Paulo Coelho's Warrior of the Light - At Saint George’s Castle

In this issue
- At Saint George’s Castle, September 2006

In my opinion, loneliness is the worst of all evils. Unlike hunger, thirst and illness, which force us to take an attitude when they affect us, loneliness is often masked under an aura of virtue and renunciation.

But today I am alone because I have chosen to be alone.

This is a special day for me; I stroll through the soft European autumn, walk down a wide avenue, pass by people who talk about souls or tobacco shops. I walk through Lisbon; climb up to Saint George’s Castle, look at the Tagus and the Atlantic, and try not to think about anything.

In a short while the sun will be rising in Brazil, the bookstores will be opening, and for the very first time my new book will be held in a reader’s hand. After so many titles published, perhaps you imagine that I am used to it all. But I am not, thank God. I still feel the same excitement and enthusiasm as I did when “The Pilgrimage” was brought out 20 years ago.

I take this notebook from my pocket and begin to write; besides being enthusiastic and excited, do I also feel afraid? I stop, listen to the wind in the trees, reflect for a while, then write: “no, I am not afraid”. At this very moment I am a mixture of the mother giving birth to a baby and a father who finally accepts that his daughter is leaving home to live with her boyfriend.

“Do I think about how the reader is going to react?” I jot down in the notebook. Again I listen to the wind, and back comes the answer: of course I do! After all, I have put the best of myself there, and like anyone else I want my love to be understood. A great Dominican mystic of the 14th century known as Master Eckhart once said: “I am a man, and it is part of human nature to share this with other men.” All that I have looked at, seen and felt on my stroll from the hotel to this castle are attempts to share a little of each of our views of life. The tiles on the facades of the houses, the designs in the Cathedral of Holy Mary Major, the silence of the people at prayer, the man playing his accordion on a hilly street, alien to everything going on around him. Artisans of the past and the present, all trying to say: here is what I think, this is how I am.

Five days ago, autumn began in Europe, although the weather is still warm. But winter will be coming, the cold will probably be implacable, and the trees that at the moment are laden with leaves will sigh in sadness when they fall. They will probably say: “we’ll never be the same again”.

Just as well. Or else, what would be the point of renewal? The next leaves will have their own personality, they will belong to a new summer that is coming and that will never be the same as the summer that has passed.

Living is changing – that is the lesson that the seasons teach us. I too am changed by the new leaves of each new book. Would it be a bit arrogant to say that I do not need to prove anything else to myself? It may not be arrogant, but it is certainly foolish. Although I already have a story to tell my grandchildren, if I have ever any, whoever lives off past successes has lost the meaning of life.

I look again at the Tagus and recall some lines by Fernando Pessoa:

The Tagus takes you out into the world. No-one ever thought about what lies beyond the river in my village. The river in my village does not make you think about anything; when you stand beside it, you’re just standing beside it.

These are the last hours in which the river in my village - my new book – belongs to me alone. And I shall try to stand beside it, without thinking of anything, just looking at Lisbon, listening to the bells, the dogs, the street cries, children laughing and tourists talking. I am like a child, and I am not ashamed to be so excited. I pray to God that He keeps me like that.

Copyright @ 2006 by Paulo Coelho
Warrior of Light Online, published by www.paulocoelho.com.br

Selected Warrior of the Light issues are available as free e-books (PDF format) from the Smink Works Books site

THOUGHTS ON: For One More Day and regret

The regret is palpable in Mitch Albom's latest book For One More Day. Chick, the main character, regrets how he acted in his relationship with his mother, but is unable to make amends since she is dead. After her death he divorced his wife, became an alcoholic and is ostracized by his daughter. When he attempts suicide he gets a chance to fix past wrongs with his mother. It's a chance many of us would like, but often don't get the opportunity to take. We have to resort to other methods of fixing wrongs. But regret can be overwhelming.
In his book And Never Stop Dancing: Thirty More True Things you need to know now, Gordon Livingston suggests that it is therapeutic to write your memoirs if you forgive of yourself for past wrongs (and unfulfilled dreams) in the process. They don't even really need to be 'wrongs' as such, just actions or words you regret, etc. So often, these wrongs or regrets only happen in our own heads. It is there where we are more harsh on ourselves than we are on other people, and this impedes our current lives.
Serendipitously, someone emailed me this anonymous poem this week:

Yesterday is history.
Tomorrow a mystery.
Today is a gift.
That's why it's called the present.

Albom's book reminded me that we can't let regret impede on the present. The present is valuable.

SM

Paulo Coelho's Warrior of the Light - The reader has the floor

In this issue
- The reader has the floor

Anabel (Mérida, Spain)

I don’t know if it is all written down, I don’t know if people write their story when they are born, or before, or while they are alive. But I am convinced that everything that happens in our life has a meaning, and that is why each moment has to be lived intensely. Because it is today that enables us to move ahead, break the ties, let life flow in all its freedom, and understand that loving the moment is what makes us happy. Loving what we see, what we touch, what we don’t understand, loving the unknown, what makes us anxious, the deep and the shallow, but loving nevertheless.


Beba (Islamabad, Pakistan)

Life is absolutely temperamental, and it eventually leads us down paths that we were not absolutely certain or enthusiastic about following. But what would become of us without these surprises? I make a toast to all that is absurd and marvelous that we will continue to come across at each step that lies ahead.



Iris (upon arriving at Santiago de Compostela)

When I reached Obradoiro Square, I wondered: why did I have to face so many difficulties? I joined the endless line to kiss the statue of the saint and it all struck me as absurd, except for catching up with some pilgrims that I had met on the way. Yes, it was all absurd, except the joy of having surmounted my limits and feeling a better person. Just as well that I did not walk like the others. Just as well that I decided to stop whenever the sun set, avoiding thinking about whether I was near a shelter or whether there was food available. Just as well that I ate a plate of lentils that upset me and obliged me to sleep at the foot of a mountain, in a place that I would never have known had it not been for that problem.

Just as well that I overslept and ending up having to spend the night under a star-filled sky. Just as well that I began walking when I felt like it and stopped when I wanted to, without anyone telling me is that was right or wrong. Just as well that I was alone, and so the moon treated me in a very special way. Just as well that I took the wrong turn four hundred times and ended up knowing places that nobody knew. On one of these detours I spent the whole day sitting in front of the door of a convent thinking about my vocation

It was because of so many absurd things and so many “just as well’s” that the whole thing was fun. Because before this my life had a goal, and from now on I will go on walking just for the pleasure of walking.



Maximiliano (Veracruz, Mexico)

Before a storm everything is silent and calm, although we can feel the smell of raindrops. Some days ago I was with a friend and his sister in Porto de Tuxpam. It was Carnival, everyone was having a good time, and right at the climax of the party the sky became filled with clouds, then lightning fell closer and closer, and the rain started. Everyone ran for shelter.

All of a sudden, as if there had been some mysterious communication among the people, we all returned to the street and discovered that the storm only contributed to the world being more fertile and the climate milder. Joy returned, although nobody quite understood why they were so joyful.

One of the most sublime moments that anyone can experience is to live through a storm.

Copyright @ 2006 by Paulo Coelho
Warrior of Light Online, published by www.paulocoelho.com.br

Selected Warrior of the Light issues are available as free e-books (PDF format) from the Smink Works Books site