by Paulo Coelho
After four years, when I had mastered the bow, my teacher congratulated me. I felt pleased and said that I was now halfway along the road. ‘No,’ said my teacher. ‘To avoid falling into treacherous traps, it is best to consider that you have covered half your journey only when you have walked ninety percent of the road.’*
The Catholic and the Muslim
I was talking to a Catholic priest and a young Muslim man over lunch. When the waiter came by with a tray, we all helped ourselves, except the Muslim, who was keeping the annual fast prescribed by the Koran.
When lunch was over, and people were leaving, one of the other guests couldn’t resist saying: ‘You see how fanatical these Muslims are! I’m glad to see you Catholics aren’t like them.’
‘But we are,’ said the priest. ‘He is trying to serve God just as I am. We merely follow different laws.’ And he concluded: ‘It’s a shame that people see only the differences that separate them. If you were to look with more love, you would mainly see what we have in common, then half the world’s problems would be solved.’
Evil Wants Good to Prevail
One day, the Persian poet, Rumi que Mo’avia, the first of the Ommiad caliphs, was sleeping in his palace when he was woken up by a strange man.
‘Who are you?’ he asked.
‘I am Lucifer,’ came the reply.
‘And what do you want?’
‘It is the hour for prayers, and yet you are still asleep.’
Mo’avia was amazed. Why was the Prince of Darkness, who seeks out the souls of men of little faith, reminding him to fulfil his religious duties?
‘Remember,’ Lucifer explained, ‘I was brought up as an angel of light. Despite everything that has happened to me, I cannot forget my origins. A man may travel to Rome or to Jerusalem, but he always carries the values of his own country in his heart. Well, the same thing happens with me. I still love the Creator, who nourished me when I was young and taught me to do good. When I rebelled against Him, it was not because I did not love Him; on the contrary, I loved Him so much that I felt jealous when He created Adam. At that moment, I wanted to defy the Lord, and that was my downfall; nevertheless, I still remember the blessings bestowed on me and hope that, perhaps, by doing good, I can one day return to paradise.’
Mo’avia replied: ‘I can’t believe what you’re saying. You have been responsible for the destruction of many people on earth.’
‘Well, you should believe it,’ insisted Lucifer. ‘Only God can build and destroy, because He is all-powerful. When He created man, He also created, as part of life, desire, vengeance, compassion, and fear. So when you look at the evil around you, don’t blame me; I merely reflect back the bad things that happen.’
Mo’avia was sure that something was wrong, and he began to pray desperately to God to enlighten him. He spent the whole night talking and arguing with Lucifer; but despite the brilliant arguments he heard, he remained unconvinced.
When day was dawning, Lucifer finally gave in and said:
‘You’re right. When I came yesterday to wake you up so that you would not miss the hour of prayer, my intention was not to bring you closer to the Divine Light. I knew that if you failed to fulfil your obligations, you would feel profoundly sad and, over the next few days, would pray with twice the faith, asking forgiveness for having forgotten the correct ritual. In the eyes of God, each one of those prayers made with love and repentance would be equivalent to two hundred prayers said in an ordinary, automatic way. You would end up more purified and more inspired; God would love you more; and I would be still further from your soul.’
Lucifer vanished, and an angel of light took his place:
‘Never forget today’s lesson,’ the angel said to Mo’avia.
‘Sometimes evil comes disguised as an emissary of good, but its real intention is to cause more destruction.’
On that day, and the days that followed, Mo’avia prayed with repentance, compassion, and faith. His prayers were heard a thousand times by God.
The Law of Jante
‘What do you think of Princess Martha-Louise?’
The Norwegian journalist was interviewing me on the shores of Lake Geneva. Now, generally speaking, I refuse to answer questions that are unrelated to my work, but there was, in this case, a motive behind his curiosity: the princess had had the names of various people who had been important in her life embroidered on a dress she wore for her thirtieth birthday – and mine was amongst those names (my wife thought it such a good idea that she decided to do the same for her fiftieth birthday, adding the credit ‘inspired by the Princess of Norway’ in one corner).
‘I think she is a sensitive, courteous, intelligent person,’ I replied. ‘I was fortunate enough to meet her in Oslo, where she introduced me to her husband, who, like myself, is a writer.’
I paused, but then decided to continue.
‘There’s one thing I don’t understand: why has the Norwegian press started attacking his literary work now that he’s the princess’s husband? Before, he used to get very positive reviews.’
This was not really a question, more a provocation, because I could already imagine what the reply would be. The reason the reviews had changed was envy, that most bitter of human emotions.
The journalist, however, was more sophisticated than that.
‘Because he broke the Law of Jante.’
Since I had clearly never heard of this law, he explained what it was. As I continued my journey, I came to realize that it was, indeed, hard to find anyone in the Scandinavian countries who had not heard of the law. It may have existed since the beginning of civilization, but it was only officially set down in written form in 1933 by the writer Aksel Sandemose in his novel A Fugitive Crossing His Tracks.
The sad fact is that the Law of Jante doesn’t only exist in Scandinavia. It is a rule that applies all over the world, however much Brazilians may say: ‘This could only happen here’, and the French may affirm: ‘That’s just the way it is in France.’ Since the reader must, by now, be getting irritated – having read half of this and still having no clear idea what this Law of Jante is – I will try to summarize it here, in my own words: ‘You are worthless; no one is interested in what you think, therefore you had better opt for mediocrity and anonymity. Do this, and you will never face any major problems in life.’
The Law of Jante puts into context the feelings of jealousy and envy that can prove so problematic to people like Princess Martha-Louise’s husband, Ari Behn. That is just one negative aspect of the law. There is, however, another far more dangerous one.
It is thanks to this law that the world has been manipulated in all kinds of ways by people who are not afraid of what others might say, and who often end up achieving their own evil ends. We have just been witness to a pointless war in Iraq, which continues to cost many lives; we see the great gap that exists between rich countries and poor; everywhere we see social injustice, rampant violence, people forced to give up their dreams because of unwarranted and cowardly attacks. Before starting the Second World War, Hitler signalled his intentions in various ways, and what made him continue with his plans regardless was the knowledge that no one would dare to challenge him – because of the Law of Jante.
Mediocrity can be very comfortable until, one day, tragedy knocks on the door, and then people wonder: ‘But why didn’t anyone say anything, when everyone could see this was going to happen?’
Simple: no one said anything because they didn’t say anything either.
Therefore, in order to prevent things from getting even worse, perhaps it is time that an Anti-Law of Jante was written: ‘You are worth much more than you think. Your work and your presence on this earth are important, even though you may not believe it. Of course, such ideas could land you in a lot of trouble for breaking the Law of Jante, but don’t be intimidated. Continue to live without fear, and you will triumph in the end.’
The Old Lady in Copacabana
She was standing in the ped
estrian precinct on Avenida Atlântica, with a guitar and a handwritten notice: ‘Let’s sing together.’
She started playing on her own. Then a drunk arrived and another old lady, and they started singing with her. Soon a small crowd was singing, and another small crowd provided the audience, applauding at the end of each song.
‘Why do you do this?’ I asked her, between songs.
‘So as not to be alone,’ she said. ‘My life is very lonely, as it is for nearly all old people.’
If only everyone solved their problems like that.
Remaining Open to Love
There are times when we long to be able to help someone whom we love very much, but we can do nothing. Circumstances will not allow us to approach them, or the person is closed off to any gesture of solidarity and support.
Then all we are left with is love. At such times, when we can do nothing else, we can still love – without expecting any reward or change or gratitude.
If we do this, the energy of love will begin to transform the universe about us. Wherever this energy appears, it always achieves its ends. ‘Time does not transform man. Will-power does not transform man. Love transforms,’ says Henry Drummond.
I read in the newspaper about a little girl in Brasília who was brutally beaten by her parents. As a result, she lost all physical movement, as well as the ability to speak.
Once admitted to hospital, she was cared for by a nurse who said to her every day: ‘I love you.’ Although the doctors assured her that the child could not hear and that all her efforts were in vain, the nurse continued to say: ‘Don’t forget, I love you.’
Three weeks later, the child recovered the power of movement. Four weeks later, she could again talk and smile. The nurse never gave any interviews, and the newspaper did not publish her name, but let me set this down here, so that we never forget: love cures.
Love transforms and love cures; but, sometimes, love builds deadly traps and can end up destroying a person who had resolved to give him or herself completely. What is this complex feeling which, deep down, is the only reason we continue to live, struggle and improve?
It would be irresponsible of me to attempt to define it, because I, along with every other human being, can only feel it. Thousands of books have been written on the subject, plays have been put on, films produced, poems composed, sculptures carved out of wood or marble; and yet all any 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 our actions. It is necessary, therefore, to keep love always in mind, regardless of whether or not we take action.
Picking up the phone and saying the affectionate words we have been postponing. Opening the door to someone who needs our help. Accepting a job. Leaving a job. Taking a decision that we were putting off for later. Asking forgiveness for a mistake we made and which keeps niggling at us. Demanding a right that is ours. Opening an account at the local florist’s, which is a far more important shop than the jeweller’s. Putting music on really loud when the person you love is far away, and turning the volume down when he or she is near. Knowing when to say ‘yes’ and ‘no’, because love works with all our energies. Discovering a sport that can be played by two. Not following any recipe, not even those contained in this paragraph, because love requires creativity.
And when none of this is possible, when all that remains is loneliness, then remember this story that a reader once sent to me.
A rose dreamed day and night about bees, but no bee ever landed on her petals.
The flower, however, continued to dream. During the long nights, she imagined a heaven full of bees, which flew down to bestow fond kisses on her. By doing this, she was able to last until the next day, when she opened again to the light of the sun.
One night, the moon, who knew of the rose’s loneliness, asked: ‘Aren’t you tired of waiting?’
‘Possibly, but I have to keep trying.’
‘Why?’
‘Because if I don’t remain open, I will simply fade away.’
At times, when loneliness seems to crush all beauty, the only way to resist is to remain open.
Believing in the Impossible
William Blake said: ‘What is now proved was once only imagined.’ And because of this we have the airplane, space flights, and the computer on which I am writing this. In Lewis Carroll’s masterpiece Alice Through the Looking Glass, there is a dialogue between Alice and the White Queen, who has just said something utterly unbelievable.
‘I can’t believe that!’ said Alice.
‘Can’t you?’ the Queen said in a pitying tone. ‘Try again:
draw a long breath, and shut your eyes.’
Alice laughed. ‘There’s no use trying,’ she said: ‘one
can’t believe impossible things.’
‘I daresay you haven’t had much practice,’ said the
Queen. ‘When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-
hour a day. Why, sometimes, I’ve believed as many as six
impossible things before breakfast.’
Life is constantly telling us: ‘Believe!’ Believing that a miracle could happen at any moment is necessary for our happiness, but also for our protection and to justify our existence. In today’s world, many people think it is impossible to do away with poverty, to bring about a just society, and to lessen the religious tension that appears to be growing with each day.
Most people avoid the struggle for the most diverse of reasons: conformism, age, a sense of the ridiculous, a feeling of impotence. We see our fellow human beings being treated unjustly and we say nothing. ‘I’m not going to get involved in fights unnecessarily’ is the excuse given.
This is the attitude of the coward. Anyone travelling a spiritual path carries with him a code of honour that must be obeyed. A voice crying out against wrongdoing is always heard by God.
Even so, sometimes we hear the following remark: ‘I live my life believing in dreams, and I often do my best to combat injustice, but I always end up disappointed.’
A warrior of light knows that certain impossible battles nevertheless deserve to be fought, which is why he is not afraid of disappointments, for he knows the power of his sword and the strength of his love. He vehemently rejects those who are incapable of taking decisions and are always trying to shift responsibility for all the bad things that happen in the world onto someone else.
If he does not struggle against what is wrong – even if it seems beyond his strength – he will never find the right road.
Arash Hejazi once sent me the following note: ‘Today, I got caught in a heavy shower while walking along the street. Fortunately, I had my umbrella and my rain-cape; however, both were in the boot of my car, which was parked some way away. While I was running to get them, I thought about the strange signal I was receiving from God: we always have the necessary resources to face the storms that life throws at us, but most of the time, those resources are locked up in the depths of our heart, and we waste an enormous amount of time trying to find them. By the time we’ve found them, we have already been defeated by adversity.’
Let us, therefore, always be prepared; otherwise, we either miss an opportunity or lose the battle.
The Storm Approaches
I know that a storm is coming because I can look far into the distance and see what is happening on the horizon. Of course, the light helps – the sun is setting, and that always emphasizes the shapes of the clouds. I can see flickers of lightning, too.
There is not a sound to be heard. The wind is blowing neither more nor less strongly than before, but I know there is going to be a storm because I am used to studying the horizon.
I stop walking. There is nothing more exciting or more terrifying than watching a storm approach. My first thought is to seek shelter, but that could prove dangerous. A shelter can turn out to be a trap – soon the wind will start to blow and will be st
rong enough to tear off roof tiles, break branches and bring down electricity lines.
I remember an old friend of mine who lived in Normandy as a child and who witnessed the Allied landing in Nazi-occupied France. I’ll never forget his words: ‘I woke up, and the horizon was full of warships. On the beach beside my house, the German soldiers were watching the same scene, but what terrified me most was the silence. The total silence that precedes a life-or-death struggle.’
It is that same silence that surrounds me now, and which is gradually being replaced by the sound – very soft – of the breeze in the maize fields around me. The atmospheric pressure is changing. The storm is getting closer and closer, and the silence is beginning to give way to the gentle rustling of leaves.
I have witnessed many storms in my life. Most storms have taken me by surprise, and so I’ve had to learn – and very quickly too – to look farther off, to understand that I cannot control the weather, to practise the art of patience, and to respect nature’s fury. Things do not always happen the way I would have wanted, and it’s best that I get used to that.
Many years ago, I wrote a song that said: ‘I lost my fear of the rain because when the rain falls to earth it always brings with it something of the air.’ It’s best to master my fear, to be worthy of the words I wrote, and to understand that, however bad the storm, it will eventually pass.
The wind has begun to blow harder. I am in open countryside and there are trees on the horizon that, at least in theory, will attract the lightning. My skin is waterproof, even if my clothes get soaked. So it is best simply to enjoy what I’m seeing rather than go racing off in search of safety.
