+ THE BOY’S NAME WAS SANTIAGO. DUSK WAS FALLING AS the boy arrived + with his herd at an abandoned church. The roof had fallen in long + ago, and an enormous sycamore had grown on the spot where the + sacristy had once stood. + He decided to spend the night there. He saw to it that all the + sheep entered through the ruined gate, and then laid some planks + across it to prevent the flock from wandering away during the night. + There were no wolves in the region, but once an animal had strayed + during the night, and the boy had had to spend the entire next day + searching for it. + He swept the floor with his jacket and lay down, using the book + he had just finished reading as a pillow. He told himself that he + would have to start reading thicker books: they lasted longer, and + made more comfortable pillows. + It was still dark when he awoke, and, looking up, he could see + the stars through the half-destroyed roof. + I wanted to sleep a little longer, he thought. He had had the same + dream that night as a week ago, and once again he had awakened + before it ended. + He arose and, taking up his crook, began to awaken the sheep + that still slept. He had noticed that, as soon as he awoke, most of his + animals also began to stir. It was as if some mysterious energy + bound his life to that of the sheep, with whom he had spent the past + two years, leading them through the countryside in search of food + and water. “They are so used to me that they know my schedule,” he + muttered. Thinking about that for a moment, he realized that it + could be the other way around: that it was he who had become + accustomed to their schedule. + But there were certain of them who took a bit longer to awaken. + The boy prodded them, one by one, with his crook, calling each by + name. He had always believed that the sheep were able to + understand what he said. So there were times when he read them + parts of his books that had made an impression on him, or when he + would tell them of the loneliness or the happiness of a shepherd in + the fields. Sometimes he would comment to them on the things he + had seen in the villages they passed. + But for the past few days he had spoken to them about only one + thing: the girl, the daughter of a merchant who lived in the village + they would reach in about four days. He had been to the village only + once, the year before. The merchant was the proprietor of a dry + goods shop, and he always demanded that the sheep be sheared in + his presence, so that he would not be cheated. A friend had told the + boy about the shop, and he had taken his sheep there. + “I NEED TO SELL SOME WOOL,” THE BOY TOLD THE merchant. + The shop was busy, and the man asked the shepherd to wait + until the afternoon. So the boy sat on the steps of the shop and took + a book from his bag. + “I didn’t know shepherds knew how to read,” said a girl’s voice + behind him. + The girl was typical of the region of Andalusia, with flowing + black hair, and eyes that vaguely recalled the Moorish conquerors. + “Well, usually I learn more from my sheep than from books,” he + answered. During the two hours that they talked, she told him she + was the merchant’s daughter, and spoke of life in the village, where + each day was like all the others. The shepherd told her of the + Andalusian countryside, and related the news from the other towns + where he had stopped. It was a pleasant change from talking to his + sheep. + “How did you learn to read?” the girl asked at one point. + “Like everybody learns,” he said. “In school.” + “Well, if you know how to read, why are you just a shepherd?” + The boy mumbled an answer that allowed him to avoid + responding to her question. He was sure the girl would never + understand. He went on telling stories about his travels, and her + bright, Moorish eyes went wide with fear and surprise. As the time + passed, the boy found himself wishing that the day would never + end, that her father would stay busy and keep him waiting for three + days. He recognized that he was feeling something he had never + experienced before: the desire to live in one place forever. With the + girl with the raven hair, his days would never be the same again. + But finally the merchant appeared, and asked the boy to shear + four sheep. He paid for the wool and asked the shepherd to come + back the following year. + AND NOW IT WAS ONLY FOUR DAYS BEFORE HE WOULD BE back in that same + village. He was excited, and at the same time uneasy: maybe the girl + had already forgotten him. Lots of shepherds passed through, + selling their wool. + “It doesn’t matter,” he said to his sheep. “I know other girls in + other places.” + But in his heart he knew that it did matter. And he knew that + shepherds, like seamen and like traveling salesmen, always found a + town where there was someone who could make them forget the + joys of carefree wandering. + The day was dawning, and the shepherd urged his sheep in the + direction of the sun. They never have to make any decisions, he + thought. Maybe that’s why they always stay close to me. + The only things that concerned the sheep were food and water. + As long as the boy knew how to find the best pastures in Andalusia, + they would be his friends. Yes, their days were all the same, with the + seemingly endless hours between sunrise and dusk; and they had + never read a book in their young lives, and didn’t understand when + the boy told them about the sights of the cities. They were content + with just food and water, and, in exchange, they generously gave of + their wool, their company, and—once in a while—their meat. + If I became a monster today, and decided to kill them, one by + one, they would become aware only after most of the flock had been + slaughtered, thought the boy. They trust me, and they’ve forgotten + how to rely on their own instincts, because I lead them to + nourishment. + The boy was surprised at his thoughts. Maybe the church, with + the sycamore growing from within, had been haunted. It had caused + him to have the same dream for a second time, and it was causing + him to feel anger toward his faithful companions. He drank a bit + from the wine that remained from his dinner of the night before, + and he gathered his jacket closer to his body. He knew that a few + hours from now, with the sun at its zenith, the heat would be so + great that he would not be able to lead his flock across the fields. It + was the time of day when all of Spain slept during the summer. The + heat lasted until nightfall, and all that time he had to carry his + jacket. But when he thought to complain about the burden of its + weight, he remembered that, because he had the jacket, he had + withstood the cold of the dawn. + We have to be prepared for change, he thought, and he was + grateful for the jacket’s weight and warmth. + The jacket had a purpose, and so did the boy. His purpose in life + was to travel, and, after two years of walking the Andalusian terrain, + he knew all the cities of the region. He was planning, on this visit, to + explain to the girl how it was that a simple shepherd knew how to + read. That he had attended a seminary until he was sixteen. His + parents had wanted him to become a priest, and thereby a source of + pride for a simple farm family. They worked hard just to have food + and water, like the sheep. He had studied Latin, Spanish, and + theology. But ever since he had been a child, he had wanted to know + the world, and this was much more important to him than knowing + God and learning about man’s sins. One afternoon, on a visit to his + family, he had summoned up the courage to tell his father that he + didn’t want to become a priest. That he wanted to travel. + “PEOPLE FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD HAVE PASSED through this village, + son,” said his father. “They come in search of new things, but when + they leave they are basically the same people they were when they + arrived. They climb the mountain to see the castle, and they wind up + thinking that the past was better than what we have now. They have + blond hair, or dark skin, but basically they’re the same as the people + who live right here.” + “But I’d like to see the castles in the towns where they live,” the + boy explained. + “Those people, when they see our land, say that they would like + to live here forever,” his father continued. + “Well, I’d like to see their land, and see how they live,” said his + son. + “The people who come here have a lot of money to spend, so + they can afford to travel,” his father said. “Amongst us, the only ones + who travel are the shepherds.” + “Well, then I’ll be a shepherd!” + His father said no more. The next day, he gave his son a pouch + that held three ancient Spanish gold coins. + “I found these one day in the fields. I wanted them to be a part of + your inheritance. But use them to buy your flock. Take to the fields, + and someday you’ll learn that our countryside is the best, and our + women are the most beautiful.” + And he gave the boy his blessing. The boy could see in his + father’s gaze a desire to be able, himself, to travel the world—a + desire that was still alive, despite his father’s having had to bury it, + over dozens of years, under the burden of struggling for water to + drink, food to eat, and the same place to sleep every night of his life. + THE HORIZON WAS TINGED WITH RED, AND SUDDENLY THE sun appeared. + The boy thought back to that conversation with his father, and felt + happy; he had already seen many castles and met many women (but + none the equal of the one who awaited him several days hence). He + owned a jacket, a book that he could trade for another, and a flock of + sheep. But, most important, he was able every day to live out his + dream. If he were to tire of the Andalusian fields, he could sell his + sheep and go to sea. By the time he had had enough of the sea, he + would already have known other cities, other women, and other + chances to be happy. I couldn’t have found God in the seminary, he + thought, as he looked at the sunrise. + Whenever he could, he sought out a new road to travel. He had + never been to that ruined church before, in spite of having traveled + through those parts many times. The world was huge and + inexhaustible; he had only to allow his sheep to set the route for a + while, and he would discover other interesting things. The problem + is that they don’t even realize that they’re walking a new road every + day. They don’t see that the fields are new and the seasons change. + All they think about is food and water. + Maybe we’re all that way, the boy mused. Even me—I haven’t + thought of other women since I met the merchant’s daughter. + Looking at the sun, he calculated that he would reach Tarifa before + midday. There, he could exchange his book for a thicker one, fill his + wine bottle, shave, and have a haircut; he had to prepare himself for + his meeting with the girl, and he didn’t want to think about the + possibility that some other shepherd, with a larger flock of sheep, + had arrived there before him and asked for her hand. + It’s the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life + interesting, he thought, as he looked again at the position of the sun, + and hurried his pace. He had suddenly remembered that, in Tarifa, + there was an old woman who interpreted dreams. + THE OLD WOMAN LED THE BOY TO A ROOM AT THE BACK of her house; it was + separated from her living room by a curtain of colored beads. The + room’s furnishings consisted of a table, an image of the Sacred Heart + of Jesus, and two chairs. + The woman sat down, and told him to be seated as well. Then + she took both of his hands in hers, and began quietly to pray. + It sounded like a Gypsy prayer. The boy had already had + experience on the road with Gypsies; they also traveled, but they + had no flocks of sheep. People said that Gypsies spent their lives + tricking others. It was also said that they had a pact with the devil, + and that they kidnapped children and, taking them away to their + mysterious camps, made them their slaves. As a child, the boy had + always been frightened to death that he would be captured by + Gypsies, and this childhood fear returned when the old woman took + his hands in hers. + But she has the Sacred Heart of Jesus there, he thought, trying to + reassure himself. He didn’t want his hand to begin trembling, + showing the old woman that he was fearful. He recited an Our + Father silently. + “Very interesting,” said the woman, never taking her eyes from + the boy’s hands, and then she fell silent. + The boy was becoming nervous. His hands began to tremble, and + the woman sensed it. He quickly pulled his hands away. + “I didn’t come here to have you read my palm,” he said, already + regretting having come. He thought for a moment that it would be + better to pay her fee and leave without learning a thing, that he was + giving too much importance to his recurrent dream. + “You came so that you could learn about your dreams,” said the + old woman. “And dreams are the language of God. When he speaks + in our language, I can interpret what he has said. But if he speaks in + the language of the soul, it is only you who can understand. But, + whichever it is, I’m going to charge you for the consultation.” + Another trick, the boy thought. But he decided to take a chance. + A shepherd always takes his chances with wolves and with drought, + and that’s what makes a shepherd’s life exciting. + “I have had the same dream twice,” he said. “I dreamed that I + was in a field with my sheep, when a child appeared and began to + play with the animals. I don’t like people to do that, because the + sheep are afraid of strangers. But children always seem to be able to + play with them without frightening them. I don’t know why. I don’t + know how animals know the age of human beings.” + “Tell me more about your dream,” said the woman. “I have to get + back to my cooking, and, since you don’t have much money, I can’t + give you a lot of time.” + “The child went on playing with my sheep for quite a while,” + continued the boy, a bit upset. “And suddenly, the child took me by + both hands and transported me to the Egyptian pyramids.” + He paused for a moment to see if the woman knew what the + Egyptian pyramids were. But she said nothing. + “Then, at the Egyptian pyramids,”—he said the last three words + slowly, so that the old woman would understand—“the child said to + me, ‘If you come here, you will find a hidden treasure.’ And, just as + she was about to show me the exact location, I woke up. Both + times.” + The woman was silent for some time. Then she again took his + hands and studied them carefully. + “I’m not going to charge you anything now,” she said. “But I want + one-tenth of the treasure, if you find it.” + The boy laughed—out of happiness. He was going to be able to + save the little money he had because of a dream about hidden + treasure! + “Well, interpret the dream,” he said. + “First, swear to me. Swear that you will give me one-tenth of + your treasure in exchange for what I am going to tell you.” + The shepherd swore that he would. The old woman asked him to + swear again while looking at the image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. + “It’s a dream in the language of the world,” she said. “I can + interpret it, but the interpretation is very difficult. That’s why I feel + that I deserve a part of what you find. + “And this is my interpretation: you must go to the Pyramids in + Egypt. I have never heard of them, but, if it was a child who showed + them to you, they exist. There you will find a treasure that will make + you a rich man.” + The boy was surprised, and then irritated. He didn’t need to seek + out the old woman for this! But then he remembered that he wasn’t + going to have to pay anything. + “I didn’t need to waste my time just for this,” he said. + “I told you that your dream was a difficult one. It’s the simple + things in life that are the most extraordinary; only wise men are + able to understand them. And since I am not wise, I have had to + learn other arts, such as the reading of palms.” + “Well, how am I going to get to Egypt?” + “I only interpret dreams. I don’t know how to turn them into + reality. That’s why I have to live off what my daughters provide me + with.” + “And what if I never get to Egypt?” + “Then I don’t get paid. It wouldn’t be the first time.” + And the woman told the boy to leave, saying she had already + wasted too much time with him. + So the boy was disappointed; he decided that he would never + again believe in dreams. He remembered that he had a number of + things he had to take care of: he went to the market for something + to eat, he traded his book for one that was thicker, and he found a + bench in the plaza where he could sample the new wine he had + bought. The day was hot, and the wine was refreshing. The sheep + were at the gates of the city, in a stable that belonged to a friend. + The boy knew a lot of people in the city. That was what made + traveling appeal to him—he always made new friends, and he didn’t + need to spend all of his time with them. When someone sees the + same people every day, as had happened with him at the seminary, + they wind up becoming a part of that person’s life. And then they + want the person to change. If someone isn’t what others want them + to be, the others become angry. Everyone seems to have a clear idea + of how other people should lead their lives, but none about his or + her own. + He decided to wait until the sun had sunk a bit lower in the sky + before following his flock back through the fields. Three days from + now, he would be with the merchant’s daughter. + He started to read the book he had bought. On the very first page + it described a burial ceremony. And the names of the people + involved were very difficult to pronounce. If he ever wrote a book, + he thought, he would present one person at a time, so that the + reader wouldn’t have to worry about memorizing a lot of names. + When he was finally able to concentrate on what he was reading, + he liked the book better; the burial was on a snowy day, and he + welcomed the feeling of being cold. As he read on, an old man sat + down at his side and tried to strike up a conversation. + “What are they doing?” the old man asked, pointing at the people + in the plaza. + “Working,” the boy answered dryly, making it look as if he + wanted to concentrate on his reading. + Actually, he was thinking about shearing his sheep in front of the + merchant’s daughter, so that she could see that he was someone + who was capable of doing difficult things. He had already imagined + the scene many times; every time, the girl became fascinated when + he explained that the sheep had to be sheared from back to front. He + also tried to remember some good stories to relate as he sheared + the sheep. Most of them he had read in books, but he would tell + them as if they were from his personal experience. She would never + know the difference, because she didn’t know how to read. + Meanwhile, the old man persisted in his attempt to strike up a + conversation. He said that he was tired and thirsty, and asked if he + might have a sip of the boy’s wine. The boy offered his bottle, + hoping that the old man would leave him alone. + But the old man wanted to talk, and he asked the boy what book + he was reading. The boy was tempted to be rude, and move to + another bench, but his father had taught him to be respectful of the + elderly. So he held out the book to the man—for two reasons: first, + that he, himself, wasn’t sure how to pronounce the title; and second, + that if the old man didn’t know how to read, he would probably feel + ashamed and decide of his own accord to change benches. + “Hmm…” said the old man, looking at all sides of the book, as if it + were some strange object. “This is an important book, but it’s really + irritating.” + The boy was shocked. The old man knew how to read, and had + already read the book. And if the book was irritating, as the old man + had said, the boy still had time to change it for another. + “It’s a book that says the same thing almost all the other books in + the world say,” continued the old man. “It describes people’s + inability to choose their own Personal Legends. And it ends up + saying that everyone believes the world’s greatest lie.” + “What’s the world’s greatest lie?” the boy asked, completely + surprised. + “It’s this: that at a certain point in our lives, we lose control of + what’s happening to us, and our lives become controlled by fate. + That’s the world’s greatest lie.” + “That’s never happened to me,” the boy said. “They wanted me + to be a priest, but I decided to become a shepherd.” + “Much better,” said the old man. “Because you really like to + travel.” + “He knew what I was thinking,” the boy said to himself. The old + man, meanwhile, was leafing through the book, without seeming to + want to return it at all. The boy noticed that the man’s clothing was + strange. He looked like an Arab, which was not unusual in those + parts. Africa was only a few hours from Tarifa; one had only to cross + the narrow straits by boat. Arabs often appeared in the city, + shopping and chanting their strange prayers several times a day. + “Where are you from?” the boy asked. + “From many places.” + “No one can be from many places,” the boy said. “I’m a shepherd, + and I have been to many places, but I come from only one place— + from a city near an ancient castle. That’s where I was born.” + “Well then, we could say that I was born in Salem.” + The boy didn’t know where Salem was, but he didn’t want to ask, + fearing that he would appear ignorant. He looked at the people in + the plaza for a while; they were coming and going, and all of them + seemed to be very busy. + “So, what is Salem like?” he asked, trying to get some sort of clue. + “It’s like it always has been.” + No clue yet. But he knew that Salem wasn’t in Andalusia. If it + were, he would already have heard of it. + “And what do you do in Salem?” he insisted. + “What do I do in Salem?” The old man laughed. “Well, I’m the + king of Salem!” + People say strange things, the boy thought. Sometimes it’s better + to be with the sheep, who don’t say anything. And better still to be + alone with one’s books. They tell their incredible stories at the time + when you want to hear them. But when you’re talking to people, + they say some things that are so strange that you don’t know how to + continue the conversation. + “My name is Melchizedek,” said the old man. “How many sheep + do you have?” + “Enough,” said the boy. He could see that the old man wanted to + know more about his life. + “Well, then, we’ve got a problem. I can’t help you if you feel + you’ve got enough sheep.” + The boy was getting irritated. He wasn’t asking for help. It was + the old man who had asked for a drink of his wine, and had started + the conversation. + “Give me my book,” the boy said. “I have to go and gather my + sheep and get going.” + “Give me one-tenth of your sheep,” said the old man, “and I’ll tell + you how to find the hidden treasure.” + The boy remembered his dream, and suddenly everything was + clear to him. The old woman hadn’t charged him anything, but the + old man—maybe he was her husband—was going to find a way to + get much more money in exchange for information about something + that didn’t even exist. The old man was probably a Gypsy, too. + But before the boy could say anything, the old man leaned over, + picked up a stick, and began to write in the sand of the plaza. + Something bright reflected from his chest with such intensity that + the boy was momentarily blinded. With a movement that was too + quick for someone his age, the man covered whatever it was with + his cape. When his vision returned to normal, the boy was able to + read what the old man had written in the sand. + There, in the sand of the plaza of that small city, the boy read the + names of his father and his mother and the name of the seminary he + had attended. He read the name of the merchant’s daughter, which + he hadn’t even known, and he read things he had never told anyone. + “I’M THE KING OF SALEM,” THE OLD MAN HAD SAID. + “Why would a king be talking with a shepherd?” the boy asked, + awed and embarrassed. + “For several reasons. But let’s say that the most important is that + you have succeeded in discovering your Personal Legend.” + The boy didn’t know what a person’s “Personal Legend” was. + “It’s what you have always wanted to accomplish. Everyone, + when they are young, knows what their Personal Legend is. + “At that point in their lives, everything is clear and everything is + possible. They are not afraid to dream, and to yearn for everything + they would like to see happen to them in their lives. But, as time + passes, a mysterious force begins to convince them that it will be + impossible for them to realize their Personal Legend.” + None of what the old man was saying made much sense to the + boy. But he wanted to know what the “mysterious force” was; the + merchant’s daughter would be impressed when he told her about + that! + “It’s a force that appears to be negative, but actually shows you + how to realize your Personal Legend. It prepares your spirit and + your will, because there is one great truth on this planet: whoever + you are, or whatever it is that you do, when you really want + something, it’s because that desire originated in the soul of the + universe. It’s your mission on earth.” + “Even when all you want to do is travel? Or marry the daughter + of a textile merchant?” + “Yes, or even search for treasure. The Soul of the World is + nourished by people’s happiness. And also by unhappiness, envy, + and jealousy. To realize one’s Personal Legend is a person’s only + real obligation. All things are one. + “And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in + helping you to achieve it.” + They were both silent for a time, observing the plaza and the + townspeople. It was the old man who spoke first. + “Why do you tend a flock of sheep?” + “Because I like to travel.” + The old man pointed to a baker standing in his shop window at + one corner of the plaza. “When he was a child, that man wanted to + travel, too. But he decided first to buy his bakery and put some + money aside. When he’s an old man, he’s going to spend a month in + Africa. He never realized that people are capable, at any time in + their lives, of doing what they dream of.” + “He should have decided to become a shepherd,” the boy said. + “Well, he thought about that,” the old man said. “But bakers are + more important people than shepherds. Bakers have homes, while + shepherds sleep out in the open. Parents would rather see their + children marry bakers than shepherds.” + The boy felt a pang in his heart, thinking about the merchant’s + daughter. There was surely a baker in her town. + The old man continued, “In the long run, what people think + about shepherds and bakers becomes more important for them + than their own Personal Legends.” + The old man leafed through the book, and fell to reading a page + he came to. The boy waited, and then interrupted the old man just + as he himself had been interrupted. “Why are you telling me all + this?” + “Because you are trying to realize your Personal Legend. And + you are at the point where you’re about to give it all up.” + “And that’s when you always appear on the scene?” + “Not always in this way, but I always appear in one form or + another. Sometimes I appear in the form of a solution, or a good + idea. At other times, at a crucial moment, I make it easier for things + to happen. There are other things I do, too, but most of the time + people don’t realize I’ve done them.” + The old man related that, the week before, he had been forced to + appear before a miner, and had taken the form of a stone. The miner + had abandoned everything to go mining for emeralds. For five years + he had been working a certain river, and had examined hundreds of + thousands of stones looking for an emerald. The miner was about to + give it all up, right at the point when, if he were to examine just one + more stone—just one more—he would find his emerald. Since the + miner had sacrificed everything to his Personal Legend, the old man + decided to become involved. He transformed himself into a stone + that rolled up to the miner’s foot. The miner, with all the anger and + frustration of his five fruitless years, picked up the stone and threw + it aside. But he had thrown it with such force that it broke the stone + it fell upon, and there, embedded in the broken stone, was the most + beautiful emerald in the world. + “People learn, early in their lives, what is their reason for being,” + said the old man, with a certain bitterness. “Maybe that’s why they + give up on it so early, too. But that’s the way it is.” + The boy reminded the old man that he had said something about + hidden treasure. + “Treasure is uncovered by the force of flowing water, and it is + buried by the same currents,” said the old man. “If you want to learn + about your own treasure, you will have to give me one-tenth of your + flock.” + “What about one-tenth of my treasure?” + The old man looked disappointed. “If you start out by promising + what you don’t even have yet, you’ll lose your desire to work + toward getting it.” + The boy told him that he had already promised to give one-tenth + of his treasure to the Gypsy. + “Gypsies are experts at getting people to do that,” sighed the old + man. “In any case, it’s good that you’ve learned that everything in + life has its price. This is what the Warriors of the Light try to teach.” + The old man returned the book to the boy. + “Tomorrow, at this same time, bring me a tenth of your flock. + And I will tell you how to find the hidden treasure. Good afternoon.” + And he vanished around the corner of the plaza. + THE BOY BEGAN AGAIN TO READ HIS BOOK, BUT HE WAS NO longer able to + concentrate. He was tense and upset, because he knew that the old + man was right. He went over to the bakery and bought a loaf of + bread, thinking about whether or not he should tell the baker what + the old man had said about him. Sometimes it’s better to leave + things as they are, he thought to himself, and decided to say nothing. + If he were to say anything, the baker would spend three days + thinking about giving it all up, even though he had gotten used to + the way things were. The boy could certainly resist causing that + kind of anxiety for the baker. So he began to wander through the + city, and found himself at the gates. There was a small building + there, with a window at which people bought tickets to Africa. And + he knew that Egypt was in Africa. + “Can I help you?” asked the man behind the window. + “Maybe tomorrow,” said the boy, moving away. If he sold just + one of his sheep, he’d have enough to get to the other shore of the + strait. The idea frightened him. + “Another dreamer,” said the ticket seller to his assistant, + watching the boy walk away. “He doesn’t have enough money to + travel.” + While standing at the ticket window, the boy had remembered + his flock, and decided he should go back to being a shepherd. In two + years he had learned everything about shepherding: he knew how + to shear sheep, how to care for pregnant ewes, and how to protect + the sheep from wolves. He knew all the fields and pastures of + Andalusia. And he knew what was the fair price for every one of his + animals. + He decided to return to his friend’s stable by the longest route + possible. As he walked past the city’s castle, he interrupted his + return, and climbed the stone ramp that led to the top of the wall. + From there, he could see Africa in the distance. Someone had once + told him that it was from there that the Moors had come, to occupy + all of Spain. + He could see almost the entire city from where he sat, including + the plaza where he had talked with the old man. Curse the moment I + met that old man, he thought. He had come to the town only to find + a woman who could interpret his dream. Neither the woman nor the + old man was at all impressed by the fact that he was a shepherd. + They were solitary individuals who no longer believed in things, + and didn’t understand that shepherds become attached to their + sheep. He knew everything about each member of his flock: he + knew which ones were lame, which one was to give birth two + months from now, and which were the laziest. He knew how to + shear them, and how to slaughter them. If he ever decided to leave + them, they would suffer. + The wind began to pick up. He knew that wind: people called it + the levanter, because on it the Moors had come from the Levant at + the eastern end of the Mediterranean. + The levanter increased in intensity. Here I am, between my flock + and my treasure, the boy thought. He had to choose between + something he had become accustomed to and something he wanted + to have. There was also the merchant’s daughter, but she wasn’t as + important as his flock, because she didn’t depend on him. Maybe she + didn’t even remember him. He was sure that it made no difference + to her on which day he appeared: for her, every day was the same, + and when each day is the same as the next, it’s because people fail to + recognize the good things that happen in their lives every day that + the sun rises. + I left my father, my mother, and the town castle behind. They + have gotten used to my being away, and so have I. The sheep will get + used to my not being there, too, the boy thought. + From where he sat, he could observe the plaza. People continued + to come and go from the baker’s shop. A young couple sat on the + bench where he had talked with the old man, and they kissed. + “That baker…” he said to himself, without completing the + thought. The levanter was still getting stronger, and he felt its force + on his face. That wind had brought the Moors, yes, but it had also + brought the smell of the desert and of veiled women. It had brought + with it the sweat and the dreams of men who had once left to search + for the unknown, and for gold and adventure—and for the + Pyramids. The boy felt jealous of the freedom of the wind, and saw + that he could have the same freedom. There was nothing to hold + him back except himself. The sheep, the merchant’s daughter, and + the fields of Andalusia were only steps along the way to his Personal + Legend. + The next day, the boy met the old man at noon. He brought six + sheep with him. + “I’m surprised,” the boy said. “My friend bought all the other + sheep immediately. He said that he had always dreamed of being a + shepherd, and that it was a good omen.” + “That’s the way it always is,” said the old man. “It’s called the + principle of favorability. When you play cards the first time, you are + almost sure to win. Beginner’s luck.” + “Why is that?” + “Because there is a force that wants you to realize your Personal + Legend; it whets your appetite with a taste of success.” + Then the old man began to inspect the sheep, and he saw that + one was lame. The boy explained that it wasn’t important, since that + sheep was the most intelligent of the flock, and produced the most + wool. + “Where is the treasure?” he asked. + “It’s in Egypt, near the Pyramids.” + The boy was startled. The old woman had said the same thing. + But she hadn’t charged him anything. + “In order to find the treasure, you will have to follow the omens. + God has prepared a path for everyone to follow. You just have to + read the omens that he left for you.” + Before the boy could reply, a butterfly appeared and fluttered + between him and the old man. He remembered something his + grandfather had once told him: that butterflies were a good omen. + Like crickets, and like grasshoppers; like lizards and four-leaf + clovers. + “That’s right,” said the old man, able to read the boy’s thoughts. + “Just as your grandfather taught you. These are good omens.” + The old man opened his cape, and the boy was struck by what he + saw. The old man wore a breastplate of heavy gold, covered with + precious stones. The boy recalled the brilliance he had noticed on + the previous day. + He really was a king! He must be disguised to avoid encounters + with thieves. I left my father, my mother, and the town castle behind. They + have gotten used to my being away, and so have I. The sheep will get + used to my not being there, too, the boy thought. + From where he sat, he could observe the plaza. People continued + to come and go from the baker’s shop. A young couple sat on the + bench where he had talked with the old man, and they kissed. + “That baker…” he said to himself, without completing the + thought. The levanter was still getting stronger, and he felt its force + on his face. That wind had brought the Moors, yes, but it had also + brought the smell of the desert and of veiled women. It had brought + with it the sweat and the dreams of men who had once left to search + for the unknown, and for gold and adventure—and for the + Pyramids. The boy felt jealous of the freedom of the wind, and saw + that he could have the same freedom. There was nothing to hold + him back except himself. The sheep, the merchant’s daughter, and + the fields of Andalusia were only steps along the way to his Personal + Legend. + The next day, the boy met the old man at noon. He brought six + sheep with him. + “I’m surprised,” the boy said. “My friend bought all the other + sheep immediately. He said that he had always dreamed of being a + shepherd, and that it was a good omen.” + “That’s the way it always is,” said the old man. “It’s called the + principle of favorability. When you play cards the first time, you are + almost sure to win. Beginner’s luck.” + “Why is that?” + “Because there is a force that wants you to realize your Personal + Legend; it whets your appetite with a taste of success.” + Then the old man began to inspect the sheep, and he saw that + one was lame. The boy explained that it wasn’t important, since that + sheep was the most intelligent of the flock, and produced the most + wool. + “Where is the treasure?” he asked. + “It’s in Egypt, near the Pyramids.” + The boy was startled. The old woman had said the same thing. + But she hadn’t charged him anything. + “In order to find the treasure, you will have to follow the omens. + God has prepared a path for everyone to follow. You just have to + read the omens that he left for you.” + Before the boy could reply, a butterfly appeared and fluttered + between him and the old man. He remembered something his + grandfather had once told him: that butterflies were a good omen. + Like crickets, and like grasshoppers; like lizards and four-leaf + clovers. + “That’s right,” said the old man, able to read the boy’s thoughts. + “Just as your grandfather taught you. These are good omens.” + The old man opened his cape, and the boy was struck by what he + saw. The old man wore a breastplate of heavy gold, covered with + precious stones. The boy recalled the brilliance he had noticed on + the previous day. + He really was a king! He must be disguised to avoid encounters + with thieves. + “Take these,” said the old man, holding out a white stone and a + black stone that had been embedded at the center of the + breastplate. “They are called Urim and Thummim. The black + signifies ‘yes,’ and the white ‘no.’ When you are unable to read the + omens, they will help you to do so. Always ask an objective + question. + “But, if you can, try to make your own decisions. The treasure is + at the Pyramids; that you already knew. But I had to insist on the + payment of six sheep because I helped you to make your decision.” + The boy put the stones in his pouch. From then on, he would + make his own decisions. + “Don’t forget that everything you deal with is only one thing and + nothing else. And don’t forget the language of omens. And, above all, + don’t forget to follow your Personal Legend through to its + conclusion. + “But before I go, I want to tell you a little story. + “A certain shopkeeper sent his son to learn about the secret of + happiness from the wisest man in the world. The lad wandered + through the desert for forty days, and finally came upon a beautiful + castle, high atop a mountain. It was there that the wise man lived. + “Rather than finding a saintly man, though, our hero, on entering + the main room of the castle, saw a hive of activity: tradesmen came + and went, people were conversing in the corners, a small orchestra + was playing soft music, and there was a table covered with platters + of the most delicious food in that part of the world. The wise man + conversed with everyone, and the boy had to wait for two hours + before it was his turn to be given the man’s attention. + “The wise man listened attentively to the boy’s explanation of + why he had come, but told him that he didn’t have time just then to + explain the secret of happiness. He suggested that the boy look + around the palace and return in two hours. + “‘Meanwhile, I want to ask you to do something,’ said the wise + man, handing the boy a teaspoon that held two drops of oil. ‘As you + wander around, carry this spoon with you without allowing the oil + to spill.’ + “The boy began climbing and descending the many stairways of + the palace, keeping his eyes fixed on the spoon. After two hours, he + returned to the room where the wise man was. + “‘Well,’ asked the wise man, ‘did you see the Persian tapestries + that are hanging in my dining hall? Did you see the garden that it + took the master gardener ten years to create? Did you notice the + beautiful parchments in my library?’ + “The boy was embarrassed, and confessed that he had observed + nothing. His only concern had been not to spill the oil that the wise + man had entrusted to him. + “‘Then go back and observe the marvels of my world,’ said the + wise man. ‘You cannot trust a man if you don’t know his house.’ + “Relieved, the boy picked up the spoon and returned to his + exploration of the palace, this time observing all of the works of art + on the ceilings and the walls. He saw the gardens, the mountains all + around him, the beauty of the flowers, and the taste with which + everything had been selected. Upon returning to the wise man, he + related in detail everything he had seen. + “‘But where are the drops of oil I entrusted to you?’ asked the + wise man. + “Looking down at the spoon he held, the boy saw that the oil was + gone. + “‘Well, there is only one piece of advice I can give you,’ said the + wisest of wise men. ‘The secret of happiness is to see all the marvels + of the world, and never to forget the drops of oil on the spoon.’” + The shepherd said nothing. He had understood the story the old + king had told him. A shepherd may like to travel, but he should + never forget about his sheep. + The old man looked at the boy and, with his hands held together, + made several strange gestures over the boy’s head. Then, taking his + sheep, he walked away. + AT THE HIGHEST POINT IN TARIFA THERE IS AN OLD FORT, built by the + Moors. From atop its walls, one can catch a glimpse of Africa. + Melchizedek, the king of Salem, sat on the wall of the fort that + afternoon, and felt the levanter blowing in his face. The sheep + fidgeted nearby, uneasy with their new owner and excited by so + much change. All they wanted was food and water. + Melchizedek watched a small ship that was plowing its way out + of the port. He would never again see the boy, just as he had never + seen Abraham again after having charged him his one-tenth fee. + That was his work. + The gods should not have desires, because they don’t have + Personal Legends. But the king of Salem hoped desperately that the + boy would be successful. + It’s too bad that he’s quickly going to forget my name, he + thought. I should have repeated it for him. Then when he spoke + about me he would say that I am Melchizedek, the king of Salem. + He looked to the skies, feeling a bit abashed, and said, “I know + it’s the vanity of vanities, as you said, my Lord. But an old king + sometimes has to take some pride in himself.” + HOW STRANGE AFRICA IS, THOUGHT THE BOY. + He was sitting in a bar very much like the other bars he had seen + along the narrow streets of Tangier. Some men were smoking from + a gigantic pipe that they passed from one to the other. In just a few + hours he had seen men walking hand in hand, women with their + faces covered, and priests that climbed to the tops of towers and + chanted—as everyone about him went to their knees and placed + their foreheads on the ground. + “A practice of infidels,” he said to himself. As a child in church, he + had always looked at the image of Saint Santiago Matamoros on his + white horse, his sword unsheathed, and figures such as these + kneeling at his feet. The boy felt ill and terribly alone. The infidels + had an evil look about them. + Besides this, in the rush of his travels he had forgotten a detail, + just one detail, which could keep him from his treasure for a long + time: only Arabic was spoken in this country. + The owner of the bar approached him, and the boy pointed to a + drink that had been served at the next table. It turned out to be a + bitter tea. The boy preferred wine. + But he didn’t need to worry about that right now. What he had + to be concerned about was his treasure, and how he was going to go + about getting it. The sale of his sheep had left him with enough + money in his pouch, and the boy knew that in money there was + magic; whoever has money is never really alone. Before long, maybe + in just a few days, he would be at the Pyramids. An old man, with a + breastplate of gold, wouldn’t have lied just to acquire six sheep. + The old man had spoken about signs and omens, and, as the boy + was crossing the strait, he had thought about omens. Yes, the old + man had known what he was talking about: during the time the boy + had spent in the fields of Andalusia, he had become used to learning + which path he should take by observing the ground and the sky. He + had discovered that the presence of a certain bird meant that a + snake was nearby, and that a certain shrub was a sign that there + was water in the area. The sheep had taught him that. + If God leads the sheep so well, he will also lead a man, he + thought, and that made him feel better. The tea seemed less bitter. + “Who are you?” he heard a voice ask him in Spanish. + The boy was relieved. He was thinking about omens, and + someone had appeared. + “How come you speak Spanish?” he asked. The new arrival was a + young man in Western dress, but the color of his skin suggested he + was from this city. He was about the same age and height as the boy. + “Almost everyone here speaks Spanish. We’re only two hours + from Spain.” + “Sit down, and let me treat you to something,” said the boy. “And + ask for a glass of wine for me. I hate this tea.” + “There is no wine in this country,” the young man said. “The + religion here forbids it.” + The boy told him then that he needed to get to the Pyramids. He + almost began to tell about his treasure, but decided not to do so. If + he did, it was possible that the Arab would want a part of it as + payment for taking him there. He remembered what the old man + had said about offering something you didn’t even have yet. + “I’d like you to take me there if you can. I can pay you to serve as + my guide.” + “Do you have any idea how to get there?” the newcomer asked. + The boy noticed that the owner of the bar stood nearby, + listening attentively to their conversation. He felt uneasy at the + man’s presence. But he had found a guide, and didn’t want to miss + out on an opportunity. + “You have to cross the entire Sahara desert,” said the young man. + “And to do that, you need money. I need to know whether you have + enough.” + The boy thought it a strange question. But he trusted in the old + man, who had said that, when you really want something, the + universe always conspires in your favor. + He took his money from his pouch and showed it to the young + man. The owner of the bar came over and looked, as well. The two + men exchanged some words in Arabic, and the bar owner seemed + irritated. + “Let’s get out of here,” said the new arrival. “He wants us to + leave.” + The boy was relieved. He got up to pay the bill, but the owner + grabbed him and began to speak to him in an angry stream of + words. The boy was strong, and wanted to retaliate, but he was in a + foreign country. His new friend pushed the owner aside, and pulled + the boy outside with him. “He wanted your money,” he said. + “Tangier is not like the rest of Africa. This is a port, and every port + has its thieves.” + The boy trusted his new friend. He had helped him out in a + dangerous situation. He took out his money and counted it. + “We could get to the Pyramids by tomorrow,” said the other, + taking the money. “But I have to buy two camels.” + They walked together through the narrow streets of Tangier. + Everywhere there were stalls with items for sale. They reached the + center of a large plaza where the market was held. There were + thousands of people there, arguing, selling, and buying; vegetables + for sale amongst daggers, and carpets displayed alongside tobacco. + But the boy never took his eye off his new friend. After all, he had all + his money. He thought about asking him to give it back, but decided + that would be unfriendly. He knew nothing about the customs of the + strange land he was in. + “I’ll just watch him,” he said to himself. He knew he was stronger + than his friend. + Suddenly, there in the midst of all that confusion, he saw the + most beautiful sword he had ever seen. The scabbard was embossed + in silver, and the handle was black and encrusted with precious + stones. The boy promised himself that, when he returned from + Egypt, he would buy that sword. + “Ask the owner of that stall how much the sword costs,” he said + to his friend. Then he realized that he had been distracted for a few + moments, looking at the sword. His heart squeezed, as if his chest + had suddenly compressed it. He was afraid to look around, because + he knew what he would find. He continued to look at the beautiful + sword for a bit longer, until he summoned the courage to turn + around. + All around him was the market, with people coming and going, + shouting and buying, and the aroma of strange foods…but nowhere + could he find his new companion. + The boy wanted to believe that his friend had simply become + separated from him by accident. He decided to stay right there and + await his return. As he waited, a priest climbed to the top of a + nearby tower and began his chant; everyone in the market fell to + their knees, touched their foreheads to the ground, and took up the + chant. Then, like a colony of worker ants, they dismantled their + stalls and left. + The sun began its departure, as well. The boy watched it through + its trajectory for some time, until it was hidden behind the white + houses surrounding the plaza. He recalled that when the sun had + risen that morning, he was on another continent, still a shepherd + with sixty sheep, and looking forward to meeting with a girl. That + morning he had known everything that was going to happen to him + as he walked through the familiar fields. But now, as the sun began + to set, he was in a different country, a stranger in a strange land, + where he couldn’t even speak the language. He was no longer a + shepherd, and he had nothing, not even the money to return and + start everything over. + All this happened between sunrise and sunset, the boy thought. + He was feeling sorry for himself, and lamenting the fact that his life + could have changed so suddenly and so drastically. + He was so ashamed that he wanted to cry. He had never even + wept in front of his own sheep. But the marketplace was empty, and + he was far from home, so he wept. He wept because God was unfair, + and because this was the way God repaid those who believed in + their dreams. + When I had my sheep, I was happy, and I made those around me + happy. People saw me coming and welcomed me, he thought. But + now I’m sad and alone. I’m going to become bitter and distrustful of + people because one person betrayed me. I’m going to hate those + who have found their treasure because I never found mine. And I’m + going to hold on to what little I have, because I’m too insignificant to + conquer the world. + He opened his pouch to see what was left of his possessions; + maybe there was a bit left of the sandwich he had eaten on the ship. + But all he found was the heavy book, his jacket, and the two stones + the old man had given him. + As he looked at the stones, he felt relieved for some reason. He + had exchanged six sheep for two precious stones that had been + taken from a gold breastplate. He could sell the stones and buy a + return ticket. But this time I’ll be smarter, the boy thought, + removing them from the pouch so he could put them in his pocket. + This was a port town, and the only truthful thing his friend had told + him was that port towns are full of thieves. + Now he understood why the owner of the bar had been so upset: + he was trying to tell him not to trust that man. “I’m like everyone + else—I see the world in terms of what I would like to see happen, + not what actually does.” + He ran his fingers slowly over the stones, sensing their + temperature and feeling their surfaces. They were his treasure. Just + handling them made him feel better. They reminded him of the old + man. + “When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping + you to achieve it,” he had said. + The boy was trying to understand the truth of what the old man + had said. There he was in the empty marketplace, without a cent to + his name, and with not a sheep to guard through the night. But the + stones were proof that he had met with a king—a king who knew of + the boy’s past. + “They’re called Urim and Thummim, and they can help you to + read the omens.” The boy put the stones back in the pouch and + decided to do an experiment. The old man had said to ask very clear + questions, and to do that, the boy had to know what he wanted. So, + he asked if the old man’s blessing was still with him. + He took out one of the stones. It was “yes.” + “Am I going to find my treasure?” he asked. + He stuck his hand into the pouch, and felt around for one of the + stones. As he did so, both of them pushed through a hole in the + pouch and fell to the ground. The boy had never even noticed that + there was a hole in his pouch. He knelt down to find Urim and + Thummim and put them back in the pouch. But as he saw them lying + there on the ground, another phrase came to his mind. + “Learn to recognize omens, and follow them,” the old king had + said. + An omen. The boy smiled to himself. He picked up the two + stones and put them back in his pouch. He didn’t consider mending + the hole—the stones could fall through any time they wanted. He + had learned that there were certain things one shouldn’t ask about, + so as not to flee from one’s own Personal Legend. “I promised that I + would make my own decisions,” he said to himself. + But the stones had told him that the old man was still with him, + and that made him feel more confident. He looked around at the + empty plaza again, feeling less desperate than before. This wasn’t a + strange place; it was a new one. + After all, what he had always wanted was just that: to know new + places. Even if he never got to the Pyramids, he had already traveled + farther than any shepherd he knew. Oh, if they only knew how + different things are just two hours by ship from where they are, he + thought. Although his new world at the moment was just an empty + marketplace, he had already seen it when it was teeming with life, + and he would never forget it. He remembered the sword. It hurt him + a bit to think about it, but he had never seen one like it before. As he + mused about these things, he realized that he had to choose + between thinking of himself as the poor victim of a thief and as an + adventurer in quest of his treasure. + “I’m an adventurer, looking for treasure,” he said to himself. + HE WAS SHAKEN INTO WAKEFULNESS BY SOMEONE. HE had fallen asleep in + the middle of the marketplace, and life in the plaza was about to + resume. + Looking around, he sought his sheep, and then realized that he + was in a new world. But instead of being saddened, he was happy. + He no longer had to seek out food and water for the sheep; he could + go in search of his treasure, instead. He had not a cent in his pocket, + but he had faith. He had decided, the night before, that he would be + as much an adventurer as the ones he had admired in books. + He walked slowly through the market. The merchants were + assembling their stalls, and the boy helped a candy seller to do his. + The candy seller had a smile on his face: he was happy, aware of + what his life was about, and ready to begin a day’s work. His smile + reminded the boy of the old man—the mysterious old king he had + met. “This candy merchant isn’t making candy so that later he can + travel or marry a shopkeeper’s daughter. He’s doing it because it’s + what he wants to do,” thought the boy. He realized that he could do + the same thing the old man had done—sense whether a person was + near to or far from his Personal Legend. Just by looking at them. It’s + easy, and yet I’ve never done it before, he thought. + When the stall was assembled, the candy seller offered the boy + the first sweet he had made for the day. The boy thanked him, ate it, + and went on his way. When he had gone only a short distance, he + realized that, while they were erecting the stall, one of them had + spoken Arabic and the other Spanish. + And they had understood each other perfectly well. + There must be a language that doesn’t depend on words, the boy + thought. I’ve already had that experience with my sheep, and now + it’s happening with people. + He was learning a lot of new things. Some of them were things + that he had already experienced, and weren’t really new, but that he + had never perceived before. And he hadn’t perceived them because + he had become accustomed to them. He realized: If I can learn to + understand this language without words, I can learn to understand + the world. + Relaxed and unhurried, he resolved that he would walk through + the narrow streets of Tangier. Only in that way would he be able to + read the omens. He knew it would require a lot of patience, but + shepherds know all about patience. Once again he saw that, in that + strange land, he was applying the same lessons he had learned with + his sheep. + “All things are one,” the old man had said. + THE CRYSTAL MERCHANT AWOKE WITH THE DAY, AND FELT the same anxiety + that he felt every morning. He had been in the same place for thirty + years: a shop at the top of a hilly street where few customers + passed. Now it was too late to change anything—the only thing he + had ever learned to do was to buy and sell crystal glassware. There + had been a time when many people knew of his shop: Arab + merchants, French and English geologists, German soldiers who + were always well-heeled. In those days it had been wonderful to be + selling crystal, and he had thought how he would become rich, and + have beautiful women at his side as he grew older. + But, as time passed, Tangier had changed. The nearby city of + Ceuta had grown faster than Tangier, and business had fallen off. + Neighbors moved away, and there remained only a few small shops + on the hill. And no one was going to climb the hill just to browse + through a few small shops. + But the crystal merchant had no choice. He had lived thirty years + of his life buying and selling crystal pieces, and now it was too late + to do anything else. + He spent the entire morning observing the infrequent comings + and goings in the street. He had done this for years, and knew the + schedule of everyone who passed. But, just before lunchtime, a boy + stopped in front of the shop. He was dressed normally, but the + practiced eyes of the crystal merchant could see that the boy had no + money to spend. Nevertheless, the merchant decided to delay his + lunch for a few minutes until the boy moved on. + A CARD HANGING IN THE DOORWAY ANNOUNCED THAT several languages + were spoken in the shop. The boy saw a man appear behind the + counter. + “I can clean up those glasses in the window, if you want,” said + the boy. “The way they look now, nobody is going to want to buy + them.” + The man looked at him without responding. + “In exchange, you could give me something to eat.” + The man still said nothing, and the boy sensed that he was going + to have to make a decision. In his pouch, he had his jacket—he + certainly wasn’t going to need it in the desert. Taking the jacket out, + he began to clean the glasses. In half an hour, he had cleaned all the + glasses in the window, and, as he was doing so, two customers had + entered the shop and bought some crystal. + When he had completed the cleaning, he asked the man for + something to eat. “Let’s go and have some lunch,” said the crystal + merchant. + He put a sign on the door, and they went to a small café nearby. + As they sat down at the only table in the place, the crystal merchant + laughed. + “You didn’t have to do any cleaning,” he said. “The Koran + requires me to feed a hungry person.” + “Well then, why did you let me do it?” the boy asked. + “Because the crystal was dirty. And both you and I needed to + cleanse our minds of negative thoughts.” + When they had eaten, the merchant turned to the boy and said, + “I’d like you to work in my shop. Two customers came in today + while you were working, and that’s a good omen.” + People talk a lot about omens, thought the shepherd. But they + really don’t know what they’re saying. Just as I hadn’t realized that + for so many years I had been speaking a language without words to + my sheep. + “Do you want to go to work for me?” the merchant asked. + “I can work for the rest of today,” the boy answered. “I’ll work all + night, until dawn, and I’ll clean every piece of crystal in your shop. + In return, I need money to get to Egypt tomorrow.” + The merchant laughed. “Even if you cleaned my crystal for an + entire year…even if you earned a good commission selling every + piece, you would still have to borrow money to get to Egypt. There + are thousands of kilometers of desert between here and there.” + There was a moment of silence so profound that it seemed the + city was asleep. No sound from the bazaars, no arguments among + the merchants, no men climbing to the towers to chant. No hope, no + adventure, no old kings or Personal Legends, no treasure, and no + Pyramids. It was as if the world had fallen silent because the boy’s + soul had. He sat there, staring blankly through the door of the café, + wishing that he had died, and that everything would end forever at + that moment. + The merchant looked anxiously at the boy. All the joy he had + seen that morning had suddenly disappeared. + “I can give you the money you need to get back to your country, + my son,” said the crystal merchant. + The boy said nothing. He got up, adjusted his clothing, and + picked up his pouch. + “I’ll work for you,” he said. + And after another long silence, he added, “I need money to buy + some sheep.” + + + + + THE BOY HAD BEEN WORKING FOR THE CRYSTAL MERCHANT for almost a +month, and he could see that it wasn’t exactly the kind of job that +would make him happy. The merchant spent the entire day +mumbling behind the counter, telling the boy to be careful with the +pieces and not to break anything. +But he stayed with the job because the merchant, although he +was an old grouch, treated him fairly; the boy received a good +commission for each piece he sold, and had already been able to put +some money aside. That morning he had done some calculating: if +he continued to work every day as he had been, he would need a +whole year to be able to buy some sheep. +“I’d like to build a display case for the crystal,” the boy said to +the merchant. “We could place it outside, and attract those people +who pass at the bottom of the hill.” +“I’ve never had one before,” the merchant answered. “People +will pass by and bump into it, and pieces will be broken.” +“Well, when I took my sheep through the fields some of them +might have died if we had come upon a snake. But that’s the way life +is with sheep and with shepherds.” +The merchant turned to a customer who wanted three crystal +glasses. He was selling better than ever…as if time had turned back +to the old days when the street had been one of Tangier’s major +attractions. +“Business has really improved,” he said to the boy, after the +customer had left. “I’m doing much better, and soon you’ll be able to +return to your sheep. Why ask more out of life?” +“Because we have to respond to omens,” the boy said, almost +without meaning to; then he regretted what he had said, because +the merchant had never met the king. +“It’s called the principle of favorability, beginner’s luck. Because +life wants you to achieve your Personal Legend,” the old king had +said. +But the merchant understood what the boy had said. The boy’s +very presence in the shop was an omen, and, as time passed and +money was pouring into the cash drawer, he had no regrets about +having hired the boy. The boy was being paid more money than he +deserved, because the merchant, thinking that sales wouldn’t +amount to much, had offered the boy a high commission rate. He +had assumed he would soon return to his sheep. +“Why did you want to get to the Pyramids?” he asked, to get +away from the business of the display. +“Because I’ve always heard about them,” the boy answered, +saying nothing about his dream. The treasure was now nothing but +a painful memory, and he tried to avoid thinking about it. +“I don’t know anyone around here who would want to cross the +desert just to see the Pyramids,” said the merchant. “They’re just a +pile of stones. You could build one in your backyard.” +“You’ve never had dreams of travel,” said the boy, turning to +wait on a customer who had entered the shop. +Two days later, the merchant spoke to the boy about the display. +“I don’t much like change,” he said. “You and I aren’t like Hassan, +that rich merchant. If he makes a buying mistake, it doesn’t affect +him much. But we two have to live with our mistakes.” +That’s true enough, the boy thought, ruefully. +“Why did you think we should have the display?” +“I want to get back to my sheep faster. We have to take +advantage when luck is on our side, and do as much to help it as it’s +doing to help us. It’s called the principle of favorability. Or +beginner’s luck.” +The merchant was silent for a few moments. Then he said, “The +Prophet gave us the Koran, and left us just five obligations to satisfy +during our lives. The most important is to believe only in the one +true God. The others are to pray five times a day, fast during +Ramadan, and be charitable to the poor.” +He stopped there. His eyes filled with tears as he spoke of the +Prophet. He was a devout man, and, even with all his impatience, he +wanted to live his life in accordance with Muslim law. +“What’s the fifth obligation?” the boy asked. +“Two days ago, you said that I had never dreamed of travel,” the +merchant answered. “The fifth obligation of every Muslim is a +pilgrimage. We are obliged, at least once in our lives, to visit the +holy city of Mecca. +“Mecca is a lot farther away than the Pyramids. When I was +young, all I wanted to do was put together enough money to start +this shop. I thought that someday I’d be rich, and could go to Mecca. +I began to make some money, but I could never bring myself to +leave someone in charge of the shop; the crystals are delicate things. +At the same time, people were passing my shop all the time, heading +for Mecca. Some of them were rich pilgrims, traveling in caravans +with servants and camels, but most of the people making the +pilgrimage were poorer than I. +“All who went there were happy at having done so. They placed +the symbols of the pilgrimage on the doors of their houses. One of +them, a cobbler who made his living mending boots, said that he had +traveled for almost a year through the desert, but that he got more +tired when he had to walk through the streets of Tangier buying his +leather.” +“Well, why don’t you go to Mecca now?” asked the boy. +“Because it’s the thought of Mecca that keeps me alive. That’s +what helps me face these days that are all the same, these mute +crystals on the shelves, and lunch and dinner at that same horrible +café. I’m afraid that if my dream is realized, I’ll have no reason to go +on living. +“You dream about your sheep and the Pyramids, but you’re +different from me, because you want to realize your dreams. I just +want to dream about Mecca. I’ve already imagined a thousand times +crossing the desert, arriving at the Plaza of the Sacred Stone, the +seven times I walk around it before allowing myself to touch it. I’ve +already imagined the people who would be at my side, and those in +front of me, and the conversations and prayers we would share. But +I’m afraid that it would all be a disappointment, so I prefer just to +dream about it.” +That day, the merchant gave the boy permission to build the +display. Not everyone can see his dreams come true in the same +way. +TWO MORE MONTHS PASSED, AND THE SHELF BROUGHT many customers +into the crystal shop. The boy estimated that, if he worked for six +more months, he could return to Spain and buy sixty sheep, and yet +another sixty. In less than a year, he would have doubled his flock, +and he would be able to do business with the Arabs, because he was +now able to speak their strange language. Since that morning in the +marketplace, he had never again made use of Urim and Thummim, +because Egypt was now just as distant a dream for him as was +Mecca for the merchant. Anyway, the boy had become happy in his +work, and thought all the time about the day when he would +disembark at Tarifa as a winner. +“You must always know what it is that you want,” the old king +had said. The boy knew, and was now working toward it. Maybe it +was his treasure to have wound up in that strange land, met up with +a thief, and doubled the size of his flock without spending a cent. +He was proud of himself. He had learned some important things, +like how to deal in crystal, and about the language without +words…and about omens. One afternoon he had seen a man at the +top of the hill, complaining that it was impossible to find a decent +place to get something to drink after such a climb. The boy, +accustomed to recognizing omens, spoke to the merchant. +“Let’s sell tea to the people who climb the hill.” +“Lots of places sell tea around here,” the merchant said. +“But we could sell tea in crystal glasses. The people will enjoy +the tea and want to buy the glasses. I have been told that beauty is +the great seducer of men.” +The merchant didn’t respond, but that afternoon, after saying his +prayers and closing the shop, he invited the boy to sit with him and +share his hookah, that strange pipe used by the Arabs. +“What is it you’re looking for?” asked the old merchant. +“I’ve already told you. I need to buy my sheep back, so I have to +earn the money to do so.” +The merchant put some new coals in the hookah, and inhaled +deeply. +“I’ve had this shop for thirty years. I know good crystal from bad, +and everything else there is to know about crystal. I know its +dimensions and how it behaves. If we serve tea in crystal, the shop +is going to expand. And then I’ll have to change my way of life.” +“Well, isn’t that good?” +“I’m already used to the way things are. Before you came, I was +thinking about how much time I had wasted in the same place, while +my friends had moved on, and either went bankrupt or did better +than they had before. It made me very depressed. Now, I can see +that it hasn’t been too bad. The shop is exactly the size I always +wanted it to be. I don’t want to change anything, because I don’t +know how to deal with change. I’m used to the way I am.” +The boy didn’t know what to say. The old man continued, “You +have been a real blessing to me. Today, I understand something I +didn’t see before: every blessing ignored becomes a curse. I don’t +want anything else in life. But you are forcing me to look at wealth +and at horizons I have never known. Now that I have seen them, and +now that I see how immense my possibilities are, I’m going to feel +worse than I did before you arrived. Because I know the things I +should be able to accomplish, and I don’t want to do so.” +It’s good I refrained from saying anything to the baker in Tarifa, +thought the boy to himself. +They went on smoking the pipe for a while as the sun began to +set. They were conversing in Arabic, and the boy was proud of +himself for being able to do so. There had been a time when he +thought that his sheep could teach him everything he needed to +know about the world. But they could never have taught him Arabic. +There are probably other things in the world that the sheep can’t +teach me, thought the boy as he regarded the old merchant. All they +ever do, really, is look for food and water. And maybe it wasn’t that +they were teaching me, but that I was learning from them. +“Maktub,” the merchant said, finally. +“What does that mean?” +“You would have to have been born an Arab to understand,” he +answered. “But in your language it would be something like ‘It is +written.’” +And, as he smothered the coals in the hookah, he told the boy +that he could begin to sell tea in the crystal glasses. Sometimes, +there’s just no way to hold back the river. +THE MEN CLIMBED THE HILL, AND THEY WERE TIRED when they reached +the top. But there they saw a crystal shop that offered refreshing +mint tea. They went in to drink the tea, which was served in +beautiful crystal glasses. +“My wife never thought of this,” said one, and he bought some +crystal—he was entertaining guests that night, and the guests +would be impressed by the beauty of the glassware. The other man +remarked that tea was always more delicious when it was served in +crystal, because the aroma was retained. The third said that it was a +tradition in the Orient to use crystal glasses for tea because it had +magical powers. +Before long, the news spread, and a great many people began to +climb the hill to see the shop that was doing something new in a +trade that was so old. Other shops were opened that served tea in +crystal, but they weren’t at the top of a hill, and they had little +business. +Eventually, the merchant had to hire two more employees. He +began to import enormous quantities of tea, along with his crystal, +and his shop was sought out by men and women with a thirst for +things new. +And, in that way, the months passed. +THE BOY AWOKE BEFORE DAWN. IT HAD BEEN ELEVEN months and nine +days since he had first set foot on the African continent. +He dressed in his Arabian clothing of white linen, bought +especially for this day. He put his headcloth in place and secured it +with a ring made of camel skin. Wearing his new sandals, he +descended the stairs silently. +The city was still sleeping. He prepared himself a sandwich and +drank some hot tea from a crystal glass. Then he sat in the sun-filled +doorway, smoking the hookah. +He smoked in silence, thinking of nothing, and listening to the +sound of the wind that brought the scent of the desert. When he had +finished his smoke, he reached into one of his pockets, and sat there +for a few moments, regarding what he had withdrawn. +It was a bundle of money. Enough to buy himself a hundred and +twenty sheep, a return ticket, and a license to import products from +Africa into his own country. +He waited patiently for the merchant to awaken and open the +shop. Then the two went off to have some more tea. +“I’m leaving today,” said the boy. “I have the money I need to buy +my sheep. And you have the money you need to go to Mecca.” +The old man said nothing. +“Will you give me your blessing?” asked the boy. “You have +helped me.” The man continued to prepare his tea, saying nothing. +Then he turned to the boy. +“I am proud of you,” he said. “You brought a new feeling into my +crystal shop. But you know that I’m not going to go to Mecca. Just as +you know that you’re not going to buy your sheep.” +“Who told you that?” asked the boy, startled. +“Maktub,” said the old crystal merchant. +And he gave the boy his blessing. +THE BOY WENT TO HIS ROOM AND PACKED HIS BELONGINGS. They filled three +sacks. As he was leaving, he saw, in the corner of the room, his old +shepherd’s pouch. It was bunched up, and he had hardly thought of +it for a long time. As he took his jacket out of the pouch, thinking to +give it to someone in the street, the two stones fell to the floor. Urim +and Thummim. +It made the boy think of the old king, and it startled him to +realize how long it had been since he had thought of him. For nearly +a year, he had been working incessantly, thinking only of putting +aside enough money so that he could return to Spain with pride. +“Never stop dreaming,” the old king had said. “Follow the +omens.” +The boy picked up Urim and Thummim, and, once again, had the +strange sensation that the old king was nearby. He had worked hard +for a year, and the omens were that it was time to go. +I’m going to go back to doing just what I did before, the boy +thought. Even though the sheep didn’t teach me to speak Arabic. +But the sheep had taught him something even more important: +that there was a language in the world that everyone understood, a +language the boy had used throughout the time that he was trying +to improve things at the shop. It was the language of enthusiasm, of +things accomplished with love and purpose, and as part of a search +for something believed in and desired. Tangier was no longer a +strange city, and he felt that, just as he had conquered this place, he +could conquer the world. +“When you want something, all the universe conspires to help +you achieve it,” the old king had said. +But the old king hadn’t said anything about being robbed, or +about endless deserts, or about people who know what their +dreams are but don’t want to realize them. The old king hadn’t told +him that the Pyramids were just a pile of stones, or that anyone +could build one in his backyard. And he had forgotten to mention +that, when you have enough money to buy a flock larger than the +one you had before, you should buy it. +The boy picked up his pouch and put it with his other things. He +went down the stairs and found the merchant waiting on a foreign +couple, while two other customers walked about the shop, drinking +tea from crystal glasses. It was more activity than usual for this time +of the morning. From where he stood, he saw for the first time that +the old merchant’s hair was very much like the hair of the old king. +He remembered the smile of the candy seller, on his first day in +Tangier, when he had nothing to eat and nowhere to go—that smile +had also been like the old king’s smile. +It’s almost as if he had been here and left his mark, he thought. +And yet, none of these people has ever met the old king. On the +other hand, he said that he always appeared to help those who are +trying to realize their Personal Legend. +He left without saying good-bye to the crystal merchant. He +didn’t want to cry with the other people there. He was going to miss +the place and all the good things he had learned. He was more +confident in himself, though, and felt as though he could conquer +the world. +“But I’m going back to the fields that I know, to take care of my +flock again.” He said that to himself with certainty, but he was no +longer happy with his decision. He had worked for an entire year to +make a dream come true, and that dream, minute by minute, was +becoming less important. Maybe because that wasn’t really his +dream. +Who knows…maybe it’s better to be like the crystal merchant: +never go to Mecca, and just go through life wanting to do so, he +thought, again trying to convince himself. But as he held Urim and +Thummim in his hand, they had transmitted to him the strength and +will of the old king. By coincidence—or maybe it was an omen, the +boy thought—he came to the bar he had entered on his first day +there. The thief wasn’t there, and the owner brought him a cup of +tea. +I can always go back to being a shepherd, the boy thought. I +learned how to care for sheep, and I haven’t forgotten how that’s +done. But maybe I’ll never have another chance to get to the +Pyramids in Egypt. The old man wore a breastplate of gold, and he +knew about my past. He really was a king, a wise king. +The hills of Andalusia were only two hours away, but there was +an entire desert between him and the Pyramids. Yet the boy felt that +there was another way to regard his situation: he was actually two +hours closer to his treasure…the fact that the two hours had +stretched into an entire year didn’t matter. +I know why I want to get back to my flock, he thought. I +understand sheep; they’re no longer a problem, and they can be +good friends. On the other hand, I don’t know if the desert can be a +friend, and it’s in the desert that I have to search for my treasure. If I +don’t find it, I can always go home. I finally have enough money, and +all the time I need. Why not? +He suddenly felt tremendously happy. He could always go back +to being a shepherd. He could always become a crystal salesman +again. Maybe the world had other hidden treasures, but he had a +dream, and he had met with a king. That doesn’t happen to just +anyone! +He was planning as he left the bar. He had remembered that one +of the crystal merchant’s suppliers transported his crystal by means +of caravans that crossed the desert. He held Urim and Thummim in +his hand; because of those two stones, he was once again on the way +to his treasure. +“I am always nearby, when someone wants to realize their +Personal Legend,” the old king had told him. +What could it cost to go over to the supplier’s warehouse and +find out if the Pyramids were really that far away? +THE ENGLISHMAN WAS SITTING ON A BENCH IN A STRUCTURE that smelled of +animals, sweat, and dust; it was part warehouse, part corral. I never +thought I’d end up in a place like this, he thought, as he leafed +through the pages of a chemical journal. Ten years at the university, +and here I am in a corral. +But he had to move on. He believed in omens. All his life and all +his studies were aimed at finding the one true language of the +universe. First he had studied Esperanto, then the world’s religions, +and now it was alchemy. He knew how to speak Esperanto, he +understood all the major religions well, but he wasn’t yet an +alchemist. He had unraveled the truths behind important questions, +but his studies had taken him to a point beyond which he could not +seem to go. He had tried in vain to establish a relationship with an +alchemist. But the alchemists were strange people, who thought +only about themselves, and almost always refused to help him. Who +knows, maybe they had failed to discover the secret of the Master +Work—the Philosopher’s Stone—and for this reason kept their +knowledge to themselves. +He had already spent much of the fortune left to him by his +father, fruitlessly seeking the Philosopher’s Stone. He had spent +enormous amounts of time at the great libraries of the world, and +had purchased all the rarest and most important volumes on +alchemy. In one he had read that, many years ago, a famous Arabian +alchemist had visited Europe. It was said that he was more than two +hundred years old, and that he had discovered the Philosopher’s +Stone and the Elixir of Life. The Englishman had been profoundly +impressed by the story. But he would never have thought it more +than just a myth, had not a friend of his—returning from an +archaeological expedition in the desert—told him about an Arab +that was possessed of exceptional powers. +“He lives at the Al-Fayoum oasis,” his friend had said. “And +people say that he is two hundred years old, and is able to +transform any metal into gold.” +The Englishman could not contain his excitement. He canceled +all his commitments and pulled together the most important of his +books, and now here he was, sitting inside a dusty, smelly +warehouse. Outside, a huge caravan was being prepared for a +crossing of the Sahara, and was scheduled to pass through AlFayoum. +I’m going to find that damned alchemist, the Englishman +thought. And the odor of the animals became a bit more tolerable. +A young Arab, also loaded down with baggage, entered, and +greeted the Englishman. +“Where are you bound?” asked the young Arab. +“I’m going into the desert,” the man answered, turning back to +his reading. He didn’t want any conversation at this point. What he +needed to do was review all he had learned over the years, because +the alchemist would certainly put him to the test. +The young Arab took out a book and began to read. The book +was written in Spanish. That’s good, thought the Englishman. He +spoke Spanish better than Arabic, and, if this boy was going to AlFayoum, there would be someone to talk to when there were no +other important things to do. +“THAT’S STRANGE,” SAID THE BOY, AS HE TRIED ONCE again to read the +burial scene that began the book. “I’ve been trying for two years to +read this book, and I never get past these first few pages.” Even +without a king to provide an interruption, he was unable to +concentrate. +He still had some doubts about the decision he had made. But he +was able to understand one thing: making a decision was only the +beginning of things. When someone makes a decision, he is really +diving into a strong current that will carry him to places he had +never dreamed of when he first made the decision. +When I decided to seek out my treasure, I never imagined that +I’d wind up working in a crystal shop, he thought. And joining this +caravan may have been my decision, but where it goes is going to be +a mystery to me. +Nearby was the Englishman, reading a book. He seemed +unfriendly, and had looked irritated when the boy had entered. +They might even have become friends, but the Englishman closed +off the conversation. +The boy closed his book. He felt that he didn’t want to do +anything that might make him look like the Englishman. He took +Urim and Thummim from his pocket, and began playing with them. +The stranger shouted, “Urim and Thummim!” +In a flash the boy put them back in his pocket. +“They’re not for sale,” he said. +“They’re not worth much,” the Englishman answered. “They’re +only made of rock crystal, and there are millions of rock crystals in +the earth. But those who know about such things would know that +those are Urim and Thummim. I didn’t know that they had them in +this part of the world.” +“They were given to me as a present by a king,” the boy said. +The stranger didn’t answer; instead, he put his hand in his +pocket, and took out two stones that were the same as the boy’s. +“Did you say a king?” he asked. +“I guess you don’t believe that a king would talk to someone like +me, a shepherd,” he said, wanting to end the conversation. +“Not at all. It was shepherds who were the first to recognize a +king that the rest of the world refused to acknowledge. So, it’s not +surprising that kings would talk to shepherds.” +And he went on, fearing that the boy wouldn’t understand what +he was talking about, “It’s in the Bible. The same book that taught +me about Urim and Thummim. These stones were the only form of +divination permitted by God. The priests carried them in a golden +breastplate.” +The boy was suddenly happy to be there at the warehouse. +“Maybe this is an omen,” said the Englishman, half aloud. +“Who told you about omens?” The boy’s interest was increasing +by the moment. +“Everything in life is an omen,” said the Englishman, now closing +the journal he was reading. “There is a universal language, +understood by everybody, but already forgotten. I am in search of +that universal language, among other things. That’s why I’m here. I +have to find a man who knows that universal language. An +alchemist.” +The conversation was interrupted by the warehouse boss. +“You’re in luck, you two,” the fat Arab said. “There’s a caravan +leaving today for Al-Fayoum.” +“But I’m going to Egypt,” the boy said. +“Al-Fayoum is in Egypt,” said the Arab. “What kind of Arab are +you?” +“That’s a good luck omen,” the Englishman said, after the fat +Arab had gone out. “If I could, I’d write a huge encyclopedia just +about the words luck and coincidence. It’s with those words that the +universal language is written.” +He told the boy it was no coincidence that he had met him with +Urim and Thummim in his hand. And he asked the boy if he, too, +were in search of the alchemist. +“I’m looking for a treasure,” said the boy, and he immediately +regretted having said it. But the Englishman appeared not to attach +any importance to it. +“In a way, so am I,” he said. +“I don’t even know what alchemy is,” the boy was saying, when +the warehouse boss called to them to come outside. +“I’M THE LEADER OF THE CARAVAN,” SAID A DARK-EYED, bearded man. “I +hold the power of life and death for every person I take with me. +The desert is a capricious lady, and sometimes she drives men +crazy.” +There were almost two hundred people gathered there, and four +hundred animals—camels, horses, mules, and fowl. In the crowd +were women, children, and a number of men with swords at their +belts and rifles slung on their shoulders. The Englishman had +several suitcases filled with books. There was a babble of noise, and +the leader had to repeat himself several times for everyone to +understand what he was saying. +“There are a lot of different people here, and each has his own +God. But the only God I serve is Allah, and in his name I swear that I +will do everything possible once again to win out over the desert. +But I want each and every one of you to swear by the God you +believe in that you will follow my orders no matter what. In the +desert, disobedience means death.” +There was a murmur from the crowd. Each was swearing quietly +to his or her own God. The boy swore to Jesus Christ. The +Englishman said nothing. And the murmur lasted longer than a +simple vow would have. The people were also praying to heaven for +protection. +A long note was sounded on a bugle, and everyone mounted up. +The boy and the Englishman had bought camels, and climbed +uncertainly onto their backs. The boy felt sorry for the Englishman’s +camel, loaded down as he was with the cases of books. +“There’s no such thing as coincidence,” said the Englishman, +picking up the conversation where it had been interrupted in the +warehouse. “I’m here because a friend of mine heard of an Arab +who…” +But the caravan began to move, and it was impossible to hear +what the Englishman was saying. The boy knew what he was about +to describe, though: the mysterious chain that links one thing to +another, the same chain that had caused him to become a shepherd, +that had caused his recurring dream, that had brought him to a city +near Africa, to find a king, and to be robbed in order to meet a +crystal merchant, and… +The closer one gets to realizing his Personal Legend, the more +that Personal Legend becomes his true reason for being, thought the +boy. +The caravan moved toward the east. It traveled during the +morning, halted when the sun was at its strongest, and resumed late +in the afternoon. The boy spoke very little with the Englishman, who +spent most of his time with his books. +The boy observed in silence the progress of the animals and +people across the desert. Now everything was quite different from +how it was that day they had set out: then, there had been confusion +and shouting, the cries of children and the whinnying of animals, all +mixed with the nervous orders of the guides and the merchants. +But, in the desert, there was only the sound of the eternal wind, +and of the hoofbeats of the animals. Even the guides spoke very +little to one another. +“I’ve crossed these sands many times,” said one of the camel +drivers one night. “But the desert is so huge, and the horizons so +distant, that they make a person feel small, and as if he should +remain silent.” +The boy understood intuitively what he meant, even without +ever having set foot in the desert before. Whenever he saw the sea, +or a fire, he fell silent, impressed by their elemental force. +I’ve learned things from the sheep, and I’ve learned things from +crystal, he thought. I can learn something from the desert, too. It +seems old and wise. +The wind never stopped, and the boy remembered the day he +had sat at the fort in Tarifa with this same wind blowing in his face. +It reminded him of the wool from his sheep…his sheep who were +now seeking food and water in the fields of Andalusia, as they +always had. +“They’re not my sheep anymore,” he said to himself, without +nostalgia. “They must be used to their new shepherd, and have +probably already forgotten me. That’s good. Creatures like the +sheep, that are used to traveling, know about moving on.” +He thought of the merchant’s daughter, and was sure that she +had probably married. Perhaps to a baker, or to another shepherd +who could read and could tell her exciting stories—after all, he +probably wasn’t the only one. But he was excited at his intuitive +understanding of the camel driver’s comment: maybe he was also +learning the universal language that deals with the past and the +present of all people. “Hunches,” his mother used to call them. The +boy was beginning to understand that intuition is really a sudden +immersion of the soul into the universal current of life, where the +histories of all people are connected, and we are able to know +everything, because it’s all written there. +“Maktub,” the boy said, remembering the crystal merchant. +The desert was all sand in some stretches, and rocky in others. +When the caravan was blocked by a boulder, it had to go around it; +if there was a large rocky area, they had to make a major detour. If +the sand was too fine for the animals’ hooves, they sought a way +where the sand was more substantial. In some places, the ground +was covered with the salt of dried-up lakes. The animals balked at +such places, and the camel drivers were forced to dismount and +unburden their charges. The drivers carried the freight themselves +over such treacherous footing, and then reloaded the camels. If a +guide were to fall ill or die, the camel drivers would draw lots and +appoint a new one. +But all this happened for one basic reason: no matter how many +detours and adjustments it made, the caravan moved toward the +same compass point. Once obstacles were overcome, it returned to +its course, sighting on a star that indicated the location of the oasis. +When the people saw that star shining in the morning sky, they +knew they were on the right course toward water, palm trees, +shelter, and other people. It was only the Englishman who was +unaware of all this; he was, for the most part, immersed in reading +his books. +The boy, too, had his book, and he had tried to read it during the +first few days of the journey. But he found it much more interesting +to observe the caravan and listen to the wind. As soon as he had +learned to know his camel better, and to establish a relationship +with him, he threw the book away. Although the boy had developed +a superstition that each time he opened the book he would learn +something important, he decided it was an unnecessary burden. +He became friendly with the camel driver who traveled +alongside him. At night, as they sat around the fire, the boy related +to the driver his adventures as a shepherd. +During one of these conversations, the driver told of his own life. +“I used to live near El Cairum,” he said. “I had my orchard, my +children, and a life that would change not at all until I died. One +year, when the crop was the best ever, we all went to Mecca, and I +satisfied the only unmet obligation in my life. I could die happily, +and that made me feel good. +“One day, the earth began to tremble, and the Nile overflowed its +banks. It was something that I thought could happen only to others, +never to me. My neighbors feared they would lose all their olive +trees in the flood, and my wife was afraid that we would lose our +children. I thought that everything I owned would be destroyed. +“The land was ruined, and I had to find some other way to earn a +living. So now I’m a camel driver. But that disaster taught me to +understand the word of Allah: people need not fear the unknown if +they are capable of achieving what they need and want. +“We are afraid of losing what we have, whether it’s our life or +our possessions and property. But this fear evaporates when we +understand that our life stories and the history of the world were +written by the same hand.” +Sometimes, their caravan met with another. One always had +something that the other needed—as if everything were indeed +written by one hand. As they sat around the fire, the camel drivers +exchanged information about windstorms, and told stories about +the desert. +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.” +“And I’d better read your books,” said the boy. +THEY WERE STRANGE BOOKS. THEY SPOKE ABOUT MERCURY, salt, dragons, +and kings, and he didn’t understand any of it. But there was one idea +that seemed to repeat itself throughout all the books: all things are +the manifestation of one thing only. +In one of the books he learned that the most important text in +the literature of alchemy contained only a few lines, and had been +inscribed on the surface of an emerald. +“It’s the Emerald Tablet,” said the Englishman, proud that he +might teach something to the boy. +“Well, then, why do we need all these books?” the boy asked. +“So that we can understand those few lines,” the Englishman +answered, without appearing really to believe what he had said. +The book that most interested the boy told the stories of the +famous alchemists. They were men who had dedicated their entire +lives to the purification of metals in their laboratories; they believed +that, if a metal were heated for many years, it would free itself of all +its individual properties, and what was left would be the Soul of the +World. This Soul of the World allowed them to understand anything +on the face of the earth, because it was the language with which all +things communicated. They called that discovery the Master +Work—it was part liquid and part solid. +“Can’t you just observe men and omens in order to understand +the language?” the boy asked. +“You have a mania for simplifying everything,” answered the +Englishman, irritated. “Alchemy is a serious discipline. Every step +has to be followed exactly as it was followed by the masters.” +The boy learned that the liquid part of the Master Work was +called the Elixir of Life, and that it cured all illnesses; it also kept the +alchemist from growing old. And the solid part was called the +Philosopher’s Stone. +“It’s not easy to find the Philosopher’s Stone,” said the +Englishman. “The alchemists spent years in their laboratories, +observing the fire that purified the metals. They spent so much time +close to the fire that gradually they gave up the vanities of the +world. They discovered that the purification of the metals had led to +a purification of themselves.” +The boy thought about the crystal merchant. He had said that it +was a good thing for the boy to clean the crystal pieces, so that he +could free himself from negative thoughts. The boy was becoming +more and more convinced that alchemy could be learned in one’s +daily life. +“Also,” said the Englishman, “the Philosopher’s Stone has a +fascinating property. A small sliver of the stone can transform large +quantities of metal into gold.” +Having heard that, the boy became even more interested in +alchemy. He thought that, with some patience, he’d be able to +transform everything into gold. He read the lives of the various +people who had succeeded in doing so: Helvétius, Elias, Fulcanelli, +and Geber. They were fascinating stories: each of them lived out his +Personal Legend to the end. They traveled, spoke with wise men, +performed miracles for the incredulous, and owned the +Philosopher’s Stone and the Elixir of Life. +But when the boy wanted to learn how to achieve the Master +Work, he became completely lost. There were just drawings, coded +instructions, and obscure texts. +“WHY DO THEY MAKE THINGS SO COMPLICATED?” HE asked the Englishman +one night. The boy had noticed that the Englishman was irritable, +and missed his books. +“So that those who have the responsibility for understanding can +understand,” he said. “Imagine if everyone went around +transforming lead into gold. Gold would lose its value. +“It’s only those who are persistent, and willing to study things +deeply, who achieve the Master Work. That’s why I’m here in the +middle of the desert. I’m seeking a true alchemist who will help me +to decipher the codes.” +“When were these books written?” the boy asked. +“Many centuries ago.” +“They didn’t have the printing press in those days,” the boy +argued. “There was no way for everybody to know about alchemy. +Why did they use such strange language, with so many drawings?” +The Englishman didn’t answer him directly. He said that for the +past few days he had been paying attention to how the caravan +operated, but that he hadn’t learned anything new. The only thing +he had noticed was that talk of war was becoming more and more +frequent. +THEN ONE DAY THE BOY RETURNED THE BOOKS TO THE Englishman. “Did +you learn anything?” the Englishman asked, eager to hear what it +might be. He needed someone to talk to so as to avoid thinking +about the possibility of war. +“I learned that the world has a soul, and that whoever +understands that soul can also understand the language of things. I +learned that many alchemists realized their Personal Legends, and +wound up discovering the Soul of the World, the Philosopher’s +Stone, and the Elixir of Life. +“But, above all, I learned that these things are all so simple that +they could be written on the surface of an emerald.” +The Englishman was disappointed. The years of research, the +magic symbols, the strange words, and the laboratory +equipment…none of this had made an impression on the boy. His +soul must be too primitive to understand those things, he thought. +He took back his books and packed them away again in their +bags. +“Go back to watching the caravan,” he said. “That didn’t teach me +anything, either.” +The boy went back to contemplating the silence of the desert, +and the sand raised by the animals. “Everyone has his or her own +way of learning things,” he said to himself. “His way isn’t the same +as mine, nor mine as his. But we’re both in search of our Personal +Legends, and I respect him for that.” +THE CARAVAN BEGAN TO TRAVEL DAY AND NIGHT. THE hooded Bedouins +reappeared more and more frequently, and the camel driver—who +had become a good friend of the boy’s—explained that the war +between the tribes had already begun. The caravan would be very +lucky to reach the oasis. +The animals were exhausted, and the men talked among +themselves less and less. The silence was the worst aspect of the +night, when the mere groan of a camel—which before had been +nothing but the groan of a camel—now frightened everyone, +because it might signal a raid. +The camel driver, though, seemed not to be very concerned with +the threat of war. +“I’m alive,” he said to the boy, as they ate a bunch of dates one +night, with no fires and no moon. “When I’m eating, that’s all I think +about. If I’m on the march, I just concentrate on marching. If I have +to fight, it will be just as good a day to die as any other. +“Because I don’t live in either my past or my future. I’m +interested only in the present. If you can concentrate always on the +present, you’ll be a happy man. You’ll see that there is life in the +desert, that there are stars in the heavens, and that tribesmen fight +because they are part of the human race. Life will be a party for you, +a grand festival, because life is the moment we’re living right now.” +Two nights later, as he was getting ready to bed down, the boy +looked for the star they followed every night. He thought that the +horizon was a bit lower than it had been, because he seemed to see +stars on the desert itself. +“It’s the oasis,” said the camel driver. +“Well, why don’t we go there right now?” the boy asked. +“Because we have to sleep.” +THE BOY AWOKE AS THE SUN ROSE. THERE, IN FRONT OF him, where the +small stars had been the night before, was an endless row of date +palms, stretching across the entire desert. +“We’ve done it!” said the Englishman, who had also awakened +early. +But the boy was quiet. He was at home with the silence of the +desert, and he was content just to look at the trees. He still had a +long way to go to reach the Pyramids, and someday this morning +would just be a memory. But this was the present moment—the +party the camel driver had mentioned—and he wanted to live it as +he did the lessons of his past and his dreams of the future. Although +the vision of the date palms would someday be just a memory, right +now it signified shade, water, and a refuge from the war. Yesterday, +the camel’s groan signaled danger, and now a row of date palms +could herald a miracle. +The world speaks many languages, the boy thought. +THE TIMES RUSH PAST, AND SO DO THE CARAVANS, thought the alchemist, +as he watched the hundreds of people and animals arriving at the +oasis. People were shouting at the new arrivals, dust obscured the +desert sun, and the children of the oasis were bursting with +excitement at the arrival of the strangers. The alchemist saw the +tribal chiefs greet the leader of the caravan, and converse with him +at length. +But none of that mattered to the alchemist. He had already seen +many people come and go, and the desert remained as it was. He +had seen kings and beggars walking the desert sands. The dunes +were changed constantly by the wind, yet these were the same +sands he had known since he was a child. He always enjoyed seeing +the happiness that the travelers experienced when, after weeks of +yellow sand and blue sky, they first saw the green of the date palms. +Maybe God created the desert so that man could appreciate the date +trees, he thought. +He decided to concentrate on more practical matters. He knew +that in the caravan there was a man to whom he was to teach some +of his secrets. The omens had told him so. He didn’t know the man +yet, but his practiced eye would recognize him when he appeared. +He hoped that it would be someone as capable as his previous +apprentice. +I don’t know why these things have to be transmitted by word of +mouth, he thought. It wasn’t exactly that they were secrets; God +revealed his secrets easily to all his creatures. +He had only one explanation for this fact: things have to be +transmitted this way because they were made up from the pure life, +and this kind of life cannot be captured in pictures or words. +Because people become fascinated with pictures and words, and +wind up forgetting the Language of the World. +THE BOY COULDN’T BELIEVE WHAT HE WAS SEEING: THE oasis, rather than +being just a well surrounded by a few palm trees—as he had seen +once in a geography book—was much larger than many towns back +in Spain. There were three hundred wells, fifty thousand date trees, +and innumerable colored tents spread among them. +“It looks like A Thousand and One Nights,” said the Englishman, +impatient to meet with the alchemist. +They were surrounded by children, curious to look at the +animals and people that were arriving. The men of the oasis wanted +to know if they had seen any fighting, and the women competed +with one another for access to the cloth and precious stones +brought by the merchants. The silence of the desert was a distant +dream; the travelers in the caravan were talking incessantly, +laughing and shouting, as if they had emerged from the spiritual +world and found themselves once again in the world of people. They +were relieved and happy. +They had been taking careful precautions in the desert, but the +camel driver explained to the boy that oases were always +considered to be neutral territories, because the majority of the +inhabitants were women and children. There were oases +throughout the desert, but the tribesmen fought in the desert, +leaving the oases as places of refuge. +With some difficulty, the leader of the caravan brought all his +people together and gave them his instructions. The group was to +remain there at the oasis until the conflict between the tribes was +over. Since they were visitors, they would have to share living space +with those who lived there, and would be given the best +accommodations. That was the law of hospitality. Then he asked +that everyone, including his own sentinels, hand over their arms to +the men appointed by the tribal chieftains. +“Those are the rules of war,” the leader explained. “The oases +may not shelter armies or troops.” +To the boy’s surprise, the Englishman took a chrome-plated +revolver out of his bag and gave it to the men who were collecting +the arms. +“Why a revolver?” he asked. +“It helped me to trust in people,” the Englishman answered. +Meanwhile, the boy thought about his treasure. The closer he got +to the realization of his dream, the more difficult things became. It +seemed as if what the old king had called “beginner’s luck” were no +longer functioning. In his pursuit of the dream, he was being +constantly subjected to tests of his persistence and courage. So he +could not be hasty, nor impatient. If he pushed forward impulsively, +he would fail to see the signs and omens left by God along his path. +God placed them along my path. He had surprised himself with +the thought. Until then, he had considered the omens to be things of +this world. Like eating or sleeping, or like seeking love or finding a +job. He had never thought of them in terms of a language used by +God to indicate what he should do. +“Don’t be impatient,” he repeated to himself. “It’s like the camel +driver said: ‘Eat when it’s time to eat. And move along when it’s +time to move along.’” +That first day, everyone slept from exhaustion, including the +Englishman. The boy was assigned a place far from his friend, in a +tent with five other young men of about his age. They were people +of the desert, and clamored to hear his stories about the great cities. +The boy told them about his life as a shepherd, and was about to +tell them of his experiences at the crystal shop when the +Englishman came into the tent. +“I’ve been looking for you all morning,” he said, as he led the boy +outside. “I need you to help me find out where the alchemist lives.” +First, they tried to find him on their own. An alchemist would +probably live in a manner that was different from that of the rest of +the people at the oasis, and it was likely that in his tent an oven was +continuously burning. They searched everywhere, and found that +the oasis was much larger than they could have imagined; there +were hundreds of tents. +“We’ve wasted almost the entire day,” said the Englishman, +sitting down with the boy near one of the wells. +“Maybe we’d better ask someone,” the boy suggested. +The Englishman didn’t want to tell others about his reasons for +being at the oasis, and couldn’t make up his mind. But, finally, he +agreed that the boy, who spoke better Arabic than he, should do so. +The boy approached a woman who had come to the well to fill a +goatskin with water. +“Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m trying to find out where the +alchemist lives here at the oasis.” +The woman said she had never heard of such a person, and +hurried away. But before she fled, she advised the boy that he had +better not try to converse with women who were dressed in black, +because they were married women. He should respect tradition. +The Englishman was disappointed. It seemed he had made the +long journey for nothing. The boy was also saddened; his friend was +in pursuit of his Personal Legend. And, when someone was in such +pursuit, the entire universe made an effort to help him succeed— +that’s what the old king had said. He couldn’t have been wrong. +“I had never heard of alchemists before,” the boy said. “Maybe +no one here has, either.” +The Englishman’s eyes lit up. “That’s it! Maybe no one here +knows what an alchemist is! Find out who it is who cures the +people’s illnesses!” +Several women dressed in black came to the well for water, but +the boy would speak to none of them, despite the Englishman’s +insistence. Then a man approached. +“Do you know someone here who cures people’s illnesses?” the +boy asked. +“Allah cures our illnesses,” said the man, clearly frightened of the +strangers. “You’re looking for witch doctors.” He spoke some verses +from the Koran, and moved on. +Another man appeared. He was older, and was carrying a small +bucket. The boy repeated his question. +“Why do you want to find that sort of person?” the Arab asked. +“Because my friend here has traveled for many months in order +to meet with him,” the boy said. +“If such a man is here at the oasis, he must be the very powerful +one,” said the old man after thinking for a few moments. “Not even +the tribal chieftains are able to see him when they want to. Only +when he consents. +“Wait for the end of the war. Then leave with the caravan. Don’t +try to enter into the life of the oasis,” he said, and walked away. +But the Englishman was exultant. They were on the right track. +Finally, a young woman approached who was not dressed in +black. She had a vessel on her shoulder, and her head was covered +by a veil, but her face was uncovered. The boy approached her to +ask about the alchemist. +At that moment, it seemed to him that time stood still, and the +Soul of the World surged within him. When he looked into her dark +eyes, and saw that her lips were poised between a laugh and silence, +he learned the most important part of the language that all the +world spoke—the language that everyone on earth was capable of +understanding in their heart. It was love. Something older than +humanity, more ancient than the desert. Something that exerted the +same force whenever two pairs of eyes met, as had theirs here at +the well. She smiled, and that was certainly an omen—the omen he +had been awaiting, without even knowing he was, for all his life. The +omen he had sought to find with his sheep and in his books, in the +crystals and in the silence of the desert. +It was the pure Language of the World. It required no +explanation, just as the universe needs none as it travels through +endless time. What the boy felt at that moment was that he was in +the presence of the only woman in his life, and that, with no need for +words, she recognized the same thing. He was more certain of it +than of anything in the world. He had been told by his parents and +grandparents that he must fall in love and really know a person +before becoming committed. But maybe people who felt that way +had never learned the universal language. Because, when you know +that language, it’s easy to understand that someone in the world +awaits you, whether it’s in the middle of the desert or in some great +city. And when two such people encounter each other, and their +eyes meet, the past and the future become unimportant. There is +only that moment, and the incredible certainty that everything +under the sun has been written by one hand only. It is the hand that +evokes love, and creates a twin soul for every person in the world. +Without such love, one’s dreams would have no meaning. +Maktub, thought the boy. +The Englishman shook the boy: “Come on, ask her!” +The boy stepped closer to the girl, and when she smiled, he did +the same. +“What’s your name?” he asked. +“Fatima,” the girl said, averting her eyes. +“That’s what some women in my country are called.” +“It’s the name of the Prophet’s daughter,” Fatima said. “The +invaders carried the name everywhere.” The beautiful girl spoke of +the invaders with pride. +The Englishman prodded him, and the boy asked her about the +man who cured people’s illnesses. +“That’s the man who knows all the secrets of the world,” she +said. “He communicates with the genies of the desert.” +The genies were the spirits of good and evil. And the girl pointed +to the south, indicating that it was there the strange man lived. Then +she filled her vessel with water and left. +The Englishman vanished, too, gone to find the alchemist. And +the boy sat there by the well for a long time, remembering that one +day in Tarifa the levanter had brought to him the perfume of that +woman, and realizing that he had loved her before he even knew +she existed. He knew that his love for her would enable him to +discover every treasure in the world. +The next day, the boy returned to the well, hoping to see the girl. +To his surprise, the Englishman was there, looking out at the desert. +“I waited all afternoon and evening,” he said. “He appeared with +the first stars of evening. I told him what I was seeking, and he +asked me if I had ever transformed lead into gold. I told him that +was what I had come here to learn. +“He told me I should try to do so. That’s all he said: ‘Go and try.’” +The boy didn’t say anything. The poor Englishman had traveled +all this way, only to be told that he should repeat what he had +already done so many times. +“So, then try,” he said to the Englishman. +“That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to start now.” +As the Englishman left, Fatima arrived and filled her vessel with +water. +“I came to tell you just one thing,” the boy said. “I want you to be +my wife. I love you.” +The girl dropped the container, and the water spilled. +“I’m going to wait here for you every day. I have crossed the +desert in search of a treasure that is somewhere near the Pyramids, +and for me, the war seemed a curse. But now it’s a blessing, because +it brought me to you.” +“The war is going to end someday,” the girl said. +The boy looked around him at the date palms. He reminded +himself that he had been a shepherd, and that he could be a +shepherd again. Fatima was more important than his treasure. +“The tribesmen are always in search of treasure,” the girl said, as +if she had guessed what he was thinking. “And the women of the +desert are proud of their tribesmen.” +She refilled her vessel and left. +The boy went to the well every day to meet with Fatima. He told +her about his life as a shepherd, about the king, and about the +crystal shop. They became friends, and except for the fifteen +minutes he spent with her, each day seemed that it would never +pass. When he had been at the oasis for almost a month, the leader +of the caravan called a meeting of all of the people traveling with +him. +“We don’t know when the war will end, so we can’t continue our +journey,” he said. “The battles may last for a long time, perhaps even +years. There are powerful forces on both sides, and the war is +important to both armies. It’s not a battle of good against evil. It’s a +war between forces that are fighting for the balance of power, and, +when that type of battle begins, it lasts longer than others—because +Allah is on both sides.” +The people went back to where they were living, and the boy +went to meet with Fatima that afternoon. He told her about the +morning’s meeting. “The day after we met,” Fatima said, “you told +me that you loved me. Then, you taught me something of the +universal language and the Soul of the World. Because of that, I have +become a part of you.” +The boy listened to the sound of her voice, and thought it to be +more beautiful than the sound of the wind in the date palms. +“I have been waiting for you here at this oasis for a long time. I +have forgotten about my past, about my traditions, and the way in +which men of the desert expect women to behave. Ever since I was a +child, I have dreamed that the desert would bring me a wonderful +present. Now, my present has arrived, and it’s you.” +The boy wanted to take her hand. But Fatima’s hands held to the +handles of her jug. +“You have told me about your dreams, about the old king and +your treasure. And you’ve told me about omens. So now, I fear +nothing, because it was those omens that brought you to me. And I +am a part of your dream, a part of your Personal Legend, as you call +it. +“That’s why I want you to continue toward your goal. If you have +to wait until the war is over, then wait. But if you have to go before +then, go on in pursuit of your dream. The dunes are changed by the +wind, but the desert never changes. That’s the way it will be with +our love for each other. +“Maktub,” she said. “If I am really a part of your dream, you’ll +come back one day.” +The boy was sad as he left her that day. He thought of all the +married shepherds he had known. They had a difficult time +convincing their wives that they had to go off into distant fields. +Love required them to stay with the people they loved. +He told Fatima that, at their next meeting. +“The desert takes our men from us, and they don’t always +return,” she said. “We know that, and we are used to it. Those who +don’t return become a part of the clouds, a part of the animals that +hide in the ravines and of the water that comes from the earth. They +become a part of everything…they become the Soul of the World. +“Some do come back. And then the other women are happy +because they believe that their men may one day return, as well. I +used to look at those women and envy them their happiness. Now, I +too will be one of the women who wait. +“I’m a desert woman, and I’m proud of that. I want my husband +to wander as free as the wind that shapes the dunes. And, if I have +to, I will accept the fact that he has become a part of the clouds, and +the animals, and the water of the desert.” +The boy went to look for the Englishman. He wanted to tell him +about Fatima. He was surprised when he saw that the Englishman +had built himself a furnace outside his tent. It was a strange furnace, +fueled by firewood, with a transparent flask heating on top. As the +Englishman stared out at the desert, his eyes seemed brighter than +they had when he was reading his books. +“This is the first phase of the job,” he said. “I have to separate out +the sulfur. To do that successfully, I must have no fear of failure. It +was my fear of failure that first kept me from attempting the Master +Work. Now, I’m beginning what I could have started ten years ago. +But I’m happy at least that I didn’t wait twenty years.” +He continued to feed the fire, and the boy stayed on until the +desert turned pink in the setting sun. He felt the urge to go out into +the desert, to see if its silence held the answers to his questions. +He wandered for a while, keeping the date palms of the oasis +within sight. He listened to the wind, and felt the stones beneath his +feet. Here and there, he found a shell, and realized that the desert, in +remote times, had been a sea. He sat on a stone, and allowed himself +to become hypnotized by the horizon. He tried to deal with the +concept of love as distinct from possession, and couldn’t separate +them. But Fatima was a woman of the desert, and, if anything could +help him to understand, it was the desert. +As he sat there thinking, he sensed movement above him. +Looking up, he saw a pair of hawks flying high in the sky. +He watched the hawks as they drifted on the wind. Although +their flight appeared to have no pattern, it made a certain kind of +sense to the boy. It was just that he couldn’t grasp what it meant. He +followed the movement of the birds, trying to read something into +it. Maybe these desert birds could explain to him the meaning of +love without ownership. +He felt sleepy. In his heart, he wanted to remain awake, but he +also wanted to sleep. “I am learning the Language of the World, and +everything in the world is beginning to make sense to me…even the +flight of the hawks,” he said to himself. And, in that mood, he was +grateful to be in love. When you are in love, things make even more +sense, he thought. +Suddenly, one of the hawks made a flashing dive through the +sky, attacking the other. As it did so, a sudden, fleeting image came +to the boy: an army, with its swords at the ready, riding into the +oasis. The vision vanished immediately, but it had shaken him. He +had heard people speak of mirages, and had already seen some +himself: they were desires that, because of their intensity, +materialized over the sands of the desert. But he certainly didn’t +desire that an army invade the oasis. +He wanted to forget about the vision, and return to his +meditation. He tried again to concentrate on the pink shades of the +desert, and its stones. But there was something there in his heart +that wouldn’t allow him to do so. +“Always heed the omens,” the old king had said. The boy recalled +what he had seen in the vision, and sensed that it was actually going +to occur. +He rose, and made his way back toward the palm trees. Once +again, he perceived the many languages in the things about him: this +time, the desert was safe, and it was the oasis that had become +dangerous. +The camel driver was seated at the base of a palm tree, +observing the sunset. He saw the boy appear from the other side of +the dunes. +“An army is coming,” the boy said. “I had a vision.” +“The desert fills men’s hearts with visions,” the camel driver +answered. +But the boy told him about the hawks: that he had been +watching their flight and had suddenly felt himself to have plunged +to the Soul of the World. +The camel driver understood what the boy was saying. He knew +that any given thing on the face of the earth could reveal the history +of all things. One could open a book to any page, or look at a +person’s hand; one could turn a card, or watch the flight of the +birds…whatever the thing observed, one could find a connection +with his experience of the moment. Actually, it wasn’t that those +things, in themselves, revealed anything at all; it was just that +people, looking at what was occurring around them, could find a +means of penetration to the Soul of the World. +The desert was full of men who earned their living based on the +ease with which they could penetrate to the Soul of the World. They +were known as seers, and they were held in fear by women and the +elderly. Tribesmen were also wary of consulting them, because it +would be impossible to be effective in battle if one knew that he was +fated to die. The tribesmen preferred the taste of battle, and the +thrill of not knowing what the outcome would be; the future was +already written by Allah, and what he had written was always for +the good of man. So the tribesmen lived only for the present, +because the present was full of surprises, and they had to be aware +of many things: Where was the enemy’s sword? Where was his +horse? What kind of blow should one deliver next in order to +remain alive? The camel driver was not a fighter, and he had +consulted with seers. Many of them had been right about what they +said, while some had been wrong. Then, one day, the oldest seer he +had ever sought out (and the one most to be feared) had asked why +the camel driver was so interested in the future. +“Well…so I can do things,” he had responded. “And so I can +change those things that I don’t want to happen.” +“But then they wouldn’t be a part of your future,” the seer had +said. +“Well, maybe I just want to know the future so I can prepare +myself for what’s coming.” +“If good things are coming, they will be a pleasant surprise,” said +the seer. “If bad things are, and you know in advance, you will suffer +greatly before they even occur.” +“I want to know about the future because I’m a man,” the camel +driver had said to the seer. “And men always live their lives based +on the future.” +The seer was a specialist in the casting of twigs; he threw them +on the ground, and made interpretations based on how they fell. +That day, he didn’t make a cast. He wrapped the twigs in a piece of +cloth and put them back in his bag. +“I make my living forecasting the future for people,” he said. “I +know the science of the twigs, and I know how to use them to +penetrate to the place where all is written. There, I can read the +past, discover what has already been forgotten, and understand the +omens that are here in the present. +“When people consult me, it’s not that I’m reading the future; I +am guessing at the future. The future belongs to God, and it is only +he who reveals it, under extraordinary circumstances. How do I +guess at the future? Based on the omens of the present. The secret is +here in the present. If you pay attention to the present, you can +improve upon it. And, if you improve on the present, what comes +later will also be better. Forget about the future, and live each day +according to the teachings, confident that God loves his children. +Each day, in itself, brings with it an eternity.” +The camel driver had asked what the circumstances were under +which God would allow him to see the future. +“Only when he, himself, reveals it. And God only rarely reveals +the future. When he does so, it is for only one reason: it’s a future +that was written so as to be altered.” +God had shown the boy a part of the future, the camel driver +thought. Why was it that he wanted the boy to serve as his +instrument? +“Go and speak to the tribal chieftains,” said the camel driver. +“Tell them about the armies that are approaching.” +“They’ll laugh at me.” +“They are men of the desert, and the men of the desert are used +to dealing with omens.” +“Well, then, they probably already know.” +“They’re not concerned with that right now. They believe that if +they have to know about something Allah wants them to know, +someone will tell them about it. It has happened many times before. +But, this time, the person is you.” +The boy thought of Fatima. And he decided he would go to see +the chiefs of the tribes. +THE BOY APPROACHED THE GUARD AT THE FRONT OF THE huge white tent at +the center of the oasis. +“I want to see the chieftains. I’ve brought omens from the +desert.” +Without responding, the guard entered the tent, where he +remained for some time. When he emerged, it was with a young +Arab, dressed in white and gold. The boy told the younger man what +he had seen, and the man asked him to wait there. He disappeared +into the tent. +Night fell, and an assortment of fighting men and merchants +entered and exited the tent. One by one, the campfires were +extinguished, and the oasis fell as quiet as the desert. Only the lights +in the great tent remained. During all this time, the boy thought +about Fatima, and he was still unable to understand his last +conversation with her. +Finally, after hours of waiting, the guard bade the boy enter. The +boy was astonished by what he saw inside. Never could he have +imagined that, there in the middle of the desert, there existed a tent +like this one. The ground was covered with the most beautiful +carpets he had ever walked upon, and from the top of the structure +hung lamps of handwrought gold, each with a lighted candle. The +tribal chieftains were seated at the back of the tent in a semicircle, +resting upon richly embroidered silk cushions. Servants came and +went with silver trays laden with spices and tea. Other servants +maintained the fires in the hookahs. The atmosphere was suffused +with the sweet scent of smoke. +There were eight chieftains, but the boy could see immediately +which of them was the most important: an Arab dressed in white +and gold, seated at the center of the semicircle. At his side was the +young Arab the boy had spoken with earlier. +“Who is this stranger who speaks of omens?” asked one of the +chieftains, eyeing the boy. +“It is I,” the boy answered. And he told what he had seen. +“Why would the desert reveal such things to a stranger, when it +knows that we have been here for generations?” said another of the +chieftains. +“Because my eyes are not yet accustomed to the desert,” the boy +said. “I can see things that eyes habituated to the desert might not +see.” +And also because I know about the Soul of the World, he thought +to himself. +“The oasis is neutral ground. No one attacks an oasis,” said a +third chieftain. +“I can only tell you what I saw. If you don’t want to believe me, +you don’t have to do anything about it.” +The men fell into an animated discussion. They spoke in an +Arabic dialect that the boy didn’t understand, but, when he made to +leave, the guard told him to stay. The boy became fearful; the omens +told him that something was wrong. He regretted having spoken to +the camel driver about what he had seen in the desert. +Suddenly, the elder at the center smiled almost imperceptibly, +and the boy felt better. The man hadn’t participated in the +discussion, and, in fact, hadn’t said a word up to that point. But the +boy was already used to the Language of the World, and he could +feel the vibrations of peace throughout the tent. Now his intuition +was that he had been right in coming. +The discussion ended. The chieftains were silent for a few +moments as they listened to what the old man was saying. Then he +turned to the boy: this time his expression was cold and distant. +“Two thousand years ago, in a distant land, a man who believed +in dreams was thrown into a dungeon and then sold as a slave,” the +old man said, now in the dialect the boy understood. “Our +merchants bought that man, and brought him to Egypt. All of us +know that whoever believes in dreams also knows how to interpret +them.” +The elder continued, “When the pharaoh dreamed of cows that +were thin and cows that were fat, this man I’m speaking of rescued +Egypt from famine. His name was Joseph. He, too, was a stranger in +a strange land, like you, and he was probably about your age.” +He paused, and his eyes were still unfriendly. +“We always observe the Tradition. The Tradition saved Egypt +from famine in those days, and made the Egyptians the wealthiest of +peoples. The Tradition teaches men how to cross the desert, and +how their children should marry. The Tradition says that an oasis is +neutral territory, because both sides have oases, and so both are +vulnerable.” +No one said a word as the old man continued. +“But the Tradition also says that we should believe the messages +of the desert. Everything we know was taught to us by the desert.” +The old man gave a signal, and everyone stood. The meeting was +over. The hookahs were extinguished, and the guards stood at +attention. The boy made ready to leave, but the old man spoke +again: +“Tomorrow, we are going to break the agreement that says that +no one at the oasis may carry arms. Throughout the entire day we +will be on the lookout for our enemies. When the sun sets, the men +will once again surrender their arms to me. For every ten dead men +among our enemies, you will receive a piece of gold. +“But arms cannot be drawn unless they also go into battle. Arms +are as capricious as the desert, and, if they are not used, the next +time they might not function. If at least one of them hasn’t been +used by the end of the day tomorrow, one will be used on you.” +When the boy left the tent, the oasis was illuminated only by the +light of the full moon. He was twenty minutes from his tent, and +began to make his way there. +He was alarmed by what had happened. He had succeeded in +reaching through to the Soul of the World, and now the price for +having done so might be his life. It was a frightening bet. But he had +been making risky bets ever since the day he had sold his sheep to +pursue his Personal Legend. And, as the camel driver had said, to +die tomorrow was no worse than dying on any other day. Every day +was there to be lived or to mark one’s departure from this world. +Everything depended on one word: “Maktub.” +Walking along in the silence, he had no regrets. If he died +tomorrow, it would be because God was not willing to change the +future. He would at least have died after having crossed the strait, +after having worked in a crystal shop, and after having known the +silence of the desert and Fatima’s eyes. He had lived every one of his +days intensely since he had left home so long ago. If he died +tomorrow, he would already have seen more than other shepherds, +and he was proud of that. +Suddenly he heard a thundering sound, and he was thrown to +the ground by a wind such as he had never known. The area was +swirling in dust so intense that it hid the moon from view. Before +him was an enormous white horse, rearing over him with a +frightening scream. +When the blinding dust had settled a bit, the boy trembled at +what he saw. Astride the animal was a horseman dressed +completely in black, with a falcon perched on his left shoulder. He +wore a turban and his entire face, except for his eyes, was covered +with a black kerchief. He appeared to be a messenger from the +desert, but his presence was much more powerful than that of a +mere messenger. +The strange horseman drew an enormous, curved sword from a +scabbard mounted on his saddle. The steel of its blade glittered in +the light of the moon. +“Who dares to read the meaning of the flight of the hawks?” he +demanded, so loudly that his words seemed to echo through the +fifty thousand palm trees of Al-Fayoum. +“It is I who dared to do so,” said the boy. He was reminded of the +image of Santiago Matamoros, mounted on his white horse, with the +infidels beneath his hooves. This man looked exactly the same, +except that now the roles were reversed. +“It is I who dared to do so,” he repeated, and he lowered his head +to receive a blow from the sword. “Many lives will be saved, because +I was able to see through to the Soul of the World.” +The sword didn’t fall. Instead, the stranger lowered it slowly, +until the point touched the boy’s forehead. It drew a droplet of +blood. +The horseman was completely immobile, as was the boy. It +didn’t even occur to the boy to flee. In his heart, he felt a strange +sense of joy: he was about to die in pursuit of his Personal Legend. +And for Fatima. The omens had been true, after all. Here he was, +face-to-face with his enemy, but there was no need to be concerned +about dying—the Soul of the World awaited him, and he would soon +be a part of it. And, tomorrow, his enemy would also be a part of +that Soul. +The stranger continued to hold the sword at the boy’s forehead. +“Why did you read the flight of the birds?” +“I read only what the birds wanted to tell me. They wanted to +save the oasis. Tomorrow all of you will die, because there are more +men at the oasis than you have.” +The sword remained where it was. “Who are you to change what +Allah has willed?” +“Allah created the armies, and he also created the hawks. Allah +taught me the language of the birds. Everything has been written by +the same hand,” the boy said, remembering the camel driver’s +words. +The stranger withdrew the sword from the boy’s forehead, and +the boy felt immensely relieved. But he still couldn’t flee. +“Be careful with your prognostications,” said the stranger. +“When something is written, there is no way to change it.” +“All I saw was an army,” said the boy. “I didn’t see the outcome +of the battle.” +The stranger seemed satisfied with the answer. But he kept the +sword in his hand. “What is a stranger doing in a strange land?” +“I am following my Personal Legend. It’s not something you +would understand.” +The stranger placed his sword in its scabbard, and the boy +relaxed. +“I had to test your courage,” the stranger said. “Courage is the +quality most essential to understanding the Language of the World.” +The boy was surprised. The stranger was speaking of things that +very few people knew about. +“You must not let up, even after having come so far,” he +continued. “You must love the desert, but never trust it completely. +Because the desert tests all men: it challenges every step, and kills +those who become distracted.” +What he said reminded the boy of the old king. +“If the warriors come here, and your head is still on your +shoulders at sunset, come and find me,” said the stranger. +The same hand that had brandished the sword now held a whip. +The horse reared again, raising a cloud of dust. +“Where do you live?” shouted the boy, as the horseman rode +away. +The hand with the whip pointed to the south. +The boy had met the alchemist. +NEXT MORNING, THERE WERE TWO THOUSAND ARMED men scattered +throughout the palm trees at Al-Fayoum. Before the sun had +reached its high point, five hundred tribesmen appeared on the +horizon. The mounted troops entered the oasis from the north; it +appeared to be a peaceful expedition, but they all carried arms +hidden in their robes. When they reached the white tent at the +center of Al-Fayoum, they withdrew their scimitars and rifles. And +they attacked an empty tent. +The men of the oasis surrounded the horsemen from the desert +and within half an hour all but one of the intruders were dead. The +children had been kept at the other side of a grove of palm trees, +and saw nothing of what had happened. The women had remained +in their tents, praying for the safekeeping of their husbands, and +saw nothing of the battle, either. Were it not for the bodies there on +the ground, it would have appeared to be a normal day at the oasis. +The only tribesman spared was the commander of the battalion. +That afternoon, he was brought before the tribal chieftains, who +asked him why he had violated the Tradition. The commander said +that his men had been starving and thirsty, exhausted from many +days of battle, and had decided to take the oasis so as to be able to +return to the war. +The tribal chieftain said that he felt sorry for the tribesmen, but +that the Tradition was sacred. He condemned the commander to +death without honor. Rather than being killed by a blade or a bullet, +he was hanged from a dead palm tree, where his body twisted in the +desert wind. +The tribal chieftain called for the boy, and presented him with +fifty pieces of gold. He repeated his story about Joseph of Egypt, and +asked the boy to become the counselor of the oasis. +WHEN THE SUN HAD SET, AND THE FIRST STARS MADE their appearance, the +boy started to walk to the south. He eventually sighted a single tent, +and a group of Arabs passing by told the boy that it was a place +inhabited by genies. But the boy sat down and waited. +Not until the moon was high did the alchemist ride into view. He +carried two dead hawks over his shoulder. +“I am here,” the boy said. +“You shouldn’t be here,” the alchemist answered. “Or is it your +Personal Legend that brings you here?” +“With the wars between the tribes, it’s impossible to cross the +desert. So I have come here.” +The alchemist dismounted from his horse, and signaled that the +boy should enter the tent with him. It was a tent like many at the +oasis. The boy looked around for the ovens and other apparatus +used in alchemy, but saw none. There were only some books in a +pile, a small cooking stove, and the carpets, covered with +mysterious designs. +“Sit down. We’ll have something to drink and eat these hawks,” +said the alchemist. +The boy suspected that they were the same hawks he had seen +on the day before, but he said nothing. The alchemist lighted the +fire, and soon a delicious aroma filled the tent. It was better than the +scent of the hookahs. +“Why did you want to see me?” the boy asked. +“Because of the omens,” the alchemist answered. “The wind told +me you would be coming, and that you would need help.” +“It’s not I the wind spoke about. It’s the other foreigner, the +Englishman. He’s the one that’s looking for you.” +“He has other things to do first. But he’s on the right track. He +has begun to try to understand the desert.” +“And what about me?” +“When a person really desires something, all the universe +conspires to help that person to realize his dream,” said the +alchemist, echoing the words of the old king. The boy understood. +Another person was there to help him toward his Personal Legend. +“So you are going to instruct me?” +“No. You already know all you need to know. I am only going to +point you in the direction of your treasure.” +“But there’s a tribal war,” the boy reiterated. +“I know what’s happening in the desert.” +“I have already found my treasure. I have a camel, I have my +money from the crystal shop, and I have fifty gold pieces. In my own +country, I would be a rich man.” +“But none of that is from the Pyramids,” said the alchemist. +“I also have Fatima. She is a treasure greater than anything else I +have won.” +“She wasn’t found at the Pyramids, either.” +They ate in silence. The alchemist opened a bottle and poured a +red liquid into the boy’s cup. It was the most delicious wine he had +ever tasted. +“Isn’t wine prohibited here?” the boy asked +“It’s not what enters men’s mouths that’s evil,” said the +alchemist. “It’s what comes out of their mouths that is.” +The alchemist was a bit daunting, but, as the boy drank the wine, +he relaxed. After they finished eating they sat outside the tent, +under a moon so brilliant that it made the stars pale. +“Drink and enjoy yourself,” said the alchemist, noticing that the +boy was feeling happier. “Rest well tonight, as if you were a warrior +preparing for combat. Remember that wherever your heart is, there +you will find your treasure. You’ve got to find the treasure, so that +everything you have learned along the way can make sense. +“Tomorrow, sell your camel and buy a horse. Camels are +traitorous: they walk thousands of paces and never seem to tire. +Then suddenly, they kneel and die. But horses tire bit by bit. You +always know how much you can ask of them, and when it is that +they are about to die.” +THE FOLLOWING NIGHT, THE BOY APPEARED AT THE alchemist’s tent with a +horse. The alchemist was ready, and he mounted his own steed and +placed the falcon on his left shoulder. He said to the boy, “Show me +where there is life out in the desert. Only those who can see such +signs of life are able to find treasure.” +They began to ride out over the sands, with the moon lighting +their way. I don’t know if I’ll be able to find life in the desert, the boy +thought. I don’t know the desert that well yet. +He wanted to say so to the alchemist, but he was afraid of the +man. They reached the rocky place where the boy had seen the +hawks in the sky, but now there was only silence and the wind. +“I don’t know how to find life in the desert,” the boy said. “I +know that there is life here, but I don’t know where to look.” +“Life attracts life,” the alchemist answered. +And then the boy understood. He loosened the reins on his +horse, who galloped forward over the rocks and sand. The alchemist +followed as the boy’s horse ran for almost half an hour. They could +no longer see the palms of the oasis—only the gigantic moon above +them, and its silver reflections from the stones of the desert. +Suddenly, for no apparent reason, the boy’s horse began to slow. +“There’s life here,” the boy said to the alchemist. “I don’t know +the language of the desert, but my horse knows the language of life.” +They dismounted, and the alchemist said nothing. Advancing +slowly, they searched among the stones. The alchemist stopped +abruptly, and bent to the ground. There was a hole there among the +stones. The alchemist put his hand into the hole, and then his entire +arm, up to his shoulder. Something was moving there, and the +alchemist’s eyes—the boy could see only his eyes—squinted with +his effort. His arm seemed to be battling with whatever was in the +hole. Then, with a motion that startled the boy, he withdrew his arm +and leaped to his feet. In his hand, he grasped a snake by the tail. +The boy leapt as well, but away from the alchemist. The snake +fought frantically, making hissing sounds that shattered the silence +of the desert. It was a cobra, whose venom could kill a person in +minutes. +“Watch out for his venom,” the boy said. But even though the +alchemist had put his hand in the hole, and had surely already been +bitten, his expression was calm. “The alchemist is two hundred +years old,” the Englishman had told him. He must know how to deal +with the snakes of the desert. +The boy watched as his companion went to his horse and +withdrew a scimitar. With its blade, he drew a circle in the sand, and +then he placed the snake within it. The serpent relaxed immediately. +“Not to worry,” said the alchemist. “He won’t leave the circle. +You found life in the desert, the omen that I needed.” +“Why was that so important?” +“Because the Pyramids are surrounded by the desert.” +The boy didn’t want to talk about the Pyramids. His heart was +heavy, and he had been melancholy since the previous night. To +continue his search for the treasure meant that he had to abandon +Fatima. +“I’m going to guide you across the desert,” the alchemist said. +“I want to stay at the oasis,” the boy answered. “I’ve found +Fatima, and, as far as I’m concerned, she’s worth more than +treasure.” +“Fatima is a woman of the desert,” said the alchemist. “She +knows that men have to go away in order to return. And she already +has her treasure: it’s you. Now she expects that you will find what it +is you’re looking for.” +“Well, what if I decide to stay?” +“Let me tell you what will happen. You’ll be the counselor of the +oasis. You have enough gold to buy many sheep and many camels. +You’ll marry Fatima, and you’ll both be happy for a year. You’ll learn +to love the desert, and you’ll get to know every one of the fifty +thousand palms. You’ll watch them as they grow, demonstrating +how the world is always changing. And you’ll get better and better +at understanding omens, because the desert is the best teacher +there is. +“Sometime during the second year, you’ll remember about the +treasure. The omens will begin insistently to speak of it, and you’ll +try to ignore them. You’ll use your knowledge for the welfare of the +oasis and its inhabitants. The tribal chieftains will appreciate what +you do. And your camels will bring you wealth and power. +“During the third year, the omens will continue to speak of your +treasure and your Personal Legend. You’ll walk around, night after +night, at the oasis, and Fatima will be unhappy because she’ll feel it +was she who interrupted your quest. But you will love her, and +she’ll return your love. You’ll remember that she never asked you to +stay, because a woman of the desert knows that she must await her +man. So you won’t blame her. But many times you’ll walk the sands +of the desert, thinking that maybe you could have left…that you +could have trusted more in your love for Fatima. Because what kept +you at the oasis was your own fear that you might never come back. +At that point, the omens will tell you that your treasure is buried +forever. +“Then, sometime during the fourth year, the omens will abandon +you, because you’ve stopped listening to them. The tribal chieftains +will see that, and you’ll be dismissed from your position as +counselor. But, by then, you’ll be a rich merchant, with many camels +and a great deal of merchandise. You’ll spend the rest of your days +knowing that you didn’t pursue your Personal Legend, and that now +it’s too late. +“You must understand that love never keeps a man from +pursuing his Personal Legend. If he abandons that pursuit, it’s +because it wasn’t true love…the love that speaks the Language of +the World.” +The alchemist erased the circle in the sand, and the snake +slithered away among the rocks. The boy remembered the crystal +merchant who had always wanted to go to Mecca, and the +Englishman in search of the alchemist. He thought of the woman +who had trusted in the desert. And he looked out over the desert +that had brought him to the woman he loved. +They mounted their horses, and this time it was the boy who +followed the alchemist back to the oasis. The wind brought the +sounds of the oasis to them, and the boy tried to hear Fatima’s voice. +But that night, as he had watched the cobra within the circle, the +strange horseman with the falcon on his shoulder had spoken of +love and treasure, of the women of the desert and of his Personal +Legend. +“I’m going with you,” the boy said. And he immediately felt peace +in his heart. +“We’ll leave tomorrow before sunrise,” was the alchemist’s only +response. +THE BOY SPENT A SLEEPLESS NIGHT. TWO HOURS BEFORE dawn, he awoke +one of the boys who slept in his tent, and asked him to show him +where Fatima lived. They went to her tent, and the boy gave his +friend enough gold to buy a sheep. +Then he asked his friend to go into the tent where Fatima was +sleeping, and to awaken her and tell her that he was waiting outside. +The young Arab did as he was asked, and was given enough gold to +buy yet another sheep. +“Now leave us alone,” said the boy to the young Arab. The Arab +returned to his tent to sleep, proud to have helped the counselor of +the oasis, and happy at having enough money to buy himself some +sheep. +Fatima appeared at the entrance to the tent. The two walked out +among the palms. The boy knew that it was a violation of the +Tradition, but that didn’t matter to him now. +“I’m going away,” he said. “And I want you to know that I’m +coming back. I love you because…” +“Don’t say anything,” Fatima interrupted. “One is loved because +one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.” +But the boy continued, “I had a dream, and I met with a king. I +sold crystal and crossed the desert. And, because the tribes declared +war, I went to the well, seeking the alchemist. So, I love you because +the entire universe conspired to help me find you.” +The two embraced. It was the first time either had touched the +other. +“I’ll be back,” the boy said. +“Before this, I always looked to the desert with longing,” said +Fatima. “Now it will be with hope. My father went away one day, but +he returned to my mother, and he has always come back since +then.” +They said nothing else. They walked a bit farther among the +palms, and then the boy left her at the entrance to her tent. +“I’ll return, just as your father came back to your mother,” he +said. +He saw that Fatima’s eyes were filled with tears. +“You’re crying?” +“I’m a woman of the desert,” she said, averting her face. “But +above all, I’m a woman.” +Fatima went back to her tent, and, when daylight came, she went +out to do the chores she had done for years. But everything had +changed. The boy was no longer at the oasis, and the oasis would +never again have the same meaning it had had only yesterday. It +would no longer be a place with fifty thousand palm trees and three +hundred wells, where the pilgrims arrived, relieved at the end of +their long journeys. From that day on, the oasis would be an empty +place for her. +From that day on, it was the desert that would be important. She +would look to it every day, and would try to guess which star the +boy was following in search of his treasure. She would have to send +her kisses on the wind, hoping that the wind would touch the boy’s +face, and would tell him that she was alive. That she was waiting for +him, a woman awaiting a courageous man in search of his treasure. +From that day on, the desert would represent only one thing to her: +the hope for his return. +“DON’T THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU’VE LEFT BEHIND,” THE alchemist said to +the boy as they began to ride across the sands of the desert. +“Everything is written in the Soul of the World, and there it will stay +forever.” +“Men dream more about coming home than about leaving,” the +boy said. He was already reaccustomed to the desert’s silence. +“If what one finds is made of pure matter, it will never spoil. And +one can always come back. If what you had found was only a +moment of light, like the explosion of a star, you would find nothing +on your return.” +The man was speaking the language of alchemy. But the boy +knew that he was referring to Fatima. +It was difficult not to think about what he had left behind. The +desert, with its endless monotony, put him to dreaming. The boy +could still see the palm trees, the wells, and the face of the woman +he loved. He could see the Englishman at his experiments, and the +camel driver who was a teacher without realizing it. Maybe the +alchemist has never been in love, the boy thought. +The alchemist rode in front, with the falcon on his shoulder. The +bird knew the language of the desert well, and whenever they +stopped, he flew off in search of game. On the first day he returned +with a rabbit, and on the second with two birds. +At night, they spread their sleeping gear and kept their fires +hidden. The desert nights were cold, and were becoming darker and +darker as the phases of the moon passed. They went on for a week, +speaking only of the precautions they needed to follow in order to +avoid the battles between the tribes. The war continued, and at +times the wind carried the sweet, sickly smell of blood. Battles had +been fought nearby, and the wind reminded the boy that there was +the language of omens, always ready to show him what his eyes had +failed to observe. +On the seventh day, the alchemist decided to make camp earlier +than usual. The falcon flew off to find game, and the alchemist +offered his water container to the boy. +“You are almost at the end of your journey,” said the alchemist. +“I congratulate you for having pursued your Personal Legend.” +“And you’ve told me nothing along the way,” said the boy. “I +thought you were going to teach me some of the things you know. A +while ago, I rode through the desert with a man who had books on +alchemy. But I wasn’t able to learn anything from them.” +“There is only one way to learn,” the alchemist answered. “It’s +through action. Everything you need to know you have learned +through your journey. You need to learn only one thing more.” +The boy wanted to know what that was, but the alchemist was +searching the horizon, looking for the falcon. +“Why are you called the alchemist?” +“Because that’s what I am.” +“And what went wrong when other alchemists tried to make +gold and were unable to do so?” +“They were looking only for gold,” his companion answered. +“They were seeking the treasure of their Personal Legend, without +wanting actually to live out the Personal Legend.” +“What is it that I still need to know?” the boy asked. +But the alchemist continued to look to the horizon. And finally +the falcon returned with their meal. They dug a hole and lit their fire +in it, so that the light of the flames would not be seen. +“I’m an alchemist simply because I’m an alchemist,” he said, as +he prepared the meal. “I learned the science from my grandfather, +who learned from his father, and so on, back to the creation of the +world. In those times, the Master Work could be written simply on +an emerald. But men began to reject simple things, and to write +tracts, interpretations, and philosophical studies. They also began to +feel that they knew a better way than others had. Yet the Emerald +Tablet is still alive today.” +“What was written on the Emerald Tablet?” the boy wanted to +know. +The alchemist began to draw in the sand, and completed his +drawing in less than five minutes. As he drew, the boy thought of +the old king, and the plaza where they had met that day; it seemed +as if it had taken place years and years ago. +“This is what was written on the Emerald Tablet,” said the +alchemist, when he had finished. +The boy tried to read what was written in the sand. +“It’s a code,” said the boy, a bit disappointed. “It looks like what I +saw in the Englishman’s books.” +“No,” the alchemist answered. “It’s like the flight of those two +hawks; it can’t be understood by reason alone. The Emerald Tablet +is a direct passage to the Soul of the World. +“The wise men understood that this natural world is only an +image and a copy of paradise. The existence of this world is simply a +guarantee that there exists a world that is perfect. God created the +world so that, through its visible objects, men could understand his +spiritual teachings and the marvels of his wisdom. That’s what I +mean by action.” +“Should I understand the Emerald Tablet?” the boy asked. +“Perhaps, if you were in a laboratory of alchemy, this would be +the right time to study the best way to understand the Emerald +Tablet. But you are in the desert. So immerse yourself in it. The +desert will give you an understanding of the world; in fact, anything +on the face of the earth will do that. You don’t even have to +understand the desert: all you have to do is contemplate a simple +grain of sand, and you will see in it all the marvels of creation.” +“How do I immerse myself in the desert?” +“Listen to your heart. It knows all things, because it came from +the Soul of the World, and it will one day return there.” +THEY CROSSED THE DESERT FOR ANOTHER TWO DAYS IN silence. The +alchemist had become much more cautious, because they were +approaching the area where the most violent battles were being +waged. As they moved along, the boy tried to listen to his heart. +It was not easy to do; in earlier times, his heart had always been +ready to tell its story, but lately that wasn’t true. There had been +times when his heart spent hours telling of its sadness, and at other +times it became so emotional over the desert sunrise that the boy +had to hide his tears. His heart beat fastest when it spoke to the boy +of treasure, and more slowly when the boy stared entranced at the +endless horizons of the desert. But his heart was never quiet, even +when the boy and the alchemist had fallen into silence. +“Why do we have to listen to our hearts?” the boy asked, when +they had made camp that day. +“Because, wherever your heart is, that is where you’ll find your +treasure.” +“But my heart is agitated,” the boy said. “It has its dreams, it gets +emotional, and it’s become passionate over a woman of the desert. +It asks things of me, and it keeps me from sleeping many nights, +when I’m thinking about her.” +“Well, that’s good. Your heart is alive. Keep listening to what it +has to say.” +During the next three days, the two travelers passed by a +number of armed tribesmen, and saw others on the horizon. The +boy’s heart began to speak of fear. It told him stories it had heard +from the Soul of the World, stories of men who sought to find their +treasure and never succeeded. Sometimes it frightened the boy with +the idea that he might not find his treasure, or that he might die +there in the desert. At other times, it told the boy that it was +satisfied: it had found love and riches. +“My heart is a traitor,” the boy said to the alchemist, when they +had paused to rest the horses. “It doesn’t want me to go on.” +“That makes sense,” the alchemist answered. “Naturally it’s +afraid that, in pursuing your dream, you might lose everything +you’ve won.” +“Well, then, why should I listen to my heart?” +“Because you will never again be able to keep it quiet. Even if +you pretend not to have heard what it tells you, it will always be +there inside you, repeating to you what you’re thinking about life +and about the world.” +“You mean I should listen, even if it’s treasonous?” +“Treason is a blow that comes unexpectedly. If you know your +heart well, it will never be able to do that to you. Because you’ll +know its dreams and wishes, and will know how to deal with them. +“You will never be able to escape from your heart. So it’s better +to listen to what it has to say. That way, you’ll never have to fear an +unanticipated blow.” +The boy continued to listen to his heart as they crossed the +desert. He came to understand its dodges and tricks, and to accept it +as it was. He lost his fear, and forgot about his need to go back to the +oasis, because, one afternoon, his heart told him that it was happy. +“Even though I complain sometimes,” it said, “it’s because I’m the +heart of a person, and people’s hearts are that way. People are +afraid to pursue their most important dreams, because they feel +that they don’t deserve them, or that they’ll be unable to achieve +them. We, their hearts, become fearful just thinking of loved ones +who go away forever, or of moments that could have been good but +weren’t, or of treasures that might have been found but were +forever hidden in the sands. Because, when these things happen, we +suffer terribly.” +“My heart is afraid that it will have to suffer,” the boy told the +alchemist one night as they looked up at the moonless sky. +“Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the +suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in +search of its dreams, because every second of the search is a +second’s encounter with God and with eternity.” +“Every second of the search is an encounter with God,” the boy +told his heart. “When I have been truly searching for my treasure, +every day has been luminous, because I’ve known that every hour +was a part of the dream that I would find it. When I have been truly +searching for my treasure, I’ve discovered things along the way that +I never would have seen had I not had the courage to try things that +seemed impossible for a shepherd to achieve.” +So his heart was quiet for an entire afternoon. That night, the +boy slept deeply, and, when he awoke, his heart began to tell him +things that came from the Soul of the World. It said that all people +who are happy have God within them. And that happiness could be +found in a grain of sand from the desert, as the alchemist had said. +Because a grain of sand is a moment of creation, and the universe +has taken millions of years to create it. “Everyone on earth has a +treasure that awaits him,” his heart said. “We, people’s hearts, +seldom say much about those treasures, because people no longer +want to go in search of them. We speak of them only to children. +Later, we simply let life proceed, in its own direction, toward its +own fate. But, unfortunately, very few follow the path laid out for +them—the path to their Personal Legends, and to happiness. Most +people see the world as a threatening place, and, because they do, +the world turns out, indeed, to be a threatening place. +“So, we, their hearts, speak more and more softly. We never stop +speaking out, but we begin to hope that our words won’t be heard: +we don’t want people to suffer because they don’t follow their +hearts.” +“Why don’t people’s hearts tell them to continue to follow their +dreams?” the boy asked the alchemist. +“Because that’s what makes a heart suffer most, and hearts don’t +like to suffer.” +From then on, the boy understood his heart. He asked it, please, +never to stop speaking to him. He asked that, when he wandered far +from his dreams, his heart press him and sound the alarm. The boy +swore that, every time he heard the alarm, he would heed its +message. +That night, he told all of this to the alchemist. And the alchemist +understood that the boy’s heart had returned to the Soul of the +World. +“So what should I do now?” the boy asked. +“Continue in the direction of the Pyramids,” said the alchemist. +“And continue to pay heed to the omens. Your heart is still capable +of showing you where the treasure is.” +“Is that the one thing I still needed to know?” +“No,” the alchemist answered. “What you still need to know is +this: before a dream is realized, the Soul of the World tests +everything that was learned along the way. It does this not because +it is evil, but so that we can, in addition to realizing our dreams, +master the lessons we’ve learned as we’ve moved toward that +dream. That’s the point at which most people give up. It’s the point +at which, as we say in the language of the desert, one ‘dies of thirst +just when the palm trees have appeared on the horizon.’ +“Every search begins with beginner’s luck. And every search +ends with the victor’s being severely tested.” +The boy remembered an old proverb from his country. It said +that the darkest hour of the night came just before the dawn. +ON THE FOLLOWING DAY, THE FIRST CLEAR SIGN OF danger appeared. +Three armed tribesmen approached, and asked what the boy and +the alchemist were doing there. +“I’m hunting with my falcon,” the alchemist answered. +“We’re going to have to search you to see whether you’re +armed,” one of the tribesmen said. +The alchemist dismounted slowly, and the boy did the same. +“Why are you carrying money?” asked the tribesman, when he +had searched the boy’s bag. +“I need it to get to the Pyramids,” he said. +The tribesman who was searching the alchemist’s belongings +found a small crystal flask filled with a liquid, and a yellow glass egg +that was slightly larger than a chicken’s egg. +“What are these things?” he asked. +“That’s the Philosopher’s Stone and the Elixir of Life. It’s the +Master Work of the alchemists. Whoever swallows that elixir will +never be sick again, and a fragment from that stone turns any metal +into gold.” +The Arabs laughed at him, and the alchemist laughed along. They +thought his answer was amusing, and they allowed the boy and the +alchemist to proceed with all of their belongings. +“Are you crazy?” the boy asked the alchemist, when they had +moved on. “What did you do that for?” +“To show you one of life’s simple lessons,” the alchemist +answered. “When you possess great treasures within you, and try to +tell others of them, seldom are you believed.” +They continued across the desert. With every day that passed, +the boy’s heart became more and more silent. It no longer wanted to +know about things of the past or future; it was content simply to +contemplate the desert, and to drink with the boy from the Soul of +the World. The boy and his heart had become friends, and neither +was capable now of betraying the other. +When his heart spoke to him, it was to provide a stimulus to the +boy, and to give him strength, because the days of silence there in +the desert were wearisome. His heart told the boy what his +strongest qualities were: his courage in having given up his sheep +and in trying to live out his Personal Legend, and his enthusiasm +during the time he had worked at the crystal shop. +And his heart told him something else that the boy had never +noticed: it told the boy of dangers that had threatened him, but that +he had never perceived. His heart said that one time it had hidden +the rifle the boy had taken from his father, because of the possibility +that the boy might wound himself. And it reminded the boy of the +day when he had been ill and vomiting out in the fields, after which +he had fallen into a deep sleep. There had been two thieves farther +ahead who were planning to steal the boy’s sheep and murder him. +But, since the boy hadn’t passed by, they had decided to move on, +thinking that he had changed his route. +“Does a man’s heart always help him?” the boy asked the +alchemist. +“Mostly just the hearts of those who are trying to realize their +Personal Legends. But they do help children, drunkards, and the +elderly, too.” +“Does that mean that I’ll never run into danger?” +“It means only that the heart does what it can,” the alchemist +said. +One afternoon, they passed by the encampment of one of the +tribes. At each corner of the camp were Arabs garbed in beautiful +white robes, with arms at the ready. The men were smoking their +hookahs and trading stories from the battlefield. No one paid any +attention to the two travelers. +“There’s no danger,” the boy said, when they had moved on past +the encampment. +The alchemist sounded angry: “Trust in your heart, but never +forget that you’re in the desert. When men are at war with one +another, the Soul of the World can hear the screams of battle. No +one fails to suffer the consequences of everything under the sun.” +All things are one, the boy thought. And then, as if the desert +wanted to demonstrate that the alchemist was right, two horsemen +appeared from behind the travelers. +“You can’t go any farther,” one of them said. “You’re in the area +where the tribes are at war.” +“I’m not going very far,” the alchemist answered, looking +straight into the eyes of the horsemen. They were silent for a +moment, and then agreed that the boy and the alchemist could +move along. +The boy watched the exchange with fascination. “You dominated +those horsemen with the way you looked at them,” he said. +“Your eyes show the strength of your soul,” answered the +alchemist. +That’s true, the boy thought. He had noticed that, in the midst of +the multitude of armed men back at the encampment, there had +been one who stared fixedly at the two. He had been so far away +that his face wasn’t even visible. But the boy was certain that he had +been looking at them. +Finally, when they had crossed the mountain range that +extended along the entire horizon, the alchemist said that they were +only two days from the Pyramids. +“If we’re going to go our separate ways soon,” the boy said, “then +teach me about alchemy.” +“You already know about alchemy. It is about penetrating to the +Soul of the World, and discovering the treasure that has been +reserved for you.” +“No, that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about transforming lead +into gold.” +The alchemist fell as silent as the desert, and answered the boy +only after they had stopped to eat. +“Everything in the universe evolved,” he said. “And, for wise +men, gold is the metal that evolved the furthest. Don’t ask me why; I +don’t know why. I just know that the Tradition is always right. +“Men have never understood the words of the wise. So gold, +instead of being seen as a symbol of evolution, became the basis for +conflict.” +“There are many languages spoken by things,” the boy said. +“There was a time when, for me, a camel’s whinnying was nothing +more than whinnying. Then it became a signal of danger. And, +finally, it became just a whinny again.” +But then he stopped. The alchemist probably already knew all +that. +“I have known true alchemists,” the alchemist continued. “They +locked themselves in their laboratories, and tried to evolve, as gold +had. And they found the Philosopher’s Stone, because they +understood that when something evolves, everything around that +thing evolves as well. +“Others stumbled upon the stone by accident. They already had +the gift, and their souls were readier for such things than the souls +of others. But they don’t count. They’re quite rare. +“And then there were the others, who were interested only in +gold. They never found the secret. They forgot that lead, copper, and +iron have their own Personal Legends to fulfill. And anyone who +interferes with the Personal Legend of another thing never will +discover his own.” +The alchemist’s words echoed out like a curse. He reached over +and picked up a shell from the ground. +“This desert was once a sea,” he said. +“I noticed that,” the boy answered. +The alchemist told the boy to place the shell over his ear. He had +done that many times when he was a child, and had heard the sound +of the sea. +“The sea has lived on in this shell, because that’s its Personal +Legend. And it will never cease doing so until the desert is once +again covered by water.” +They mounted their horses, and rode out in the direction of the +Pyramids of Egypt. +THE SUN WAS SETTING WHEN THE BOY’S HEART SOUNDED a danger signal. +They were surrounded by gigantic dunes, and the boy looked at the +alchemist to see whether he had sensed anything. But he appeared +to be unaware of any danger. Five minutes later, the boy saw two +horsemen waiting ahead of them. Before he could say anything to +the alchemist, the two horsemen had become ten, and then a +hundred. And then they were everywhere in the dunes. +They were tribesmen dressed in blue, with black rings +surrounding their turbans. Their faces were hidden behind blue +veils, with only their eyes showing. +Even from a distance, their eyes conveyed the strength of their +souls. And their eyes spoke of death. +THE TWO WERE TAKEN TO A NEARBY MILITARY CAMP. A soldier shoved the +boy and the alchemist into a tent where the chief was holding a +meeting with his staff. +“These are the spies,” said one of the men. +“We’re just travelers,” the alchemist answered. +“You were seen at the enemy camp three days ago. And you +were talking with one of the troops there.” +“I’m just a man who wanders the desert and knows the stars,” +said the alchemist. “I have no information about troops or about the +movement of the tribes. I was simply acting as a guide for my friend +here.” +“Who is your friend?” the chief asked. +“An alchemist,” said the alchemist. “He understands the forces of +nature. And he wants to show you his extraordinary powers.” +The boy listened quietly. And fearfully. +“What is a foreigner doing here?” asked another of the men. +“He has brought money to give to your tribe,” said the alchemist, +before the boy could say a word. And seizing the boy’s bag, the +alchemist gave the gold coins to the chief. +The Arab accepted them without a word. There was enough +there to buy a lot of weapons. +“What is an alchemist?” he asked, finally. +“It’s a man who understands nature and the world. If he wanted +to, he could destroy this camp just with the force of the wind.” +The men laughed. They were used to the ravages of war, and +knew that the wind could not deliver them a fatal blow. Yet each felt +his heart beat a bit faster. They were men of the desert, and they +were fearful of sorcerers. +“I want to see him do it,” said the chief. +“He needs three days,” answered the alchemist. “He is going to +transform himself into the wind, just to demonstrate his powers. If +he can’t do so, we humbly offer you our lives, for the honor of your +tribe.” +“You can’t offer me something that is already mine,” the chief +said, arrogantly. But he granted the travelers three days. +The boy was shaking with fear, but the alchemist helped him out +of the tent. +“Don’t let them see that you’re afraid,” the alchemist said. “They +are brave men, and they despise cowards.” +But the boy couldn’t even speak. He was able to do so only after +they had walked through the center of the camp. There was no need +to imprison them: the Arabs simply confiscated their horses. So, +once again, the world had demonstrated its many languages: the +desert only moments ago had been endless and free, and now it was +an impenetrable wall. +“You gave them everything I had!” the boy said. “Everything I’ve +saved in my entire life!” +“Well, what good would it be to you if you had to die?” the +alchemist answered. “Your money saved us for three days. It’s not +often that money saves a person’s life.” +But the boy was too frightened to listen to words of wisdom. He +had no idea how he was going to transform himself into the wind. +He wasn’t an alchemist! +The alchemist asked one of the soldiers for some tea, and poured +some on the boy’s wrists. A wave of relief washed over him, and the +alchemist muttered some words that the boy didn’t understand. +“Don’t give in to your fears,” said the alchemist, in a strangely +gentle voice. “If you do, you won’t be able to talk to your heart.” +“But I have no idea how to turn myself into the wind.” +“If a person is living out his Personal Legend, he knows +everything he needs to know. There is only one thing that makes a +dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure.” +“I’m not afraid of failing. It’s just that I don’t know how to turn +myself into the wind.” +“Well, you’ll have to learn; your life depends on it.” +“But what if I can’t?” +“Then you’ll die in the midst of trying to realize your Personal +Legend. That’s a lot better than dying like millions of other people, +who never even knew what their Personal Legends were. +“But don’t worry,” the alchemist continued. “Usually the threat +of death makes people a lot more aware of their lives.” +THE FIRST DAY PASSED. THERE WAS A MAJOR BATTLE nearby, and a +number of wounded were brought back to the camp. The dead +soldiers were replaced by others, and life went on. Death doesn’t +change anything, the boy thought. +“You could have died later on,” a soldier said to the body of one +of his companions. “You could have died after peace had been +declared. But, in any case, you were going to die.” +At the end of the day, the boy went looking for the alchemist, +who had taken his falcon out into the desert. +“I still have no idea how to turn myself into the wind,” the boy +repeated. +“Remember what I told you: the world is only the visible aspect +of God. And that what alchemy does is to bring spiritual perfection +into contact with the material plane.” +“What are you doing?” +“Feeding my falcon.” +“If I’m not able to turn myself into the wind, we’re going to die,” +the boy said. “Why feed your falcon?” +“You’re the one who may die,” the alchemist said. “I already +know how to turn myself into the wind.” +ON THE SECOND DAY, THE BOY CLIMBED TO THE TOP OF A cliff near the +camp. The sentinels allowed him to go; they had already heard +about the sorcerer who could turn himself into the wind, and they +didn’t want to go near him. In any case, the desert was impassable. +He spent the entire afternoon of the second day looking out over +the desert, and listening to his heart. The boy knew the desert +sensed his fear. +They both spoke the same language. +ON THE THIRD DAY, THE CHIEF MET WITH HIS OFFICERS. He called the +alchemist to the meeting and said, “Let’s go see the boy who turns +himself into the wind.” +“Let’s,” the alchemist answered. +The boy took them to the cliff where he had been on the +previous day. He told them all to be seated. +“It’s going to take awhile,” the boy said. +“We’re in no hurry,” the chief answered. “We are men of the +desert.” +The boy looked out at the horizon. There were mountains in the +distance. And there were dunes, rocks, and plants that insisted on +living where survival seemed impossible. There was the desert that +he had wandered for so many months; despite all that time, he knew +only a small part of it. Within that small part, he had found an +Englishman, caravans, tribal wars, and an oasis with fifty thousand +palm trees and three hundred wells. +“What do you want here today?” the desert asked him. “Didn’t +you spend enough time looking at me yesterday?” +“Somewhere you are holding the person I love,” the boy said. +“So, when I look out over your sands, I am also looking at her. I want +to return to her, and I need your help so that I can turn myself into +the wind.” +“What is love?” the desert asked. +“Love is the falcon’s flight over your sands. Because for him, you +are a green field, from which he always returns with game. He +knows your rocks, your dunes, and your mountains, and you are +generous to him.” +“The falcon’s beak carries bits of me, myself,” the desert said. +“For years, I care for his game, feeding it with the little water that I +have, and then I show him where the game is. And, one day, as I +enjoy the fact that his game thrives on my surface, the falcon dives +out of the sky, and takes away what I’ve created.” +“But that’s why you created the game in the first place,” the boy +answered. “To nourish the falcon. And the falcon then nourishes +man. And, eventually, man will nourish your sands, where the game +will once again flourish. That’s how the world goes.” +“So is that what love is?” +“Yes, that’s what love is. It’s what makes the game become the +falcon, the falcon become man, and man, in his turn, the desert. It’s +what turns lead into gold, and makes the gold return to the earth.” +“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” the desert said. +“But you can at least understand that somewhere in your sands +there is a woman waiting for me. And that’s why I have to turn +myself into the wind.” +The desert didn’t answer him for a few moments. +Then it told him, “I’ll give you my sands to help the wind to blow, +but, alone, I can’t do anything. You have to ask for help from the +wind.” +A breeze began to blow. The tribesmen watched the boy from a +distance, talking among themselves in a language that the boy +couldn’t understand. +The alchemist smiled. +The wind approached the boy and touched his face. It knew of +the boy’s talk with the desert, because the winds know everything. +They blow across the world without a birthplace, and with no place +to die. +“Help me,” the boy said. “One day you carried the voice of my +loved one to me.” +“Who taught you to speak the language of the desert and the +wind?” +“My heart,” the boy answered. +The wind has many names. In that part of the world, it was +called the sirocco, because it brought moisture from the oceans to +the east. In the distant land the boy came from, they called it the +levanter, because they believed that it brought with it the sands of +the desert, and the screams of the Moorish wars. Perhaps, in the +places beyond the pastures where his sheep lived, men thought that +the wind came from Andalusia. But, actually, the wind came from no +place at all, nor did it go to any place; that’s why it was stronger +than the desert. Someone might one day plant trees in the desert, +and even raise sheep there, but never would they harness the wind. +“You can’t be the wind,” the wind said. “We’re two very different +things.” +“That’s not true,” the boy said. “I learned the alchemist’s secrets +in my travels. I have inside me the winds, the deserts, the oceans, +the stars, and everything created in the universe. We were all made +by the same hand, and we have the same soul. I want to be like you, +able to reach every corner of the world, cross the seas, blow away +the sands that cover my treasure, and carry the voice of the woman +I love.” +“I heard what you were talking about the other day with the +alchemist,” the wind said. “He said that everything has its own +Personal Legend. But people can’t turn themselves into the wind.” +“Just teach me to be the wind for a few moments,” the boy said. +“So you and I can talk about the limitless possibilities of people and +the winds.” +The wind’s curiosity was aroused, something that had never +happened before. It wanted to talk about those things, but it didn’t +know how to turn a man into the wind. And look how many things +the wind already knew how to do! It created deserts, sank ships, +felled entire forests, and blew through cities filled with music and +strange noises. It felt that it had no limits, yet here was a boy saying +that there were other things the wind should be able to do. +“This is what we call love,” the boy said, seeing that the wind +was close to granting what he requested. “When you are loved, you +can do anything in creation. When you are loved, there’s no need at +all to understand what’s happening, because everything happens +within you, and even men can turn themselves into the wind. As +long as the wind helps, of course.” +The wind was a proud being, and it was becoming irritated with +what the boy was saying. It commenced to blow harder, raising the +desert sands. But finally it had to recognize that, even making its +may around the world, it didn’t know how to turn a man into the +wind. And it knew nothing about love. +“In my travels around the world, I’ve often seen people speaking +of love and looking toward the heavens,” the wind said, furious at +having to acknowledge its own limitations. “Maybe it’s better to ask +heaven.” +“Well then, help me do that,” the boy said. “Fill this place with a +sandstorm so strong that it blots out the sun. Then I can look to +heaven without blinding myself.” +So the wind blew with all its strength, and the sky was filled with +sand. The sun was turned into a golden disk. +At the camp, it was difficult to see anything. The men of the +desert were already familiar with that wind. They called it the +simum, and it was worse than a storm at sea. Their horses cried out, +and all their weapons were filled with sand. +On the heights, one of the commanders turned to the chief and +said, “Maybe we had better end this!” +They could barely see the boy. Their faces were covered with the +blue cloths, and their eyes showed fear. +“Let’s stop this,” another commander said. +“I want to see the greatness of Allah,” the chief said, with respect. +“I want to see how a man turns himself into the wind.” +But he made a mental note of the names of the two men who had +expressed their fear. As soon as the wind stopped, he was going to +remove them from their commands, because true men of the desert +are not afraid. +“The wind told me that you know about love,” the boy said to the +sun. “If you know about love, you must also know about the Soul of +the World, because it’s made of love.” +“From where I am,” the sun said, “I can see the Soul of the World. +It communicates with my soul, and together we cause the plants to +grow and the sheep to seek out shade. From where I am—and I’m a +long way from the earth—I learned how to love. I know that if I +came even a little bit closer to the earth, everything there would die, +and the Soul of the World would no longer exist. So we contemplate +each other, and we want each other, and I give it life and warmth, +and it gives me my reason for living.” +“So you know about love,” the boy said. +“And I know the Soul of the World, because we have talked at +great length to each other during this endless trip through the +universe. It tells me that its greatest problem is that, up until now, +only the minerals and vegetables understand that all things are one. +That there’s no need for iron to be the same as copper, or copper +the same as gold. Each performs its own exact function as a unique +being, and everything would be a symphony of peace if the hand +that wrote all this had stopped on the fifth day of creation. +“But there was a sixth day,” the sun went on. +“You are wise, because you observe everything from a distance,” +the boy said. “But you don’t know about love. If there hadn’t been a +sixth day, man would not exist; copper would always be just copper, +and lead just lead. It’s true that everything has its Personal Legend, +but one day that Personal Legend will be realized. So each thing has +to transform itself into something better, and to acquire a new +Personal Legend, until, someday, the Soul of the World becomes one +thing only.” +The sun thought about that, and decided to shine more brightly. +The wind, which was enjoying the conversation, started to blow +with greater force, so that the sun would not blind the boy. +“This is why alchemy exists,” the boy said. “So that everyone will +search for his treasure, find it, and then want to be better than he +was in his former life. Lead will play its role until the world has no +further need for lead; and then lead will have to turn itself into gold. +“That’s what alchemists do. They show that, when we strive to +become better than we are, everything around us becomes better, +too.” +“Well, why did you say that I don’t know about love?” the sun +asked the boy. +“Because it’s not love to be static like the desert, nor is it love to +roam the world like the wind. And it’s not love to see everything +from a distance, like you do. Love is the force that transforms and +improves the Soul of the World. When I first reached through to it, I +thought the Soul of the World was perfect. But later, I could see that +it was like other aspects of creation, and had its own passions and +wars. It is we who nourish the Soul of the World, and the world we +live in will be either better or worse, depending on whether we +become better or worse. And that’s where the power of love comes +in. Because when we love, we always strive to become better than +we are.” +“So what do you want of me?” the sun asked. +“I want you to help me turn myself into the wind,” the boy +answered. +“Nature knows me as the wisest being in creation,” the sun said. +“But I don’t know how to turn you into the wind.” +“Then, whom should I ask?” +The sun thought for a minute. The wind was listening closely, +and wanted to tell every corner of the world that the sun’s wisdom +had its limitations. That it was unable to deal with this boy who +spoke the Language of the World. +“Speak to the hand that wrote all,” said the sun. +The wind screamed with delight, and blew harder than ever. The +tents were being blown from their ties to the earth, and the animals +were being freed from their tethers. On the cliff, the men clutched at +each other as they sought to keep from being blown away. +The boy turned to the hand that wrote all. As he did so, he +sensed that the universe had fallen silent, and he decided not to +speak. +A current of love rushed from his heart, and the boy began to +pray. It was a prayer that he had never said before, because it was a +prayer without words or pleas. His prayer didn’t give thanks for his +sheep having found new pastures; it didn’t ask that the boy be able +to sell more crystal; and it didn’t beseech that the woman he had +met continue to await his return. In the silence, the boy understood +that the desert, the wind, and the sun were also trying to +understand the signs written by the hand, and were seeking to +follow their paths, and to understand what had been written on a +single emerald. He saw that omens were scattered throughout the +earth and in space, and that there was no reason or significance +attached to their appearance; he could see that not the deserts, nor +the winds, nor the sun, nor people knew why they had been created. +But that the hand had a reason for all of this, and that only the hand +could perform miracles, or transform the sea into a desert…or a +man into the wind. Because only the hand understood that it was a +larger design that had moved the universe to the point at which six +days of creation had evolved into a Master Work. +The boy reached through to the Soul of the World, and saw that +it was a part of the Soul of God. And he saw that the Soul of God was +his own soul. And that he, a boy, could perform miracles. +THE SIMUM BLEW THAT DAY AS IT HAD NEVER BLOWN before. For +generations thereafter, the Arabs recounted the legend of a boy who +had turned himself into the wind, almost destroying a military +camp, in defiance of the most powerful chief in the desert. +When the simum ceased to blow, everyone looked to the place +where the boy had been. But he was no longer there; he was +standing next to a sand-covered sentinel, on the far side of the +camp. +The men were terrified at his sorcery. But there were two +people who were smiling: the alchemist, because he had found his +perfect disciple, and the chief, because that disciple had understood +the glory of God. +The following day, the general bade the boy and the alchemist +farewell, and provided them with an escort party to accompany +them as far as they chose. +THEY RODE FOR THE ENTIRE DAY. TOWARD THE END OF the afternoon, they +came upon a Coptic monastery. The alchemist dismounted, and told +the escorts they could return to the camp. +“From here on, you will be alone,” the alchemist said. “You are +only three hours from the Pyramids.” +“Thank you,” said the boy. “You taught me the Language of the +World.” +“I only invoked what you already knew.” +The alchemist knocked on the gate of the monastery. A monk +dressed in black came to the gates. They spoke for a few minutes in +the Coptic tongue, and the alchemist bade the boy enter. +“I asked him to let me use the kitchen for a while,” the alchemist +smiled. +They went to the kitchen at the back of the monastery. The +alchemist lighted the fire, and the monk brought him some lead, +which the alchemist placed in an iron pan. When the lead had +become liquid, the alchemist took from his pouch the strange yellow +egg. He scraped from it a sliver as thin as a hair, wrapped it in wax, +and added it to the pan in which the lead had melted. +The mixture took on a reddish color, almost the color of blood. +The alchemist removed the pan from the fire, and set it aside to cool. +As he did so, he talked with the monk about the tribal wars. +“I think they’re going to last for a long time,” he said to the monk. +The monk was irritated. The caravans had been stopped at Giza +for some time, waiting for the wars to end. “But God’s will be done,” +the monk said. +“Exactly,” answered the alchemist. +When the pan had cooled, the monk and the boy looked at it, +dazzled. The lead had dried into the shape of the pan, but it was no +longer lead. It was gold. +“Will I learn to do that someday?” the boy asked. +“This was my Personal Legend, not yours,” the alchemist +answered. “But I wanted to show you that it was possible.” +They returned to the gates of the monastery. There, the +alchemist separated the disk into four parts. +“This is for you,” he said, holding one of the parts out to the +monk. “It’s for your generosity to the pilgrims.” +“But this payment goes well beyond my generosity,” the monk +responded. +“Don’t say that again. Life might be listening, and give you less +the next time.” +The alchemist turned to the boy. “This is for you. To make up for +what you gave to the general.” +The boy was about to say that it was much more than he had +given the general. But he kept quiet, because he had heard what the +alchemist said to the monk. +“And this is for me,” said the alchemist, keeping one of the parts. +“Because I have to return to the desert, where there are tribal wars.” +He took the fourth part and handed it to the monk. +“This is for the boy. If he ever needs it.” +“But I’m going in search of my treasure,” the boy said. “I’m very +close to it now.” +“And I’m certain you’ll find it,” the alchemist said. +“Then why this?” +“Because you have already lost your savings twice. Once to the +thief, and once to the general. I’m an old, superstitious Arab, and I +believe in our proverbs. There’s one that says, ‘Everything that +happens once can never happen again. But everything that happens +twice will surely happen a third time.’” They mounted their horses. +“I WANT TO TELL YOU A STORY ABOUT DREAMS,” SAID THE alchemist. +The boy brought his horse closer. +“In ancient Rome, at the time of Emperor Tiberius, there lived a +good man who had two sons. One was in the military, and had been +sent to the most distant regions of the empire. The other son was a +poet, and delighted all of Rome with his beautiful verses. +“One night, the father had a dream. An angel appeared to him, +and told him that the words of one of his sons would be learned and +repeated throughout the world for all generations to come. The +father woke from his dream grateful and crying, because life was +generous, and had revealed to him something any father would be +proud to know. +“Shortly thereafter, the father died as he tried to save a child +who was about to be crushed by the wheels of a chariot. Since he +had lived his entire life in a manner that was correct and fair, he +went directly to heaven, where he met the angel that had appeared +in his dream. +“‘You were always a good man,’ the angel said to him. ‘You lived +your life in a loving way, and died with dignity. I can now grant you +any wish you desire.’ +“‘Life was good to me,’ the man said. ‘When you appeared in my +dream, I felt that all my efforts had been rewarded, because my +son’s poems will be read by men for generations to come. I don’t +want anything for myself. But any father would be proud of the +fame achieved by one whom he had cared for as a child, and +educated as he grew up. Sometime in the distant future, I would like +to see my son’s words.’ +“The angel touched the man’s shoulder, and they were both +projected far into the future. They were in an immense setting, +surrounded by thousands of people speaking a strange language. +“The man wept with happiness. +“‘I knew that my son’s poems were immortal,’ he said to the +angel through his tears. ‘Can you please tell me which of my son’s +poems these people are repeating?’ +“The angel came closer to the man, and, with tenderness, led him +to a bench nearby, where they sat down. +“‘The verses of your son who was the poet were very popular in +Rome,’ the angel said. ‘Everyone loved them and enjoyed them. But +when the reign of Tiberius ended, his poems were forgotten. The +words you’re hearing now are those of your son in the military.’ +“The man looked at the angel in surprise. +“‘Your son went to serve at a distant place, and became a +centurion. He was just and good. One afternoon, one of his servants +fell ill, and it appeared that he would die. Your son had heard of a +rabbi who was able to cure illnesses, and he rode out for days and +days in search of this man. Along the way, he learned that the man +he was seeking was the Son of God. He met others who had been +cured by him, and they instructed your son in the man’s teachings. +And so, despite the fact that he was a Roman centurion, he +converted to their faith. Shortly thereafter, he reached the place +where the man he was looking for was visiting.’ +“‘He told the man that one of his servants was gravely ill, and the +rabbi made ready to go to his house with him. But the centurion was +a man of faith, and, looking into the eyes of the rabbi, he knew that +he was surely in the presence of the Son of God.’ +“‘And this is what your son said,’ the angel told the man. ‘These +are the words he said to the rabbi at that point, and they have never +been forgotten: “My Lord, I am not worthy that you should come +under my roof. But only speak a word and my servant will be +healed.””’ +The alchemist said, “No matter what he does, every person on +earth plays a central role in the history of the world. And normally +he doesn’t know it.” +The boy smiled. He had never imagined that questions about life +would be of such importance to a shepherd. +“Good-bye,” the alchemist said. +“Good-bye,” said the boy. +THE BOY RODE ALONG THROUGH THE DESERT FOR SEVERAL hours, listening +avidly to what his heart had to say. It was his heart that would tell +him where his treasure was hidden. +“Where your treasure is, there also will be your heart,” the +alchemist had told him. +But his heart was speaking of other things. With pride, it told the +story of a shepherd who had left his flock to follow a dream he had +on two different occasions. It told of Personal Legend, and of the +many men who had wandered in search of distant lands or beautiful +women, confronting the people of their times with their +preconceived notions. It spoke of journeys, discoveries, books, and +change. +As he was about to climb yet another dune, his heart whispered, +“Be aware of the place where you are brought to tears. That’s where +I am, and that’s where your treasure is.” +The boy climbed the dune slowly. A full moon rose again in the +starry sky: it had been a month since he had set forth from the oasis. +The moonlight cast shadows through the dunes, creating the +appearance of a rolling sea; it reminded the boy of the day when +that horse had reared in the desert, and he had come to know the +alchemist. And the moon fell on the desert’s silence, and on a man’s +journey in search of treasure. +When he reached the top of the dune, his heart leapt. There, +illuminated by the light of the moon and the brightness of the +desert, stood the solemn and majestic Pyramids of Egypt. +The boy fell to his knees and wept. He thanked God for making +him believe in his Personal Legend, and for leading him to meet a +king, a merchant, an Englishman, and an alchemist. And above all +for his having met a woman of the desert who had told him that love +would never keep a man from his Personal Legend. +If he wanted to, he could now return to the oasis, go back to +Fatima, and live his life as a simple shepherd. After all, the alchemist +continued to live in the desert, even though he understood the +Language of the World, and knew how to transform lead into gold. +He didn’t need to demonstrate his science and art to anyone. The +boy told himself that, on the way toward realizing his own Personal +Legend, he had learned all he needed to know, and had experienced +everything he might have dreamed of. +But here he was, at the point of finding his treasure, and he +reminded himself that no project is completed until its objective has +been achieved. The boy looked at the sands around him, and saw +that, where his tears had fallen, a scarab beetle was scuttling +through the sand. During his time in the desert, he had learned that, +in Egypt, the scarab beetles are a symbol of God. +Another omen! The boy began to dig into the dune. As he did so, +he thought of what the crystal merchant had once said: that anyone +could build a pyramid in his backyard. The boy could see now that +he couldn’t do so if he placed stone upon stone for the rest of his life. +Throughout the night, the boy dug at the place he had chosen, +but found nothing. He felt weighted down by the centuries of time +since the Pyramids had been built. But he didn’t stop. He struggled +to continue digging as he fought the wind, which often blew the +sand back into the excavation. His hands were abraded and +exhausted, but he listened to his heart. It had told him to dig where +his tears fell. +As he was attempting to pull out the rocks he encountered, he +heard footsteps. Several figures approached him. Their backs were +to the moonlight, and the boy could see neither their eyes nor their +faces. +“What are you doing here?” one of the figures demanded. +Because he was terrified, the boy didn’t answer. He had found +where his treasure was, and was frightened at what might happen. +“We’re refugees from the tribal wars, and we need money,” the +other figure said. “What are you hiding there?” +“I’m not hiding anything,” the boy answered. +But one of them seized the boy and yanked him back out of the +hole. Another, who was searching the boy’s bags, found the piece of +gold. +“There’s gold here,” he said. +The moon shone on the face of the Arab who had seized him, and +in the man’s eyes the boy saw death. +“He’s probably got more gold hidden in the ground.” +They made the boy continue digging, but he found nothing. As +the sun rose, the men began to beat the boy. He was bruised and +bleeding, his clothing was torn to shreds, and he felt that death was +near. +“What good is money to you if you’re going to die? It’s not often +that money can save someone’s life,” the alchemist had said. Finally, +the boy screamed at the men, “I’m digging for treasure!” And, +although his mouth was bleeding and swollen, he told his attackers +that he had twice dreamed of a treasure hidden near the Pyramids +of Egypt. +The man who appeared to be the leader of the group spoke to +one of the others: “Leave him. He doesn’t have anything else. He +must have stolen this gold.” +The boy fell to the sand, nearly unconscious. The leader shook +him and said, “We’re leaving.” +But before they left, he came back to the boy and said, “You’re +not going to die. You’ll live, and you’ll learn that a man shouldn’t be +so stupid. Two years ago, right here on this spot, I had a recurrent +dream, too. I dreamed that I should travel to the fields of Spain and +look for a ruined church where shepherds and their sheep slept. In +my dream, there was a sycamore growing out of the ruins of the +sacristy, and I was told that, if I dug at the roots of the sycamore, I +would find a hidden treasure. But I’m not so stupid as to cross an +entire desert just because of a recurrent dream.” +And they disappeared. +The boy stood up shakily, and looked once more at the +Pyramids. They seemed to laugh at him, and he laughed back, his +heart bursting with joy. +Because now he knew where his treasure was. +EPILOGUE +THE BOY REACHED THE SMALL, ABANDONED CHURCH JUST as night was +falling. The sycamore was still there in the sacristy, and the stars +could still be seen through the half-destroyed roof. He remembered +the time he had been there with his sheep; it had been a peaceful +night…except for the dream. +Now he was here not with his flock, but with a shovel. +He sat looking at the sky for a long time. Then he took from his +knapsack a bottle of wine, and drank some. He remembered the +night in the desert when he had sat with the alchemist, as they +looked at the stars and drank wine together. He thought of the many +roads he had traveled, and of the strange way God had chosen to +show him his treasure. If he hadn’t believed in the significance of +recurrent dreams, he would not have met the Gypsy woman, the +king, the thief, or…“Well, it’s a long list. But the path was written in +the omens, and there was no way I could go wrong,” he said to +himself. +He fell asleep, and when he awoke the sun was already high. He +began to dig at the base of the sycamore. +“You old sorcerer,” the boy shouted up to the sky. “You knew the +whole story. You even left a bit of gold at the monastery so I could +get back to this church. The monk laughed when he saw me come +back in tatters. Couldn’t you have saved me from that?” +“No,” he heard a voice on the wind say. “If I had told you, you +wouldn’t have seen the Pyramids. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” +The boy smiled, and continued digging. Half an hour later, his +shovel hit something solid. An hour later, he had before him a chest +of Spanish gold coins. There were also precious stones, gold masks +adorned with red and white feathers, and stone statues embedded +with jewels. The spoils of a conquest that the country had long ago +forgotten, and that some conquistador had failed to tell his children +about. +The boy took out Urim and Thummim from his bag. He had used +the two stones only once, one morning when he was at a +marketplace. His life and his path had always provided him with +enough omens. +He placed Urim and Thummim in the chest. They were also a +part of his new treasure, because they were a reminder of the old +king, whom he would never see again. +It’s true; life really is generous to those who pursue their +Personal Legend, the boy thought. Then he remembered that he had +to get to Tarifa so he could give one-tenth of his treasure to the +Gypsy woman, as he had promised. Those Gypsies are really smart, +he thought. Maybe it was because they moved around so much. +The wind began to blow again. It was the levanter, the wind that +came from Africa. It didn’t bring with it the smell of the desert, nor +the threat of Moorish invasion. Instead, it brought the scent of a +perfume he knew well, and the touch of a kiss—a kiss that came +from far away, slowly, slowly, until it rested on his lips. +The boy smiled. It was the first time she had done that. +“I’m coming, Fatima,” he said. + +
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