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<h6>Author</h6>
<h1>Paulo Coelho</h1>
<h6>Brazilian lyricist</h6>
<p id="paragraph">
At other times, mysterious, hooded men would appear; they
were Bedouins who did surveillance along the caravan route. They
provided warnings about thieves and barbarian tribes. They came
in silence and departed the same way, dressed in black garments
that showed only their eyes. One night, a camel driver came to the
fire where the Englishman and the boy were sitting. “There are
rumors of tribal wars,” he told them.
The three fell silent. The boy noted that there was a sense of fear
in the air, even though no one said anything. Once again he was
experiencing the language without words…the universal language.
The Englishman asked if they were in danger.
“Once you get into the desert, there’s no going back,” said the
camel driver. “And, when you can’t go back, you have to worry only
about the best way of moving forward. The rest is up to Allah,
including the danger.”
And he concluded by saying the mysterious word: “Maktub.”
“You should pay more attention to the caravan,” the boy said to
the Englishman, after the camel driver had left. “We make a lot of
detours, but we’re always heading for the same destination.”
“And you ought to read more about the world,” answered the
Englishman. “Books are like caravans in that respect.”
The immense collection of people and animals began to travel
faster. The days had always been silent, but now, even the nights—
when the travelers were accustomed to talking around the fires—
had also become quiet. And, one day, the leader of the caravan made
the decision that the fires should no longer be lighted, so as not to
attract attention to the caravan.
The travelers adopted the practice of arranging the animals in a
circle at night, sleeping together in the center as protection against
the nocturnal cold. And the leader posted armed sentinels at the
fringes of the group.
The Englishman was unable to sleep one night. He called to the
boy, and they took a walk along the dunes surrounding the
encampment. There was a full moon, and the boy told the
Englishman the story of his life.
The Englishman was fascinated with the part about the progress
achieved at the crystal shop after the boy began working there.
“That’s the principle that governs all things,” he said. “In
alchemy, it’s called the Soul of the World. When you want something
with all your heart, that’s when you are closest to the Soul of the
World. It’s always a positive force.”
He also said that this was not just a human gift, that everything
on the face of the earth had a soul, whether mineral, vegetable, or
animal—or even just a simple thought.
“Everything on earth is being continuously transformed, because
the earth is alive…and it has a soul. We are part of that soul, so we
rarely recognize that it is working for us. But in the crystal shop you
probably realized that even the glasses were collaborating in your
success.”
The boy thought about that for a while as he looked at the moon
and the bleached sands. “I have watched the caravan as it crossed
the desert,” he said. “The caravan and the desert speak the same
language, and it’s for that reason that the desert allows the crossing.
It’s going to test the caravan’s every step to see if it’s in time, and, if
it is, we will make it to the oasis.”
“If either of us had joined this caravan based only on personal
courage, but without understanding that language, this journey
would have been much more difficult.”
They stood there looking at the moon.
“That’s the magic of omens,” said the boy. “I’ve seen how the
guides read the signs of the desert, and how the soul of the caravan
speaks to the soul of the desert.”
The Englishman said, “I’d better pay more attention to the
caravan.”
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<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 32</h5>
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