By Paulo Coelho
Dear readers,
Today is the last story of this book of mine called “Fathers, Sons and Grandsons”.
As promised here’s the illustration made by Christina Oiticica for you to download.
Fathers, Sons and Grandsons ( image version)
fathers-sons-and-grandsons.pdf ( pdf version )
Love,
Paulo
In a bar in Buenos Aires
I am with the Venezuelan writer Dulce Rojas, drinking coffee in Buenos Aires; we are discussing the idea of peace and how removed it has become from the human heart. Dulce then tells me the following story.
A king offered a large prize to the artist who could best represent the idea of peace. A lot of painters sent their works to the palace, depicting woods at dusk, quiet rivers, children playing on the sand, rainbows in the sky, drops of dew on a rose petal.
The king examined everything that was sent to him, but ended up choosing only two works.
The first showed a tranquil lake that perfectly mirrored the imposing mountains surrounding it and the blue sky above. The sky was dotted with small white clouds and, if you looked closely, in the left-hand corner of the lake there stood a small house with one window open and smoke rising from the chimney - the sign that a frugal but tasty supper was being prepared.
The second painting was also of mountains, but these were bleak and stony with sharp, sheer peaks. Above the mountains, the sky was implacably dark, and from the heavy clouds fell lightning, hail and torrential rain.
The painting was totally out of harmony with the other submissions. However, a closer look revealed a bird’s nest lodged in a crack in one of those inhospitable rocks. In the midst of the violent roaring of the storm, a swallow was calmly sitting on its nest.
When he gathered his court together, the king chose the second picture as the one that best expressed the idea of peace. He explained:
‘Peace is not what we find in a place that is free of noise, problems and hard work; peace is what allows us to preserve the calm in our hearts, even in the most adverse situations. That is its true and only meaning.
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By Paulo Coelho
‘When you look at your companions, try to see yourself,’ said the Japanese teacher Okakura Kakuso.
‘But isn’t that an awfully selfish attitude?’ asked a disciple. ‘If we are always concerned about ourselves, we will never see the good things that others have to offer.’
‘If only we did always see the good things in others,’ replied Kakuso. ‘But the truth is that when we look at another person, we are only looking for defects. We try to discover his wicked side because we want him to be worse than us. We never forgive him when he hurts us because we do not believe that we would ever be forgiven. We manage to wound him with harsh words, declaring that we are telling the truth, when all we are doing is trying to hide it from ourselves. We pretend that we are important so that no one else will see how fragile we are. That is why whenever you judge your brother, be aware that you are the one who is on trial.’
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By Paulo Coelho
Nasrudin went to the house of a rich man to ask for money for charity.
A page opened the door.
‘Tell the Mullah that Nasrudin is here and needs money to help others,’ said the wise man.
The page went back inside and returned a few minutes later.
‘My master is not at home.’
‘Allow me then to give him a piece of advice, even though he has not contributed to any charitable works. The next time he is away from home, tell him not to leave his face at the window, otherwise people might think he is lying.’
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By Paulo Coelho
An emperor said to the Rabbi Yeoschoua ben Hanania:
‘I would very much like to see your God.’
‘That is impossible,’ said the Rabbi.
‘Impossible? Then how can I entrust my life to someone whom I cannot see?’
‘Show me the pocket in which you have placed the love of your wife, and let me weigh it in order to see how large her love is.’
‘Don’t be silly; no one can keep someone’s love in their pocket.’
‘The sun is only one of the works which the Lord placed in the universe and yet you cannot look at it directly. You cannot see love either, but you know you are capable of falling in love with a woman and entrusting your life to her. Is it not clear then that there are certain things in which we trust even though we cannot see them?’
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By Paulo Coelho
Each person knows how best to be at peace with life; some need at least some degree of security, others launch themselves fearlessly into danger. There are no formulae for living out one’s dream: each of us, by listening to our own heart, will know how best to act.
The American writer Sherwood Anderson was always extremely undisciplined and only managed to write when fuelled by his own rebelliousness. His first publishers, concerned about the abject poverty in which Anderson lived, decided to send him a weekly cheque as an advance on his next novel.
After a month, they received a visit from the writer, who returned all the cheques.
‘I haven’t been able to write a line in weeks,’ said Anderson. ‘I just can’t write with financial security staring at me across the desk.’
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By Paulo Coelho
A man was walking through a forest when he saw a crippled fox. ‘I wonder how it manages to feed itself,’ he thought. At that moment, a tiger approached, carrying its prey in its mouth. The tiger ate its fill and left what remained for the fox.
‘If God helps the fox, he will help me too,’ the man thought. He went back home, shut himself up in his house and waited for the Heavens to bring him food.
Nothing happened. Just when he was becoming too weak to go out and work, an angel appeared.
‘Why did you decide to imitate the crippled fox?’ asked the angel. ‘Get out of bed, pick up your tools and follow the way of the tiger!’
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By Paulo Coelho
The teacher asked his disciples to go and find something to eat. They were travelling and could find no proper food.
The disciples came back later that afternoon. Each brought with him the little he had gleaned from other people’s charity: rotten fruit, stale bread, sour wine.
However, one of the disciples returned with a bag of ripe apples.
‘I will always do all I can to help my teacher and my brothers,’ he said, sharing out the apples with the others.
‘Where did you get them from?’ asked his teacher.
‘I had to steal them. People only wanted to give me leftovers, even though they know that we preach the word of God.’
‘Leave us this minute and take your apples with you, and never come back,’ said the teacher. ‘The ends never justify the means, however noble those ends might be. If you steal for me today, tomorrow you might end up stealing from me.’
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