Manuscript Found in Accra. Пауло Коэльо
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If someone attacks you, don’t get offended or demean yourself by hitting back. There are more important things in life.’
In the silence of the night, they fight their imaginary battles: their unrealised dreams, the injustices to which they turned a blind eye, the moments of cowardice they managed to conceal from other people – but not from themselves – and the love that crossed their path with a sparkle in its eyes, the love God had intended for them, but which they lacked the courage to embrace.
And they promise themselves: ‘Tomorrow will be different.’
But tomorrow comes and the paralysing question surfaces in their mind: ‘What if it doesn’t work out?’
And so they do nothing.
Woe to those who were never beaten! They will never be winners in this life.
‘Tell us about solitude,’ said a young woman who had been about to marry the son of one of the richest men in the city but was now obliged to flee.
And he answered:
* * *
Without solitude, Love will not stay long by your side.
Because Love needs to rest, so that it can journey through the heavens and reveal itself in other forms.
Without solitude, no plant or animal can survive, no soil can remain productive, no child can learn about life, no artist can create, no work can grow and be transformed.
Solitude is not the absence of Love, but its complement.
Solitude is not the absence of company, but the moment when our soul is free to speak to us and help us decide what to do with our life.
Therefore, blessed are those who do not fear solitude, who are not afraid of their own company, who are not always desperately looking for something to do, something to amuse themselves with, something to judge.
If you are never alone, you cannot know yourself.
And if you do not know yourself, you will begin to fear the void.
But the void does not exist. A vast world lies hidden in our soul, waiting to be discovered. There it is, with all its strength intact, but it is so new and so powerful that we are afraid to acknowledge its existence.
The act of discovering who we are will force us to accept that we can go further than we think. And that frightens us. Best not to take the risk. We can always say: ‘I didn’t do what I should have done because they wouldn’t let me.’
That feels more comfortable. Safer. And, at the same time, it’s tantamount to renouncing your own life.
Woe to those who prefer to spend their lives saying: ‘I never had any opportunities!’
Because with each day that passes, they will sink deeper into the well of their own limitations, and the time will come when they will lack the strength to climb out and rediscover the bright light shining in through the opening above their head.
But blessed be those who say: ‘I’m not brave enough.’
Because they know that it is not someone else’s fault. And sooner or later, they will find the necessary faith to confront solitude and its mysteries.
* * *
For those who are not frightened by the solitude that reveals all mysteries, everything will have a different taste.
In solitude, they will discover the love that might otherwise have arrived unnoticed. In solitude, they will understand and respect the love that left them.
In solitude, they will be able to decide whether it is worth asking that lost love to come back or if they should simply let it go and set off along a new path.
In solitude, they will learn that saying ‘No’ does not always show a lack of generosity and that saying ‘Yes’ is not always a virtue.
And those who are alone in this moment need never be frightened by the words of the devil: ‘You’re wasting your time.’
Or by the chief demon’s even more potent words: ‘No one cares about you.’
The Divine Energy is listening to us when we speak to other people, but also when we are still and silent and able to accept solitude as a blessing.
And in that moment, Its light illuminates everything around us and helps us to see that we are necessary, and that our presence on Earth makes an immense difference to Its work.
And when we achieve that harmony, we receive more than we asked for.
* * *
For those who feel oppressed by solitude, it is important to remember that at life’s most significant moments we are always alone.
Take the child emerging from a woman’s womb: it doesn’t matter how many people are present, the final decision to live rests with the child.
Take the artist and his work: in order for his work to be really good, he needs to be still and hear only the language of the angels.
Take all of us, when we find ourselves face to face with that Unwanted Visitor, Death: we will all be alone at that most important and most feared moment of our existence.
Just as Love is the divine condition, so solitude is the human condition. And for those who understand the miracle of life, those two states peacefully coexist.
And a boy, who had been chosen as one of those who was to leave, rent his garments and said:
‘My city thinks I am not good enough to fight. I am useless.’
And he answered:
* * *
Some people say: ‘No one loves me.’ But even in cases of unrequited love there is always the hope that one day it will be requited.
Others write in their diaries: ‘My genius goes unrecognised, my talent unappreciated, my dreams scorned.’ But for them, too, there is the hope that, after many struggles, things will change.
Others spend their days knocking at doors, explaining: ‘I’m looking for work.’ They know that, if they are patient, someone will eventually invite them in.
* * *
But there are those who wake each morning with a heavy heart. They are not seekers after love, recognition or work.
They say to themselves: ‘I’m useless. I live because I have to survive, but no one, absolutely no one, is interested in what I’m doing.’
Outside, the sun is shining, they are surrounded by their family and they try to keep up the mask of happiness because, in the eyes of others, they have everything they ever dreamed of having. But they are convinced that no one there needs them, either because they are too young and their elders appear to have other concerns, or because they are too old and the younger members of the family seem uninterested in what they have to say.
The poet writes a few lines, then throws them away, thinking: ‘Nobody’s going to be interested in that.’
The labourer arrives for work and merely repeats the same tasks he did yesterday. He believes that, if he was ever dismissed, no one would even notice his absence.
The young woman making a dress takes enormous pains over every detail, and when she wears it to a celebration she reads