Maktub
Paulo Coelho
Dedicated to Nha Chica
PART 13
Catagory:Fiction
Author:
Posted Date:09/02/2024
Posted By:utopia online
another thought occurred to him: in the pomegranates and the dates and the fruits, the miracle of Creation manifested itself without any interference by human beings. So he picked up the bread, gave thanks, and broke it, and gave it to his disciples, saying: “Take and eat, all of you, for this is my Body.” Because bread was everywhere. And bread, in contrast with the dates, the pomegranates and the fruits of Syria , was the best symbol of the path toward God. Bread was the fruit of the earth and of man's labors. The juggler stops in the middle of the plaza, pulls out three oranges and begins to toss them. People gather round and marvel at the grace and elegance of his movements. “That's what life's like, more or less,” someone standing there with the wanderer says. “We always have an orange in each hand, and one in the air. But that one in the air makes all the difference. It was thrown with ability and experience, but it follows its own course. Like the juggler, we throw a dream out into the world, but we don't always have control over it. At times like that, you have to know how to put yourself in God's hands -and ask that, in due time, the dream follows its course correctly and falls, completed, back into your hand.” One of the most powerful exercises in interior growth consists in paying attention to things we do automatically -like breathing, blinking our eyes, or attending to things around us. When we do this, we allow our brain to work with greater freedom -without the interference of our desires. Certain problems that appeared to be insoluble wind up being resolved, and certain pains that we thought could never be overcome wind up dissipating effortlessly. The master says: “When you have to confront a difficult situation, try to use that technique. It requires a bit of discipline... but the results can be surprising”. A man is at a fair, selling vases. A woman approaches and examines his merchandise. Some pieces are undecorated, while others have carefully wrought designs. The woman asks the price of the vases. To her surprise, she learns that they all cost the same. “How can the decorated vase cost the same as the simple ones?” she asks. “Why charge the same for a vase that it took more time and effort to make?” “I am an artist,” the seller says. “I can charge for the vase I made, but not for its beauty. The beauty is free.” The wanderer was seated alone at a mass. Suddenly, he was approached by a friend. “I have to talk to you,” the friend said. The wanderer saw in the meeting a sign, and began to talk about what he considered to be important. He spoke of God's blessings, of love, and of the fact that he saw his friend's arrival as a signal from his angel, because moments before the wanderer had felt alone, whereas now he had company. The friend listened without saying a word, thanked the wanderer, and left. Rather than happiness, the wanderer fell more alone than ever. Later, he realized that, in his enthusiasm, he had paid no attention to his friends request: that he speak. The wanderer looked down and saw his words thrown to the floor. Because the Universe wanted something different to have happened at that moment. Three fairies were invited to the baptism of a prince. The first granted the prince the gift of finding his love. The second granted him enough money to do as he pleased. The third granted him beauty. But, as in all fairy tales, a witch appeared. She was furious at not having been invited, and pronounced a curse: “Because you already have everything, I'm going to give you even more. You will be talented at whatever you try to do.” The prince grew up handsome, rich and in love. But he was never able to complete his mission on Earth. He was an excellent painter, sculptor, musician, mathematician -but he was never able to complete a task because he quickly became distracted and wanted to move on to something else. The master says: “All roads lead to the same place. But choose your own, and follow it to the end. Do not try to walk every road.” An anonymous text from the XVIII century speaks of a Russian monk who was looking for a spiritual adviser. One day, he was told that in a certain village lived a hermit who dedicated himself night and day to the salvation of his soul. Hearing this, the monk went in search of the holy man. “I want you to guide me along the paths of the soul,” the monk said when he found the hermit. “The soul has its own path, and your angel will guide you,” answered the hermit. “Pray without stopping.” “I don't know how to pray like that. Will you teach me?” “If you do not know how to pray incessantly, then pray to God to teach you how to do so.” “You are teaching me nothing,” said the monk. “There is nothing to be taught, because you cannot transmit faith in the same way that you transmit knowledge about mathematics. Accept the mystery of faith, and the Universe will reveal itself.” The master says: “Write! Whether it's a letter, a diary or just some notes as you speak on the telephone -but write! In writing, we come closer to God and to others. If you want to understand your role in the world better, write. Try to put your soul in writing, even if no one reads your words -or worse, even if someone winds up reading what you did not want to be read. The simple fact of writing helps us to organize our thoughts and see more clearly what is in our surroundings. A paper and pen perform miracles -they alleviate pain, make dreams come true and summon lost hope. The word has power.” The monks of the desert affirmed that it was necessary to allow the hand of the angels to act. In order to bring this about, they sometimes did absurd things -such as speaking to the flowers or laughing without cause. The alchemists follow the “signs from God;” clues that sometimes make very little sense but wind up leading somewhere. The master says: “Do not fear being regarded as crazy -do something today that fits not at all with the logic you have learned. Behave is a way that is opposite to the usual serious comportment you were taught. This little thing, no matter how little it is, can open the door to a great adventure -human and spiritual.” A fellow is driving a luxurious Mercedes Benz when he blows a tire. As he tries to change it, he realizes that he has no jack. “Well, I'll go to the nearest house and ask if I can borrow one,” he thinks, as he goes in search of help. “Maybe the person I ask, seeing my car, will charge me for finding me his jack,” he says to himself. “With a car like this, and with me asking for help, he'll probably charge me ten dollars. No, maybe even fifty, because he knows I really need the jack. He might take advantage of me and charge me as much as a hundred dollars.” And the further he walks, the higher goes the price. “When he reaches the nearest house, and the owner opens the door, the man shouts: “You're a thief! A jack isn't worth that much! Keep it!” Who of us can say that he has never acted that way? Milton Ericsson is the author of a new therapy that has won over thousands of practitioners in the United States . When he was twelve, he contracted polio. Ten months later, he heard a physician tell his parents: “Your son will not make it through the night.” Ericsson heard his mother crying. “Who knows, if I make it through the night, perhaps she won't suffer so,” he thought. And he decided not to sleep until the next day dawned. As the sun rose, he shouted to his mother: “Hey, I'm still alive!” The joy in the house was so great that he decided that he would always try to make it through one more night to put off his family's suffering. He died at 75 in 1990, leaving a number of important books about the enormous capacity man has to overcome his own limitations. “Holy man,” said a novice to the Father Superior , “my heart is filled with love for the world, and my heart is cleansed of the temptations of the devil. What is the next step?” The padre asked the disciple to go with him to visit an ill person who was in need of extreme unction. After comforting the family, the father noticed a trunk in one of the corners. “What is in that trunk?” he asked. “The clothing that my uncle never wore,” said his niece. “He always thought that there would be some occasion for wearing them, but they wound up rotting in the trunk.” “Don't forget that trunk,” the father said to the disciple as they left. “If
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