the major portal O Globo shows right now that 83.86% support my position. At this stage I hope this was a bad nightmare, and the Brazilian private sector will not sponsor his participation. Let’s wait until May and see.

On a side note, no Brazilian politician made his voice heard. All of them were silent. The Portuguese post above is longer because I need to elaborate more on who is B-liar. But you can always use Google Translator.

On the importance of “No”

Paulo Coelho

“Hitler may have lost the war on the battlefield, but he ended up winning something,” says M. Halter. “Because in the 20th century, men created the concentration camp, resuscitated torture, and taught their fellow men that it is possible to close one’s eyes to the misfortunes of others.”

The most important words in any language are small words. “Yes,” for example. Love. God. These are words that are easy to utter, and they fill in empty spaces in our world.
However, there is one word – also a small one – that we find difficult to say:
“No”.

And we see ourselves as generous, understanding, and polite. Because “no” is considered to be cursed, egoistic, not at all spiritual.

We have to be careful here. There are moments when we say “yes” to others and in fact are saying “no” to ourselves.

All the great men and women in the world have been people who, rather than say “yes”, said a very big NO to everything that did not fit their ideal of solidarity and growth.

We may often be called intolerant, but it is important to open up and fight against everything and all circumstances if we see injustice, manipulation or cruelty. No-one can admit that, after all is said and done, Hitler set a pattern that can be repeated because people are incapable of protesting. And to reinforce this fight, let us not forget the words of John Bunyan:

“For all that I have suffered, I do not regret the problems that I have faced – because they are what brought me to where I wanted to arrive. Now that I am close to death, all that I have is this sword, and I hand it over to whoever wants to follow their pilgrimage.
“I carry with me all the marks and scars of the combats – they are the witnesses of what I have lived through, and the rewards for what I have conquered. It is these cherished marks and scars that will open for me the gates of Heaven.
“There was a time when I was always hearing stories of bravery. There was a time when I lived only because I needed to live. But now I live because I am a warrior, and because one day I want to be in the company of Him in whose name I have fought so hard.”

So scars are necessary when we fight against Absolute Evil, or when we have to say “no” to all those who, sometimes with the best of intentions, try to impede our journey towards dreams.

The mechanism of terror

Paulo Coelho

An old legend tells of how a certain city in the Pyrenees mountains used to be a stronghold for drug-traffickers, smugglers and exiles. The worst of them all, called Ahab, was converted by a local monk, Savin, and decided that things could not continue like that.

As he was feared by all, but did not want to use his fame as a thug to make his point, at no moment did he try to convince anyone. Knowing the nature of men as well as he did, they would only take honesty for weakness and soon his power would be put in doubt.

So what he did was call some carpenters from a neighboring town, hand them a drawing and tell them to build something on the spot where now stands the cross that dominates the town. Day and night for ten days, the inhabitants of the town heard the noise of hammers and watched men sawing bits of wood, making joints and hammering in nails.

At the end of ten days the gigantic puzzle was erected in the middle of the square, covered with a cloth. Ahab called all the inhabitants together to attend the inauguration of the monument.

Solemnly, and without making any speech, he removed the cloth.

It was a gallows. With a rope, trapdoor and all the rest. Brand-new, covered with bee’s wax to endure all sorts of weather for a long time.

Taking advantage of the multitude joined together in the square, Ahab read a series of laws to protect the farmers, stimulate cattle-raising and awarding whoever brought new business into the region, and added that from that day on they would have to find themselves an honest job or else move to another town. He never once mentioned the “monument” that he had just inaugurated; Ahab was a man who did not believe in threats.

At the end of the meeting, several groups formed, and most of them felt that Ahab had been deceived by the saint, since he lacked the courage he used to have. So he would have to be killed. For the next few days many plans were made to this end. But they were all forced to contemplate the gallows in the middle of the square, and wondered: What is that thing doing there? Was it built to kill those who did not accept the new laws? Who is on Ahab’s side, and who isn’t? Are there spies among us?

The gallows looked down on the men, and the men looked up at the gallows. Little by little the rebels’ initial courage was replaced by fear; they all knew Ahab’s reputation, they all knew he was implacable in his decisions. Some people abandoned the city, others decided to try the new jobs offered them, simply because they had nowhere to go or else because of the shadow of that instrument of death in the middle of the square. One year later the place was at peace, it had grown into a great business center on the frontier and began to export the best wool and produce top-quality wheat.

The gallows stayed there for ten years. The wood resisted well, but now and again the rope was changed for another. It was never put to use. Ahab never said a single word about it. Its image was enough to change courage to fear, trust to suspicion, stories of bravado to whispers of acceptance.



in “The Devil and Miss Prym”

Finding the signs

Paulo Coelho

We may think at times that the only thing life offers us tomorrow, is to repeat everything we did today. But if we pay close attention, we will see that no two days are alike.
Each morning brings a hidden blessing; a blessing which is unique to that day, and which cannot be kept or re-used. If we do not use this miracle today, it will be lost.

This miracle is in the small things of daily life; we must live in the understanding that at every moment there is a way out of each problem, the way of finding that which is missing, the right clue to the decision which must be taken in order to change our entire future.
But how to find the courage for this? As I see it, God speaks to us through signs. It is an individual language which requires faith and discipline in order to be fully absorbed.

Saint Augustine was converted in this way. For years he sought – in various philosophical schools – an answer to the meaning of life. One afternoon, in the garden of his house in Milan, as he reflected on the failure of his search, he heard a child in the street: “Take up and read! Take up and read!”
Although he had always been governed by logic, he decided – in an impulse – to open the first book which came to hand. It was the Bible, and he read part of St. Paul which contained the answers he sought. From then on, Augustine’s logic made way for faith to take part in his life, and he went on to become one of the Church’s greatest theologians.

The monks of the desert used to say it was important to allow angels to act. They occasionally did absurd things – such as talk to flowers or laugh without a reason. The alchemists followed the “signs of God”; clues which often made no sense, but which always lead somewhere.
“Modern man tried to eliminate life’s uncertainties and doubts. And in doing so he left his soul dying of hunger; the soul feeds off mysteries” – says the dean of Saint Francis Cathedral.

There is a meditation exercise which consists of adding – generally for ten minutes a day – the reasons for each of our actions. For example: “I now read this blog because I saw a link in Facebook or Twitter. I now think of such-and-such a person, because the subject I read about lead me to do so. I walked to the door, because I am going out”. And so forth.
Buddha called this “conscious attention”. When we see ourselves repeating our ordinary routine, we realize how much wealth surrounds our life. We understand each step, each attitude. We discover important things, and useless thoughts.

At the end of a week – discipline is always fundamental – we are more conscious of our faults and distractions, but we also understand that, at times, there was no reason to act the way we did, that we followed our impulses, our intuition; and now we begin to understand this silent language which God uses in order to show us the true path. Call it intuition, signs, instinct, coincidence, any name will do – what matters is that through “conscious attention” we realize that we are often guided to the right decision.

And this makes us stronger.

The Law of Jante

Paulo Coelho

– What do you think of Princess Martha-Louise?
The Norwegian journalist was interviewing me on the banks of Lake Geneva. As a rule I refuse to answer questions that are not relevant to my work, but in this case there was a reason for his curiosity: on the dress that she had worn on her 30th birthday, the Princess had asked them to embroider the names of some people who had been important in her life – and my name was among them (my wife found the idea so good that she decided to do the same when she turned 50, sewing in one corner of her dress the credit “inspired by the Princess of Norway”).
– I think she is a sensitive, delicate, intelligent person – I answered. – I had the opportunity to meet her in Oslo, when she introduced me to her husband, a writer like myself.
I paused a little, but felt the need to add:
– And there is something that I honestly fail to understand: why did the Norwegian press begin to criticize her husband’s literary work after he got married to the Princess? Before that, all his reviews were positive.
It was not exactly a question, more of a provocation, because I already imagined the answer: the reviews had changed because people feel envy, the most bitter of all human sentiments.
The journalist, however, was more sophisticated than that:
– Because he broke the Law of Jante.

Of course I had never heard of this, so he explained what it was. I continued on my journey and discovered it is hard to find anyone in any of the Scandinavian countries who does not know this law. Although the law exists since the beginning of civilization, it was only officially declared in 1933 by writer Aksel Sandemose in the novel “A refugee goes beyond limits.”
The sad truth is that the Law of Jante is a rule applied in every country in the world, despite the fact that Brazilians say that “this only happens here,” and the French claim that “unfortunately, that’s how it is in our country.” Now, the reader must be annoyed because he/she is already half way through the column and still does not know what the Law of Jante is all about, so I’ll try to explain it here briefly in my own words:
“You aren’t worth a thing, nobody is interested in what you think, mediocrity and anonymity are your best bet. If you act this way, you will never have any big problems in life.”

The Law of Jante focuses on the feeling of jealousy and envy that sometimes causes so much trouble to people like Ari Behn, the husband of Princess Martha-Louise. This is one of its negative aspects, but there is something far more dangerous.
And this law is accountable for the world being manipulated in all possible manners by people who have no fear of what the others say and end up practicing the evil they desire. We have just witnessed a useless war in Iraq, which is still costing many lives; we see a huge abyss between the rich and the poor countries of the world, social injustice on all sides, unbridled violence, people being forced to give up their dreams because of unfair and cowardly attacks. Before starting the second world war, Hitler sent out several signals as to his intentions, and what encouraged him to go ahead was the knowledge that nobody would dare to defy him because of the Law of Jante.

Mediocrity may be comfortable, up to the day that tragedy knocks at the door and people start to wonder: “but why did nobody say anything, if everybody could see that this was going to happen?”
Simple: nobody said anything because the others did not say anything either.

So in order to prevent things from growing any worse, maybe this is the right moment to write the anti-Law of Jante:
“You are worth far more than you think. Your work and presence on this Earth are important, even though you may not think so. Of course, thinking in this way, you might have many problems because you are breaking the Law of Jante – but don’t feel intimidated by them, go on living without fear and in the end you will win.”


from the book “Like a flowing river”

The importance of the cat in meditation

Paulo Coelho

Having written a book about madness (Veronika decides to die) , I was forced to wonder how many things we do are imposed on us by necessity, or by the absurd. Why wear a tie? Why do clocks run “clockwise”? If we live in a decimal system, why does the day have 24 hours of 60 minutes?
The fact is, many of the rules we obey nowadays have no real foundation. Nevertheless, if we wish to act differently, we are considered “crazy” or “immature”.
Meanwhile, society continues to create some systems which, in the fullness of time, lose their reason for existence, but continue to impose their rules. An interesting Japanese story illustrates what I mean by this:

A great Zen Buddhist master, who was in charge of the Mayu Kagi monastery, had a cat which was his true passion in life. So, during meditation classes, he kept the cat by his side – in order to make the most of his company.
One morning, the master – who was already quite old – passed away. His best disciple took his place.
– What shall we do with the cat? – asked the other monks.
As a tribute to the memory of their old instructor, the new master decided to allow the cat to continue attending the Zen Buddhist classes.

Some disciples from the neighboring monasteries, traveling through those parts, discovered that, in one of the region’s most renowned temples, a cat took part in the meditation sessions. The story began to spread.
Many years passed. The cat died, but as the students at the monastery were so used to its presence, they soon found another cat. Meanwhile, the other temples began introducing cats in their meditation sessions: they believed the cat was truly responsible for the fame and excellence of Mayu Kagi’s teaching.

A generation passed, and technical treatises began to appear about the importance of the cat in Zen meditation. A university professor developed a thesis – which was accepted by the academic community – that felines have the ability to increase human concentration, and eliminate negative energy.
And so, for a whole century, the cat was considered an essential part of Zen Buddhist studies in that region.

Until a master appeared who was allergic to animal hair, and decided to remove the cat from his daily exercises with the students.

There was a fierce negative reaction – but the master insisted. Since he was an excellent instructor, the students continued to make the same progress, in spite of the absence of the cat.
Little by little, the monasteries – always in search of new ideas, and already tired of having to feed so many cats – began eliminating the animals from the classes. In twenty years new revolutionary theories began to appear – with very convincing titles such as “The Importance of Meditating Without a Cat”, or “Balancing the Zen Universe by Will Power Alone, Without the Help of Animals”.

Another century passed, and the cat withdrew completely from the meditation rituals in that region. But two hundred years were necessary for everything to return to normal – because during all this time, no one asked why the cat was there.


in my book “Like a flowing river”

Maria and sex

Paulo Coelho

The men she had met since she arrived in Geneva always did everything they could to appear confident, as if they were in perfect control of the world and of their own lives; Maria, however, could see in their eyes that they were afraid of their wife, the feeling of panic that they might not be able to get an erection, that they might not seem manly enough even to the ordinary prostitute whom they were paying for her services. If they went to a shop and didn’t like the shoes they had bought, they would be quite prepared to go back, receipt in hand, and demand a refund. And yet, even though they were paying for some female company, if they didn’t manage to get an erection, they would be too ashamed ever to go back to the same club again because they would assume that all the other women there would know.

‘I’m the one who should feel ashamed for being unable to arouse them, but, no, they always blame themselves.’

To avoid such embarrassments, Maria always tried to put men at their ease, and if someone seemed drunker or more fragile than usual, she would avoid full sex and concentrate instead on caresses and masturbation, which always seemed to please them immensely, absurd though this might seem, since they could perfectly well masturbate on their own.
She had to make sure that they didn’t feel ashamed. These men, so powerful and arrogant at work, constantly having to deal with employees, customers, suppliers, prejudices, secrets, posturings, hypocrisy, fear and oppression, ended their day in a nightclub and they didn’t mind spending three hundred and fifty Swiss francs to stop being themselves for a night.

‘For a night? Now come on, Maria, you’re exaggerating. It’s really only forty-five minutes, and if you allow time for taking off clothes, making some phoney gesture of affection, having a bit of banal conversation and getting dressed again, the amount of time spent actually having sex is about eleven minutes.’

Eleven minutes. The world revolved around something that only took eleven minutes.

And because of those eleven minutes in any one twenty-four-hour day (assuming that they all made love to their wives every day, which is patently absurd and a complete lie) they got married, supported a family, put up with screaming kids, thought up ridiculous excuses to justify getting home late, ogled dozens, if not hundreds of other women with whom they would like to go for a walk around Lake Geneva, bought expensive clothes for themselves and even more expensive clothes for their wives, paid prostitutes to try to give them what they were missing, and thus sustained a vast industry of cosmetics, diet foods, exercise, pornography and power, and yet when they got together with other men, contrary to popular belief, they never talked about women. They talked about jobs, money and sport.

Something was very wrong with civilization, and it wasn’t the destruction of the Amazon rainforest or the ozone layer, the death of the panda, cigarettes, carcinogenic foodstuffs or prison conditions, as the newspapers would have it.

It was precisely the thing she was working with: sex.

in my book “Eleven Minutes”

Declaration of principles

Paulo Coelho

1] All men are different. And should do everything possible to continue to be so.

2] Each human being has been granted two courses of action: that of deed and that of contemplation. Both lead to the same place.

3] Each human being has been granted two qualities: power and gift. Power drives man to meet his destiny, his gift obliges him to share with others that which is good in him. A man must know when to use his power, and when to use his gift.

4] Each human being has been granted a virtue: the capacity to choose. For he who does not use this virtue, it becomes a curse – and others will always choose for him.

5] Each human being has the right to two blessings, which are: the blessing to do right, and the blessing to err. In the latter case, there is always a path of learning leading to the right way.

6] Each human being has his own sexual profile, and should exercise it without guilt – provided he does not oblige others to exercise it with him.

7] Each human being has his own Personal Legend to be fulfilled, and this is the reason he is in the world. The Personal Legend is manifest in his enthusiasm for what he does.
Single paragraph – the Personal Legend may be abandoned for a certain time, provided one does not forget it and returns as soon as possible.

8] Each man has a feminine side, and each woman has a masculine side. It is necessary to use discipline with intuition, and to use intuition objectively.

9] Each human being must know two languages: the language of society and the language of the omens. The first serves for communication with others. The second serves to interpret messages from God.

10] Each human being has the right to seek out joy, joy being understood as something which makes one content – not necessarily that which makes others content.

11] Each human being must keep alight within him the sacred flame of madness. And must behave like a normal person.

12] The only faults considered grave are the following: not respecting the rights of one’s neighbor, letting oneself be paralyzed by fear, feeling guilty, thinking one does not deserve the good and bad which occurs in life, and being a coward.
Paragraph 1 – we shall love our adversaries, but not make alliances with them. They are placed in our way to test our sword, and deserve the respect of our fight.
Paragraph 2 – we shall choose our adversaries, not the other way around.

12A] We hereby declare the end to the wall dividing the sacred from the profane: from now on, all is sacred.

14] Everything which is done in the present, affects the future by consequence, and the past by redemption.

15] Dispensations to the contrary are herewith revoked.

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A warrior of light knows what he wants

A warrior of the light never stumbles; but he knows how to distract his adversary.

However anxious he is, he plays with the resources of strategy in order to reach his objective. When he realizes his strength is running out, he makes the enemy believe he is in no rush. When he must attack on the right, he moves his troops to the left. If he intends to begin the fight immediately, he pretends he is sleepy and prepares himself for sleep.

The friends comment: “see how he has lost his enthusiasm “. He pays these comments no attention, for his friends know not the tactics of combat.

A warrior of light knows what he wants. There is no need to spend time explaining.

in “The Manual of the warrior of light”.

Castaneda and the warrior’s spirit

Carlos Castaneda was an author who left his mark on my generation – although in academic circles he was never considered someone worthy of attention. As a tribute to him, I present a summary of his most important writings:

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The most difficult thing in this world is to adopt the spirit and attitude of a warrior. It is no use being sad, complaining, feeling unjustly treated, and believing someone is doing something negative. No one is doing anything, and certainly not to a warrior.
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It matters not how we were brought up. What determines our way of acting is the manner in which we administrate our will.
The will is a sentiment, a talent, something which lends us enthusiasm. The will is something which is acquired – but it is necessary to fight for it one’s whole life.
********
The humility of a warrior is not the same humility as that of a servile man. The warrior does not lower his head to anyone, and nor does he allow anyone to bow before him. The servile man, on the other hand, kneels before anyone he believes to be more powerful, and demands that the people under his command behave in a similar fashion before him.
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The bad thing about words is that they make us feel as if we were illuminated and understanding everything. But, when we turn and face the world, we see that reality is completely different from that which we discussed or heard. A warrior seeks to act, and not waste time in useless conversation.
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The ordinary man thinks that yielding to doubts and worries is a sign of sensibility, of spirituality. Acting thus, he remains distant from the true meaning of life. This type of person loves being told what he should do.
Only a warrior can endure the path of knowledge. A warrior does not complain or lament anything, and sees challenges as neither good nor bad. Challenges are simply challenges.
*******
The world is unfathomable and mysterious, just as we all are. The art of the warrior consists of reconciling the terror of being a man with the wonder of being a man.

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The magic moment

Paulo Coelho

We have to take risks. We can only truly understand the miracle of life when we let the unexpected manifest itself.
Every day – together with the sun – God gives us a moment in which it is possible to change everything that makes us unhappy. Every day we try to pretend that we don’t realize that moment, that it doesn’t exist, that today is just the same as yesterday and will be the same as tomorrow. But if you pay attention, you can discover the magic instant.
It may be hiding at the moment when we put the key in the door in the morning, in the silence right after dinner, in the thousand and one things that all seem the same to us. This moment exists – a moment when all the strength of the stars passes through us and lets us work miracles.
Happiness is at times a blessing – but usually it’s a conquest. The magic instant helps us to change, drives us forward to seek our dreams. We shall suffer and go through quite a few difficult moments and face many a disappointment – but this is all transitory and inevitable, and eventually we shall feel proud of the marks left behind by the obstacles. In the future we will be able to look back with pride and faith.
Poor are those who are afraid of running risks. Because maybe they are never disappointed, never disillusioned, never suffer like those who have a dream to pursue. But when they look back – for we always look back – they will hear their heart saying: “What did you do with the miracles that God sowed for your days? What did you do with the talent that your Master entrusted to you? You buried it deep in a grave because you were afraid to lose it. So this is your inheritance: the certainty that you have wasted your life.”
Poor are those who hear these words. For then they will believe in miracles, but the magic instants of life will have already passed.

in “By the river Piedra I sat down and wept”

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Hymn to Isis ( 3rd or 4th century AD)

For I am the first and the last

I am the venerated and the despised

I am the prostitute and the saint

I am the wife and the virgin

I am the mother and the daughter

I am the arms of my mother

I am barren and my children are many

I am the married woman and the spinster

I am the woman who gives birth and she who never procreated

I am the consolation for the pain of birth

I am the wife and the husband

And it was my man who created me

I am the mother of my father

I am the sister of my husband

And he is my rejected son

Always respect me

For I am the shameful and the magnificent one

discovered in Nag Hammadi, 1947

( one hour after I posted this text here, Methaper wrote me: “Sorry Paulo, but this original koptic text Nag Hammadi Codex NHC VI,2 is 3rd-4th century “AD”, not “BC”. It has the greek-koptic Titel βροντη “bronté” and is NOT explicitely an hymn to goddess Isis, even if some historians regard it as “not impossible”.Kindest regards Metapher”)

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How the path was forged

by Paulo Coelho

One day, a calf needed to cross a virgin forest in order to return to its pasture. Being an irrational animal, it forged out a tortuous path full of bends, up and down hills.

The next day, a dog came by and used the same path to cross the forest. Next it was a sheep’s turn, the head of a flock which, upon finding the opening, led its companions through it.
Later, men began using the path: they entered and left, turned to the right, to the left, bent down, deviating obstacles, complaining and cursing – and quite rightly so. But they did nothing to create a different alternative.
After so much use, in the end, the path became a trail along which poor animals toiled under heavy loads, being forced to go three hours to cover a distance which would normally take thirty minutes, had no one chosen to follow the route opened up by the calf.

Many years passed and the trail became the main road of a village, and later the main avenue of a town. Everyone complained about the traffic, because the route it took was the worst possible one.

Meanwhile, the old and wise forest laughed, at seeing how men tend to blindly follow the way already open, without ever asking whether it really is the best choice.

.(based in traditional Portuguese story)

The Good Fight

In 1986, I went for the first and only time on the pilgrimage known as the Way to Santiago, an experience I described in my first book. We had just finished walking up a small hill, a village appeared on the horizon, and it was then that my guide, whom I shall call Petrus (although that was not his name), said to me:

- We must never stop dreaming. Dreams provide nourishment for the soul, just as a meal does for the body. Many times in our lives we see our dreams shattered and our desires frustrated, but we have to continue dreaming. If we don’t, our soul dies

‘The Good Fight is the one we Fight because our heart asks it of us.The Good Fight is the one that’s fought in the name of our dreams. When we are young our dreams first explode inside us with all of their force, we are very courageous, but we haven’t yet learned how to Fight. With great effort, we learn how to Fight, but by then we no longer have the courage to go into combat. So we turn against ourselves and do battle within. We become our own worst enemy. We say that our dreams were childish, or too difficult to realize, or the result or our not having known enough about life. We kill our dreams because we are afraid to Fight the Good Fight.

“The first symptom of the process of killing our dreams is lack of time. The busiest people I have known in my life always have time enough to do everything. Those who do nothing are always tired and pay no attention to the little amount of work they are required to do. They complain constantly that the day is too short. The Truth is, they are afraid to Fight the Good Fight…

“The second symptom of the death of our dreams lies in our certainties. Because we don’t want to see life as a grand adventure, we begin to think of ourselves as wise and fair and correct in asking so little of life. We look beyond the walls of our day-to-day existence, and we hear the sound of lances breaking, we smell the dust and the sweat, and we see the great defeats and the fire in the eyes of the warriors. But we never see the delight, the immense delight in the hearts of those engaged in the battle. For them, neither victory nor defeat is important; what’s important is only that they are Fighting the Good Fight.

“And, finally, the third symptom of the passing of our dreams is peace. Life becomes a Sunday afternoon; we ask for nothing grand, and we cease to demand anything more than we are willing to give. In that state we think of ourselves as being mature; we put aside the fantasies of our youth, and we seek personal and professional achievement. We are surprised when people our age say that they still want this or that out of life. But really, deep in our hearts, we know that what has happened is that we have renounced the battle for our dreams-we have refused to Fight the Good Fight.

“When we renounce our dreams and find peace, we go through a period of tranquility. But the dead dreams begin to rot within us and to infect our entire being. We become cruel to those around us, and then we begin to direct this cruelty against ourselves.
“What we sought to avoid in combat-disappointment and defeat-came upon us because of our cowardice. And one day, the dead, spoiled dreams make it difficult to breath, and we actually seek death. It’s death that frees us from out certainties, from our work, and from that terrible peace of Sunday afternoons.”

in “The Pilgrimage”(1987)

Narcissus and the lake

(below the opening page of “The Alchemist”, which always make me think about my attitude towards the world)

The alchemist picked up a book that someone in the caravan had brought. Leafing through the pages, he found a story about Narcissus.

The alchemist knew the legend of Narcissus, a younth who knelt daily beside a lake to contemplate his own beauty. He was so fascinated by himself that, one morning, he fell into the lake and drowned. At the spot where he fell, a flower was born, which was called the narcissus.

But this was not how the author of the book ended the story.

he said that when Narcissus died, the goddesses of the forest appeared and found the lake, which had been fresh water, transformed into a lake of salty tears.

“Why do you weep?” the goddesses asked.

“I weep for Narcissus,” the lake replied.

“Ah, it is no surprise that you weep for Narcissus,” they said, “for though we always pursued him in the forest, you alone could contemplate his beauty close at hand.”

“But…was Narcissus beautiful?” the lake asked.

“Who better than you to know that?” the goddesses said in wonder. “After all, it was by your banks that he knelt each day to contemplate himself!”

The lake was silent for some time. Finally, it said:

“I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful. I weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected.”

“What a lovely story,” the alchemist thought.

Inventory of normality

in “The winner stands alone”, by Paulo Coelho

1] Anything that makes us forget our true identity and our dreams and makes us only work to produce and reproduce.

2] Making rules for a war (the Geneva Convention).

3] Spending years at university and then not being able to find a job.

4] Working from nine in the morning to five in the afternoon at something that does not give us the least pleasure, so that we can retire after 30 years.

5] Retiring only to discover that we have no more energy to enjoy life, and then dying of boredom after a few years.

6] Using Botox.

7] Trying to be financially successful instead of seeking happiness.

8] Ridiculing those who seek happiness instead of money by calling them “people with no ambition”.

9] Comparing objects like cars, houses and clothes, and defining life according to these comparisons instead of really trying to find out the true reason for being alive.

10] Not talking to strangers. Saying nasty things about our neighbors.

11] Thinking that parents are always right.

12] Getting married, having children and staying together even though the love has gone, claiming that it’s for the sake of the children (who do not seem to be listening to the constant arguments).

12ª] Criticizing everybody who tries to be different.

14] Waking up with a hysterical alarm-clock at the bedside.

15] Believing absolutely everything that is printed.

16] Wearing a piece of colored cloth wrapped around the neck for no apparent reason and known by the pompous name “necktie”.

17] Never asking direct questions, even though the other person understands what you want to know.

18] Keeping a smile on your face when you really want to cry. And feeling sorry for those who show their own feelings.

19] Thinking that art is worth a fortune, or else that it is worth absolutely nothing.

20] Always despising what was easily gained, because the “necessary sacrifice” – and therefore also the required qualities – are missing.

21] Following fashion, even though it all looks ridiculous and uncomfortable.

22] Being convinced that all the famous people have tons of money saved up.

23] Investing a lot in exterior beauty and paying little attention to interior beauty.

24] Using all possible means to show that even though you are a normal person, you are infinitely superior to other human beings.

25] In any kind of public transport, never looking straight into the eyes of the other passengers, as this may be taken for attempting to seduce them.

26] When you enter an elevator, looking straight at the door and pretending you are the only person inside, however crowded it may be.

27] Never laughing out loud in a restaurant, no matter how funny the story is.

28] In the Northern hemisphere, always wearing the clothes that match the season of the year: short sleeves in springtime (however cold it may be) and a woolen jacket in the fall (no matter how warm it is).

29] In the Southern hemisphere, decorating the Christmas tree with cotton wool, even though winter has nothing to do with the birth of Christ.

30] As you grow older, thinking you are the wisest man in the world, even though not always do you have enough life experience to know what is wrong.

31] Going to a charity event and thinking that in this way you have collaborated enough to put an end to all the social inequalities in the world.

32] Eating three times a day, even if you’re not hungry.

33] Believing that the others are always better at everything: they are better-looking, more resourceful, richer and more intelligent. Since it’s very risky to venture beyond your own limits, it’s better to do nothing.

34] Using the car as a way to feel powerful and in control of the world.

35] Using foul language in traffic.

36] Thinking that everything your child does wrong is the fault of the company he or she is keeping.

37] Marrying the first person who offers you a position in society. Love can wait.

38] Always saying “I tried”, even though you haven’t tried at all.

39] Putting off doing the most interesting things in life until you no longer have the strength to do them.

40] Avoiding depression with massive daily doses of television programs.

41] Believing that it is possible to be sure of everything you have won.

42] Thinking that women don’t like football and that men don’t like interior decoration.

43] Blaming the government for everything bad that happens.

44] Being convinced that being a good, decent and respectful person means that the others will find you weak, vulnerable and easy to manipulate.

45] Being convinced that aggressiveness and discourtesy in treating others are signs of a powerful personality.

46] Being afraid of fibroscopy (men) and childbirth (women).

47] And finally, thinking that your religion is the sole proprietor of the absolute truth, the most important, the best, and that the other human beings in this immense planet who believe in any other manifestation of God are condemned to the fires of hell.

please feel free to use the comments below to add issues that I did not include…

The Juggler of Our Lady

by Paulo Coelho

Christmas Eve came around. And precisely on that day, a special miracle happened in Melk Abbey: Our Lady, carrying the baby Jesus in her arms, decided to descend to Earth to visit the monastery.

All the priests lined up and each of them stood proudly before the Virgin trying to pay homage to the Madonna and her Son. One of them displayed the beautiful paintings that decorated the place, another showed a copy of a Bible that had taken a hundred years to be written and illustrated, while a third recited the names of all the saints.

At the very end of the line, young novice Buckhard anxiously waited his turn. His parents were simple people, and all that they had taught him was to toss balls up in the air and do some juggling.

When it came his turn, the other priests wanted to put an end to all the homage that had been paid, since the ex-juggler had nothing important to add and might even mar the image of the abbey.

Nevertheless, deep in his heart he also felt a great need to give something of himself to Jesus and the Virgin. Feeling very ashamed before the reproachful gaze of his brothers, he took some oranges from his pocket and began to toss them in the air and catch them in his hands, creating a beautiful circle in the air just as he used to do when he and his family traveled to all the fairs in the region.

At that instant, the baby Jesus, lying in Our Lady’s lap, began to clap his hands with joy. And it was to young Buckhard that the Virgin held out her arms to let him hold the smiling child for a few moments.

based in a medieval legend

The story of the pencil

source: “Like the Flowing River” by Paulo Coelho

A boy was watching his grandmother write a letter. At one point he asked:

‘Are you writing a story about what we’ve done? Is it a story about me?’
His grandmother stopped writing her letter and said to her grandson:
I am writing about you, actually, but more important than the words is the pencil I’m using. I hope you will be like this pencil when you grow up.’

Intrigued, the boy looked at the pencil. It didn’t seem very special.
‘But it’s just like any other pencil I’ve ever seen!’

‘That depends on how you look at things. It has five qualities which, if you manage to hang on them, will make you a person who is always at peace with the world.’

‘First quality: you are capable of great things, but you must never forget that there is a hand guiding your steps. We call that hand God, and He always guides us according to His will.’
‘Second quality: now and then, I have to stop writing and use a sharpner. That makes the pencil suffer a little, but afterwards, he’s much sharper. So you, too, must learn to bear certain pains and sorrows, because they will make you a better person.
‘Third quality: the pencil always allows us to use an eraser to rub out any mistakes. This means that correcting something we did is not necessarily a bad thing; it helps to keep us on the road to justice.’
‘Fourth quality: what really matters in a pencil is not its wooden exterior, but the graphite inside. So always pay attention to what is happening inside you.’
‘Finally, the pencil’s fifth quality: it always leaves a mark. in just the same way, you should know that everything you do in life will leave a mark, so try to be conscious of that in your every action’

The chess game

by Paulo Coelho

A young man said to the abbot from the monastery of Melk:
– I’d actually like to be a monk, but I haven’t learned anything in life. All my father taught me was to play chess, which does not lead to enlightenment. Apart from that, I learned that all games are a sin.
– They may be a sin but they can also be a diversion, and who knows, this monastery needs a little of both – was the reply.

The abbot asked for a chess board, sent for a monk and told him to play the young man.
But before the game began, he added:
– Although we need diversion, we cannot allow everyone to play chess the whole time. So, we only have the best players here; if our monk loses, he will leave the monastery and his place will be yours.
The abbot was serious. The young man knew he was playing for his life, and broke into a cold sweat; the chess board became the center of the world.
The monk began badly. The young man attacked, but then saw the saintly look on the other man’s face; at that moment, he began playing badly on purpose. After all, he would rather lose, a monk is far more useful to the world.

Suddenly, the abbot threw the chess board to the floor.
– You have learned far more than was taught you – he said. – You concentrated yourself enough to win, were capable of fighting for that which you desire.

“Then, you had compassion, and were willing to make a sacrifice in the name of a noble cause. Welcome, because the secret of life is to know how to balance discipline with compassion.”

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Arabs and Jews

selected by Paulo Coelho

What will they say of you?

As a boy, Abin-Alsar overheard a conversation between his father and a dervish.
“Careful with your work”, said the dervish. “Think of what future generations will say about you.”
“So what?”, replied his father, “When I die, everything shall end, and it will not matter what they say.”

Abin-Alsar never forgot that conversation. His whole life, he made an effort to do good, to help people and go about his work with enthusiasm. He became well-known for his concern for others; when he died, he left behind a great number of things which improved the quality of life in his town.
On his tombstone, he had the following epitaph engraved:

“A life which ends with death, is a life not well spent.”

Covering the sun with one’s hand

A disciple went to Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav:
– I shall not continue with my studies of sacred texts – he said. – I live in a small house with my brothers and parents, and never have the ideal conditions for concentrating on that which is important.

Nachman pointed to the sun and asked his disciple to place his hand over his face, in order to hide it. The disciple obeyed.
– Your hand is small, yet it can completely cover the power, light and majesty of the great sun. In the same way, the small problems manage to give you the excuse you need in order to hinder your progress along your spiritual journey.

“Just as your hand has the power to hide the sun, mediocrity has the power to hide your inner light. Do not blame others for your own incompetence.”


please share. Storytelling can help more than conventional politics

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The gift of insults

by Paulo Coelho

Near Tokyo lived a great Samurai warrior, now old, who decided to teach Zen Buddhism to young people. In spite of his age, the legend was that he could defeat any adversary.
One afternoon, a warrior – known for his complete lack of scruples – arrived there. He was famous for using techniques of provocation: he waited until his adversary made the first move and, being gifted with an enviable intelligence in order to repair any mistakes made, he counterattacked with fulminating speed.

The young and impatient warrior had never lost a fight. Hearing of the Samurai’s reputation, he had come to defeat him, and increase his fame.
All the students were against the idea, but the old man accepted the challenge.
All gathered on the town square, and the young man started insulting the old master. He threw a few rocks in his direction, spat in his face, shouted every insult under the sun – he even insulted his ancestors. For hours, he did everything to provoke him, but the old man remained impassive. At the end of the afternoon, by now feeling exhausted and humiliated, the impetuous warrior left.

Disappointed by the fact that the master had received so many insults and provocations, the students asked:
– How could you bear such indignity? Why didn’t you use your sword, even knowing you might lose the fight, instead of displaying your cowardice in front of us all?
– If someone comes to you with a gift, and you do not accept it, who does the gift belong to? – asked the Samurai.
– He who tried to deliver it – replied one of his disciples.
– The same goes for envy, anger and insults – said the master. – When they are not accepted, they continue to belong to the one who carried them.

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Convention of those wounded in love

promulgated by Paulo Coelho


General provisions:

A – Whereas the saying “all is fair in love and war” is absolutely correct;

B – Whereas for war we have the Geneva Convention, approved on 22 August 1864, which provides for those wounded in the battle field, but until now no convention has been signed concerning those wounded in love, who are far greater in number;

It is hereby decreed that:

Article 1 – All lovers, of any sex, are alerted that love, besides being a blessing, is also something extremely dangerous, unpredictable and capable of causing serious damage. Consequently, anyone planning to love should be aware that they are exposing their body and soul to various types of wounds, and that they shall not be able to blame their partner at any moment, since the risk is the same for both.

Article 2 – Once struck by a stray arrow fired from Cupid’s bow, they should immediately ask the archer to shoot the same arrow in the opposite direction, so as not to be afflicted by the wound known as “unrequited love”. Should Cupid refuse to perform such a gesture, the Convention now being promulgated demands that the wounded partner remove the arrow from his/her heart and throw it in the garbage. In order to guarantee this, those concerned should avoid telephone calls, messages over the Internet, sending flowers that are always returned, or each and every means of seduction, since these may yield results in the short run but always end up wrong after a while. The Convention decrees that the wounded person should immediately seek the company of other people and try to control the obsessive thought: “this person is worth fighting for”.

Article 3 – If the wound is caused by third parties, in other words if the loved one has become interested in someone not in the script previously drafted, vengeance is expressly forbidden. In this case, it is allowed to use tears until the eyes dry up, to punch walls or pillows, to insult the ex-partner in conversations with friends, to allege his/her complete lack of taste, but without offending their honor. The Convention determines that the rule contained in Article 2 be applied: seek the company of other persons, preferably in places different from those frequented by the other party.

Article 4 – In the case of light wounds, herein classified as small treacheries, fulminating passions that are short-lived, passing sexual disinterest, the medicine called Pardon should be applied generously and quickly. Once this medicine has been applied, one should never reconsider one’s decision, not even once, and the theme must be completely forgotten and never used as an argument in a fight or in a moment of hatred.

Article 5 – In all definitive wounds, also known as “breaking up”, the only medicine capable of having an effect is called Time. It is no use seeking consolation from fortune-tellers (who always say that the lost lover will return), romantic books (which always have a happy ending), soap-operas on the television or other such things. One should suffer intensely, completely avoiding drugs, tranquilizers and praying to saints. Alcohol is only tolerated if kept to a maximum of two glasses of wine a day.

Final determination:
Those wounded in love, unlike those wounded in armed conflict, are neither victims nor torturers. They chose something that is part of life, and so they have to accept both the agony and the ecstasy of their choice.
And those who have never been wounded in love will never be able to say: “I have lived”. Because they haven’t.


(Free to share. Just mention the author, please!)

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The cracked jar

by Paulo Coelho

An Indian legend tells of a man who carried water to his village every day, in two large jars tied to the ends of a wooden pole, which he balanced on his back.
One of the jars was older than the other, and had some small cracks; every time the man covered the distance to his house, half of the water was lost.

For two years, the man made the same journey. The younger jar was always very proud of its performance, safe in the knowledge that it was up to the mission it had been made for, while the other jar was mortified with shame at only fulfilling half of its allotted task, even though it knew that those cracks were the result of many years hard work.

It was so ashamed that one day, while the man got ready to fetch water from the well, it decided to speak to him:
– I want to apologize, but because of the many years of service, you are only able to deliver half of my load, and quench half of the thirst which awaits you at your home.

The man smiled, and said:
– When we return, observe carefully the path.

And so it did. And the jar noticed that, on its side, many flowers and plants grew.
– See how nature is more lovely on your side? – commented the man. – I always knew you were cracked, and decided to make use of this fact. I planted flowers and vegetables, and you have always watered them. I have picked many roses to decorate my house with, I have fed my children with lettuce, cabbage and onions. If you were not as you are, how could I have done that?

“All of us, at some point, grow old and start to acquire other qualities. We can always make the most of each one of these new qualities and obtain a good result.”

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The natural order

by Paulo Coelho

A very wealthy man asked a Zen master for a text which would always remind him how happy he was with his family.

The Zen master took some parchment and, in beautiful calligraphy, wrote:

– The father dies. The son dies. The grandson dies.

– What? – said the furious rich man. – I asked you for something to inspire me, some teaching which might be respectfully contemplated by future generations, and you give me something as depressing and gloomy as these words?

– You asked me for something which would remind you of the happiness of living together with your family. If your son dies first, everyone will be devastated by the pain. If your grandson dies, it would be an unbearable experience.

“However, if your family disappears in the order which I placed on the paper, this is the natural course of life. Thus, although we all endure moments of pain, the generations will continue, and your legacy will be long-lasting.”

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Minarets and Slender Arguments

If it did nothing else, Switzerland’s vote to ban the building of minarets drew attention to Europe’s identity crisis. The Swiss – like the French, or the Germans, or the British for that matter – are clearly worried about the Muslims living among them.

The Swiss vote (which may end up getting knocked down by the European Court of Human Rights) has succeeded in shifting the focus away from the social and economic problems of immigration and toward religion. To put the full weight of Europe’s cultural identity crisis on a slender spire of traditional architecture meant risking a dangerous debate, which has now erupted, and not only in Switzerland.

Previous debates about the role of Islam in Europe involved issues other than religion. The 2004 French ban on head scarves in schools was about the submission of women; the 2005 publication of Danish cartoons lampooning the Prophet Muhammad was about free speech.

A minaret, by contrast, is no more and no less than a symbol. Other religious symbols draw protest – a nativity scene in front of City Hall, say, or a cross on a mountaintop – but they, unlike the minaret, are not part of a house of worship.

Continue reading in New York Times blog

My master and I – Boredom

by Paulo Coelho

(these notes were written in August 1986)

We are sitting in a garden in a French town.
– Deep down, people complain, but they love routines – I said.
– Of course, and the reason is very simple: routines give them the false sensation of being safe. Thus, today will be exactly like yesterday, and tomorrow will bring no surprises. When night falls, part of the soul complains that nothing different was experienced, but another part is content – paradoxically, it is for the same reason.
“Evidently this safety is completely false; no one can control anything, and a change always appears at the moment one least expects it, taking us surprise and with no chance to react or fight.

– If we are free to decide that we want a uniform life, why does God force us to change it?
– What is reality? It is that which we imagine it to be. If many people “think” that the world is like this or like that, everything around us crystallizes, and nothing changes for some time. However, life is a constant evolution – social, political, spiritual, on whatever level it may be. In order for things to evolve, it is necessary for people to change. As we are all interlinked, sometimes destiny gives those hindering evolution a push.

– Generally in a tragic way…
– Tragedy depends on the way you see it. If you chose to be a victim of the world, anything which happens to you will feed that dark side of your soul, where you consider yourself wronged, suffering, guilty and deserving punishment. If you choose to be an adventurer, the changes – even the inevitable losses, since everything in this world changes – can cause some pain, but will soon thrust you forward, forcing you to react.
“In many oral traditions, wisdom is represented by a temple, with two columns at its entrance: these two columns always have names of opposite things, but in order to illustrate what I mean, we will call one Fear and the other Desire. When a man stands at this entrance, he looks at the column of Fear and thinks: “my God, what will I find further ahead?” Then he looks at the column of Desire and thinks: “my God, I’m so accustomed to that which I have, I wish to continue living as I have always lived.” And he remains still; this is what we call tedium.

– Tedium is…
– Movement which ceases. Instinctively, we know we are wrong, and we revolt. We complain to our husbands, wives, children, neighbors. But, on the other hand, we know that tedium and routine are safe havens.

– Can a person remain his whole life in this situation?
– He can be pushed by life, but resist and remain there, always complaining – and his suffering will be useless, will teach him nothing.
“Yes, a person can stand for the rest of his days facing one of the many doors he should go through, but he must understand that he has only truly lived up to that point. He may continue to breathe, walk, sleep and eat – but with less and less pleasure, because he is already spiritually dead and does not know it.
“Until one day when, as well as his spiritual death, physical death appears; at that moment God will ask: “what did you do with your life?” We must all answer this question, and woe betide those who answer: “I remained standing at the door.”

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God and real life

selected by Paulo Coelho (feel free to share, by the way…)

Christian tradition
A protestant priest, having started a family, no longer had any peace for his prayers. One night, when he knelt down, he was disturbed by the children in the living room.
“Have the children keep quiet!” he shouted.
His startled wife obeyed. Thereafter, whenever the priest came home, they all maintained silence during prayers. But he realized that God was no longer listening.
One night, during his prayers, he asked the Lord: “what is going on? I have the necessary peace, and I cannot pray!”
An angel replied: “He hears words, but no longer hears the laughter. He notices the devotion, but can no longer see the joy.”
The priest stood and shouted once again to his wife: “Let the children play! They are part of praying!”
And his words were heard by God once again.

Muslim tradition
A blind man was begging on the road to Mecca, when a pious Moslem came over and asked whether the people were giving generously – as the Koran commands. The man showed him his little tin, which was almost empty. The traveler said:
– Let me write something on the card around your neck.
Hours later, the traveler returned. The beggar was surprised, for he had received a large amount of money.
– What did you write on the card? – he asked.
– All I wrote was: Today is a beautiful spring day, the sun is shining, and I am blind.

Jewish tradition
Dov Beer de Mezeritch was asked:
“Which example should one follow? That of pious men, who devote their lives to God? That of scholars, who seek to understand the will of the Almighty?
“The best example is that of the child,” he answered.
“A child knows nothing. It hasn’t yet learned what reality is,” people commented.
“You are all quite wrong, for a child possesses three qualities we should never forget,” said Dov Beer. “They are always joyful without reason. They are always busy. And when they want something, they know how to demand it firmly and with determination.”

Happy Sunday to you all!

A man lying on the ground

On 1st July, at 13:05 hrs., there was a man aged about fifty lying on the promenade in Copacabana. I passed him with a glance and went on my way towards a stall where I always drink fresh coconut water.
Being from Rio, I’ve passed hundreds (thousands?) of men, women and children lying on the ground. As someone who travels, I’ve seen the same scene in practically all the countries I’ve been to – from Sweden to Romania. I’ve seen people lying in the street in all seasons of the year: in the biting winter of Madrid, New York or Paris, where they huddle around the warm air floating up from the subway stations. In the relentless sun of Lebanon, among buildings destroyed by years of war. People lying on the ground – drunks, homeless, tired – are not a novelty for anyone.
I drank my coconut water. I was in a hurry to get back for an interview with Juan Arias, from the Spanish newspaper El País. On the way, I saw the man was still there, in the sunshine – and everyone who passed acted in exactly the same way as I had: they looked, and walked on.
The fact is – not that I was aware of this – my soul was tired of seeing the same scene, over and over again. When I passed that man again, something great force made me kneel down and try to help him up.
He didn’t react. I turned his head, and there was blood near his temple. Now what? Was it a serious wound? I cleaned his face with my shirt: it didn’t look serious.
Just then, the man started mumbling something which sounded like: “tell them to stop beating me.” Well, at least he was alive; now all I had to do was get him out of the sun and call the police.
I stopped the first man passing and asked him to help me drag him to the shade between the promenade and the beach. He was wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase and parcels, but he put them down and came to help me – his soul must also have been tired of seeing that scene.
Having got the man into the shade, I walked towards my building, knowing there was a police post on the way, where I could get help. But before getting there, I passed two policemen.
– A man has been hurt over there opposite number such-and-such, I said. I put him on the sand. You should send for an ambulance.
The policemen said they’d make arrangements. Right, now I’d done my duty. A good scout, “Be Prepared”. Do a good turn daily! The problem was in the hands of others now, they were responsible. And the Spanish journalist would be arriving at my place in a few minutes.
I hadn’t gone ten paces when a foreign man stopped me. He spoke in broken Portuguese:
– I had already told the police about the man on the sidewalk. They said that as long as he wasn’t a thief, it was none of their business.
I didn’t let the man finish. I walked back to the policemen, certain that they knew who I was, someone who wrote in the newspapers and appeared on television. I returned with the false impression that success can, at times, help to resolve many things.
– Do you belong to some official authority? – one of them asked, noticing that I’d asked for help more urgently this time.
They had no idea who I was.
– No. But let’s solve this problem right now.
I was badly dressed, my shirt stained with the man’s blood, my shorts were made from an old pair of jeans I had torn up, and I was sweating. I was an ordinary, anonymous man, without any authority beyond that of having grown tired of seeing people lying on the ground, for dozens of years, without ever having done a single thing about it.
And that changed everything. There’s a moment when you go beyond any mental block or fear. A moment when your eyes look different, and people know you’re being serious. The policemen went with me and called an ambulance.

On the way home, I reflected on the three lessons from my walk.
a] everyone can stop an action and wash his/her hands, if he/she thinks that moving forward will cause some trouble.
b] but there’s always someone there to say: “now you’ve started, go all the way.”
And, finally:
c] everyone is an authority, when he is quite convinced of what he is doing.

Paulo Coelho

Purifying the world

– How do we purify the world?- asked a disciple.

Ibn al-Husayn replied:

– There was once a sheik in Damascus called Abu Musa al-Qumasi. Everyone honored him for his great wisdom, but no one knew whether he was a good man.

“One afternoon, a construction fault caused the house where the sheik lived with his wife, to collapse. The desperate neighbors began to dig the ruins; eventually, they managed to locate the sheik’s wife.

“She said: “Don’t worry about me. First save my husband, who was sitting somewhere over there.”

“The neighbors removed the rubble from the area she indicated, and found the sheik. He said: “Don’t worry about me. First save my wife, who was lying somewhere over there.”

“When someone acts as this couple did, he is purifying the whole world.”

Past mistakes

During a journey, Buddha came across a yogi with only one leg.
“I burn all my past mistakes”, explained the man.
“And how many mistakes have you burned?
“I have no idea.”
“And how many are left to burn?” enquired Buddha.
“I have no idea.”
“Then it is time to stop. Stop asking God for forgiveness, and go and ask those you wounded for forgiveness.”

Praying for everyone

By Paulo Coelho

A farm labourer with a sick wife, asked a Buddhist monk to say a series of prayers. The priest began to pray, asking God to cure all those who were ill.

‘Just a moment,’ said the farm labourer. ‘I asked you to pray for my wife and there you are praying for everyone who’s ill.’

‘I’m praying for her too.’

‘Yes, but you’re praying for everyone. You might end up helping my neighbour, who’s also ill, and I don’t even like him.’

‘You understand nothing about healing,’ said the monk, moving off. ‘By praying for everyone, I am adding my prayers to those of the millions of people who are also praying for their sick. Added together, those voices reach God and benefit everyone. Separately, they lose their strength and go nowhere.’

The man and his shadow

By Paulo Coelho

Many years ago, there lived a man who was capable of loving and forgiving everyone he came across. Because of this, God sent an angel to talk to him.

‘God asked me to come and visit you and tell you that he wishes to reward you for your goodness,’ said the angel. ‘You may have any gift you wish for. Would you like the gift of healing?’

‘Certainly not,’ said the man. ‘I would prefer God to choose those who should be healed.’

‘And what about leading sinners back to the path of Truth?’

‘That’s a job for angels like you. I don’t want to be venerated by anyone or to serve as a permanent example.’

‘Look, I can’t go back to Heaven without having given you a miracle. If you don’t choose, I’ll have to choose one for you.’

The man thought for a moment and then said:

‘All right, I would like good to be done through me, but without anyone noticing, not even me, in case I should commit the sin of vanity.’

So the angel arranged for the man’s shadow to have the power of healing, but only when the sun was shining on the man’s face. In this way, wherever he went, the sick were healed, the earth grew fertile again, and sad people rediscovered happiness.

The man traveled the Earth for many years, oblivious of the miracles he was working because when he was facing the sun, his shadow was always behind him. In this way, he was able to live and die unaware of his own holiness.

The warrior of light dances

A sword can last a short time, but the warrior has to last a long time. That is why he must not let himself be fooled by his own capacity and so be taken by surprise. To each thing he gives the true value that it deserves.

Often, when he is faced with serious matters, the devil whispers in his ear: “Do not bother about that, that’s not serious.”

Other times, when he is faced with trivial matters, the devil whispers: “You need to spend all your energy on solving this situation.”

The warrior does not listen to what the devil is saying. He is the master of his sword.

Pay attention to your allies

A warrior does not associate with anyone who wishes him harm. Nor is he seen in the company of those who want to “console” him.

He avoids whoever is only at his side in moments of defeat. These false friends want to prove that weakness has its rewards. They always bear bad news. They always try to destroy the warrior’s trust, under the disguise of “solidarity”.

When they see him injured they break into tears, but deep in their hearts they are happy because the warrior has lost a battle. They fail to understand that this is a part of combat.

A warrior’s true companions are at his side at each and every moment, in times both difficult and easy.

Negotiating with the enemy

When the moment of combat draws near, the Warrior of Light is prepared for any circumstance. He analyzes each possibility and asks himself: “What would I do if I had to fight against myself?”

This is how he discovers his weak points.

At this moment the adversary approaches, carrying a bag filled with promises, agreements and negotiations. He has tempting proposals and easy alternatives to offer.

The warrior analyzes each of these proposals; he also seeks an agreement, but without losing his dignity. If he avoids combat, it is not because he was seduced – but rather because he decided that this was the best strategy.

A Warrior of Light does not accept presents from the enemy.

On the defense and on the attack

The warrior is careful with people who think they can control the world, determine their own steps, and are certain that they know the right path. They are always so confident in their own capacity of decision that they do not realize the irony with which fate writes everyone’s life.

The Warrior of Light has dreams. His dreams carry him forward. But he never commits the mistake of thinking that the road is easy and the door wide.

He knows that the Universe works like alchemy: solve et coagula, say the masters. ”Concentrate and disperse your energy according to the situation.”

There are moments to act and moments to accept.

In the face of defeat

The Warrior of Light knows how to lose. He does not hold defeat as something indifferent, using phrases like “well, it wasn’t all that important”, or “to tell the truth, I did not really want that”.

He accepts defeat as a defeat; he does not try to change it into a victory or an experience. He suffers the pain of his wounds, the indifference of his friends and the loneliness of loss. At such moments he says to himself: “I fought for something, and I failed to get it. I lost the first battle.”

This phrase will give him strength. He is aware that nobody wins all the time – but the courageous always win in the end.

My Favorite Poems

There are several great Brazilian poets, my favorite being Manuel Bandeira. However, all the translations I found in internet are not good. I am posting one of is many wonderful verses in Portugues (at the end). And I would love to share one of my favorite poems – this one from the Greek K. Kavafis.

ITHACA

As you set out for Ithaca
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon – don’t be afraid of them:
you’ ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon – you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbours you’re seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind -
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaca always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you’re destined for.
But don’t hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you’re old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.

Ithaca gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn’t have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
and this is the meaning of Ithaca.

Author : Konstantinos Petrou Kavafis

VOU-ME EMBORA PRA PASSARGADA

Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada
Lá sou amigo do rei
Lá tenho a mulher que eu quero
Na cama que escolherei
Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada

Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada
Aqui eu não sou feliz
Lá a existência é uma aventura
De tal modo inconseqüente
Que Joana a Louca de Espanha
Rainha e falsa demente
Vem a ser contraparente
Da nora que nunca tive

E como farei ginástica
Andarei de bicicleta
Montarei em burro brabo
Subirei no pau-de-sebo
Tomarei banhos de mar!
E quando estiver cansado
Deito na beira do rio
Mando chamar a mãe-d’água
Pra me contar as histórias
Que no tempo de eu menino
Rosa vinha me contar

Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada
Em Pasárgada tem tudo
É outra civilização
Tem um processo seguro
De impedir a concepção
Tem telefone automático
Tem alcalóide à vontade
Tem prostitutas bonitas
Para a gente namorar

E quando eu estiver mais triste
Mas triste de não ter jeito
Quando de noite me der
Vontade de me matar
­ Lá sou amigo do rei ­
Terei a mulher que eu quero
Na cama que escolherei
Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada.

Author : Manuel Bandeira

Resting vs Acting

Paulo Coelho

In the interval of the combat, the warrior rests.
He often spends days on end doing nothing, because his heart needs that.
But his intuition remains alert. He does not commit the capital sin of Sloth, because he knows where that can lead to: the tepid feeling of Sunday afternoons, when time passes – and nothing else.
The warrior calls this “cemetery peace.” He recalls an extract from the Apocalypse: I curse you because you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were cold or hot! But since you’re tepid, I shall vomit you from my mouth.
A warrior rests and laughs. But he is always attentive and ready to act.

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Pardoning vs Accepting

Paulo Coelho

A Warrior of Light always keeps his heart clean of the sentiment of hate. To do so, he needs to pardon.

When he walks to a fight, he never forgets Christ’s words: “love your enemies.”
And the warrior obeys, but always remembers that Christ did not say: “like your enemies.”

The act of pardoning does not oblige him to accept everything. A warrior must not lower his head, otherwise he loses sight of the horizon of his dreams.

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Patience and Speed

Paulo Coelho

A Warrior of Light needs patience and speed at the same time.

The two biggest mistakes of a strategy are to act prematurely and to let the opportunity pass by. To avoid making these mistakes, the warrior copes with each situation as if it were unique, and applies no formulas, prescriptions or the opinions of others.

Caliph Moauiyat asked Omar Ben Al-Aas what was the secret of his great political skill: “I have never gotten involved in any matter without first studying the way out; on the other hand, I have never become involved and wanted to get out right away,” was his answer.

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Accepting paradoxes

Paulo Coelho

“It’s odd,” the warrior muses to himself. “I have met so many people who, at the first chance they get, try to show the worst of themselves. They hide their interior strength through aggressiveness and disguise the fear of solitude with an air of independence. They don’t believe in their own capacity but are always extolling their virtues to the four winds.”
The warrior reads these messages in many men and women he knows. He is never fooled by appearances and insists on remaining silent when others try to impress him. But he uses the opportunity to correct his flaws – since people are always a good mirror.
A warrior puts to good use every opportunity to teach himself and to admit his own contradictions.

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The Warrior Of Light and Faith

Paulo Coelho

The warrior of light, once he has learned how to use a sword, discovers that his equipment is still incomplete – he needs armour.
He sets off in search of this armour and he listens to the advice of various salesmen.
‘Use the breastplate of solitude,’ says one.
‘Use the shield of cynicism’, says another.
‘The best armour is not to get involved in anything,’ says a third.
The warrior, however, ignores them. He calmly goes to his sacred place and puts on the indestructible cloak of faith.
Faith parries all blows. Faith transforms poison into crystalline water.

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The Warrior of Light and Courage

Paulo Coelho

The warrior of light knows the value of persistence and of courage.
Often, during combat, he receives blows that he was not expecting. And he realises that, during the war, his enemy is bound to win some of the battles. When this happens, he weeps bitter tears and rests in order to recover his energies a little. But he immediately resumes his battle for his dreams.
The longer he remains away, the more likely he is to feel weak, fearful and intimidated. When a horseman falls off his horse, if he does not remount immediately, he will never have the courage to do so again.

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The Warrior Of Light And Resistence

Paulo Coelho

The warrior knows that the most important words in all languages are the small words.
Yes. Love. God.
They are words that are easy enough to say and which fill vast empty spaces.
There is, however, one word – another small word – that many people have great difficulty in saying: no.
Someone who never says no, thinks of himself as generous, understanding, polite, because ‘no’ is thought of as being nasty, selfish, unspiritual.
The warrior does not fall into this trap. There are times when, in saying ‘yes’ to others, he is actually saying ‘no’ to himself.
That is why he never says ‘yes’ with his lips if, in his heart, he is saying ‘no’.

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A warrior of light is never indifferent to injustice.

Paulo Coelho

A warrior of light is never indifferent to injustice.
He knows that all is one and that each individual action affects everyone on the planet. That is why, when confronted by the suffering of others, he uses his sword to restore order.
But even though he fights against oppression, at no point does he attempt to judge the oppressor. Each person will answer for his actions before God and so, once the warrior has completed his task, he makes no further comment.
A warrior of light is in the world in order to help his fellow man and not in order to condemn his neighbour.

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Epictetus to his disciples

Paulo Coelho

Two things can happen when we meet someone: either we become friends, or we try to convince the other person to accept our convictions. The same happens when the ember meets another piece of coal: either it shares its fire with it, or it is suffocated by its size and ends up extinguished.
As we are generally insecure at a first contact, we try indifference, arrogance or excessive humility. The result is that we stop being who we are and things start heading towards a strange world that does not belong to us.

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Kandinsky on painting

Paulo Coelho

Painting is an art. And art is a power that should be aimed at developing the soul. If art does not do this job, the abyss that separates us from God is left without a bridge.
The artist owes his talent to God and has to settle this debt. To do this, he has to work hard, know that he is free in his art but not in his commitment to life. Everything he feels and thinks is part of the raw material with which to improve the spiritual atmosphere around him.
Beauty, whether in art or in a woman, cannot be empty; it has to be at the service of humankind and the world.

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How to observe the flight of the arrow

Paulo Coelho

The arrow is intention projected into space.
Once it is fired, there is nothing left for the archer to do except accompany its path towards the target. From that moment on, the tension necessary for the shot has no more reason to exist.
The archer therefore keeps his eyes fixed on the flight of the arrow, but his heart is at rest and he smiles.
At that moment, if he has trained enough, if he has managed to develop his instinct, if he has maintained his elegance and concentration throughout the whole process of the shot, then he will feel the presence of the universe and hw will see that his action was fair and deserved.
Technique makes both hands always ready, breathing always precise, eyes able to fix on the target. Instinct makes the moment of the shot perfect.
Whoever passes by and sees the archer with his arms open and his eyes following the arrow will fancy that he is stopped. But the allies know that the mind of the one who fired the arrow has changed dimension and is now in contact with the entire universe: the mind goes on working, learning everything of a positive nature that the shot has brought, correcting any mistakes, accepting his qualities, and waiting to see how the target reacts when it is struck.
When the archer stretches the string, he can see the whole world inside his bow. When he accompanies the flight of the arrow, this world comes close to him, caresses him and makes him relish the perfect sensation of having fulfilled his duty.
A Warrior of Light, after fulfilling his duty and transforming his intention into gesture, need fear no more: he has done what he had to do. He has not allowed himself to be petrified by fear, for even if the arrow fails to reach its target, he will have another opportunity, because he has not been a coward.

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The importance of repeating the same thing

Paulo Coelho

An action is a thought that manifests itself.
A small gesture denounces us, so we have to make everything perfect, think about the details, learn the technique so that it becomes intuitive. Intuition has nothing to do with routine but rather with a state of spirit that lies beyond technique.
So, after practicing a lot, we no longer think about all the necessary movements: they become part of our very existence. But for this to happen, you have to train and repeat.
And as if that were not enough, you have to repeat and train.
Watch a good blacksmith working the steel. To the untrained eye he is repeating the same hammer blows over and over again.
But those who know the importance of training know that each time the hammer is raised and then lowered, the intensity of the blow is different. The hand repeats the same gesture but as it approaches the iron it knows whether to touch it harder or softer.
Look at the windmill. Whoever sees its vanes just once imagines that it always turns with the same speed, always repeating the same movement. But those who know windmills know that they are conditioned to the wind and change their direction whenever necessary.
The hand of the ironsmith was trained after the gesture of hammering was repeated thousands of times. Windmill vanes can move fast after the wind has blown a lot and polished their gears. The archer lets many an arrow pass far from the target because he knows that he will only learn the importance of the bow, posture, the string and the target after he repeats his gestures thousands of times without being afraid of making a mistake.
Until he reaches the moment when he no longer needs to think about what he doing. From then on the archer becomes his bow, his arrow and his target.

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At the end of the black tunnel – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

[...]

“The worst of it was that I saw Sorin wearing orange overalls and with his head shaven, in a video that was delivered to Al-Jazeera (the Arab channel based in Qatar),” says Cristina. “This was a sign that his execution would take place quite soon.”
“I asked God for only one thing: to die with a bullet in the heart. I had already seen videos of prisoners being decapitated; I asked, begged to be shot,” adds Sorin.
Andrea gives him a kiss. He smiles, asks if I want to stay in that restaurant or if we should go to the only karaoke in Sibiu. I prefer to interrupt the conversation at that point – it was better to go and sing together. Our group gets up, I try to pay the bill but it was “on the house” in homage to the local hero, he who had survived in spite of everything.
On the way to the discotheque, I think about the black tunnel: without wanting to romanticize a dramatic situation, I fell that this happens to everyone. When we are faced with something that really threatens us, it is impossible to look around, although this is the correct and safer procedure. We can’t see clearly, use logic, gather information that can help us and those who try to get us out of that situation. In love and in war we are human, thank God.
We reach the karaoke, drink some more, sing Elvis, Madonna and Ray Charles. Ours is an interesting group: Lacrima, who was abandoned by her mother when she was only two months old. Leonardo, who has just got over a depression that lasted two years. Cristina Topescu, who recently overcame difficult moments. Sorin and his 55 days in captivity, and Andrea, who almost lost the person she loved. And me, with scars all over my body and soul.
And even so we drank, sang and celebrated life. To have friends like these gives me more than hope, it makes me understand that the true survivors will never be victims to their torturers, because they manage to keep alive the most important thing in human beings: joy.
And where there is joy after tragedy, there will always be an example to be followed.

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At the end of the black tunnel – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

“I saw only a tunnel.”
In the bar in Sibiu, in Transylvania, Sorin looks deep into my eyes. He carries on speaking.
“I saw a black tunnel with a man at the end of it, making signs at me.”
I wait. We have all the time in the world and I remember that when I was in the same situation I saw a tunnel too, except this one led to a hotel in Rio de Janeiro, the Glória Hotel. I looked at that hotel, expected the worse and thought to myself: “it’s not fair, I’m only 26 years old!” Fair or not, in the early morning of 27 May 1974 I stood before death and could not see what was happening beside me. Just the tunnel and the hotel. But my story does not matter, it serves only to say that I understand perfectly well what Sorin is telling me in a bar lost in the middle of the Carpates Mountains.
“I saw only a tunnel, with a man pointing a gun at me and telling me to get out of the car.”
Sorin Miscoci’s Calvary began on 28 March 2005, near Baghdad. He had been designated to spend a week there at the request of a Rumanian TV station and ended up being kidnapped for 55 days.
“Later on, when they freed me, the American security agents asked me how many people were there. And I told them: one. They laughed and said that just wasn’t possible. It was the psychologist who helped me, explaining that in situations like this, nothing in the surroundings has any importance. All you see is the focus of the crisis, what is threatening you, and you simply forget the rest.
Sorin has just got married to Andrea, who strokes his hand. We have been traveling together for three days and we will continue for another week crossing the Carpates Mountains. I knew his story, but waited until he was in his home town before asking him the details. Cristina Topescu, an old friend who worked as a journalist in the same TV as Sorin, was also at the table. She says that when the time came to mobilize the country, few colleagues came forward to speak to the President of the Republic, for fear of losing their jobs.

[...]

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Lao Tsu, China – 6th century B.C.

Paulo Coelho

Based on my message earlier this week – about the different languages of God – I would like to share with you this week some of the prayers that point in the same direction:

“For there to be peace in the world, the nations must live in peace.
For there to be peace among nations, cities must not rise up against one another.
For there to be peace in the cities, neighbors must get on well with one another.
For there to be peace among neighbors, harmony must reign in the home.
For there to be harmony at home, it must be found in your own heart.”

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Jesus of Nazareth, Matthew 7;7-8

Paulo Coelho

Based on my message earlier this week – about the different languages of God – I would like to share with you this week some of the prayers that point in the same direction:

“Ask, and it shall be given you;
seek and you shall find;
knock, and it shall be opened unto you:
For every one that asks receives;
and he that seeks finds:
And to him that knocks,
it shall be opened.”

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Prophet Mohammed, 7th century

Paulo Coelho

Based on my message earlier this week – about the different languages of God – I would like to share with you this week some of the prayers that point in the same direction:

“Oh Allah! I come to you because you know all, even what is hidden.

If what I am doing is good for me and my religion, for my life now and later, then let the task be easy and blessed.

If what I am doing now is bad for me and my religion, for my life now and later, then keep me far from this task.”

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Dhammapada (attributed to Buddha)

Paulo Coelho

Based on my message of yesterday – about the different languages of God – I would like to share with you this week some of the prayers that point in the same direction:

“Instead of a thousand words,
Better just one,
One that brings peace.
Instead of a thousand verses,
Better just one,
One that shows beauty.
Instead of a thousand songs,
Better just one,
One that spreads joy.”

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The languages that God speaks

Paulo Coelho

A Spanish missionary was visiting an island when he came across three Aztec priests.

“How do you pray?” asked the priest.

“We have only one prayer, “ answered one of the Aztecs. “We say: “God, You are three, we are three. Have mercy on us.”

“Beautiful prayer,” said the missionary. “But it is not exactly the prayer that God hears. I shall teach you a much better one.”

The priest taught them a Catholic prayer and went on his way to spread the Gospel among others. Years later, on the ship taking him back to Spain, he stopped at that island once more. From the deck he saw the three holy men on the beach – and waved farewell to them.

At that moment the three began to walk on the water towards him.

“Father! Father!” shouted one of them, approaching the ship. “Teach us again the prayer that God hears, because we can’t remember it!”

“It doesn’t matter,” said the missionary, seeing the miracle. And he asked God to forgive him for not understanding before that He spoke all languages.

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To be like a river flowing – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

[...]

F] We are one. We were born in a place that was meant for us, which will always keep us supplied with enough water so that when confronted with obstacles or depression we have the necessary patience or strength to move forward. We begin our course in a soft and fragile manner, where even a simple leaf can stop us. Nevertheless, as we respect the mystery of the source that gave us life, and trust in His eternal wisdom, little by little we gain all that we need to pursue our path.

G] Although we are one, soon we shall be many. As we travel on, the waters of other springs come closer, because that is the best path to follow. Then we are no longer just one, but many – and there comes a moment when we feel lost. However, as the Bible says, “all rivers flow to the sea.” It is impossible to remain in our solitude, no matter how romantic that may seem. When we accept the inevitable encounter with other springs, we eventually understand that this makes us much stronger, we get around obstacles or fill in the hollows in far less time and with greater ease.

H] We are a means of transportation. Of leaves, boats, ideas. May our waters always be generous, may be always be able to carry ahead everything or everyone that needs our help.

I] We are a source of inspiration. And so, let us leave the final words to the Brazilian poet, Manuel Bandeira:

“To be like a river that flows
silent through the night,
not fearing the darkness and
reflecting any stars high in the sky.

And if the sky is filled with clouds,
the clouds are water like the river, so
without remorse reflect them too

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To be like a river flowing – Part1

Paulo Coelho

“A river never passes the same place twice,” says a philosopher. “Life is like a river,” says another philosopher, and we draw the conclusion that this is the metaphor that comes closest to the meaning of life. Consequently, it is always good to remember during all the year to come:

A] We are always doing things for the first time. While we move between our source (birth) to our destination (death), the landscape will always be new. We should face these novelties with joy, not with fear – because it is useless to fear what cannot be avoided. A river never stops running.

B] In a valley we walk slower. When everything around us becomes easier, the waters grow calm, we become more open, fuller and more generous.

C] Our banks are always fertile. Vegetation only grows where there is water. Whoever comes into contact with us needs to understand that we are there to give the thirsty something to drink.

D] Stones should be avoided. It is obvious that water is stronger than granite, but it takes time for this to happen. It is no good letting yourself be overcome by stronger obstacles, or trying to fight against them – that is a useless waste of energy. It is best to understand where the way out is, and then move forward.

E] Hollows call for patience. All of a sudden the river enters a sort of hole and stops running as joyfully as before. At such moments the only way out is to count on the help of time. When the right moment comes the hollow fills up and the water can flow ahead. In the place of the ugly, lifeless hole there now stands a lake that others can contemplate with joy.

[...]

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Condemned to death

Paulo Coelho

The group went down the street: the soldiers were escorting a man condemned to the gallows.

- That man was no good commented a disciple with Awas-el Salam. – Once I gave him a silver coin to help him to get out of his misery and he did nothing important.

- Perhaps he is no good, but he may now be going to the gallows because of you. Maybe he used the money you gave him to buy a dagger, which he ended up using in the crime committed. In that case, your hands are also bloodied. Instead of trying to support him with love and kindness, you preferred to give him alms and rid yourself of your obligation.

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Would anyone know the difference

Paulo Coelho

A father took his two boys to play mini-golf. At the ticket office he wanted to know the price.

- Five coins for adults, three for those over six years. Under six years entry is free.

- One of them is three, the other seven. I’ll pay for the oldest.

- You are silly – said the ticket seller. You could have saved three coins, saying that the oldest was under six; I would never have known the difference.

- That may be, but the boys would know. And they would remember the bad example for ever.

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The way of the tiger

Paulo Coelho

The man was walking through the forest when he saw a crippled fox.

“How does she feed herself?” he thought.

At that moment, a tiger approached with an animal in its jaws. It satisfied its hunger and left what remained for the fox.

“If God helps the fox then he will help me too”, he thought. He returned to his house, locked the door and waited for Heaven to send him food.

Nothing happened. When he was getting too weak to go out and work, an angel appeared.

- Why did you decide to imitate the lame fox? – asked the angel. – Get up, take your tools and follow the way of the tiger!

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Learning to take care of oneself

Paulo Coelho

- For years I have sought enlightenment – said the disciple. – I feel I am near it and want to know how to take the next step.

- A man who knows how to seek God knows also how to take care of himself. How do you support yourself? – asked the master.

- That is just a detail. I have rich parents who help me along my spiritual path. Because of that, I can dedicate myself entirely to sacred things.

- Very well – said the master. – I will explain to you the next step: look at the sun for half a minute.

The disciple obeyed.

When he had finished, the master asked him describe the landscape around him.

- I can’t. The sun’s brightness dazzled my eyes.

- A man who looks fixedly at the sun ends up blind. A man who only looks for Light, and shifts his responsibilities onto the shoulders of others, never finds what he is seeking – was the master’s comment.

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Moving is Living

Paulo Coelho

I am at a St. John’s party, with stalls, target shooting and home-cooked food. The only curious thing is that from a certain angle of the street of two-stores houses, we can see the tallest buildings in the world; the rural festivity is happening in the middle of New York.

Suddenly, a clown begins to imitate my gestures. People laugh, and I also think it’s funny. In the end, I invite him for coffee.

“Commit yourself to life”, says the clown. “If you are alive, you must wave your arms, jump, make a noise, laugh and talk to people, because life is exactly the opposite of death”.

“Dying is staying always in the same position. If you are very quiet, you are not living”.

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The mouse and the books

Paulo Coelho

When I was interned in Dr. Eiras Hospital, I began to have panic crises. One day, I decided to consult the psychiatrist in charge of my case:

“Doctor, I am overcome by fear; it takes from me the joy of living”.

“Here in my office there is a mouse that eats my books”, said the doctor. “If I get desperate about this mouse, he will hide from me and I will do nothing else in life but hunt him. Therefore, I put the most important books in a safe place and let him gnaw some others.

“In this way, he is still a mouse and does not become a monster. Be afraid of some things and concentrate all your fear on them – so that you have courage in the rest.”

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Witches and pardon – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

[...]

But I also met many people who were truly capable of dealing with forces that were far beyond my understanding. I saw time being altered, for example. I saw operations without anesthesia, and on one of these occasions (precisely a day that I had woken up with many doubts about man’s unknown power) I placed my finger inside the incision made with a rusty pocket knife. Believe it as you wish – or ridicule it if that is the only way of reading what I am writing – I have seen metal being changed, cutlery twisted, lights shining in the air around me, because somebody said that would happen (and it did). I was almost always with witnesses, generally skeptical. In most cases these witnesses went on being skeptical, always thinking that it was all just a very clever “trick”. Others said it was “the work of the devil”. Finally, a few believed that they were witnessing phenomena that went beyond human comprehension.

I have seen this in Brazil, France, England, Switzerland, Morocco, and Japan. And what happens to most people who manage to, let us say, interfere with the “immutable” laws of nature? Society always considers them as marginal phenomena: if they cannot explain, then they do not exist. The vast majority of these people also fail to understand why they are capable of doing astonishing things. And for fear of being labeled charlatans, they end up suffocated by their own gifts.

None of them are happy. They all await the day when they can be taken seriously. They all await a scientific answer to their own powers (and in my opinion I do not think that is the solution). Many hide their potential and end up suffering – because they could help the world, and they do not manage to. Deep down I feel that that they are also waiting for the “official pardon” for being so different.

Separating the wheat from the chaff, and not growing disheartened by the giant amount of charlatanism, I feel that we should ask ourselves once more: what are we capable of?

And then go out and seriously develop our immense potential.

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Witches and pardon – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

On 31 October 2004, resorting to a feudal law that was abolished the following month, the town of Prestonpans in Scotland granted official pardon to 81 persons – and their cats – executed for practicing witchery in the 16th and 17th centuries.

According to the official spokesman for the Barons of Prestoungrange and Dolphinstoun, “most of them had been condemned without any concrete proof – based only on the witnesses of the accusation, who declared that they felt the presence of evil spirits.”

There is no point in recalling once more all the excess of the Inquisition, with its torture chambers and bonfires of hate and vengeance. But there is one thing that is very intriguing to me in this news item.

The town and the 14th Baron of Prestoungrange & Dolphinstoun are “granting pardon” to the people who were brutally executed. Here we are in the heart of the 21st century and the descendants of the real criminals, those who put innocent people to death, still have the right to “grant pardon”.

In the meantime, a new witch hunt is beginning to gain ground. This time the arm is no longer red-hot iron, but rather irony or repression. All those who, in developing a gift (generally discovered by chance), dare to speak of their capacity, are mostly either looked on with suspicion or else prohibited by their parents, husbands and wives to say anything about it. Having interested myself from an early age in what they call the “occult sciences”, I came into contact with many such people.

I believed in charlatans, of course. I dedicated time and enthusiasm to “masters” that later on dropped their masks, revealing the total void in which they found themselves. Irresponsibly, I took part in certain sects and practiced rituals for which I had to pay a high price. All this in on behalf of a quest that is absolutely natural to man: the answer to the mystery of life.

[...]

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Manuel goes to Paradise

Paulo Coelho

One day our dear, honest, dedicated Manuel ends up dying – as will happen to all the Manuels, Paulos, Marias and Monicas in this life. And here I resort to the words of Henry Drummond, whose brilliant book “The Supreme Gift” describes what happens from this point on:

“All of us at some moment have asked the same question as every other generation: “What is the most important thing in our existence?”

We want to use our days in the best possible way, for nobody else can live our lives for us. So we need to know where we should direct our efforts, what is the supreme objective to be met.

We are used to hearing that the most important treasure in spiritual life is faith. Many centuries of religion rest on this simple word. Do we hold faith to be the most important thing in the world? Well, we are quite wrong.

In his epistle to the Corinthians, chapter XIII, Saint Paul takes us to the early days of Christianity. He ends by saying: “And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three: but the greatest of these is charity.”

This is not some superficial opinion of the author of these words, Saint Paul. After all, talking about Faith a moment before, in the same letter, he said: “And though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.” Paul did not avoid the question; on the contrary, he compared faith and charity and concluded: “(…) the greatest of these is charity.”

Matthew offers us a classic description of the Day of Final Reckoning: the Son of God sits on a throne and like a shepherd separates the goats from the sheep.

At that moment the great question for human beings will not be: “How did I live?” but rather: “How did I love?”

The final test of all quests for salvation will be Love. No account will be taken of what we did, what we believed in, what we achieved. None of this will be asked of us. What we will be asked is how we loved our neighbor. The mistakes we have made will not even be remembered. We will be judged for the good we have failed to do. Because keeping Love locked up within ourselves is to go against the spirit of God, it proves that we never knew Him, that He loved us in vain, and that His Son died to no avail.”

In this case, our Manuel is saved at the moment of his death, because although he never gave any meaning to his life, he was capable of loving, providing for his family, and doing what he did with dignity. However, although it is a happy ending, the rest of his days on earth were very complicated.

Repeating a phrase I heard from Shimon Peres at the World Forum in Davos: “optimist and pessimist both end up dying. But they each use their lives in a completely different manner.”

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Manuel is a free man – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

[...]

He looks for someone to share his opinions – but they are all immersed in the river of life, working, doing something, envying Manuel his freedom and at the same time happy to be useful to society, to be “busy” at something important.

Manuel seeks for comfort in his children. They always treat him with great affection – he has been an excellent father, an example of honesty and dedication – but they too have other worries, although they consider Sunday lunch a duty.

Manuel is a free man, enjoys a reasonable financial situation, is well-informed, has an impeccable past, but what now? What to do with all this freedom, won with such hardship? Everyone greets him, everyone praises him, but no-one has any time for him. Little by little Manuel begins to feel sad and useless – despite all the years he has spent serving the world and his family.

One night an angel appears in his dream: “What have you done with your life? Did you try to live it according to your dreams?”

Manuel wakes up in a cold sweat. What dreams? This was his dream: to have a diploma, to get married, to have children, to give them an education, to retire, to travel. Why was the angel bothering him with all these senseless questions?

Another long day begins: the newspapers, the news on the TV, the garden and lunch. Sleep a little, do whatever you feel like doing and at that very moment discover that you do not feel like doing anything. Manuel is a free and sad man, one step away from depression, because he was always too busy to think about the meaning of life, while the years flowed by under the bridge. He remembers the lines of a poem: “he passed through life/but did not live.”

But it is too late to accept that, so better change the subject. Freedom, conquered with so much struggling, is just exile in disguise.

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Manuel is a free man – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

Manuel has worked for 30 years non-stop, gives his children an education, sets a good example, devotes his entire time to work, and never wonders: “Is there any meaning to what I am doing?” His sole concern is to know that the busier he is, the more important he will be in the eyes of society.

His children grow up and leave home, he is promoted at work, then one day he is given a watch or a pen in recognition of all those years of dedication, the friends shed a tear or two, and the long-expected moment arrives: he is retired, free to do whatever he likes!

The first few months, every now and again he pays a visit to the office where he worked, chats with the old friends, and relishes the pleasure of doing what he has always dreamed of: sleeping late. He goes for walks on the beach or in town, then there is the house in the country he managed to buy with so much sweat, discovers gardening and little by little penetrates the mystery of the plants and flowers. Manuel has time, all the time in the world. He travels, using part of the money he has managed to put aside. He visits museums, in the space of two hours learns what painters and sculptors from different eras took centuries to develop, but at least he has the feeling that he is improving his culture. He takes hundreds, thousands of pictures and sends them to friends – after all, they have to know how happy he is!

Some more months go by. Manuel learns that gardens do not follow exactly the same rules as men – what he has planted is going to take a while to grow, and it is use trying to see if the rosebush has buds yet. In a moment of sincere reflection he discovers that all that he has seen on his travels was a landscape outside the window of a tourist bus, monuments that are now stored away on 6×9 photos, but the truth is that he felt no special emotion – he was more concerned about telling his friends than he was in living the magic experience of finding himself in a foreign country.

He still watches all the newsreels on television, reads more newspapers (because he has more time), considers himself to be a very well-informed person, capable of discussing things that he did not the time before to study.

[...]

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Manuel is an important and necessary man – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

[...]

Finally he returns home. He takes a shower, gets into some comfortable clothes and sits down to have dinner with his family. He asks the children about school, his wife how she spent the day. Now and again he talks about his work, just to serve as an example – because he does not like to bring worries home. Dinner over, the children – who are not the least bit interested in examples, duties or any such things – immediately leave the table and go to sit in front of the computer. Manuel too goes to sit down in front of that old apparatus from his childhood called the television. Again he watches the news (something may have happened in the afternoon).

He always goes to bed with some technical book on the bedside table – whether boss or employee, he knows that the competition is great and that if you do not keep up, you run the risk of losing your job and then have to face the worst of all curses: unemployment.

He talks to his wife for a while – after all, he is a gentle, hardworking and loving man who cares for his family and is ready to defend it in any circumstances. Sleep comes soon and Manuel falls asleep knowing that the next day he will be very busy, so he needs to recoup his energies.

That night Manuel has a dream. An angel asks him: “Who do you do this?” He replies that he is a responsible man.

The angel then asks: “Would you be able to stop just for fifteen minutes during the day and look at the world, at yourself, and just do nothing?” Manuel says that he would love to, but he does not have the time for that. “You’re trying to fool me,” says the angel. “Everybody has the time for that, what they lack is courage. Work is a blessing when it helps us to think about what we are doing. But is becomes a curse when its only use is to prevent us from thinking about what our life means.”

Manuel wakes up in the middle of the night, covered in a cold sweat. Courage? How can a man who sacrifices himself for his family not have the courage to stop for fifteen minutes?

Best to go back to sleep, it’s only a dream, such questions lead nowhere, and tomorrow is going to be a very busy day.

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Manuel is an important and necessary man – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

Manuel needs to be busy. Otherwise he feels that life has no meaning, that he is wasting his time, that society has no need for him, nobody loves him, nobody wants him.

So as soon as he wakes up e has a whole set of tasks to do: watch the news on the television (something may have happened during the night), read the newspaper (something may have happened yesterday), ask his wife not to let the children be late for school, get the car, a taxi, a bus, the subway, but always concentrated, looking into the vacuum, consulting his watch, if possible making a few calls on his cell phone – and making sure that everyone sees that he is an important man, a man useful to the world.

Manuel arrives at work and starts to pore over the pile of paper that awaits him. If he is an employee, he does everything possible for the boss to notice that he arrived on time. If he is the boss, he sets them all to work right away; if there are no important tasks to do, Manuel will see to developing some, creating some, implementing a new plan, establishing new lines of action.

Manuel goes to lunch – but never alone. If he is the boss, he sits down with his friends, discusses new strategies, speaks badly of the competitors, always keeps a card hidden up his sleeve, complains (with a touch of pride) about being overworked. If Manuel is an employee, he also sits down with his friends, complains about the boss, says he is working a lot of overtime, claims in despair (and with a touch of pride) that so much at the firm depends on him.

Manuel – boss or employee – works the whole afternoon. From time to time he looks at his watch, it’s time to go home but he still has a detail to solve here, a document to sign there. He is an honest man; he wants to justify his salary, what others expect of him, the dreams of his parents who went to such great pains to give him the necessary education.

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Another wrong step

Paulo Coelho

As if nothing had changed overnight, the warrior takes another wrong step and dives once again into the abyss. Ghosts provoke him, loneliness torments him. Now that he is more aware of his acts, he did not think this would happen.

But it did. Shrouded by darkness, he talks to his master.

“Master, I fell again into the abyss “, he says.” The waters are deep and dark”.

“Remember something “, responds the master. “What drowns is not the dive, but the fact of staying under water “.

The warrior uses his remaining strength to get out of the situation he is in.

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The importance of looking – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

(…)

“I sell churches.”

I stood astonished as he continued:

“I am employed by the Vatican to select buyers, since there are more churches than churchgoers in Holland. And since we have had awful experiences in the past, seeing sacred places turned into nightclubs, condominiums, boutiques and even sex shops, we changed our sales system. The project has to be approved by the community and the buyer must say what he is going to do with the property: as a rule we accept only proposals that include a cultural center, a charity institution or a museum.

“So what does that have to do with your talk, and the others that I am trying to organize? People are no longer meeting one another. When they do not meet, they do not grow.”

He looked me straight in the eye and concluded:

“Meetings. That was precisely my mistake with you. Instead of sending a bunch of e-mails, I should have shown right away that I was made of flesh and blood. When I failed to get an answer from a politician, I went and knocked on his office door and he told me: “If you want something, first of all you have to show your eyes.” That’s what I have done ever since then and I have had nothing but good results. We can have all the available means of communication in the world, but nothing, absolutely nothing takes the place of the human look.”

Of course, I finally accepted his proposal.

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The importance of looking – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

At first Lex Maars was just a persistent fellow. For five years he religiously sent to my office in Barcelona an invitation for me to give a lecture at The Hague in Holland.

For five years my office invariably answered that my agenda was full. The truth is that the agenda is not always full, but a writer is not necessarily someone who can speak well in public. Besides, everything that I have to say is in the books and columns I write – that is why I always avoid giving talks.

Lex discovered that I was going to record a program for a TV channel in Holland. When I came down for the filming, he was waiting for me in the hotel lobby. He introduced himself and asked me to accompany him, saying:

“I am not someone who can’t take “no” for an answer. It’s just that I believe I’ve been trying to do things the wrong way.”

One has to fight for one’s dreams, but one also has to know that when certain paths prove impossible, it’s better to save one’s energies for other paths. I could simply say “no” (I have often said and heard that word), but I decided to try something more diplomatic: set conditions that were impossible to fulfill. I said I would not charge for the lecture, but admission must be less than two Euros and the room must be limited to 200 people at the most.

Lex agreed.

“You’re going to spend more than you make,” I warned. “By my count, the airline ticket and the hotel alone cost three times what you will get if you manage to have a full house. Then there is the cost of publicity, renting the hall …”

Lex interrupted me saying that none of that was of any importance, he was doing that because of what he saw in his profession.

“I organize events because I have to go on believing that human beings are seeking a better world. I have to contribute to making that become possible.”

What was his profession?

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Respect for mystery – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

I had to live for many years before I realized that love is an act of faith in another person, and its face should continue to be wrapped in mystery. It should be lived and relished at each and every minute, but whenever we try to understand it, the magic vanishes.

When I accepted this I also began to let my life be guided by a strange language that I call “signs”. I know that the world is talking to me, I need to listen to it, and if I do so I shall always be guided towards what is most intense, passionate and beautiful. Of course, it is not easy and at times I feel like Psyche at the cliff, cold and terrified, but if I can pass through that night and deliver myself to the mystery and faith in life, I will always end up waking in a palace. All I need is to trust in Love, even though I run the risk of making a mistake.

To conclude the Greek myth: desperate to have her love back, Psyche submits to a series of tasks imposed by Aphrodite (or Venus), the mother of Cupid (or Eros), who is envious of her beauty. One of the tasks is to deliver some of her beauty to Aphrodite. Psyche grows curious about the box that was supposed to contain the Goddess’ beauty and once again is unable to cope with the Mystery, so she decides to open it. Inside she finds not beauty but rather an infernal sleep that leaves her inert and immobile.

Eros/Cupid is also in love, regretful for not having been more tolerant towards his wife. He manages to enter the castle and wake her from her deep sleep with the point of his arrow and once again tells her: “You almost died on account of your curiosity.” That is the great contradiction, Psyche sought for security in knowledge and found only insecurity.

The two of them go to Jupiter, the supreme god, and implore that their union will never be undone. Jupiter passionately pleads the cause of the lovers and succeeds in gaining the support of Venus. From that day onwards, Psyche (the essence of the human being) and Eros (love) are always together. Whoever does not accept this and tries to find an explanation for magical and mysterious human relations will miss the best part of life.

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Respect for mystery – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

The Greeks were great masters at describing human behavior through small stories that we usually call myths. All the generations that came after them, from Freud’s psychoanalysis (with the Oedipus complex, for example) to the films of Hollywood (like Morpheus in “Matrix”) ended up drinking from this source.

For a good part of my life, one of those stories left me very intrigued: the myth of Psyche.

Once upon a time … a beautiful princess was admired by all but nobody dared to ask for her hand in marriage. In despair, the king consulted the god Apollo, who told him that Psyche should be left alone, dressed in mourning, on top of a mountain. Before day broke a serpent would come to meet and marry her. The king obeyed, and all night the princess waited, in terror and dying of cold, for her husband to appear.

She finally fell asleep. When she awoke she was in a beautiful palace, transformed into a queen. Every night her husband came to her and they made love, but he had imposed a sole condition: Psyche could have all she desired but she had to show utter trust and could never see his face.

The young woman lived happily for a long time; she had comfort, affection, happiness, she was in love with the man who came to her every night. However, now and again she was afraid she was married to a horrid serpent. Early one morning, while her husband was sleeping, she shone a lamp on the bed, and saw lying there by her side Eros (or Cupid), a man of exceptional beauty. The light woke him up; he discovered that the woman he loved was incapable of respecting his only desire, and disappeared.

Whenever I read this text, I used to wonder: can we never discover the face of love?

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Taking the decision to follow the light

Paulo Coelho

The Warrior of the light had begun to believe that it is better to follow the light. He had already betrayed, told lies, strayed off his path, paid court to the darkness. And everything continued going well – as if nothing had happened. Now he wants to change his attitudes.

When taking this decision, he hears four comments: “You always acted wrongly. You are too old to change. You are not good. You don’t deserve it”.

He looks towards heaven, and a voice says: “well, my dear, everyone has made mistakes. You are forgiven, but I can’t force this pardon. Decide for yourself”.

The true warrior of the light accepts the pardon and then takes some precautions.

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I met a fiddler (Hassidic tradition)

Paulo Coelho

A disciple approached Rabbi Moshé Haim: “Today I met a man who laughed and scorned my striving for spiritual grace.”

“Today I met a fiddler,” answered the Rabbi. “He played with such divine inspiration that all who drew near began to sing and dance. I followed suit and was praising Creation with my joy when I saw a deaf man approach us. He stood there watching the fiddler and everyone dancing away. Finally he said in a loud voice: “What an indecent and grotesque display by a bunch of madmen!”

And Moshé Haim concluded: “Those who don’t know how to listen to God’s music can only conclude that it is useless.”

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Pupils and teachers (Sufi tradition)

Paulo Coelho

Nasrudin – the eternal character of Sufi legends – was standing on his doorstep when he saw a teacher passing by with his pupils.

“Where are you off to?” he asked.

“We’re going to pray that God puts a stop to corruption, for He always heeds the prayers of children,” answered the teacher.

“A good education would have put an end to that already. Teach the youngsters to be more responsible than their parents and uncles.”

The teacher felt offended: “What an example of lack of faith! The prayers of children can change anything!”

“God listens to all who pray. If he only listened to the prayers of children there wouldn’t be a single school in the whole country, for there is nothing they hate more than their teachers.”

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I don’t mean to offend you (Islamic tradition)

Paulo Coelho

During his pilgrimage to Mecca, a holy man began to feel the presence of God. In the midst of a trance he knelt down, hid his face and prayed: “Lord, I ask for only one thing in life: that I be given the grace of never offending you.”

“I cannot grant you that grace,” answered the Almighty. ‘If you don’t offend me I shall have no reason to pardon you. If I have no need to pardon you, soon you will also forget the importance of mercy towards others. So go on your way with Love and let me grant pardon now and again so that you don’t forget that virtue as well.”

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The hundredth name (Sufi tradition)

Paulo Coelho

A student asked his Sufi master to reveal God’s fifth name.

“Whoever knows that name is capable of changing History,” he answered. The master asked him to spend the whole day at the gates of the city.

The boy returned the following day.

“What did you see?” asked the master.

“An old man tried to enter the city to sell a sheep. The guard wanted to tax him but the man had no money. So the guard stole his sheep and chased him off. I thought: if I only knew God’s hidden name I could change this situation.”

“You could have prevented this injustice, but you preferred to stand there dreaming of a revelation. Such stupidity! Well, then, I shall tell you God’s fifth name: act on behalf of others. That’s the only way we can change History.”

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The price of hate and pardon – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

(…)

“It’s very difficult. But there is no choice: if you don’t pardon, then you’ll think about the pain they caused you and that pain will never go away. I’m not saying that you have to like those who do you wrong. I’m not telling you to go back to that person’s company. I’m not suggesting that you start seeing that person as an angel or as someone who acted without any hurtful intentions. All I am saying is that the energy of hate will take you nowhere, but the energy of pardon which manifests itself through love will manage to change your life in a positive sense.”

“I have been hurt many times.”

“That’s the reason that you still bear within yourself the little boy who cried hiding from his parents, the boy who was the weakest in his class. You still bear the marks of that frail little boy who could never find a girlfriend and was never good at sports. You haven’t managed to chase off the scars of some injustices they committed against you during your life. But what good does that do you? None at all. Absolutely nothing. Just a constant desire to feel sorry for yourself for being the victim of those who were stronger. Or else dress up like an avenger ready to inflict more wounds on those who hurt you. Don’t you think you’re wasting your time with all that?”

“I think it’s human.”

“It’s certainly human. But it’s neither intelligent nor reasonable. Respect your time on this Earth, understand that God has always pardoned you, and learn to pardon too.”

After this conversation with J, which took place just before I traveled to spend 40 days in the Mojave desert in the United States, I began to understand better the boy, the adolescent, the hurt adult I once was. One morning, going from the Valley of Death in California to Tucson in Arizona, I made a mental list of everyone I thought I hated because they had hurt me. I went along pardoning them one by one and six hours later, in Tucson, my soul felt so light and my life had changed much for the better.

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The price of hate and pardon – part 1

Paulo Coelho

In my notes for the year 1989 I come across some sentences jotted down from a conversation I had with J, whom I call my “master.” At that time we were talking about an unknown mystic called Kenan Rifai, about whom little has been written.

“Kenan Rifai says that when people praise us we should watch how we behave,” says J, “because that means that we hide our faults very well. Finally we end up believing that we are better than we think and then the next step is to let ourselves be dominated by a false feeling of security that will eventually set up dangers all around us.”

“How can we be attentive to the opportunities that life gives us?”

“If you have only two opportunities, learn how to turn them into twelve. When you have twelve they will multiply automatically. That is why Jesus says: “he who has a lot will have a lot more given. He who has little will have that little taken from him.”

“That is one of the harshest sentences in the Gospels. But I have noticed throughout my life that it is absolutely true. So how can we identify the opportunities?”

“Pay attention to every moment, because the opportunity – the “magic instant” – is within our reach, although we always let it pass by because we feel guilty. So try not to waste your time blaming yourself: the universe will see to correcting you if you’re not worthy of what you’re doing.”

“And how is the universe going to correct me?”

“It won’t be through tragedies; these happen because they are part of life, and they should not be thought of as punishment. Generally the universe shows us that we are wrong when it takes away what is most important to us: our friends.

“Kenan Rifai was a man who helped many people find themselves and to achieve a harmonious relation with life. Even so, some of those people proved to be ungrateful and never even turned their head to say ‘thanks’. They turned to him only when their lives were in a state of utter confusion. Rifai helped them again without mentioning the past: he was a man with many friends and the ungrateful always ended up on their own.”

“Those are fine words but I don’t know if I am capable of pardoning ingratitude so easily.”

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In search of my island – Part 3

Paulo Coelho

[...]

When I wrote The Zahir, the main character says exactly the same thing: writing is getting lost at sea. It’s discovering your own untold story and trying to share it with others. It’s realising, when you show it to people you have never seen, what is in your own soul. In the book, a famous writer on spiritual matters, who believes he has everything, loses the thing that is most precious to him: love. I have always wondered what would happen to a man if he had no one to dream about, and now I am answering that question for myself.

When I used to read biographies of writers, I always thought that when they said: “The book writes itself, the writer is just the typist”, they were simply trying to make their profession seem more interesting. I know now that this is absolutely true, no one knows why the current took them to that particular island and not to the one they wanted to reach. Then the obsessive re-drafting and editing begins, and when I can no longer bear to re-read the same words one more time, I send it to my publisher, where it is edited again, and then published.

And it is a constant source of surprise to me to discover that other people were also in search of that very island and that they find it in my book. One person tells another person about it, the mysterious chain grows, and what the writer thought of as a solitary exercise becomes a bridge, a boat, a means by which souls can travel and communicate.

From then on, I am no longer the man lost in the storm: I find myself through my readers, I understand what I wrote when I see that others understand it too, but never before. On a few rare occasions, like the one that is about to take place, I manage to look those people in the eye and then I understand that my soul is not alone.

Once I heard an interviewer ask Paul McCartney: “Could you sum up the Beatles’ message in one sentence?” Tired of hearing the same question myself, I assumed McCartney would give some ironic response, after all, given the complexity of human beings, how can anyone possibly sum up a whole body of work in a few words?

But Paul said: “Yes, I can.” And he went on: “All you need is love. Do you want me to say more?”

No, said the interviewer, he didn’t. There was nothing more to be said. The Zahir could be summed up in the same way.

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In search of my island – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

[...]

Shaken by these alarming thoughts, I find a strength and a courage I didn’t know I had: they help me to venture into an unknown part of my soul. I let myself be swept along by the current and finally anchor my boat at the island I was being carried towards. I spend days and nights describing what I see, wondering why I’m doing this, telling myself that it’s really not worth the pain and the effort, that I don’t need to prove anything to anyone, that I’ve got what I wanted and far more than I ever dreamed of having.

I notice that I go through the same process as I did when writing my first book: I wake up at nine o’clock in the morning, ready to sit down at my computer immediately after breakfast; then I read the newspapers, go for a walk, visit the nearest bar for a chat, come home, look at the computer, discover that I need to make several phone calls, look at the computer again, by which time lunch is ready, and I sit eating and thinking that I really ought to have started writing at eleven o’clock, but that now I need a nap; I wake at five in the afternoon, finally turn on the computer, go to check my e-mails, then remember that I’ve destroyed my Internet connection; I could go to a place ten minutes away where I can get on-line, but couldn’t I, just to free my conscience from these feelings of guilt, couldn’t I at least write for half an hour?

I begin out of a feeling of duty, but suddenly “the thing” takes hold of me and I can’t stop. The maid calls me for supper and I ask her not to interrupt me; an hour later, she calls me again; I’m hungry, but I must write just one more line, one more sentence, one more page. By the time I sit down at the table, the food is cold, I gobble it down and go back to the computer – I am no longer in control of where I place my feet, the island is being revealed to me, I am being propelled along its paths, finding things I have never even thought or dreamed of. I drink a cup of coffee, and another, and at two o’clock in the morning I finally stop writing, because my eyes are tired.

I go to bed, spend another hour making notes of things to use in the next paragraph and which always prove completely useless – they serve only to empty my mind so that sleep can come. I promise myself that the next morning, I’ll start at eleven o’clock prompt. And the following day, the same thing happens – the walk, the conversations, lunch, a nap, the feelings of guilt, then irritation at myself for destroying the Internet connection, until, at last, I make myself sit down and write the first page…

[...]

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In search of my Island – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

Looking around at the crowd gathered for my book-signing at a megastore in the Champs-Elysées, I thought: how many of these people will have had the same experiences that I have described in my books?

Very few. Perhaps one or two. Even so, most of them would identify with what was in them.

Writing is one of the most solitary activities in the world. Once every two years, I sit down in front of the computer, gaze out on the unknown sea of my soul, and see a few islands – ideas that have developed and which are ripe to be explored. Then I climb into my boat – called The Word – and set out for the nearest island. On the way, I meet strong currents, winds and storms, but I keep rowing, exhausted, knowing that I have drifted away from my chosen course and that the island I was trying to reach is no longer on my horizon.

I can’t turn back, though, I have to continue somehow or else I’ll be lost in the middle of the ocean; at that point, a series of terrifying scenarios flash through my mind, such as spending the rest of my life talking about past successes, or bitterly criticising new writers, simply because I no longer have the courage to publish new books. Wasn’t my dream to be a writer? Then I must continue creating sentences, paragraphs, chapters, and go on writing until I die, and not allow myself to get caught in such traps as success or failure. Otherwise, what meaning does my life have? Being able to buy an old mill in the south of France and tending my garden? Giving lectures instead, because it’s easier to talk than to write? Withdrawing from the world in a calculated, mysterious way, in order to create a legend that will deprive me of many pleasures?

[...]

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Restoring the canvas

Paulo Coelho

In New York I am going to have late-afternoon tea with a rather unusual artist. She works in a bank on Wall Street, but one day she had a dream: she had to go to twelve places in the world and in each place make a painting or a sculpture using material from nature.
So far she has managed to complete four of these works. She shows me photos of one of them: an Indian sculpted inside a cave in California. While she awaits the signs from her dreams, she goes on working at the bank – in that way she saves up the money to travel and fulfill her task.
I ask her why she does this.
“It’s to keep the world in equilibrium,” she answers. “It may seem silly, but there is something tenuous that joins us all and we can make it better or worse according to how we act. We can save or destroy so much with a simple gesture that at times seems utterly useless. It may even be that my dreams are a lot of nonsense, but I don’t want to run the risk of not following them. For me, people are related just like a huge, fragile spider’s web. I am trying through my work to mend a part of that web.”

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Getting through just one night

Paulo Coelho

At the age of twelve, Milton Ericksson was a victim of polio. Ten months after he contracted the disease, he heard a doctor tell his parents: “your son won’t live through the night.”
Ericksson heard his mother crying. “Maybe she won’t suffer so much if I get through tonight,” he thought to himself. And he decided not to sleep till dawn.
In the morning he shouted out: “Hey mother! I’m still alive!”
There was so much joy in the house that from then on he resolved to resist always one more night in order to postpone his parents’ suffering.
He died in 1990 at the age of 75, leaving behind a series of important books on the enormous capacity that man has to overcome his own limitations.

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Prague, 1981

Paulo Coelho

Once, in the winter of 1981, I was walking with my wife through the streets of Prague when we came across a young man drawing the buildings around him.
Although I dread carrying things with me when I travel (and there was still a traveling ahead), I was taken by one of the drawings and decided to buy it.
When I handed him the money I noticed that he was not wearing gloves, despite the cold weather (it was 5 degrees below zero).
“Why aren’t you wearing gloves?” I asked.
“So I can hold the pencil.” And he began to tell me how loved Prague in the winter, that was the best season to draw the city. He was so happy with his sale that he decided to do a portrait of my wife without charging anything.
While I was waiting for him to finish the drawing, I realized that something odd had happened: we had chatted for almost five minutes without being able to speak one another’s language. We made ourselves understood only by gestures, laughter, facial expressions and the desire to share something.
The simple desire to share something had enabled us to enter into the world of language without words, where everything is always clear and there is not the slightest risk of being misunderstood.

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The neighbor and the trees – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

[...]

When he leaves, my first reaction is to accuse him of insensitivity and disrespect for Mother Earth. Then I become intrigued: why did he not accept to sell the land? And before the day comes to an end I understand that his life has only one story, and my neighbor does not want to change it. To move into town also means to plunge into an unknown world, with other values that perhaps he feels too old to learn.
Does this only happen to my neighbor? No, I feel that it happens to everyone – sometimes we are so attached to our way of life that we turn down a great opportunity because we don’t know how to use it. In his case, his farm and his village are the only places he knows, and it is not worth the risk. In the case of people who live in the city, they believe that it is necessary to have a university degree, get married, have children, make sure they have degrees too, and so on. Nobody ever wonders: “could I do something different?”
I remember that my barber worked day and night so that his daughter could finish her degree in sociology. She managed to finish university, and after knocking on many a door she finally found a job working as a secretary in a cement company. Even so, my barber always said with pride: “My daughter has a university degree.”
Most of my friends, and the children of my friends, also have a university degree. That does not mean they have managed to work at what they wanted – quite the contrary, they entered and left university because – at a time when universities were important – someone said that for a person to get anywhere in life, they had to have a university degree. And so the world missed out on having excellent gardeners, bakers, antique dealers, sculptors and writers. Maybe it is time to look at this again: doctors, engineers, scientists, lawyers, they all have to study at university. But does everyone else? I shall let Robert Frost’s poem give the answer:

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and
I took the one less traveled by
And that made all the difference.”

P.S. To end the story of the neighbor: the expert paid us a visit and to my surprise showed us a French law that says that trees have to stand at least three meters from the property of others. Mine stand at two meters, so I am going to have to cut them down.

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The neighbor and the trees – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

My old mill in the little Pyrenees village has a line of trees separating it from the farm next door. The other day the neighbor appeared: he must be about seventy years old. Now and again I have seen him working with his wife on the farm and thought it was high time for them to retire and have a rest.
In a very nice manner, the neighbor complained that the leaves from my trees were falling on his roof and that I had to cut them down.
I was most shocked: how could a person who has spent his entire life in contact with nature want me to destroy something that took so long to grow, just because in ten years’ time this could cause a problem to the tiles of his roof?
I invite him in for a coffee. I tell him that I will take the responsibility: if one day these dry leaves (which will be swept away by the wind and by the summer) cause any damage, I shall take it on myself to have a new roof built. The neighbor says that this is of no interest to him: he wants me to cut down the trees. I get a bit irritated and tell him that I prefer to buy his farm.
“My land is not for sale,” he answers.
“But with that money you could buy an excellent house in town and live there with your wife for the rest of your days without having to bear awful winters and lost crops.”
“The farm is not for sale. I was born here and grew up here, and I’m too old to move.”
He suggests that an expert from the town could come out to evaluate the case and decide – in that way, neither of us would have to get annoyed at the other. After all, we are neighbors.

The rest of this text will be published here tomorrow

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The pianist in the shopping center – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

[...]

The only thing he seems not to have understood is that nobody, absolutely nobody has gone there to hear him play, but to buy, eat, enjoy themselves, look at shop windows and meet friends. A couple stops beside us, talking in a loud voice, and then moves on. The pianist has not seen this – he is still chatting with Mozart’s angels. Nor has he seen that there is an audience of two, one of whom, a talented violinist, is listening to him play with tears in her eyes.

I remember a chapel which I once just happened to enter and saw a girl playing for God. But she was in a chapel, that made sense; in this case, nobody is listening, perhaps not even God.

Lies. God is listening. God is in this man’s soul and hands, because he is giving the best of himself, regardless of any recognition or the money he received. He plays as if he were in the Scala in Milan or in the Opéra in Paris. He plays because this is his destiny, his joy, his reason for being.

I am seized by a feeling of deep reverence. Respect for a man who at that moment is recalling a very important lesson: you have a personal legend to fulfill, period. It is of no matter if others support you, or criticize, ignore or tolerate you – you are doing that because that is your destiny on this earth, and the source of any joy.

The pianist ends another piece by Mozart and for the first time notices our presence. He greets us with a well-mannered, discreet nod of the head, which we answer. But then he returns at once to his paradise, and it is best to leave him there untouched by anything in this world, not even our timid applause. He is setting an example for all of us. When we feel that no-one is paying attention to what we are doing, let us think about this pianist: he was conversing with God through his work, and the rest was not of the least importance.

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The pianist in the shopping center – part 1

Paulo Coelho

I am strolling casually through a shopping center in the company of a violinist friend. Ursula, born in Hungary, is today a top musician in two international philharmonic orchestras. All of a sudden she grabs my arm:

“Listen!”

I listen. I hear voices, adult voices, children shouting, noises of televisions turned on in electrical-appliance shops, high heels clip-clopping on the tiled floor, and that well-known music that is omnipresent in shopping centers the world over.

“So, isn’t it marvelous?”

I answer that I hear nothing marvelous or special.

“The piano!” she says, throwing me a look of disappointment. “The pianist is marvelous!”

“It must be a recording.”

“Don’t talk nonsense.”

Listening more carefully, it becomes obvious that the music is live. Now a Chopin sonata is being played, and now that I can concentrate, the notes seem to conceal all the noise surrounding us. We stroll through the corridors jammed with people, shops, reduced prices, things that they claim everyone has – except you and me. We reach the food plaza: people eating, chatting, arguing, reading newspapers, and one of those special attractions that all shopping centers try to offer their customers.

In this case, a piano and a pianist.

He plays two more sonatas by Chopin, and then Schubert, Mozart. He must be about 30; a notice hanging at the side of the small stage explains that he is a famous musician from Georgia, one of the former Soviet Republics. He must have been looking for work, doors were closed, he became desperate, resigned himself and now he is here.

But I am not sure that he is even here: his eyes look at the magic world this music was composed, his hands share with everyone the love, the soul, the enthusiasm, the best of himself, his years of study, concentration and discipline.

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The Contemplative Quest

Paulo Coelho

Linda Sabbath took her three sons and decided to go and live on a small farm in the interior of Canada, where she wanted to dedicate herself completely to spiritual contemplation.

In less than a year she fell in love, got married again, studied the saints’ techniques of meditation, fought for a school for her children, made friends, made enemies, neglected her teeth, got herself an abscess, hitchhiked in snowstorms, learned to fix the car, thaw out frozen pipes, made her alimony stretch out at month’s end, survived on unemployment money, slept without indoor heating, laughed for no reason, cried with despair, built a chapel, made repairs to the house, painted walls, and gave courses on spiritual contemplation.

“And I eventually realized that a life of prayer does not mean isolation,” she says. “Love is so big it has to be shared.

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The measure of love

Paulo Coelho

“I have always wanted to know if I was able to love like you do,” said the disciple of a Hindu master.

“There is nothing beyond love,” answered the master. “It’s love that keeps the world going round and the stars hanging in the sky.”

“I know all that. But how can I know if my love is great enough?”

“Try to find out if you abandon yourself to love or if you flee from your emotions. But don’t ask questions like that because love is neither great nor small. You can’t measure a feeling like you measure a road: if you act like that you will see only your reflection, like the moon in a lake, but you won’t be following your path.”

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The Caliph and his wife

Paulo Coelho

The Arab Caliph sent for his secretary:

“Lock up my wife in the tower while I’m away,” he ordered.

“But she loves Your Majesty!”

“And I love her,” answered the Caliph. “But I respect an old traditional prover­b of ours that says “keep your dog thin and he will follow you; make him fat and he will bite you.”

The Caliph went off to war and returned six months later. On arriving, he called for his secretary and asked to see his wife.

“She has abandoned you,” was the secretary’s answer. “Your Majesty quoted a beautiful proverb before leaving but forgot another Arab saying that goes: “If your dog is tied up it will follow anybody that opens its cage”.

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Trying to control the soul

Paulo Coelho

We often think we can control love. And then we catch ourselves asking the completely useless question: “is it really worth it?”

Love does not bother itself with that question. Love refuses to be priced like some piece of merchandise. One of the characters in Bertold Brecht’s play “The Good Person of Szechuan” tells us about true love:

“I want to be next to the one I love.
I don’t care what this will cost me.
I don’t care whether this will do my life good or bad.
I don’t care whether this person loves me or not.
All I want, all I need is to be close to the one I love.”

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Marked to die – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

[...]

The car is tossed back on the road and finally comes to a standstill lying on its left side. I can make out the driver’s shirt. I pull up alongside, and the only thing going through my head is that I have to get out and help him. At this moment I feel my wife’s nails digging deep into my arm: she begs me for the love God to drive on and park further ahead, the other car could explode and burst into flames.

I drive another hundred meters and park. The radio is still playing the Brazilian music as if nothing has happened. Everything seems so surrealistic, so distant. My wife and Isabel, our maid, get out and run back towards the scene of the accident. Another car coming in the opposite direction brakes. A woman jumps out, all nervous: her headlights too have illuminated the Dantesque scene. She asks if I have a cell phone, I answer yes, I do. “Then call emergency!”

What’s the emergency number? She looks at me in astonishment: everybody knows that! Three times 51! The cell phone is turned off: before the film starts, they always remind us to do that. I dial the access code and then call emergency – 51 51 51. I know exactly where all this has happened: between the village of Laloubere and the village of Horgues.

My wife and the maid come back: a young man is bruised and scratched, but it does not seem to be anything too serious. After all I have seen, after turning upside down six times, nothing too serious! He gets out the car a bit groggy, other cars stop, the firemen arrive five minutes later, and everything is all right. Everything is all right! For a fraction of a second, he would have run into me, pushed me over the side of the road, it would have been very bad for both of us. Very bad indeed.

When I get back home, I look up at the stars. Sometimes certain things stand in our path, but because our time has not yet arrived, they pass by without even grazing us – but they are clear enough for us to see them. I thank God for being able to understand that – as a friend of mine always says – everything that had to happen did, and nothing happened.

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Marked to die – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

Perhaps I was supposed to die at 22:30 on the 22nd of August 2004, less than 48 hours before my birthday. In order for the scenario of my near-death to be set up, a series of factors were brought into play:

A] In the interviews held to promote his new film, actor Will Smith always spoke of my book “The Alchemist”.

B] The film was based on a book I had read years before and liked a lot: “I, Robot”, by Isaac Asimov. I decided to go and see the film in homage to Smith and Asimov.

C] The film was showing in a small town in the southwest of France in the first week of August. But a whole lot of things without the least importance made me put off going to the cinema – until this Sunday.

I had an early dinner, shared a half-bottle of wine with my wife and invited our maid to come with us (she was reluctant but eventually accepted). We reached the cinema on time, bought some popcorn, and saw the film, which we enjoyed. We returned to the car for the ten-minute ride back to the old mill that had become our home. I put on a CD of Brazilian music and decided to drive slowly so that we could listen to at least three songs before we reached the house.

On the two-way road cutting through sleepy little towns, all of a sudden I see a pair of headlights in the rear mirror, surging out of nowhere. There is a crossroads right in front of us, with posts on either side. I try stepping on the brakes because I know that the car won’t be able to make it, for the posts make it quite impossible to overtake. All this takes a fraction of a second – I remember thinking “this guy’s crazy!” – but there is no time to say anything. The driver of the car (the image engraved on my memory is a Mercedes, but I am not sure about that) spots the posts, accelerates, cuts in front of me, and when he tries to correct his course he ends up at right angles in the middle of the road.

From that moment on, everything seems to happen in slow motion: he overturns once, twice, three times. Then the car is tossed over to the shoulder of the road, where it flips over again, this time bouncing high in the air, with both front and rear windshields crashing on the ground. My headlights illuminate the whole scene and I can’t brake suddenly – I watch the car doing somersaults beside me just like in the film I have just seen – except that, my God, there it was fiction, here it’s real life!

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The importance of allies – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

[...]

Perhaps the warrior feels tempted to think that his dream does not interest everyone, such as bakers and farmers, for example. But in the warrior they will have a good example of perseverance and courage. And a baker can teach a lot of things, such as the exact mixture of the ingredients, which is based more on intuition than technique. A farmer can show the importance of patience, sweat, respect for the seasons, and the futility of cursing storms – because that is a sheer waste of time.
Therefore, each one of us has something different to teach, and it is all these differences added together that we call “wisdom”.
Join with those who are flexible and understand the road signs. These are people who do not hesitate to change direction when they come across an insurmountable barrier or when they spot a better opportunity. They possess the quality of water: getting around rocks, adapting to the flow of the river, sometimes changing into a lake – until the hollow is full and it can continue on its path, because water never forgets that its destiny is the sea and that sooner or later that is where it has to reach.
Join those who have never said: “that’s it, I have to stop here.” Because just as winter is followed by spring, nothing can stop, and the warrior’s road is an endless path. After achieving his objective, he finds another challenge, and it is necessary to start all over again, always using everything he has learned while traveling along.
Join with those who sing, tell stories, enjoy life and have joy in their eyes. Because happiness is contagious and always manages to prevent people from becoming paralyzed by depression, loneliness and difficulties.
Join those who walk with their head held high, even though they have tears in their eyes. Stay away from those who hold their head high because they have never shed a tear, never looked to the sides.
A true warrior of light does not confuse arrogance and authority, joy and superficiality, persistence and impatience. He has his doubts and at times feels oppressed by loneliness, but he knows that there are many people who think like he does, and that it is just a matter of time until he finds his true allies.

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The importance of allies – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

The warrior of light who does not share with others the happiness of his choices will never come to know his own qualities and shortcomings.
So before you start anything, find allies – people who are interested in what you are doing.
I am not saying “Find other warriors of light.”
I am saying: “Find people with different skills, because a warrior’s fight for his dream is no different from any other path that is followed with enthusiasm.”
Your allies will not necessarily be those people that everyone looks at in admiration and says: “there is nobody better.” Much to the contrary, they are people who are not afraid of making mistakes, so they make lots of mistakes. That is why what they do is not always praised or acknowledged.
Yet this is the type of person that changes the world and after many a mistake manages to get something right that will make all the difference to their community.
Allies are people who cannot hang around waiting for things to happen and later decide on the best attitude to take: they decide as they go along, even knowing that this type of behavior is very risky.
Living with allies is important for a warrior of light; together, they all understand that before choosing the objective they are free to change their mind. But after the objective has been decided upon, they focus only on the steps they have to take. And they think as they go along: “each step requires a lot of effort, but it’s worth the risk, it’s worth betting one’s very life.”
The best allies are those that do not think like most people. That is why, when looking for companions to share the enthusiasm of the dream, it is important to believe in intuition and pay no attention to others’ comments. Most human beings always judge others using their own limitations as the model – and sometimes the opinion of the majority is full of prejudice and fear.
Join all those who experiment, take risks, fall, get hurt and then take risks again. Stay away from those who affirm truths, who criticize those that do not think like they do, who have never taken a step without being sure that they would be respected for that, and who prefer the comfort of certainty to the tension of doubt.
Join those who expose themselves and are not afraid of being vulnerable: these watch what their neighbor is doing, not to judge him but rather to admire him for his dedication and courage.

[...]

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Making the field fertile

Paulo Coelho

The Zen master entrusted the disciple with looking after the rice patch.

In the first year the disciple took care that the necessary water was never lacking. The rice grew strong and it was a good harvest.

In the second year he had the idea of adding a little fertilizer. The rice grew fast and the harvest was bigger.

In the third year he used more fertilizer. The harvest was even bigger, but the rice came up small and had no shine to it.

“If you go on increasing the amount of fertilizer, you will have nothing of any value next year,” said the master. “You give someone strength when you give a little help. But you weaken him if you help too much.”

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Using both pockets

Paulo Coelho

A disciple remarked to Rabbi Bounam from Pssiskhe:

“The material world seems to suffocate the spiritual world.”

“Your pants have two pockets,” said Bounam. “Jot down this sentence and put it in the right pocket: ‘The world was created only for me.’ Now write in the left pocket: ‘I am nothing but dust and ashes’.”

“Divide your money between the pockets. When you come upon misery and injustice, remember that the world exists only so that you can show your kindness, and use the money in the right pocket. When you are tempted to buy things that you haven’t the least need for, remember what is written in your left pocket and think twice before spending it. In that way the material world will never suffocate the spiritual world.”

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The whole in everything

Paulo Coelho
When Ketu turned twelve years old he was sent to a master, with whom he studied until he was twenty-four. Upon finishing his training, he came back home filled with pride.
His father asked him:
“How can we know what we can’t see? How can we know that God the Almighty is everywhere?”
The young man began to recite the sacred scriptures, but his father interrupted him:
“That’s all too complicated. Isn’t there an easier way for us to learn about the existence of God?”
“Not that I know of, my father. Today I am a learned man and I need this knowledge to explain the mysteries of divine wisdom.”
“I have wasted my time and money sending my son to the monastery,” complained the father.
And taking Ketu by the hand, he led him to the kitchen. There he filled a basin with water and poured in a little salt. Then they went for a stroll in the city.
When they came back home, the father told Ketu:
“Bring the salt that I put in the basin.”
Ketu looked for the salt but did not find it because it had already dissolved in the water.
“So you can’t see the salt any more?” asked the father.
“No, the salt’s invisible.”
“Then taste a little of the water that’s on the surface of the basin. How does it taste?”
“Salty.”
“Try a little of the water in the middle: how does it taste?”
“As salty as on the surface.”
“Now taste the water at the bottom of the basin and tell me what it tastes like.”
Ketu tried it and it had the same taste as he had felt before.
“You have studied for many years and can’t explain simply how Invisible God is in all parts,” said the father. “Using a basin of water, and calling God “salt”, I could make any peasant understand that. Please, dear son, forget the wisdom that moves us away from men and look again for the Inspiration that draws us closer.”

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The three forms of love: Eros, Philos, Agape

Paulo Coelho

[...]

“Agape is total love, the love that devours those that experience it. Whoever knows and experiences Agape sees that nothing else in this world is of any importance, only loving. This was the love that Jesus felt for humanity, and it was so great that it shook the stars and changed the course of man’s history.”

“During the millennia of the history of civilization, many people have been smitten by this Love that Devours. They had so much to give – and the world demanded so little – that they were obliged to seek out the deserts and isolated places because love was so great that it transfigured them. They became the hermit saints that we know today.”

“For me and you who have experienced another form of Agape, this life here may seem hard and terrible. Yet the Love that Devours makes everything lose its importance: these men live only to be consumed by their love.”

He took a pause.

“Agape is the Love that Devours,” he repeated once more, as if this was the phrase that best defined that strange type of love. “Luther King once said that when Christ spoke of loving our enemies he was referring to Agape. Because according to him, it was impossible to like our enemies, those who do us harm and try to make our daily suffering all the worse.”

“But Agape is a lot more than liking. It is a sentiment that invades everything, fills all the cracks and makes any attempt at aggression turn to dust.”

“There are two forms of Agape. One is isolation, life dedicated only to contemplation. The other is precisely the opposite: contact with other human beings, and enthusiasm, the sacred sense of work. Enthusiasm means trance, ecstasy, connecting with God. Enthusiasm is Agape directed at some idea, something.”

“When we love and believe in something from the bottom of our soul, we feel stronger than the world and we are imbued with a serenity that comes from the certainty that nothing can conquer our faith. This strange force makes us always make the right decisions at the right time, and we are surprised at our own capacity when we fulfill our objective.”

“Enthusiasm usually manifests itself in all its power in the early years of our life. We still have a strong tie with the divinity and we give ourselves with such zeal to our toys that dolls take on a life of their own and little tin soldiers manage to march. When Jesus said that the kingdom of Heaven belonged to the children, he was referring to Agape in the form of Enthusiasm. The children reached him without paying any attention to his miracles, his wisdom, the Pharisees and the apostles. They came happily, driven by Enthusiasm.”

“May you never lose your enthusiasm at any moment for the rest of your life: it’s your greatest strength, intent on the final victory. You cannot let it slip through your fingers just because as time passes we have to face some small and necessary defeats.”

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The three forms of love: Eros, Philos, Agape

Paulo Coelho

[...]

The band struck up a waltz. People moved to a small paved area in front of the band-stand to dance. The alcohol began to show its effect and they all became merrier and drenched in sweat. I noticed a girl dressed in blue who must have been waiting for this wedding just for the moment of the waltz to arrive because she wanted to dance with someone she had dreamed of embracing ever since she entered adolescence. Her eyes followed the movements of a young man, well dressed in a light-colored suit, who was sitting with a bunch of friends. They were talking away merrily, they had not noticed that the waltz had started, nor had they noticed that a few yards away a girl in blue was staring at one of them.

I thought of small towns, of marriages with the chosen boy, dreamed of ever since childhood.

The girl in blue noticed me looking at her and moved away. And as if the whole movement had been rehearsed, now it was the boy’s turn to seek her out with his eyes. Discovering that she was close to other girls, he went back to his lively conversation with his friends.

I drew Petrus’s attention to the two of them. He watched them exchanging glances for a while and then returned to his glass of wine.

“They act as if it were something shameful to demonstrate that they love one another,” was his only remark.

Another girl was staring at us, she must have been half our age. Petrus raised his glass, made a toast, the girl laughed in embarrassment and made a gesture pointing towards her parents almost in apology at not coming closer.

“That’s the beautiful side of love,” he said. “Love that challenges, love for two older strangers who have come from afar and tomorrow will already have parted down a road that she too would like to travel. The love that prefers adventure.”

Then he continued, pointing to an elderly couple:

“Look at those two: they haven’t let themselves be affected by hypocrisy, like so many others. They look like they are a couple of farm workers: hunger and need have obliged them to overcome many a difficulty together. They have discovered love through work, which is where Eros shows his most beautiful face, also known as Philos.”

“What’s Philos?”

“Philos is love in the form of friendship. It’s what I feel for you and others. When the flame of Eros no longer able to shine, it’s Philos who keeps couples together.”

“And what about Agape?”

Tomorrow Agape will be posted here

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The three forms of love: Eros, Philos, Agape

Paulo Coelho

In 1986, when I was on the road to Santiago with my guide Petrus, we passed through the city of Logroño while a wedding was taking place. We ordered two glasses of wine, I prepared something to nibble on, and Petrus discovered a table where we could sit down together with the other guests.

The wedding couple cut an immense cake.

“They must love one another,” I thought aloud.

“Of course they love one another,” said a man in a dark suit sitting at our table. Have you ever seen anyone get married for any another reason?”

But Petrus did not let the question go unanswered:

“What type of love do you mean: Eros, Philos or Agape?”

The man looked at him without understanding a word.

“There are three words in Greek to designate love,” Petrus said. “Today you are seeing the manifestation of Eros, that sentiment between two persons.”

The bride and groom smiled for the cameras and received compliments from the guests.

“The two seem to love one another. In a short time they will be fighting alone for life, establishing themselves in a house and taking part in the same adventure: that’s what makes love grand and dignified. He will pursue his career, she probably knows how to cook and will make an excellent housewife because since she was a little girl she was brought up to do that. She will accompany him, they will have children and they will manage to build something together, they will be happy for ever.”

“Al of a sudden, however, this story could happen the other way around. He is going to feel that he is not free enough to show all the Eros, all the love that he has for other women. She may begin to feel that she has sacrificed a career and a brilliant life to accompany her husband. So, instead of creating together, each of them will feel robbed in their way of loving. Eros, the spirit that joins them, will start to display only his bad side. And what God had meant to be man’s most noble sentiment will begin to be a source of hatred and destruction.”

I looked around me. Eros was present in many couples. But I could sense the presence of Eros the Good and Eros the Evil, just like Petrus had described.

“Notice how odd it is,” continued my guide. “Despite being good or bad, the face of Eros is never the same in all persons.”

Tomorrow, the second form of love – Philos – will be published here.

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Timeshifting – Part 2

Paulo Coelho
[...]

Deal with experiences in more depth: a study on the visitors to the National Zoo in Washington showed that the average time that people spend looking at an animal show is less than ten seconds. So why go to the zoo? Better just to leaf through a book with photographs, right? A guide explained to me that people complain that the hippopotamuses are always under the water, but as a matter of fact the average length of submersion is between 90 seconds and a maximum of five minutes – so, the urge to rush ahead is what makes the visitors miss all the enjoyment.

Knowing when to reflect or act: a patient of mine with an obesity problem said she was prepared to do anything to get better. I asked her, whenever she felt the urge to eat, to observe the feeling and not act. “But I feel hungry!” she answered. “Exactly,” was my comment. “If you can manage to live with that feeling, observe the hunger, let it come in all its intensity, suffer occasionally – but without acting – soon you will manage to attenuate the anxiety and you will the master of your will rather than the slave of your impulses.”

Acting in the face of negative emotions: when we sit down on the sofa, we turn on the television (which is actually a way to “turn off” from the world). Or else we grow very anxious, feel we are wasting time, that we need to call someone, do gymnastics, tidy up the house. Why? Because if we stay quiet, all the wave of repressed emotions will assail us, depress us, leave us feeling sad or guilty. But the more we “keep busy” the more these emotions pile up, until one day we run the risk of seeing them explode out of control.

Yes, we all have our problems, which have to be faced – why not do this today? Stop. Think. Maybe suffer a little. But in the end, understand who we are, what we feel, what we are doing here at this very moment – instead of wanting to determine the Agenda of Life.

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Timeshifting – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

I correspond a lot by e-mail with Stephan Rechtschaffen, a doctor who founded the successful Omega Institute in New York. I was invited to give a talk there but I had to cancel it at the last moment. Then Stephan and I were contacted to talk together in Vienna, Austria, and this time I decided to cancel because I found the price they were charging absurdly high. The fact is that these upsets, instead of separating me from him, have ended up drawing us closer (the world has very odd situations).

In one of these exchanges, he told me he was going to send his book. To my surprise I received a copy in Portuguese (Timeshifting – “Reorientando o Tempo”). I read it in one afternoon and have re-read it several times more, since all of us, every day of our lives, always have some problem with this theme. In the text Stephan offers some comments that I have listed below (edited on account of the size of the column).

Time is not a measure: but rather a quality. When we look at the past we are not rewinding a tape but remembering a gift of our passage on Earth. Time is not measured like a road is measured, since we take gigantic leaps backwards (memories) and forwards (projects).

Managing is not living: “time is money” is nonsense. We have to be aware of each moment and know how to take advantage of each single moment in what we are doing (with love) or in just contemplating life. A day has 24 hours and an infinity of moments. If we slow down, everything will last much longer. Of course, washing the dishes can take longer too, but why not use that time to think about pleasant things, singing, relaxing, being happy at just being alive?

In tune with life: Arthur Rubinstein (one of the greatest pianists of the 20th century) was once approached by an ardent admirer, who asked him: “How can you use the notes with such mastery?” The pianist answered: “I use the notes the same way that others do, but the pauses … ah! That’s where the art lies.” My divorce process was extremely painful and I thought that by keeping busy I would manage to get over the difficult moments, but it did not work out as foreseen because I could not see the pain in my soul. As of a certain moment I began to “use the pauses” – sit down, let the pain come and reach me and then pass. Little by little I re-structured my life and understood better the reasons for the separation. Today my ex-wife works with me in the Omega Institute – because I was able to face pain, not just hide it behind my work.

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The dead man who wore pajamas – part II

Paulo Coelho

The man was identified as a former employee of the company that had built the housing complex, where he had moved to in the early 80s soon after his divorce. He was just over fifty years on the day that all of a sudden, reading the newspaper, he left this world.

His ex-wife never sought for him. It was discovered that the company where he worked had gone bankrupt right after the building had been finished, since no apartment was sold, and so they did not find it odd that the man never turned up for his daily activities. His friends were looked up, and they put his disappearance down to the fact that he had borrowed some money and could not pay it back.

The news ends informing us that the mortal remains were delivered to the ex-wife. I finished reading the article and wondered at the last sentence: the ex-wife was still alive, and for twenty years had not even looked up her husband. What must have gone through her head? That he no longer loved her, that he had decided to remove her for ever from his life. That he had met another woman and disappeared without a trace. That life is like that, once the divorce procedures are over there is no point in carrying on a relationship that has been legally terminated. I imagine what she must have felt upon finding out the fate of the man with whom she had shared a good part of her life.

Then I thought of the dead man in his pajamas, of solitude so utter and abysmal that for twenty years nobody in this whole wide world had realized that he had simply disappeared without leaving a trace. And my conclusion is that worse than feeling hunger and thirst, worse than being jobless, suffering for love, in despair over some defeat – worse than all this is to feel that nobody, absolutely nobody in this world, cares for us.

Let us at this moment say a quiet prayer for this man and let us offer him our thanks for making us reflect on how important our friends are.

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The dead man who wore pajamas – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

I remember reading a piece of news on the Internet that a man was found dead in Tokyo on 10 June 2004, dressed in his pajamas.

So what? I imagine that most people who die wearing their pajamas either a) died in their sleep, which is a blessing, or b) were in the company of their relatives or on a hospital bed – death did not come quickly, so they all had time to grow used to “the undesirable one,” as Brazilian poet Manuel Bandeira called it.

The news goes on: when he died, he was in his room. So, the hospital hypothesis is out and we are left with just the possibility that he died in his sleep, without suffering any, without even realizing that he would not see the light of day.

But there is still another possibility: assault followed by death.

Those who have visited Tokyo know that the gigantic city is at the same time one of the safest places in the world. I remember once stopping to eat with my editors before taking a trip to the interior of Japan – all our suitcases were in sight on the rear seat of the car. Immediately I said that it was very dangerous, someone was sure to come along, see all those bags and make off with our clothes, documents and so on. My editor just smiled and told me not to worry – he knew of no such incident in all his long years of life (in fact, nothing happened to our suitcases, although I kept tense all through dinner).

But to return to our dead man in pajamas: there was no sign of struggle, violence or anything of the sort. In an interview, a Metropolitan Police officer stated that it was almost certainly a case of a sudden heart attack. So the hypothesis of homicide was also eliminated.

The body had been found by workers of a construction company on the second floor of a building in a housing complex that was about to be torn down. Everything led to the idea that the dead man in the pajamas, unable to find anywhere to live in one of the most densely and expensive cities in the world, had simply decided to settle where he did not have to pay any rent.

And now for the tragic part of the story: our dead man was only a skeleton dressed in pajamas. At his side was an open newspaper dated 20 February 1984; a calendar on the table nearby gave the same date.

In other words, he had been there for twenty years.

And nobody had noticed his absence.

The rest of this text will be posted here on Friday 20th of March

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The importance of others

Paulo Coelho

The mousetrap

Very worried, the mouse saw that the farmer had bought a mousetrap: he was out to kill him!

He began to warn all the other animals:

“Careful with the mousetrap! Careful with the mousetrap!”

The hen, hearing his shouts, asked him to be quiet:

“My dear mouse, I know that this a problem for you, but it’s not going to have the last effect on me, so stop making such a fuss!”

The mouse went to talk to the pig, which was annoyed because his nap had been interrupted.

“There is a mousetrap in the house!”

“I appreciate your concern and I sympathize with you,” answered the pig. “So rest assured you will be in my prayers tonight, but that’s the most I can do.”

Lonelier than ever, the mouse went to the cow for help.

“My dear mouse, what’s that got to do with me? Have you ever seen a cow killed in a mousetrap?”

Seeing that no-one was offering any solidarity, the mouse returned to the farmer’s house, hid in his hole and spent the whole night wide awake, afraid that some tragedy was about to happen.

During the early hours he heard a noise: the mousetrap had caught something!

The farmer’s wife went downstairs to see if the mouse had been killed. In the dark she did not notice that the trap had only caught the tail of a poisonous snake; when she drew near, she was bitten.

The farmer, hearing his wife screaming, woke up and raced her to the hospital. She was given the proper treatment and then sent home.

But she still had a fever. Knowing that there is no better remedy for the sick than a good broth, the farmer killed the hen.

His wife started to recover. As the couple was much loved in the region, all the neighbors came to visit them. Grateful for such a show of affection, the farmer killed the pig to serve his friends a hearty meal.

His wife finally recovered, but the treatment was very expensive, so the farmer sent the cow to the slaughterhouse and used the money from the meat to pay all the medical bills.

The mouse saw all this and thought to himself:

“I warned them well. Wouldn’t it have been better if the hen, the pig and the cow had understood that one’s problem puts everyone else in danger?”

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The importance of others

Paulo Coelho

The solitary ember

Juan always attended Sunday services at his parish. But then he began to find that the pastor always said the same things, so he stopped going to church.

On a cold winter’s night two months later, the pastor paid him a visit.

“He must have come to try to convince me to go back,” Juan thought to himself. He imagined he could not tell the real reason: those boring sermons. He had to find an excuse, and as he was thinking he pulled two chairs up close to the hearth and began talking about the weather.

The pastor said nothing. Juan, after some vain attempts to start up a conversation, sat in silence too. They both sat there without speaking, just looking at the fire for close to half an hour.

Then the pastor rose, and with the help of a branch that had not yet burned, pulled an ember aside and placed it far from the fire.

The ember, without enough heat to go on burning, began to go out. Juan quickly tossed it back into the middle of the fire.

“Good night,” said the pastor, rising to leave.

“Good night and many thanks,” answered Juan. “No matter how bright it is, an ember removed from the fire will end up going out quickly. No matter how clever a man may be, far from his neighbors he will never manage to conserve his heat and his flame. I will be back at church next Sunday.”

Another story on this theme will be published here tomorrow.

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The Everyday Masters – Part 5

Paulo Coelho

Today is the last entry I publish here of my friend’s diary about the everyday masters:

Old boyfriends

Today a friend asked me what all my boyfriends have in common. The answer was easy: ME. And when I said this, I realized how much time I have lost looking for the right person – because they change, while I stay the same and get nothing out of what we live together.

What makes me distance myself from men who could be important in my life? The need always to be in control. The odd thing is that when I begin to feel jealous, or when I can no longer stand the amorous relationship, men who were so independent and so full of themselves turn into scared little lambs. They become afraid of losing me. At that moment I can no longer respect them and the relationship becomes impossible.

My friend insisted: “Have you ever loved anyone?” I have always been afraid of that question, but Paulo asked me to write this diary and so I have to give an answer. No, I have never loved anyone. I have had many men but I have always waited for the right person. I have been all round the world and have not managed to find the home that I am looking for. I have been in control and have been controlled, and relationships have never gone beyond that.

Now that I have answered “No, I have never loved anyone,” I feel freer. I see what is missing in my life.

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The everyday Masters – Part 4

Paulo Coelho

Here’s another entry of my friend’s diary about her everyday masters.

Avoiding keeping control or being controlled

If I react the way that people expect me to, I become a slave to them – and that is a lesson that applies both to love and work. It is very difficult to prevent this from happening, because we are always ready to please somebody, or to start a war when we are provoked, but people and situations are the consequences of the life that I have chosen, not the other way around.

Tomorrow, I will publish another entry.

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The everyday masters – Part 3

Paulo Coelho

This is the second entry in my friend’s diary about everyday masters:

In search of love

Today I met a Korean who read my hand: a funny character, a wise man for the others but incapable of learning what he teaches. Of course, like all fortune-tellers, he thought that I wanted to know about my love life, so he told me things that I always need to hear:

a] I am looking for security and adventure at one and the same time, and these things do not go well together (I said nothing, but if I had to choose, I would take adventure).

b] I fall in love very quickly, and get bored just as fast. “Learn to love yourself,” he said. My problem is not exactly love, because I manage to fall in love so easily – my problem is to show this love, my relating with others.

c] Why do I get into so many frustrated relationships with so many men? Because I feel that I always have to be relating with someone – and so I am forced to be fascinating, intelligent, sensitive, and exceptional. The effort of seducing makes me give the best of myself, and that helps me. Besides, it is very hard to live with myself.

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The every day masters – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

Here is one of the entries of my friend’s diary about the every day masters

Accepting yourself

I found out who I am by looking at others. I am afraid of not being as good as they think I am, but I believe they all think this about themselves. During the time that I kept this diary, I finally accepted that I am brave enough to feel fear and to see myself without any artifices. I feel secure enough to feel insecure.

I discovered that people try to project a lot of their own insecurity onto you, just as you do with them. They try to diminish you because they feel small, try to intimidate you because they are not convinced that they are capable.

Tomorrow, I’ll post here another entry.

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The everyday masters

Paulo Coelho

Outside the city of Oslo is getting ready for winter. I am chatting in the bar with a very popular European singer. We talk about fame and success, and at a certain moment she asks me if I have anything important to teach her.

“Of course not,” I answer. “You lead your life like someone who knows that one day they are going to die, and that is what is most important. Nevertheless, I can propose a task for you: for the next six months, keep a diary called “the everyday master.” We always learn something different between dawn and dusk: why not write it down?”

She accepts the task. Six months later, I receive a copy of her diary full of very interesting notes, lessons from people she met only once but who are certain to remain for ever. This week I will be publishing here the most important of these entries.

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Guilt and forgiveness – Part II

Paulo Coelho

Here is a beautiful story that illustrates precisely what I mean:

When he was small, Cosroes had a teacher who helped him to become an outstanding student in all his subjects. One afternoon, the teacher punished him severely, apparently for no reason.

Years later, Cosroes acceded to the throne. One of his first actions was to summon his former schoolmaster and demand an explanation for the injustice he had committed.

‘Why did you punish me when I had done nothing wrong?’ he asked.

‘When I saw how intelligent you were, I knew at once that you would inherit the throne from your father,’ replied his teacher. ‘And so I decided to show you how injustice can mark a man for life. Now that you know that,’ the teacher went on, ‘I hope you will never punish another person without good reason.’

This reminds me too of a conversation I had over supper once in Kyoto. The Korean teacher Tae-Chang Kim was talking about the differences between Western thought and Eastern thought.

‘Both our civilisations have a golden rule. In the West, you say: ‘Do as you would be done by.’ This means that a loving person establishes a model of happiness which he tries to impose on all those he meets.

The golden rule in the East appears to be almost the same: ‘Never do to others what you would not want done to you.’ This is based on an understanding of all the things that make us unhappy, including having to obey a model of happiness imposed on us by others – and that makes all the difference.

In order to improve the world, we do not impose our own way of showing our love, we try instead to avoid making others suffer.’

So show respect and care when dealing with your fellow man. Jesus said: ‘You shall know them by their fruits.’ And old Arab proverb says: ‘God judges the tree by its fruits, not by its roots.’ And according to a popular proverb: ‘The beater forgets the beating, the beaten never do.’

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Guilt and forgiveness – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

During his pilgrimage to Mecca, a holy man was suddenly aware of God’s presence beside him. He fell into a trance, knelt down, hid his face and prayed:

‘Lord, I ask only one thing in my life, that You give me the grace never to offend You.’

‘I cannot give you that grace,’ replied the Almighty.

Surprised, the man asked why.

‘If you never offend me, I will have no reason to forgive you,’ he heard the Lord say. ‘And if I have no need to forgive you, you will soon forget the importance of being merciful to others. Therefore, continue on your way with Love, and allow me to forgive you now and then, so that you do not forget this virtue either.’

The story clearly illustrates our own problems with guilt and forgiveness. When we were children, we would often overhear our mother saying: ‘My child only behaved foolishly because he got into bad company. He’s a very good boy really.’

And so we never took responsibility for our actions, never asked for forgiveness and ended up forgetting that we must also be generous with those who offend us. The act of forgiveness has nothing to do with feelings of guilt or cowardice: we all make mistakes and it is only by occasionally stumbling that we can improve and progress. On the other hand, if we are too tolerant of our own behaviour – especially when this hurts other people – we become isolated and incapable of correcting our path.

How can we drive out guilt, but at the same time be capable of asking forgiveness for any mistakes we make?

There are no easy formulas, but there is good sense: we should judge the results of our actions and not the intentions behind them. Deep down, everyone is good, but that is irrelevant and will not heal any wounds we might inflict.

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The bow, the arrow and the target

Paulo Coelho

The target

The target is the objective to be attained.

It was chosen by you. Here lies the beauty of the path: you can never apologize by saying that the adversary was stronger. Because it was you who chose your target, and you are responsible for it.

If you look on the target as an enemy, you might even make a good shot but you will not manage to improve anything in yourself. You will spend your life just trying to put an arrow in the center of something made of paper or wood, which is absolutely useless. And when you are with other people you will complain all the time that you do not do anything interesting.

That is why you need to choose your objective, do your very best to attain it, look upon it with respect and dignity: you have to know what it means, how much effort it has taken, how much training and intuition.

When you look at the target, concentrate not just on it but on everything going on around you, because when the arrow is shot, it will have to deal with factors that you miss, such as wind, weight and distance.

The objective only exists insofar as a man is capable of dreaming of reaching it. What justifies its existence is desire – or else it would be something dead, a distant dream, a daydream.

So, just as intention seeks its objective, the objective likewise seeks man’s intention, for that is what gives our life a meaning: it is no longer just an idea, but the center of the archer’s world.

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The bow, the arrow and the target

Paulo Coelho

The arrow

The arrow is your intention. It is what joins the strength of the bow to the center of the target.

Our intentions have to be crystal-clear, straight and well balanced.

Once it leaves, it will not return, so it is better to interrupt a process – because the movements that led up to it were not precise and correct – than to act in any way just because the bow was already taut and the target already waiting.

But never fail to show your intention if the only thing that paralyzes you is the fear of making a mistake. If you perform the right movements, open your hand and release the string, take the necessary steps and face your challenges. Even if you do not hit the target, you will know how to correct your aim the next time.

If you do not take risks, you will never know the changes that needed to be made.

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Tomorrow: The Target

The bow, the arrow and the target

Paulo Coelho

We are all archers of divine Will. And so it is absolutely essential that we know what instruments we have at our disposal.

The bow

The bow is life: all energy emanates from it.

The arrow will be shot one day.

The target is far away.

But your life will always be with you, and you have to know how to take proper care of it.

It needs periods of inactivity – a bow that is always ready, in a state of tension, loses its potency. So, accept rest to recover your firmness: in this way, when you stretch the string, your strength will be intact.

The bow has no conscience: it is a prolongation of the archer’s hand and desire. It serves to kill or to meditate. So, always be clear about your intentions.

A bow is flexible, but it also has its limits. Any effort beyond its capacity will break it, or else tire out the hand that holds it fast. By the same token, do not ask of your body more than it can do. And understand that one day old age will arrive – and that this is a blessing, not a curse.

To keep the bow elegantly open, have each part do only what is necessary, and do not waste your energy. This will enable you to shoot lots of arrows without growing tired.

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Tomorrow : the arrow

Believing in the impossible – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

[...]

Even so, now and again we hear the following comment:

“I always believe in dreams, I often try to combat injustice, but I always end up disappointed.”

A warrior of light knows that certain impossible battles are worth fighting and so is not afraid of being disappointed, knowing as he does the power of his sword and the force of his love. He vehemently rejects those who are unable to take decisions and are always trying to pass on to others the responsibility for all the bad that happens in the world.

If he does not fight against what is wrong – even if it seems beyond his strength – he will never find the right way.

My Iranian publisher, Arash Hejasi, once sent me a text that said:

“Today a heavy rainstorm caught me by surprise when I was walking down the street … thank God I had my umbrella and raincoat. Except that they were both in my car, parked quite a distance away. While I was running to get them I thought what a strange sign I was receiving from God – we always have the necessary resources to face the storms that life prepares for us, but most times these resources are locked away in the bottom of our heart and this makes us waste an enormous amount of time trying to find them, so that when we finally find them, we have already been defeated by adversity.”

So, let us always be prepared; otherwise we will miss our chance, or lose the battle.

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Believing in the impossible – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

William Blake says in one of his texts: “all that today is a reality was once only part of an impossible dream,” and that is why today we have the airplane, space exploration, the computer with which I am writing this column, and so on. In Lewis Carroll’s famous masterpiece “Alice through the Looking Glass,” there is a dialogue between the main character and the Queen, who has just told something quite extraordinary.

- I can’t believe it – says Alice.

- Can’t believe it? – the Queen repeats with a sad look on her face. – Try again: take a deep breath, close your eyes, and believe.

Alice laughs:

- It’s no good trying. Only fools believe that impossible things can happen.

- I think what you need is a little training – answers the Queen. – When I was your age I would practice at least half an hour a day, right after breakfast, I tried very hard to imagine five or six unbelievable things that could cross my path, and today I see that most of the things I imagined have turned real, I even became a Queen because of that.

Life constantly asks us: “believe!” Believing that a miracle can happen at any moment is necessary not only for our happiness but also for our protection, or to justify our existence. In today’s world, many people think it is impossible to put an end to misery, to build a fair society, and to alleviate the religious tension that seems to grow worse every day.

Most people avoid the struggle for a whole variety of reasons: conformism, maturity, the sense of the ridiculous, the feeling of impotence. We see injustice being done to our neighbor and remain silent. “I’m not getting involved in fights for nothing” is the explanation.

This is a cowardly attitude. Whoever travels down a spiritual path carries an honor code to be fulfilled; the voice that is raised against what is wrong is always heard by God.

[...]

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The rest of this text will be posted tomorrow

What is truth?

Paulo Coelho

On January 30, 2001, I read the following piece of news in the Spanish newspaper “La Vanguardia”.

“What is truth? The President of the Court, Josep Maria Pijuan, had to check which of the versions of rape offered by the girl victim, 11-year-old J., was closest to reality. The lawyers attending the questioning did not believe that she would manage to avoid contradicting herself in her deposition.

“At a certain moment the judge asked a rather philosophical question: What is truth? Is it what you imagine or what they asked you to tell?”

The girl stopped for a minute, then she answered:

“Truth is the bad they did to me.”

“Lawyer Jufresa, a renowned and prestigious jurist, said that was one of the most brilliant definitions she had heard in her whole career.”

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The lecture in Chicago

Paulo Coelho

A Chinese writer and I were getting ready to talk at a meeting of American booksellers. The extremely nervous Chinese lady said to me:

- Speaking in public is difficult enough, just imagine having to explain your book in another language!

I asked her to stop or else I would get nervous too, because her problem was the same as mine. Suddenly she turned to me, smiled, and said in a low voice:

- Everything’s going to be fine, don’t you worry. We’re not alone, look at the name of the bookstore of the lady sitting behind me.

On the woman’s name-tag was written: “The Reunited Angels Bookstore.” We both managed to give an excellent presentation of our works, because the angels sent us the sign that we were waiting for.

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The friend in Sydney

Paulo Coelho

“Sometimes we get used to what we see in the movies and end up forgetting the true story,” says a friend while together we admire the port of Sydney.

“Do you remember the most remarkable scene in “The Ten Commandments”?

“Of course I do! At a certain moment, Moses – played by Charlton Heston – raises his staff, the waters divide, and the Hebrew people cross the sea on foot.”

“In the Bible it is different,” says my friend. “God orders Moses to “tell the children of Israel to walk.” And it’s only after they start walking that Moses raises his staff and the Red Sea opens up.”

“Only confidence in the path will make it reveal itself.”

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The old lady in Copacabana

Paulo Coelho

She was standing on the sidewalk of Atlântica Avenue with a guitar and a hand-written sign that said: “Let’s sing together.”

She began to play alone. Then a drunk arrived, then another old lady and they began to sing along with her. In a short time a small crowd was singing together and another small crowd played the audience, clapping hands at the end of each number.

“Why do you do this?” I asked between songs.

“Not to be alone,” she said. “My life is very lonely, just like almost all old folk.”

I wish they all could solve their problems in this way.

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Looking for the tree of immortality – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

[...]

On his way back, on climbing a little hill, he remembered that a wise man lived there, and thought: “I have lost all hope of ever finding what I wanted, but at least I can ask for his blessing and beg him to pray for my destiny.”

On reaching the wise man’s house, he could bear it no more and burst into tears.

- Why are you in such despair, my son? – asked the holy man.

- The king charged me to find a tree that was unique in the world, one whose fruit makes us live for ever. I have always fulfilled my duty with loyalty and courage, but this time I am returning home empty-handed.

The wise man began to laugh:

- What you are looking for exists, and it is made of the water of Life that comes from God’s infinite ocean. Your mistake was to try to find a form with a name.

“Sometimes this is called “tree,” other times “sun,” or “cloud,” we can call it anything that exists on the face of the Earth. However, to find this fruit, one must renounce form and seek content.

“Anything that has the presence of the Creation is in itself eternal, nothing can be destroyed.” When our heart stops beating, even so our essence transforms into nature around us. We can become trees, raindrops, plants, or even another human being.

“Why dwell on the word “tree” and forget that we are immortal? We are always reborn in our children, in the love that we show to the world, in each and every gesture of generosity and charity that we practice.

“Go back and tell the king that he need not worry about finding a fruit from some magic tree. Each attitude and decision that he makes now will endure for many generations. So ask him to be fair and just to his people, and if he does his work with dedication, no-one will ever forget him. His example will influence the history of his people and stimulate his children and grandchildren always to act in the best possible way.

And he added: “all those who look for just a name will always be stuck to appearance without ever discovering the hidden mystery of things and the miracle of life.”

“All the fighting that goes on is on account of names: property, jealousy, wealth, immortality. But when we forget the name and look for the reality hiding behind the words, we will have all that we desire – and peace of mind too.”

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Looking for the tree of immortality – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

The famous Persian poet Rumi tells us that one day, in a village in the north of what is now Iran, there appeared a man who told marvelous stories about a tree whose fruit made whoever ate of it immortal.

The news soon reached the ears of the king, but before he could ask the exact location of the such a prodigy of nature, the traveler had already departed.

Nonetheless, the king was determined to become immortal, for he wanted to have enough time to turn his kingdom into an example for all the peoples of the world. When he was a young man he had dreamed of making poverty disappear, teaching justice, feeding every single one of his subjects, but soon realized that this was the work of more than one generation. Still, life had given him a chance and he was not going to let it slip through his fingers. He called the bravest man in his court and entrusted him to find the tree.

The man left the following day carrying enough money to obtain information, food and all that was necessary to attain his objective. He traveled through many towns and over plains and mountains, asking questions and offering rewards. The honest people told him that such a tree did not exist; the cynics treated him with ironic respect, and some crooks sent him off to remote places just to get some coins for their information.

After many disappointments, the man decided to give up his search.

Although he admired his sovereign immensely, he would return empty-handed. He realized that this meant he would lose his honor, but he was tired and convince that such a tree did not exist.

The rest of this story will be posted here tomorrow

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The fuel

Paulo Coelho

- Master, what is faith?

The master asked the disciple to light a fire. The two of them sat in front of it and contemplated the flames.

- That is faith – said the master. – It is the firewood in the fire. The fuel that keeps the flame of God alive in our hearts.

- But the firewood needs a spark to change it into light.

- There are many sparks. The most common one is called Will. Just wanting to have faith is enough for it to appear in our path.

- Even when we spend all our life without believing in anything?

- We always believe, even without knowing or accepting it and that is why it is so easy to awaken the spark. And furthermore, the more we live, the closer we grow to God: old firewood burns more easily.

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Who wants to go to heaven?

Paulo Coelho

A priest – who saw the devil in the pleasures of life – went to the town tavern and asked everyone there to attend church that evening. Everyone obeyed. With the church filled to the last pew, the priest roared out:

- Stop all this drinking! All those who want to go to heaven, raise their right hand!

The entire congregation raised their hand – everyone but Manoel, who was held by all to be a dignified man who fulfilled all his duties.

Surprised, the priest asked:

- And you, Manoel, don’t you want to go to heaven when you die?

- Of course I do. But I still haven’t experienced the life that God has given me, and you want to take it away from me already!

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The two Gods

Paulo Coelho

There are two Gods:

The God that our teachers taught us about and the God that teaches us.

The God that people usually talk about and the God that talks to us.

The God we learn to fear and the God that talks to us of mercy.

The God on high and the God that is part of our daily life.

The God that makes demands of us and the God that forgives our debts.

The God that threatens us with the punishments of hell and the God that shows us the best path.

There are two Gods:

A God that drives us away because of our faults and a God that calls us with His love.

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Our possibilities

Paulo Coelho

I note down in my computer something said by Ken Casey that I read in a magazine on the plane:

“How odd the human race is – so alike and yet so different! We are capable of working together, build the Pyramids in Egypt, the Great Wall of China, the cathedrals of Europe and the temples of Peru. We can compose unforgettable music, work in hospitals, create new computer programs.

“But at some moment all this loses its meaning and we feel alone, as if we belonged to another world, different from the one we have helped to build.”

“At times, when others need our help, we get desperate because that prevents us from enjoying life. And then there are other times when nobody needs us and we feel useless.”

But that is the way we are, complex human beings just beginning to understand ourselves; it’s no use despairing on account of that.”

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A short story about Buddha – Part 3

Paulo Coelho

[...]

He who once was called Siddhartha, now transformed into Buddha, left behind him the tree under whose branches he had managed to reach enlightenment, and set out for the city of Sarnath, where he met his old companions and drew a circle on the ground to represent the wheel of existence that leads constantly to birth and death. He explained that he had not been happy as a prince who owned everything, nor had he learned wisdom through total renunciation. What human beings should seek in order to reach Paradise was the so-called “middle way”: neither seeking pain, nor being a slave to pleasure.

Impressed at what they heard from Buddha, the men decided to follow him on his pilgrimages from town to town. As they heard the good news, more and more disciples joined the group, and Buddha began to organize communities of devotees, following the principle that they could help one another mutually in the duties of body and spirit.

On one of his journeys, Buddha returned to his home town, where his father grieved deeply on seeing him begging for alms. But he kissed his father’s feet and said: “you, Sire, belong to a lineage of kings, but I belong to a lineage of Buddhas, and millions of them also lived begging for alms.” The king remembered the prophecy that had been made when his son was conceived, and made his peace with Buddha. His son and his wife, who for so many years had complained of having been abandoned, eventually understood his mission and founded a community which began to spread his teachings.

When he was approaching the age of eighty, he ate something spoiled and realized he was going to die of food poisoning. Helped by his disciples, he managed to travel as far as Kusinhagara, where he lay down for the last time beside a tree.

Buddha called his cousin Ananda and said:

- “I am old and my pilgrimage in this life is nearing its end. My body looks like an old cart that has been used a great deal and is still working only because some of its parts are precariously tied up with straps of leather. But that’s enough, now it’s time to go.”

Then he turned to his disciples and asked if anyone had any doubts. Nobody said a word. He asked the same question three times, but they all remained in silence.

Buddha died smiling. His teachings, today codified in the form of a philosophical religion, are spread across most of Asia. In essence, they consist of understanding oneself profoundly and having a deep respect for one’s neighbor.

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A short story about Buddha – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

[...]

For many years he wandered all over the north of India, meeting monks and holy men who traveled around there, learning the oral traditions that spoke of reincarnation, illusion and paying for the sins of past lives (karma). When he felt that he had learned enough, he built himself a shelter on the banks of the River Nairanjana, where he lived doing penance and meditating.

His life style and will power ended up drawing the attention of other men who in their search for the truth came to him for spiritual advice. But after six long years, all that Siddhartha could notice was that his body was weaker and weaker and the constant infections did not let him meditate as he should.

The legend says that one morning, when he went into the river to make his toilet, he no longer had the strength to rise. When he was about to drown, a tree bent down its branches and let him clutch to them not to be swept away by the current. Exhausted, he managed to reach the river bank before fainting.

Hours later, a peasant passed by, a milk-vendor who offered him a little food. Siddhartha accepted, to the disgust of the other men who lived there with him. Believing that saint no longer to possess the strength to resist temptation, they decided to leave him immediately. But he gladly drank the milk offered him, feeling that it was a sign from God and a heaven-sent blessing.

Encouraged by the meal he had just eaten, he lent no importance to being abandoned by his old disciples; he sat himself down next to a fig-tree and decided to go on meditating about life and suffering. To test him, the god Mara sent three of his daughters to try to distract him with thoughts of sex, thirst, and the pleasures of life. But Siddhartha was so absorbed in his meditation that he did not notice any of this; at that very moment he was experiencing a sort of revelation, remembering all his past lives. As he did so, he also recalled the lessons he had forgotten (all men learn the necessary, but rarely are we are able to put to use what we have learned).

In his state of ecstasy, he experienced Paradise (Nirvana), where “there is no earth, nor water, nor fire, nor air, it is neither this world nor another world, and there is no sun, no moon, no birth and no death. There lies the end of all of man’s suffering.”

When that morning came to an end, he had reached the true meaning of life and become Buddha (the Enlightened One). But instead of remaining in this state for the rest of his days, he decided to go back to living among others and to teach everyone all that he had learned and experienced.

[...]

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The third part of this story will be posted here tomorrow.

A short story about Buddha – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

Siddhartha – whose name means “the one whose objective is attained” – was born into a noble family around the year 560 AC. in the city of Kapilavastu in Nepal.

Legend says that at the moment that his mother was making love with his father, she had a vision: six elephants, each one with a lotus flower on his back, were coming in her direction. The next instant, Siddhartha was conceived.

During her pregnancy, Queen Maya, his mother, decided to call the wise men in the kingdom to interpret the vision she had had, and they were unanimous in affirming that the child about to be brought into the world would be a great king or a great priest.

Siddhartha’s childhood and adolescence were very like ours; his parents wanted by all means to protect their son from knowing about the misery of the world. So he led his life confined between the walls of the gigantic palace where his parents lived and where everything seemed perfect and harmonious. He married, had a son and knew only the pleasures and delights of life.

One night, however, when he turned 29, he asked one of the guards to take him into town. The guard objected, for the king could become furious, but Siddhartha was so insistent that the man eventually gave in, and they left the palace together.

The first thing they saw was an old beggar with a sad expression on his face, asking for alms. Further ahead they came across a group of lepers, and right after them a funeral procession passed by. “I have never seen this before!” he must have said to the guard, who may have answered: “Well, that’s old age, and that’s disease, and death.” On their way back to the palace, they came upon a holy man, his hair shorn and wearing only a yellow cloak, who said: “my life was a torment, so I have given everything up so that I don’t have to incarnate as myself and suffer old age and sickness and death all over again.”

The following night, Siddhartha waited until his wife and son had fallen asleep. He entered the room quietly, kissed them both and again asked the guard to escort him out of the palace; there he handed him his sword with the jewel-set hilt, his clothes made with the finest tissues that the human hand could weave, asking him to return them all to his father; then he shaved his head, covered his body with a yellow mantle and set out in search of an answer to the suffering of the world.

[...]

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Complete solitude – Part 2

Paulo Coelho

[...]

I begin to imagine how many millions of people at this very moment are feeling absolutely useless and miserable – no matter how rich, charming, enchanting they may be – because tonight they too are all alone, and last night too, and tomorrow they might be lonely as well. Young people who have found nobody to go out with tonight, elderly people sitting in front of the TV as if it were the last hope of salvation, businessmen in their hotel rooms wondering whether what they do has any sense to it, since all that they feel at this moment is the despair of being all alone.

I remember a comment someone made during dinner: a recent divorcee said “now I have all the freedom I always dreamed of.” That’s a lie. No-one wants that kind of freedom, all of us want a commitment, a person to be at our side to see the beauties of Geneva, discuss their views of life or even just share a sandwich. Better to eat half a sandwich than a whole one without anyone to share anything with, not even a little bit of food. Better to be hungry than to be alone. Because when you are alone – and I am talking about the loneliness that we do not choose, the loneliness that we are obliged to accept – it is as if we no longer belonged to the human race.

I start walking towards the beautiful hotel on the other river bank, with its super-comfortable room, its kind staff, its top-quality service. Soon I will be asleep and tomorrow this strange sensation that for some reason or other overpowered me today will be no more than a memory, remote and odd, because I won’t have any more reason to say: I’m lonely.

On the way back I pass by other solitary people; they look either arrogant (because they prefer to pretend that they chose to be alone on such a beautiful evening) or sad (because they know that there is nothing worse in life). I consider striking up a conversation with them, but I know that they are ashamed of their own loneliness. Maybe it is better for them to reach the limit and then understand how necessary it is to dare, to talk to strangers, to discover where to meet people, to avoid going home to watch TV or read a book – because if they do that the meaning of life will be lost, loneliness will have become a vice, and from then on the long way back to human companionship will no longer be found.

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Complete solitude – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

The journalists have finished all the interviews, the publishers have all taken the train back to Zurich, the friends I had dinner with have all gone home, and I go out for a walk in Geneva. It is an exceptionally pleasant evening, the streets are deserted and the bars and restaurants filled with life, everything seems absolutely calm, in order, pretty, and then all of a sudden…

All of a sudden it strikes me that I am absolutely alone.

Of course I have often been alone this year. And “of course”, somewhere two hours from here by plane, my wife waits for me. It is obvious too that after a day filled with activities like today, nothing better than to stroll through the lanes and narrow alleys of the old town without having to say anything to anyone, just contemplating the beauty all around me. Except that tonight, for some reason that I am unaware of, this feeling of solitude is utterly oppressive and anguishing – I have nobody to share the city with on this stroll, nobody to share the comments that I would like to make.

Of course, I have a mobile telephone in my pocket and a reasonable number of friends here, but I feel it is a bit too late to call anyone. I consider the possibility of going into one of the bars and ordering myself a drink – almost certainly, someone would recognize me and invite me to join them. But I also think that it is important to go deep to the bottom of this emptiness, this sensation that it does not matter to anybody whether we exist or not, and so I carry on walking.

I see a fountain and remember I was here last year with a Russian painter lady who had just illustrated a text that I had written for Amnesty International. On that day we hardly exchanged a word, just listened to the water splashing and the music of a violin coming from far away. We were both wrapped in our thoughts, yet both of us knew that although distant, we were not alone.

I walk on for a bit, heading for the Cathedral. Through a half-open window on the other side of the street, I see a family chatting together; this only makes the sensation of loneliness grow immensely, now the evening stroll has turned into a journey into night trying to understand what it is to feel utterly alone.

[...]

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The second part of this text will be posted here tomorrow

The new entrepreneurs – Part 2

Here is the rest of Pamela Hartigan’s list about what drives the new social entrepreneurs:

[...]

Paulo Coelho

Seduction: no-one can survive alone in a competitive world: those who are aware of this and seek their dream manage to interest other people in their ideas. And these people become interested because they know that they are in the presence of something creative, committed to society – and above all else, economically lucrative.

Flexibility: those who seek their dream have an idea in their head and a plan to turn it into something real. However, as they move forward they realize that they have to adapt to the realities of the world around them, and from that point on their social responsibility becomes an important factor in changing the environment. For example, in order to reduce the rate of child mortality in a given city, it is not enough just to care for the children’s health – one has to change the sanitary structure, the nutritional system and so on.

Stubbornness: those who seek their dream may be flexible in their ways but at the same time concentrated on their objective. On account of their innovative ideas and because they are always moving in unknown territory, they never say: “I tried, but it didn’t work.” On the contrary, they always seek all the possible alternatives, and that is why the results eventually appear.

Happiness: those who seek their dream undergo difficult moments, but are happy with what they do. The occasional confusion and mistakes have nothing to do with their inability, and they are capable of smiling when they make a mistake – because they know that they will be able to correct that mistake further ahead.

Contagiousness: those who seek their dream have the unique ability to make people around them realize that it is worthwhile following their example and doing the same thing. That is why they will never feel alone, even if from time to time they feel misunderstood.

Pamela Hartigan closes her study offering the example of a Brazilian, Fabio Rosa, who developed a system to use solar energy after seeing that his community was spending a lot on non-renewable fuel. Fábio’s work, which contains the ten points listed in the study, is now known all over the world, has “contaminated” large corporations, and will soon benefit millions of people in addition to contributing to preservation of the environment.

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Warrior of the Light – Issue nº 191 is out!

Issue nº 191 – Heaven and hell
Edição nº 191 – O céu e o inferno
Edición nº 191 – El cielo y el infierno
Edizione nº 191 – Il cielo e l’inferno
Édition nº 191 – Le ciel et l’enfer

The new entrepreneurs – Part 1

Paulo Coelho

Pamela Hartigan, director of the Schwab Foundation, drew up a list of ten points common to people whose dissatisfaction with the world around them drove them to create their own work. I think that Pamela’s list reaches far beyond this new mechanism called “social enterprise” and can be applied to many of our everyday activities:

Impatience: those who seek their dream do not wait around for things to happen: they see yesterday’s problems as today’s opportunities. Their impatience often makes them change course, but this adaptation is what matures them.

Conscience: those who seek their dream know that they are not alone in the world and that each gesture has a consequence. The work that they are doing can change the atmosphere around them. By understanding this power, they become an active element in society, and this sets them at peace with life.

Innovation: those who seek their dream believe that everything can be different from what it is, but it is necessary to pick a path that has not yet been traveled. Although always surrounded by old bureaucracy, the comments of others, and the difficulties of penetrating an unexplored forest, they discover alternative ways to make themselves heard.

Pragmatism: those who seek their dream do not hang around waiting for the ideal resources to start their work – they roll up their sleeves and get to work. No matter how little progress is made, it increases their confidence and the confidence of those around them, and the resources eventually turn up.

Apprenticeship: those who seek their dream usually have a deep interest in some particular area that can reveal new solutions to old problems when looked at in detail. But this apprenticeship can only be achieved through practice and constant renovation.

The rest of the list will be published here tomorrow.

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The angel’s visit

Paulo Coelho

The Verba Seniorum – a collection of texts on the monks who lived in the desert at the beginning of the Christian era – tells the story of a hermit who managed to spend a whole year eating only once a week.

After so much effort, he asked God to show him the true meaning of a certain passage in the Bible.

He heard no answer.

“What a waste of time,” said the monk to himself. “I made all that sacrifice and God does not even answer me! Better get out of here and look for some other monk who knows the meaning of this text.”

At that moment an angel appeared before him.

“The twelve months of fasting only served for you to believe you were better than the others, and God has no ears for the vain. But when you were humble, you thought of asking your neighbor for help, and God sent me.”

And the angel told the monk what he wanted to know.

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Believing without fear

Paulo Coelho

The warrior of the light believes. Just like children believe.

Because he believes in miracles, miracles begin to happen. Because he is sure that his thought can change his life, his life begins to change. Because he is sure that he will find love, this love appears.

From time to time he is disappointed. Sometimes he gets hurt.

And then he hears comments like: “that fellow’s so naive!”

But the warrior knows that it is all worthwhile. For each defeat he counts two victories in his favor.

All those who believe know this.

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Defects and qualities

Paulo Coelho

A warrior of the light knows his defects. But he also knows his qualities.

Some of his companions complain all the time: “the others have more chances than we have.”

They may be right, but a warrior does not let that paralyze him, and tries to make the most of his virtues.

He knows that the power of the gazelle is the ability of her legs. The power of the seagull lies in her sure aim at striking the fish. He has learned that a tiger is unafraid of the hyena because he is aware of his own strength.

A warrior seeks to know what he can rely on. He always checks his equipment, comprised of three things: faith, hope and love.

If these three are present, he does not hesitate to move forward.

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The hidden enemy

Paulo Coelho

The friends of the warrior of the light wonder where his energy comes from. He answers: “from the hidden enemy.”

His friends ask him who that is.

The warrior answers: “someone we cannot hurt.”

It may be a boy who beat him in a fight when they were youngsters, the girlfriend who left him at the age of eleven, the teacher who called him stupid.

The hidden enemy becomes a stimulus. When the warrior is tired, he remembers that he has yet to show his courage.

He does not think about vengeance, because the hidden enemy is no longer part of his history. He thinks only of improving his skills so that his feats can be known to all and reach the ears of those who have hurt him in the past.

Yesterday’s pain has become today’s strength.

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From the Prayer-book of Medieval Chivalry

Paulo Coelho

The Prayer-book of Medieval Chivalry says:

“The spiritual energy of the Path uses justice and patience to prepare your spirit.

“This is the Path of the Cavalier. An easy and at the same time a hard path, because it makes you abandon all useless things and relative friendships. That is why at first one feels very hesitant about following it.

“This is the first lesson of Chivalry: you will erase what you have written in the book of your life until now: worry, insecurity, lies. And instead of all this you will write the word courage. Beginning the journey with this word, and following with faith in God, you will reach the place you have to reach.”

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The art of waking up

Paulo Coelho

The warrior of the light is waking from his sleep.

He thinks: “I don’t know how to deal with this light, it makes me grow.”

Nonetheless, the light does not disappear.

The warrior thinks: “changes will have to be made that I don’t have the will to make.”

The light continues there – because “will” is a very tricky word.

So the warrior’s eyes and heart begin to grow used to the light.

He does not get scared; he begins to accept his Legend, even though it means running risks.

The warrior has been sleeping for a long time. It is only natural that he wakes up little by little.

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The porcupines and solidarity

Paulo Coelho

Reader Alvaro Conegundes tells that during the ice age many animals died because of the cold. Seeing this situation, the porcupines decided to group together, so they wrapped up well and protected one another.

But they hurt one another with their thorns, and so then they decided to stay apart from one another.

They started to freeze to death again. So they had to make a choice: either they vanished from the face of the earth or they accepted their neighbor’s thorns.

They wisely decided to stay together again. They learned to live with the small wounds that a very close relationship could cause, because the most important thing was the warmth given by the other.

And in the end they survived.

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The daisy and selfishness

Paulo Coelho

“I am a daisy in a field of daisies,” thought the flower. “Amidst others, it is impossible to notice my beauty.”

An angel heard what she was thinking and commented:

- But you are so pretty!

- I want to be the only one!

In order not to hear any complaints, the angel carried her off to a city square.

Some days later, the mayor went there with a gardener to make some changes to the square.

- There is nothing of interest here. Dig up the earth and plant geraniums.

- Hold on a minute! – cried out the daisy. – You’ll kill me if you do that!

- If there were some others like you, we could make some nice decoration – answered the mayor. – But there are no daisies to be found around here, and you on your own do not make a garden.

Then he tore the flower from the ground.

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On the road to Damascus

Paulo Coelho

The man was walking along the road to Damascus. He recalled his lost love and his soul was in grief. “Pity on those who know love,” he thought. “They will never be happy, with the fear of losing the one they love.”

At that moment he heard a nightingale sing.

- Why do you act like that? – the man asked the nightingale. – Don’t you see that my beloved, who lived your song so much, is no longer here by my side?

- I sing because I am happy – answered the nightingale.

- Haven’t you ever lost someone? – the man insisted.

- Many times – answered the nightingale. – But my love remains all the same.

And the man went on his way feeling more hopeful.

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The lion and the cats

Paulo Coelho

A lion came across a group of cats having a chat. “I’m going to devour them,” he thought.

But then an odd feeling of calm came over him. And he decided to sit down with them and pay attention to what they were saying.

- Good God! – said one of the cats, without noticing the lion’s presence. – We have prayed all afternoon! We asked for the skies to rain mice on us!

- And so far nothing has happened! – said another. – I wonder if the Lord really exists.

The skies remained mute. And the cats lost their faith.

The lion rose and went on his way, thinking: “funny how things are. I was going to kill those animals, but God stopped me. And even so, they stopped believing in divine grace. They were so worried about what was missing that they did not even notice the protection they were given.”

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The new entrepreneurs

Paulo Coelho

Pamela Hartigan, director of the Schwab Foundation, drew up a list of ten points common to people whose dissatisfaction with the world around them drove them to create their own work. I think that Pamela’s list reaches far beyond this new mechanism called “social enterprise” and can be applied to many of our everyday activities:

Impatience: those who seek their dream do not wait around for things to happen: they see yesterday’s problems as today’s opportunities. Their impatience often makes them change course, but this adaptation is what matures them.

Conscience: those who seek their dream know that they are not alone in the world and that each gesture has a consequence. The work that they are doing can change the atmosphere around them. By understanding this power, they become an active element in society, and this sets them at peace with life.

Innovation: those who seek their dream believe that everything can be different from what it is, but it is necessary to pick a path that has not yet been traveled. Although always surrounded by old bureaucracy, the comments of others, and the difficulties of penetrating an unexplored forest, they discover alternative ways to make themselves heard.

Pragmatism: those who seek their dream do not hang around waiting for the ideal resources to start their work – they roll up their sleeves and get to work. No matter how little progress is made, it increases their confidence and the confidence of those around them, and the resources eventually turn up.

Apprenticeship: those who seek their dream usually have a deep interest in some particular area that can reveal new solutions to old problems when looked at in detail. But this apprenticeship can only be achieved through practice and constant renovation.

Seduction: no-one can survive alone in a competitive world: those who are aware of this and seek their dream manage to interest other people in their ideas. And these people become interested because they know that they are in the presence of something creative, committed to society – and above all else, economically lucrative.

Flexibility: those who seek their dream have an idea in their head and a plan to turn it into something real. However, as they move forward they realize that they have to adapt to the realities of the world around them, and from that point on their social responsibility becomes an important factor in changing the environment. For example, in order to reduce the rate of child mortality in a given city, it is not enough just to care for the children’s health – one has to change the sanitary structure, the nutritional system and so on.

Stubbornness: those who seek their dream may be flexible in their ways but at the same time concentrated on their objective. On account of their innovative ideas and because they are always moving in unknown territory, they never say: “I tried, but it didn’t work.” On the contrary, they always seek all the possible alternatives, and that is why the results eventually appear.

Happiness: those who seek their dream undergo difficult moments, but are happy with what they do. The occasional confusion and mistakes have nothing to do with their inability, and they are capable of smiling when they make a mistake – because they know that they will be able to correct that mistake further ahead.

Contagiousness: those who seek their dream have the unique ability to make people around them realize that it is worthwhile following their example and doing the same thing. That is why they will never feel alone, even if from time to time they feel misunderstood.

Pamela Hartigan closes her study offering the example of a Brazilian, Fabio Rosa, who developed a system to use solar energy after seeing that his community was spending a lot on non-renewable fuel. Fábio’s work, which contains the ten points listed in the study, is now known all over the world, has “contaminated” large corporations, and will soon benefit millions of people in addition to contributing to preservation of the environment.

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Before God

Paulo Coelho

An old man sold toys in the Baghdad market. Knowing that his sight was not quite perfect, his customers sometimes paid him with fake money.

The old man discovered the ruse, but did not say anything. In his prayers he asked God to forgive those who cheated him. “Perhaps they’re short of money and want to buy presents for their children,” he said to himself.

The time passed and the old man died. Standing before the gates of Heaven, he prayed once more:

- Lord! – he said. – I am a sinner. I did many wrong things, I am no better than the false coins I was paid. Forgive me!

At that moment the gates swung open and a Voice was heard:

- Forgive what? How can I judge someone who all through his life never once passed judgment on others?

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Avoiding helping the devil

Paulo Coelho

- We are often instruments of evil when we try to do good – said Al-Fahid to his friend. – I always try to stay alert, but today I was used by the devil.

- How come? You are known to be so wise!

- This morning I went to the mosque to pray. Obeying the tradition, I took off my shoes before entering; when I was about to leave, I saw that they had been stolen: so I created a thief.

- But it’s not your fault – said the friend.

- It is my fault. It is so easy to arouse the bad side in our neighbor. It is so easy to annoy someone, spread discord, raise suspicion, separate brothers. The devil needs men to carry out his acts – and that is why I am to blame.

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Keeping open to love

Paulo Coelho

There are moments when we would like very much to help someone we love deeply and we just can’t seem to do a thing. Either circumstances prevent us from drawing closer or else the person has shut off to any gesture of solidarity and support.

So, all we have left is love. In those moments when everything is useless, we can still love – without expecting anything in return, any exchanges or thanks.

If we can manage to act in this way, the energy of love begins to transform the universe around us. When this energy appears, you always perform your work successfully.

“Time does not change men. Will power does not change men. Love changes men,” says Henry Drummond.

I read in the newspaper about a child in Brasília who was brutally beaten by his parents. As a result, she lost her body movements and her power of speech.

Admitted to the Base Hospital, she was taken care of by a nurse who said to her every day: “I love you.” Although the doctors guaranteed that she could not hear and that the nurse’s efforts were all to no avail, she kept repeating: “I love you, don’t you forget that.”

Three weeks later on, the child had recovered her movements. Four weeks later, she started to talk and smile again. The nurse never gave any interviews and the newspapers did not publish her name – but let it be registered here, so that we will never forget: love is a great healer.

Love transforms, love heals. But at times love builds mortal traps and ends up destroying the person who has decided to surrender completely. What strange sentiment is this that deep down is the only reason for us to go on living and struggling and trying to make things better?

It would irresponsible of me to try to define it because, like any other human being, all I can do is feel it. Thousands of books have been written about it, plays put on at the theater, films produced, poems scribbled, sculptures carved in wood or marble – and even so, all that the artist can convey is the idea of a feeling, not the feeling itself.

But I have learned that this feeling is present in the small things and manifests itself in the most insignificant of attitudes we take, so we must always have love in mind when we act or fail to act.

Picking up the phone and uttering that affectionate word we have been putting off. Opening the door and showing in someone who needs our help. Accepting a job. Leaving a job. Making that decision that we were putting off for later. Apologizing for a mistake we made that will not leave us in peace. Claiming a right that we have. Opening an account at the florist’s – which is more important than the jeweler’s. Playing the music loud when your loved one is far away and lower the volume when he or she is nearby. Knowing how to say “yes” and “no” – because love involves all of man’s energies. Discovering a sport that can be practiced by two. Not following any prescription, not even those listed in this paragraph – because love calls for creativity.

And when none of this is possible, when all that is left is loneliness, then remember a story that a reader once sent me:

A rose dreamed day and night about having the company of the bees, but none ever came to land on her petals.

But the flower went on dreaming: during many a long night she imagined a sky with lots of bees flying towards her and kissing her tenderly. In this way she managed to resist to the next day, when she opened again to the sunlight.

One night the moon, knowing how lonely the rose felt, asked her:

- Aren’t you tired of waiting?

- Perhaps. But I have to struggle on.

- Why?

- Because if I don’t open up, I will wither.

At moments when loneliness seems to crush all beauty, the only way to resist is to keep yourself open.

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Destroying your neighbor

Paulo Coelho

Malba Tahan illustrates the dangers of words: a woman said so often that her neighbor was a thief that the young man was finally arrested. Some days later, they discovered that he was innocent and set him free. Then he sued the woman.

- Comments are not so serious – she said to the judge.

- Granted – answered the magistrate. – When you get back home today, write down everything bad you said about the young man, then tear up the paper and throw the bits away as you walk along. Come back tomorrow to hear the sentence.

The woman obeyed and returned the following day.

- You are pardoned if you give me the bits of paper you spread on the street yesterday. Otherwise you will be condemned to a year in prison – declared the magistrate.

- But that’s impossible! The wind has blown them all away!

- In the very same way, a simple comment can be spread by the wind and destroy a man’s honor, and afterwards it is impossible to repair the harm that has been done.

And he sent the woman off to jail.

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Letter from M.E

Caracas, 7 October 2003

Dear Mr. Coelho:

I have read all your books and must say that the latest one really surprised me. Several times during the reading I felt like stopping and crying – just for being a woman. One does not need to have the experience of a prostitute to feel the emotions and confusions that you expose so well in your book.

Nonetheless, I would like to add some comments on women that you may not know. All of us have a bit of Maria (the character in the book) and we always promise never to love again so that we do not hurt or get hurt. We always end up breaking this promise, and we always regret this.

We are neither completely good nor completely bad.

Since sexual pleasure is not exactly our main concern, for many generations it was possible to conceal the fact that we rarely have an orgasm the way that men imagine we do. Do you know what gives us more pleasure than sex? Food. When we love a man, the first thing we want to know is whether he has already eaten, if he is well fed, and if he liked what we cooked for him. Although the feminists may hate me for saying so, seeing the man whom we love enjoying a meal is just divine! And you fail to mention this in your book.

The biggest problem for Latin women is that they end up a mother to their man. The love of a mother, forgiving all his weaknesses (because we know that he is weak, even when we spend the whole day saying how strong he is), making us want to believe that he will always come back home and realize that the best thing in his life is to be beside the person who takes care of him and pampers him. But men, even though they want to be loved like sons, always behave like savages, giving in to their impulses and the passions of the moment. Even though they may not abandon us in a physical sense, their soul has already departed and returned time and time again.

Women always live in the hope of returning to the past, remembering each and every moment they have experienced. And they are scared by the fact that the past has gone, now is another, shorter time and it is passing by ever so fast. I am not just talking about biological time but rather the fact of no longer feeling desired, walking down the street and noticing that no heads are turned. Then there is the fear of never being touched again like when they were young, never seeing in a man’s eyes an erotic or – I dare say – pornographic thought.

Women are romantic, but always let men kill their feelings – and because of that they can become implacably destructive because they no longer have anything to lose.

The other day I was talking to some friends about how we were capable of being “perverse and destructive,” when one of them said: “No, that’s not quite true, it’s far worse! When men are hurt they get themselves an arm and prepare to take vengeance, ready to put an end to the adversary. But when we are hurt by those we love, the only thing that we can think of is to prepare a lot of strategies until we manage to get our executioner back and begging for pardon. That is our vengeance: making him miss us and then come back.”

I know that in your new book you try to talk like a woman and at some moments I think you succeed. But that is the ideal vision of the female sex, not the real thing. The character resembles more what we would like to be than what we really and truly are.

But be that as it may, it is very important to see a man trying to think like a woman. You may never achieve that but that is not important, it is the trajectory that is very interesting, and this might stimulate others to do the same thing.

From a faithful reader of yours who is the mother of a boy of 14 and whom many accuse of thinking like a man,

M.E.

~~~

In a city in the Pyrenees, 24 October 2003

Dear M. E. – I only wish that the literary critics were as sensitive as you.

Paulo Coelho

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The Law of Jante

Paulo Coelho

- What do you think of Princess Martha-Louise?

The Norwegian journalist was interviewing me on the banks of Lake Geneva. As a rule I refuse to answer questions that are not relevant to my work, but in this case there was a reason for his curiosity: on the dress that she had worn on her 30th birthday, the Princess had asked them to embroider the names of some people who had been important in her life – and my name was among them (my wife found the idea so good that she decided to do the same when she turned 50, sewing in one corner of her dress the credit “inspired by the Princess of Norway”).

- I think she is a sensitive, delicate, intelligent person – I answered. – I had the opportunity to meet her in Oslo, when she introduced me to her husband, a writer like myself.

I paused a little, but felt the need to add:

- And there is something that I honestly fail to understand: why did the Norwegian press begin to criticize her husband’s literary work after he got married to the Princess? Before that, all his reviews were positive.

It was not exactly a question, more of a provocation, because I already imagined the answer: the reviews had changed because people feel envy, the most bitter of all human sentiments.

The journalist, however, was more sophisticated than that:

- Because he broke the Law of Jante.

Of course I had never heard of this, so he explained what it was. I continued on my journey and discovered it is hard to find anyone in any of the Scandinavian countries who does not know this law. Although the law exists since the beginning of civilization, it was only officially declared in 1933 by writer Aksel Sandemose in the novel “A refugee goes beyond limits.”

The sad truth is that the Law of Jante is not restricted to Scandinavia: this is a rule applied in every country in the world, despite the fact that Brazilians say that “this only happens here,” and the French claim that “unfortunately, that’s how it is in our country.” Now, the reader must be annoyed because he/she is already half way through the column and still does not know what the Law of Jante is all about, so I’ll try to explain it here briefly in my own words:

“You aren’t worth a thing, nobody is interested in what you think, mediocrity and anonymity are your best bet. If you act this way, you will never have any big problems in life.”

The Law of Jante focuses on the feeling of jealousy and envy that sometimes causes so much trouble to people like Ari Behn, the husband of Princess Martha-Louise. This is one of its negative aspects, but there is something far more dangerous.

And this law is accountable for the world being manipulated in all possible manners by people who have no fear of what the others say and end up practicing the evil they desire. We have just witnessed a useless war in Iraq, which is still costing many lives; we see a huge abyss between the rich and the poor countries of the world, social injustice on all sides, unbridled violence, people being forced to give up their dreams because of unfair and cowardly attacks. Before starting the second world war, Hitler sent out several signals as to his intentions, and what encouraged him to go ahead was the knowledge that nobody would dare to defy him because of the Law of Jante.

Mediocrity may be comfortable, up to the day that tragedy knocks at the door and people start to wonder: “but why did nobody say anything, if everybody could see that this was going to happen?”

Simple: nobody said anything because the others did not say anything either.

So in order to prevent things from growing any worse, maybe this is the right moment to write the anti-Law of Jante:

“You are worth far more than you think. Your work and presence on this Earth are important, even though you may not think so. Of course, thinking in this way, you might have many problems because you are breaking the Law of Jante – but don’t feel intimidated by them, go on living without fear and in the end you will win.”

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My father-in-law, Christiano Oiticica

Paulo Coelho

Shortly before he died, my father-in-law gathered the family together and announced:

“I know that death is just a passage, and I want to be able to make this passage without any sadness. To put your minds at rest, I shall send you a sign that it was worthwhile helping others in this life.” He asked to be cremated and for his ashes to be thrown into the ocean at Arpoador beach in Ipanema while a tape played his favorite pieces of music.

He died two days later. A friend arranged for his cremation in São Paulo and when we returned to Rio we all went to Arpoador beach with the radio, the tapes and the package with the little urn containing his ashes. Standing facing the sea, we discovered that the lid of the urn was closed with screw-nails. We tried to open it, but to no avail.

There was nobody around, just a beggar, who came up to us and asked: “What do you want?”

My brother-in-law answered: “A screwdriver, because my father’s ashes are inside this box.”

“He must have been a very good man, because I just found this lying over there,” said the beggar, holding out a screwdriver.

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Hard Times

Paulo Coelho

A man was selling oranges in the middle of a road. He was illiterate, so he never read newspapers. He put some signs along the road and spent the whole day praising the flavor of his wares.

Everyone bought from him and the man thrived. With the money he placed more signs on the road and began to sell more fruit. Business was growing fast when one day his son – who was educated and had studied in a big city – asked him:

- Father, don’t you know that the world is going through very hard times? The economy of the country is in an awful state!

Worried by this, the man reduced the number of signs and began to sell fruit of inferior quality because it was cheaper. Sales slumped immediately.

“My son is right,” he thought. “Times are very hard.”

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Filling the other’s cup

By Paulo Coelho

During a dinner at the monastery of Sceta, the oldest priest rose to serve water to the others. He went from table to table with a certain difficulty, but none of the priests accepted.
     “We are not worthy of this saint’s sacrifice,” they thought.
     When the old man reached Abbot Little John’s table, he asked for his cup to be filled to the brim.
     The other monks look on in horror. When dinner was over, they scolded John:
     – How can you judge yourself worthy of being served by a holy man? Didn’t you see how hard it was for him to lift the pitcher? Didn’t you notice how his hands were shaking?
     – How can I stop goodness being manifested? – answered John. – You who find yourselves so perfect lack the humility of receiving, and deprive the poor man of the joy of giving.

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Three precise blows

By Paulo Coelho

- How can I know the best way to act in life? – the disciple asked the master.

The master asked him to build a table.

The disciple drove in the nails with three precise blows. One nail, however, struck a hard spot and the disciple needed to deliver one more blow – which drove in the nail too deep all the way into the wood.

- Your hand was used to three blows of the hammer – said the master. – You had so much trust in what you did that you lost your attention and skill.

“When action becomes a mere habit it loses its meaning and may end up causing harm, so never let routine be in command of your movements.”

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The three blocks of stone

By Paulo Coelho

An Australian legend tells of a wizard who was strolling with his three sisters when the most famous warrior of the region came up to him.

- I want to marry one of these beautiful girls – he said.

- If one of them gets married, the others are going to think they are ugly. I am looking for a tribe whose warriors can have three wives – answered the wizard as he walked away.

And for many a year he traveled all over the Australian continent but never managed to find such a tribe.

- At least one of us could have been happy – said one of the sisters when they were already old and weary from so much wandering.

- I was wrong – answered the wizard. – But now it’s too late.

And he turned the three sisters into blocks of stone.

Visitors to the Blue Mountains National Park near Sydney can see them – and understand that the happiness of one does not mean the sadness of others.

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A day at the mill

By Paulo Coelho

At the moment my life is a symphony made up of three different movements: “many people,” “some people,” and “hardly anybody.” Each of these movements lasts about four months a year; they often come together during the same month, but they never get mixed up.

“Many people” are those moments when I am in touch with the public, editors and journalists. “Some people” happens when I go to Brazil, meet my old friends, walk along Copacabana beach, attend the occasional social event, but as a rule I stay at home.

But today I just want to dwell a little on the “hardly anybody” movement. Night has already descended on this small town of 200 people in the Pyrenees whose name I would rather keep a secret and where I recently bought an old mill transformed into a house. I wake up every morning to the roosters crowing, have my breakfast and go out for a walk among the cows and lambs and through the fields of wheat and hay. I contemplate the mountains and – unlike the “many people” movement – never try to think who I am. I have no answers, no questions, I live entirely for the present moment, in the understanding that the year has four seasons (yes, it may seem so obvious, but sometimes we forget that), and I transform myself like the landscape all around me.

At this moment I have no great interest in what is going on in Iraq or Afghanistan: like any other person who lives in the countryside, the most important news is the weather. Everyone who lives in this small village knows if it is going to rain, turn cold, or be very windy, because all that has a direct effect on their lives, their plans, their crops. I pass a farmer tending his field, we exchange a “good morning,” discuss the weather forecast and then go about what we were doing – he at his plough, I on my long walk.

I head back home, check the mail-box, the local newspaper informs me that there is a dance in the next village, a lecture in a bar in Tarbes – the big city with all of its 40,000 inhabitants (the firemen had been called out because a garbage bin had caught on fire during the night). The topic that is mobilizing the region involves a group accused of cutting down the plane trees that had caused the death of a young man riding his motorbike on a country road; this piece of news fills a whole page and several days of reporting about the “secret command” that is bent on revenging the death of the young biker by destroying the trees.

I lie down beside the brook that runs through my mill. I look up at the cloudless sky in this terrifying summer with its 5,000 dead in France alone. I rise and go to practice kyudo, the form of meditation with the bow and arrow that occupies me for an hour. It’s already lunchtime: I have a light meal and then notice a strange object in one of the rooms of the old building, with a screen and a keyboard, all connected – wonder of wonders – with a super-speed DSL line. I know that as soon as I press a button on that machine, the world will come to me.

I resist as long as I am able but then the moment is reached when my finger touches the “on” button and here I go again connected to the world, Brazilian newspaper columns, books, interviews to be given, the news from Iraq and Afghanistan, requests, the message that the airline ticket will be arriving tomorrow, decisions to put off, and decisions to take.

For a few hours I work, because that is what I chose to do, because that is my personal legend, because a warrior of the light is aware of his duties and responsibilities. But in the “hardly anybody” movement, everything that appears on the computer screen is very distant, just as the mill seems to be a dream when I am in the “many people” or “some people” movements.

The sun starts to hide itself away, the button is turned to “off”, the world goes back to being just fields, the scent of the herbs, the mooing of the cows and the shepherd’s voice bringing his flock home to the shed at the side of the mill.

I wonder how I can move about in two such different worlds in the space of a single day: the answer escapes me, yet I know this brings me great pleasure and it makes me happy while I write down these lines.

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Change

By Paulo Coelho

Almost in the space of the same week, I received from two readers a text that was supposedly written by me. No, it is not mine – although it has a lot to do with the way I see life. Since I found the material interesting, and in the hope of discovering the real author, I reproduce them below:

Change.
But start slowly, because direction is more important than speed.
Sit in another chair, on the other side of the table.
Later on, change tables.
When you go out, try to walk on the other side of the street. Then change your route, walk calmly down other streets, observing closely the places you pass by.
Take other buses. Change your wardrobe for a while; give away your old shoes and try to walk barefoot for a few days – even if only at home.
Take off a whole afternoon to stroll about freely, listening to the birds or the noise of the cars.
Open and shut the drawers and doors with your left hand.
Sleep on the other side of