+ +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.” +
+ + +