THE
ALCHEMIST
PAULOCOELHO
TRANSLATEDBYALANR.
CLARKE
Contents
INTRODUCTION
Irememberreceivinga
letterfromtheAmerican
publisherHarperCollins…
PROLOGUE
Thealchemistpickedupa
bookthatsomeoneinthe…
ONE
Theboy’snamewas
Santiago.Duskwasfalling
asthe…
TWO
Theboyhadbeenworking
forthecrystalmerchant
for…
EPILOGUE
Theboyreachedthesmall,
abandonedchurchjustas
night…
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
INTERNATIONAL
ACCLAIM
BOOKSBYPAULO
COELHO
CREDITS
COPYRIGHT
ABOUTTHEPUBLISHER
TENYEARSON
IREMEMBERRECEIVINGA
LETTERFROMTHEAMERICAN
publisherHarperCollinsthat
saidthat:“readingThe
Alchemistwaslikegettingup
atdawnandseeingthesun
risewhiletherestofthe
worldstillslept.”Iwent
outside,lookedupatthesky,
andthoughttomyself:“So,
thebookisgoingtobe
publishedinEnglish!”Atthe
time,Iwasstrugglingto
establishmyselfasawriter
andtofollowmypathdespite
allthevoicestellingmeit
wasimpossible.
Andlittlebylittle,my
dreamwasbecomingreality.
Ten,ahundred,athousand,a
millioncopiessoldin
America.Oneday,a
Brazilianjournalistphonedto
saythatPresidentClintonhad
beenphotographedreading
thebook.Sometimelater,
whenIwasinTurkey,I
openedthemagazineVanity
FairandtherewasJulia
Robertsdeclaringthatshe
adoredthebook.Walking
alonedownastreetinMiami,
Iheardagirltellingher
mother:“YoumustreadThe
Alchemist!”
Thebookhasbeen
translatedintofifty-six
languages,hassoldmorethan
twentymillioncopies,and
peoplearebeginningtoask:
What’sthesecretbehindsuch
ahugesuccess?
Theonlyhonestresponseis:
Idon’tknow.AllIknowis
that,likeSantiagothe
shepherdboy,weallneedto
beawareofourpersonal
calling.Whatisapersonal
calling?ItisGod’sblessing,
itisthepaththatGodchose
foryouhereonEarth.
Wheneverwedosomething
thatfillsuswithenthusiasm,
wearefollowingourlegend.
However,wedon’tallhave
thecouragetoconfrontour
owndream.
Why?
Therearefourobstacles.
First:wearetoldfrom
childhoodonwardthat
everythingwewanttodois
impossible.Wegrowupwith
thisidea,andastheyears
accumulate,sotoodothe
layersofprejudice,fear,and
guilt.Therecomesatime
whenourpersonalcallingis
sodeeplyburiedinoursoul
astobeinvisible.Butit’sstill
there.
Ifwehavethecourageto
disinterdream,wearethen
facedbythesecondobstacle:
love.Weknowwhatwewant
todo,butareafraidofhurting
thosearoundusby
abandoningeverythingin
ordertopursueourdream.
Wedonotrealizethatloveis
justafurtherimpetus,not
somethingthatwillprevent
usgoingforward.Wedonot
realizethatthosewho
genuinelywishuswellwant
ustobehappyandare
preparedtoaccompanyuson
thatjourney.
Oncewehaveacceptedthat
loveisastimulus,wecome
upagainstthethirdobstacle:
fearofthedefeatswewill
meetonthepath.Wewho
fightforourdream,sufferfar
morewhenitdoesn’twork
out,becausewecannotfall
backontheoldexcuse:“Oh,
well,Ididn’treallywantit
anyway.”Wedowantitand
knowthatwehavestaked
everythingonitandthatthe
pathofthepersonalcallingis
noeasierthananyotherpath,
exceptthatourwholeheartis
inthisjourney.Then,we
warriorsoflightmustbe
preparedtohavepatiencein
difficulttimesandtoknow
thattheUniverseis
conspiringinourfavor,even
thoughwemaynot
understandhow.
Iaskmyself:aredefeats
necessary?
Well,necessaryornot,they
happen.Whenwefirstbegin
fightingforourdream,we
havenoexperienceandmake
manymistakes.Thesecretof
life,though,istofallseven
timesandtogetupeight
times.
So,whyisitsoimportantto
liveourpersonalcallingifwe
areonlygoingtosuffermore
thanotherpeople?
Because,oncewehave
overcomethedefeats—and
wealwaysdo—wearefilled
byagreatersenseofeuphoria
andconfidence.Inthesilence
ofourhearts,weknowthat
weareprovingourselves
worthyofthemiracleoflife.
Eachday,eachhour,ispart
ofthegoodfight.Westartto
livewithenthusiasmand
pleasure.Intense,unexpected
sufferingpassesmorequickly
thansufferingthatis
apparentlybearable;thelatter
goesonforyearsand,
withoutournoticing,eats
awayatoursoul,until,one
day,wearenolongerableto
freeourselvesfromthe
bitternessanditstayswithus
fortherestofourlives.
Havingdisinterredour
dream,havingusedthepower
oflovetonurtureitandspent
manyyearslivingwiththe
scars,wesuddenlynoticethat
whatwealwayswantedis
there,waitingforus,perhaps
theverynextday.Then
comesthefourthobstacle:the
fearofrealizingthedreamfor
whichwefoughtallourlives.
OscarWildesaid:“Each
mankillsthethingheloves.”
Andit’strue.Themere
possibilityofgettingwhatwe
wantfillsthesoulofthe
ordinarypersonwithguilt.
Welookaroundatallthose
whohavefailedtogetwhat
theywantandfeelthatwedo
notdeservetogetwhatwe
wanteither.Weforgetabout
alltheobstacleswe
overcame,allthesuffering
weendured,allthethingswe
hadtogiveupinordertoget
thisfar.Ihaveknownalotof
peoplewho,whentheir
personalcallingwaswithin
theirgrasp,wentonto
commitaseriesofstupid
mistakesandneverreached
theirgoal—whenitwasonly
astepaway.
Thisisthemostdangerous
oftheobstaclesbecauseithas
akindofsaintlyauraaboutit:
renouncingjoyandconquest.
Butifyoubelieveyourself
worthyofthethingyou
foughtsohardtoget,then
youbecomeaninstrumentof
God,youhelptheSoulofthe
World,andyouunderstand
whyyouarehere.
PauloCoelho
RiodeJaneiro
November
2002
Translatedby
MargaretJullCosta
PROLOGUE
TranslatedbyCliffordE.Landers
THEALCHEMISTPICKEDUPA
BOOKTHATSOMEONEINTHE
caravanhadbrought.Leafing
throughthepages,hefounda
storyaboutNarcissus.
Thealchemistknewthe
legendofNarcissus,ayouth
whokneltdailybesidealake
tocontemplatehisown
beauty.Hewassofascinated
byhimselfthat,onemorning,
hefellintothelakeand
drowned.Atthespotwhere
hefell,aflowerwasborn,
whichwascalledthe
narcissus.
Butthiswasnothowthe
authorofthebookendedthe
story.
HesaidthatwhenNarcissus
died,thegoddessesofthe
forestappearedandfoundthe
lake,whichhadbeenfresh
water,transformedintoalake
ofsaltytears.
“Whydoyouweep?”the
goddessesasked.
“IweepforNarcissus,”the
lakereplied.
“Ah,itisnosurprisethat
youweepforNarcissus,”they
said,“forthoughwealways
pursuedhimintheforest,you
alonecouldcontemplatehis
beautycloseathand.”
“But…wasNarcissus
beautiful?”thelakeasked.
“Whobetterthanyouto
knowthat?”thegoddesses
saidinwonder.“Afterall,it
wasbyyourbanksthathe
knelteachdaytocontemplate
himself!”
Thelakewassilentforsome
time.Finally,itsaid:
“IweepforNarcissus,butI
nevernoticedthatNarcissus
wasbeautiful.Iweep
because,eachtimeheknelt
besidemybanks,Icouldsee,
inthedepthsofhiseyes,my
ownbeautyreflected.”
“Whatalovelystory,”the
alchemistthought.
PARTONE
THEBOY’SNAMEWAS
SANTIAGO.DUSKWASFALLING
AStheboyarrivedwithhis
herdatanabandonedchurch.
Theroofhadfalleninlong
ago,andanenormous
sycamorehadgrownonthe
spotwherethesacristyhad
oncestood.
Hedecidedtospendthe
nightthere.Hesawtoitthat
allthesheepenteredthrough
theruinedgate,andthenlaid
someplanksacrossitto
preventtheflockfrom
wanderingawayduringthe
night.Therewerenowolves
intheregion,butoncean
animalhadstrayedduringthe
night,andtheboyhadhadto
spendtheentirenextday
searchingforit.
Hesweptthefloorwithhis
jacketandlaydown,using
thebookhehadjustfinished
readingasapillow.Hetold
himselfthathewouldhaveto
startreadingthickerbooks:
theylastedlonger,andmade
morecomfortablepillows.
Itwasstilldarkwhenhe
awoke,and,lookingup,he
couldseethestarsthrough
thehalf-destroyedroof.
Iwantedtosleepalittle
longer,hethought.Hehad
hadthesamedreamthatnight
asaweekago,andonceagain
hehadawakenedbeforeit
ended.
Hearoseand,takinguphis
crook,begantoawakenthe
sheepthatstillslept.Hehad
noticedthat,assoonashe
awoke,mostofhisanimals
alsobegantostir.Itwasasif
somemysteriousenergy
boundhislifetothatofthe
sheep,withwhomhehad
spentthepasttwoyears,
leadingthemthroughthe
countrysideinsearchoffood
andwater.“Theyaresoused
tomethattheyknowmy
schedule,”hemuttered.
Thinkingaboutthatfora
moment,herealizedthatit
couldbetheotherway
around:thatitwashewho
hadbecomeaccustomedto
theirschedule.
Buttherewerecertainof
themwhotookabitlongerto
awaken.Theboyprodded
them,onebyone,withhis
crook,callingeachbyname.
Hehadalwaysbelievedthat
thesheepwereableto
understandwhathesaid.So
thereweretimeswhenhe
readthempartsofhisbooks
thathadmadeanimpression
onhim,orwhenhewouldtell
themofthelonelinessorthe
happinessofashepherdinthe
fields.Sometimeshewould
commenttothemonthe
thingshehadseeninthe
villagestheypassed.
Butforthepastfewdayshe
hadspokentothemabout
onlyonething:thegirl,the
daughterofamerchantwho
livedinthevillagethey
wouldreachinaboutfour
days.Hehadbeentothe
villageonlyonce,theyear
before.Themerchantwasthe
proprietorofadrygoods
shop,andhealways
demandedthatthesheepbe
shearedinhispresence,so
thathewouldnotbecheated.
Afriendhadtoldtheboy
abouttheshop,andhehad
takenhissheepthere.
“INEEDTOSELLSOMEWOOL,”
THEBOYTOLDTHEmerchant.
Theshopwasbusy,andthe
manaskedtheshepherdto
waituntiltheafternoon.So
theboysatonthestepsofthe
shopandtookabookfrom
hisbag.
“Ididn’tknowshepherds
knewhowtoread,”saida
girl’svoicebehindhim.
Thegirlwastypicalofthe
regionofAndalusia,with
flowingblackhair,andeyes
thatvaguelyrecalledthe
Moorishconquerors.
“Well,usuallyIlearnmore
frommysheepthanfrom
books,”heanswered.During
thetwohoursthatthey
talked,shetoldhimshewas
themerchant’sdaughter,and
spokeoflifeinthevillage,
whereeachdaywaslikeall
theothers.Theshepherdtold
heroftheAndalusian
countryside,andrelatedthe
newsfromtheothertowns
wherehehadstopped.Itwas
apleasantchangefrom
talkingtohissheep.
“Howdidyoulearnto
read?”thegirlaskedatone
point.
“Likeeverybodylearns,”he
said.“Inschool.”
“Well,ifyouknowhowto
read,whyareyoujusta
shepherd?”
Theboymumbledan
answerthatallowedhimto
avoidrespondingtoher
question.Hewassurethegirl
wouldneverunderstand.He
wentontellingstoriesabout
histravels,andherbright,
Moorisheyeswentwidewith
fearandsurprise.Asthetime
passed,theboyfoundhimself
wishingthatthedaywould
neverend,thatherfather
wouldstaybusyandkeep
himwaitingforthreedays.
Herecognizedthathewas
feelingsomethinghehad
neverexperiencedbefore:the
desiretoliveinoneplace
forever.Withthegirlwiththe
ravenhair,hisdayswould
neverbethesameagain.
Butfinallythemerchant
appeared,andaskedtheboy
toshearfoursheep.Hepaid
forthewoolandaskedthe
shepherdtocomebackthe
followingyear.
ANDNOWITWASONLYFOUR
DAYSBEFOREHEWOULDBE
backinthatsamevillage.He
wasexcited,andatthesame
timeuneasy:maybethegirl
hadalreadyforgottenhim.
Lotsofshepherdspassed
through,sellingtheirwool.
“Itdoesn’tmatter,”hesaid
tohissheep.“Iknowother
girlsinotherplaces.”
Butinhisheartheknewthat
itdidmatter.Andheknew
thatshepherds,likeseamen
andliketravelingsalesmen,
alwaysfoundatownwhere
therewassomeonewhocould
makethemforgetthejoysof
carefreewandering.
Thedaywasdawning,and
theshepherdurgedhissheep
inthedirectionofthesun.
Theyneverhavetomakeany
decisions,hethought.Maybe
that’swhytheyalwaysstay
closetome.
Theonlythingsthat
concernedthesheepwere
foodandwater.Aslongas
theboyknewhowtofindthe
bestpasturesinAndalusia,
theywouldbehisfriends.
Yes,theirdayswereallthe
same,withtheseemingly
endlesshoursbetweensunrise
anddusk;andtheyhadnever
readabookintheiryoung
lives,anddidn’tunderstand
whentheboytoldthemabout
thesightsofthecities.They
werecontentwithjustfood
andwater,and,inexchange,
theygenerouslygaveoftheir
wool,theircompany,and—
onceinawhile—theirmeat.
IfIbecameamonstertoday,
anddecidedtokillthem,one
byone,theywouldbecome
awareonlyaftermostofthe
flockhadbeenslaughtered,
thoughttheboy.Theytrust
me,andthey’veforgotten
howtorelyontheirown
instincts,becauseIleadthem
tonourishment.
Theboywassurprisedathis
thoughts.Maybethechurch,
withthesycamoregrowing
fromwithin,hadbeen
haunted.Ithadcausedhimto
havethesamedreamfora
secondtime,anditwas
causinghimtofeelanger
towardhisfaithful
companions.Hedrankabit
fromthewinethatremained
fromhisdinnerofthenight
before,andhegatheredhis
jacketclosertohisbody.He
knewthatafewhoursfrom
now,withthesunatits
zenith,theheatwouldbeso
greatthathewouldnotbe
abletoleadhisflockacross
thefields.Itwasthetimeof
daywhenallofSpainslept
duringthesummer.Theheat
lasteduntilnightfall,andall
thattimehehadtocarryhis
jacket.Butwhenhethought
tocomplainabouttheburden
ofitsweight,heremembered
that,becausehehadthe
jacket,hehadwithstoodthe
coldofthedawn.
Wehavetobepreparedfor
change,hethought,andhe
wasgratefulforthejacket’s
weightandwarmth.
Thejackethadapurpose,
andsodidtheboy.His
purposeinlifewastotravel,
and,aftertwoyearsof
walkingtheAndalusian
terrain,heknewallthecities
oftheregion.Hewas
planning,onthisvisit,to
explaintothegirlhowitwas
thatasimpleshepherdknew
howtoread.Thathehad
attendedaseminaryuntilhe
wassixteen.Hisparentshad
wantedhimtobecomea
priest,andtherebyasourceof
prideforasimplefarm
family.Theyworkedhard
justtohavefoodandwater,
likethesheep.Hehadstudied
Latin,Spanish,andtheology.
Buteversincehehadbeena
child,hehadwantedtoknow
theworld,andthiswasmuch
moreimportanttohimthan
knowingGodandlearning
aboutman’ssins.One
afternoon,onavisittohis
family,hehadsummonedup
thecouragetotellhisfather
thathedidn’twanttobecome
apriest.Thathewantedto
travel.
“PEOPLEFROMALLOVERTHE
WORLDHAVEPASSEDthrough
thisvillage,son,”saidhis
father.“Theycomeinsearch
ofnewthings,butwhenthey
leavetheyarebasicallythe
samepeopletheywerewhen
theyarrived.Theyclimbthe
mountaintoseethecastle,
andtheywindupthinking
thatthepastwasbetterthan
whatwehavenow.They
haveblondhair,ordarkskin,
butbasicallythey’rethesame
asthepeoplewholiveright
here.”
“ButI’dliketoseethe
castlesinthetownswhere
theylive,”theboyexplained.
“Thosepeople,whenthey
seeourland,saythatthey
wouldliketolivehere
forever,”hisfathercontinued.
“Well,I’dliketoseetheir
land,andseehowtheylive,”
saidhisson.
“Thepeoplewhocomehere
havealotofmoneytospend,
sotheycanaffordtotravel,”
hisfathersaid.“Amongstus,
theonlyoneswhotravelare
theshepherds.”
“Well,thenI’llbea
shepherd!”
Hisfathersaidnomore.The
nextday,hegavehissona
pouchthatheldthreeancient
Spanishgoldcoins.
“Ifoundtheseonedayin
thefields.Iwantedthemto
beapartofyourinheritance.
Butusethemtobuyyour
flock.Taketothefields,and
somedayyou’lllearnthatour
countrysideisthebest,and
ourwomenarethemost
beautiful.”
Andhegavetheboyhis
blessing.Theboycouldsee
inhisfather’sgazeadesireto
beable,himself,totravelthe
world—adesirethatwasstill
alive,despitehisfather’s
havinghadtoburyit,over
dozensofyears,underthe
burdenofstrugglingforwater
todrink,foodtoeat,andthe
sameplacetosleepevery
nightofhislife.
THEHORIZONWASTINGED
WITHRED,ANDSUDDENLYTHE
sunappeared.Theboy
thoughtbacktothat
conversationwithhisfather,
andfelthappy;hehadalready
seenmanycastlesandmet
manywomen(butnonethe
equaloftheonewhoawaited
himseveraldayshence).He
ownedajacket,abookthat
hecouldtradeforanother,
andaflockofsheep.But,
mostimportant,hewasable
everydaytoliveouthis
dream.Ifheweretotireof
theAndalusianfields,he
couldsellhissheepandgoto
sea.Bythetimehehadhad
enoughofthesea,hewould
alreadyhaveknownother
cities,otherwomen,and
otherchancestobehappy.I
couldn’thavefoundGodin
theseminary,hethought,as
helookedatthesunrise.
Wheneverhecould,he
soughtoutanewroadto
travel.Hehadneverbeento
thatruinedchurchbefore,in
spiteofhavingtraveled
throughthosepartsmany
times.Theworldwashuge
andinexhaustible;hehad
onlytoallowhissheeptoset
therouteforawhile,andhe
woulddiscoverother
interestingthings.The
problemisthattheydon’t
evenrealizethatthey’re
walkinganewroadevery
day.Theydon’tseethatthe
fieldsarenewandtheseasons
change.Alltheythinkabout
isfoodandwater.
Maybewe’reallthatway,
theboymused.Evenme—I
haven’tthoughtofother
womensinceImetthe
merchant’sdaughter.Looking
atthesun,hecalculatedthat
hewouldreachTarifabefore
midday.There,hecould
exchangehisbookfora
thickerone,fillhiswine
bottle,shave,andhavea
haircut;hehadtoprepare
himselfforhismeetingwith
thegirl,andhedidn’twantto
thinkaboutthepossibility
thatsomeothershepherd,
withalargerflockofsheep,
hadarrivedtherebeforehim
andaskedforherhand.
It’sthepossibilityofhaving
adreamcometruethatmakes
lifeinteresting,hethought,as
helookedagainatthe
positionofthesun,and
hurriedhispace.Hehad
suddenlyrememberedthat,in
Tarifa,therewasanold
womanwhointerpreted
dreams.
THEOLDWOMANLEDTHEBOY
TOAROOMATTHEBACKofher
house;itwasseparatedfrom
herlivingroombyacurtain
ofcoloredbeads.Theroom’s
furnishingsconsistedofa
table,animageoftheSacred
HeartofJesus,andtwo
chairs.
Thewomansatdown,and
toldhimtobeseatedaswell.
Thenshetookbothofhis
handsinhers,andbegan
quietlytopray.
ItsoundedlikeaGypsy
prayer.Theboyhadalready
hadexperienceontheroad
withGypsies;theyalso
traveled,buttheyhadno
flocksofsheep.Peoplesaid
thatGypsiesspenttheirlives
trickingothers.Itwasalso
saidthattheyhadapactwith
thedevil,andthatthey
kidnappedchildrenand,
takingthemawaytotheir
mysteriouscamps,made
themtheirslaves.Asachild,
theboyhadalwaysbeen
frightenedtodeaththathe
wouldbecapturedby
Gypsies,andthischildhood
fearreturnedwhentheold
womantookhishandsin
hers.
ButshehastheSacred
HeartofJesusthere,he
thought,tryingtoreassure
himself.Hedidn’twanthis
handtobegintrembling,
showingtheoldwomanthat
hewasfearful.Herecitedan
OurFathersilently.
“Veryinteresting,”saidthe
woman,nevertakinghereyes
fromtheboy’shands,and
thenshefellsilent.
Theboywasbecoming
nervous.Hishandsbeganto
tremble,andthewoman
sensedit.Hequicklypulled
hishandsaway.
“Ididn’tcomeheretohave
youreadmypalm,”hesaid,
alreadyregrettinghaving
come.Hethoughtfora
momentthatitwouldbe
bettertopayherfeeandleave
withoutlearningathing,that
hewasgivingtoomuch
importancetohisrecurrent
dream.
“Youcamesothatyou
couldlearnaboutyour
dreams,”saidtheoldwoman.
“Anddreamsarethe
languageofGod.Whenhe
speaksinourlanguage,Ican
interpretwhathehassaid.
Butifhespeaksinthe
languageofthesoul,itisonly
youwhocanunderstand.But,
whicheveritis,I’mgoingto
chargeyouforthe
consultation.”
Anothertrick,theboy
thought.Buthedecidedto
takeachance.Ashepherd
alwaystakeshischanceswith
wolvesandwithdrought,and
that’swhatmakesa
shepherd’slifeexciting.
“Ihavehadthesamedream
twice,”hesaid.“Idreamed
thatIwasinafieldwithmy
sheep,whenachildappeared
andbegantoplaywiththe
animals.Idon’tlikepeopleto
dothat,becausethesheepare
afraidofstrangers.But
childrenalwaysseemtobe
abletoplaywiththem
withoutfrighteningthem.I
don’tknowwhy.Idon’t
knowhowanimalsknowthe
ageofhumanbeings.”
“Tellmemoreaboutyour
dream,”saidthewoman.“I
havetogetbacktomy
cooking,and,sinceyoudon’t
havemuchmoney,Ican’t
giveyoualotoftime.”
“Thechildwentonplaying
withmysheepforquitea
while,”continuedtheboy,a
bitupset.“Andsuddenly,the
childtookmebybothhands
andtransportedmetothe
Egyptianpyramids.”
Hepausedforamomentto
seeifthewomanknewwhat
theEgyptianpyramidswere.
Butshesaidnothing.
“Then,attheEgyptian
pyramids,”—hesaidthelast
threewordsslowly,sothat
theoldwomanwould
understand—“thechildsaid
tome,‘Ifyoucomehere,you
willfindahiddentreasure.’
And,justasshewasaboutto
showmetheexactlocation,I
wokeup.Bothtimes.”
Thewomanwassilentfor
sometime.Thensheagain
tookhishandsandstudied
themcarefully.
“I’mnotgoingtocharge
youanythingnow,”shesaid.
“ButIwantone-tenthofthe
treasure,ifyoufindit.”
Theboylaughed—outof
happiness.Hewasgoingto
beabletosavethelittle
moneyhehadbecauseofa
dreamabouthiddentreasure!
“Well,interpretthedream,”
hesaid.
“First,sweartome.Swear
thatyouwillgivemeonetenthofyourtreasurein
exchangeforwhatIamgoing
totellyou.”
Theshepherdsworethathe
would.Theoldwomanasked
himtoswearagainwhile
lookingattheimageofthe
SacredHeartofJesus.
“It’sadreaminthe
languageoftheworld,”she
said.“Icaninterpretit,but
theinterpretationisvery
difficult.That’swhyIfeel
thatIdeserveapartofwhat
youfind.
“Andthisismy
interpretation:youmustgoto
thePyramidsinEgypt.Ihave
neverheardofthem,but,ifit
wasachildwhoshowedthem
toyou,theyexist.Thereyou
willfindatreasurethatwill
makeyouarichman.”
Theboywassurprised,and
thenirritated.Hedidn’tneed
toseekouttheoldwomanfor
this!Butthenheremembered
thathewasn’tgoingtohave
topayanything.
“Ididn’tneedtowastemy
timejustforthis,”hesaid.
“Itoldyouthatyourdream
wasadifficultone.It’sthe
simplethingsinlifethatare
themostextraordinary;only
wisemenareableto
understandthem.AndsinceI
amnotwise,Ihavehadto
learnotherarts,suchasthe
readingofpalms.”
“Well,howamIgoingto
gettoEgypt?”
“Ionlyinterpretdreams.I
don’tknowhowtoturnthem
intoreality.That’swhyI
havetoliveoffwhatmy
daughtersprovidemewith.”
“AndwhatifInevergetto
Egypt?”
“ThenIdon’tgetpaid.It
wouldn’tbethefirsttime.”
Andthewomantoldtheboy
toleave,sayingshehad
alreadywastedtoomuchtime
withhim.
Sotheboywas
disappointed;hedecidedthat
hewouldneveragainbelieve
indreams.Heremembered
thathehadanumberof
thingshehadtotakecareof:
hewenttothemarketfor
somethingtoeat,hetraded
hisbookforonethatwas
thicker,andhefoundabench
intheplazawherehecould
samplethenewwinehehad
bought.Thedaywashot,and
thewinewasrefreshing.The
sheepwereatthegatesofthe
city,inastablethatbelonged
toafriend.Theboyknewa
lotofpeopleinthecity.That
waswhatmadetraveling
appealtohim—healways
madenewfriends,andhe
didn’tneedtospendallofhis
timewiththem.When
someoneseesthesame
peopleeveryday,ashad
happenedwithhimatthe
seminary,theywindup
becomingapartofthat
person’slife.Andthenthey
wantthepersontochange.If
someoneisn’twhatothers
wantthemtobe,theothers
becomeangry.Everyone
seemstohaveaclearideaof
howotherpeopleshouldlead
theirlives,butnoneabouthis
orherown.
Hedecidedtowaituntilthe
sunhadsunkabitlowerin
theskybeforefollowinghis
flockbackthroughthefields.
Threedaysfromnow,he
wouldbewiththemerchant’s
daughter.
Hestartedtoreadthebook
hehadbought.Onthevery
firstpageitdescribedaburial
ceremony.Andthenamesof
thepeopleinvolvedwere
verydifficulttopronounce.If
heeverwroteabook,he
thought,hewouldpresentone
personatatime,sothatthe
readerwouldn’thaveto
worryaboutmemorizingalot
ofnames.
Whenhewasfinallyableto
concentrateonwhathewas
reading,helikedthebook
better;theburialwasona
snowyday,andhewelcomed
thefeelingofbeingcold.As
hereadon,anoldmansat
downathissideandtriedto
strikeupaconversation.
“Whataretheydoing?”the
oldmanasked,pointingatthe
peopleintheplaza.
“Working,”theboy
answereddryly,makingit
lookasifhewantedto
concentrateonhisreading.
Actually,hewasthinking
aboutshearinghissheepin
frontofthemerchant’s
daughter,sothatshecould
seethathewassomeonewho
wascapableofdoingdifficult
things.Hehadalready
imaginedthescenemany
times;everytime,thegirl
becamefascinatedwhenhe
explainedthatthesheephad
tobeshearedfrombackto
front.Healsotriedto
remembersomegoodstories
torelateasheshearedthe
sheep.Mostofthemhehad
readinbooks,buthewould
tellthemasiftheywerefrom
hispersonalexperience.She
wouldneverknowthe
difference,becauseshedidn’t
knowhowtoread.
Meanwhile,theoldman
persistedinhisattemptto
strikeupaconversation.He
saidthathewastiredand
thirsty,andaskedifhemight
haveasipoftheboy’swine.
Theboyofferedhisbottle,
hopingthattheoldman
wouldleavehimalone.
Buttheoldmanwantedto
talk,andheaskedtheboy
whatbookhewasreading.
Theboywastemptedtobe
rude,andmovetoanother
bench,buthisfatherhad
taughthimtoberespectfulof
theelderly.Soheheldoutthe
booktotheman—fortwo
reasons:first,thathe,himself,
wasn’tsurehowtopronounce
thetitle;andsecond,thatif
theoldmandidn’tknowhow
toread,hewouldprobably
feelashamedanddecideof
hisownaccordtochange
benches.
“Hmm…”saidtheoldman,
lookingatallsidesofthe
book,asifitweresome
strangeobject.“Thisisan
importantbook,butit’sreally
irritating.”
Theboywasshocked.The
oldmanknewhowtoread,
andhadalreadyreadthe
book.Andifthebookwas
irritating,astheoldmanhad
said,theboystillhadtimeto
changeitforanother.
“It’sabookthatsaysthe
samethingalmostallthe
otherbooksintheworldsay,”
continuedtheoldman.“It
describespeople’sinabilityto
choosetheirownPersonal
Legends.Anditendsup
sayingthateveryonebelieves
theworld’sgreatestlie.”
“What’stheworld’sgreatest
lie?”theboyasked,
completelysurprised.
“It’sthis:thatatacertain
pointinourlives,welose
controlofwhat’shappening
tous,andourlivesbecome
controlledbyfate.That’sthe
world’sgreatestlie.”
“That’sneverhappenedto
me,”theboysaid.“They
wantedmetobeapriest,but
Idecidedtobecomea
shepherd.”
“Muchbetter,”saidtheold
man.“Becauseyoureallylike
totravel.”
“HeknewwhatIwas
thinking,”theboysaidto
himself.Theoldman,
meanwhile,wasleafing
throughthebook,without
seemingtowanttoreturnitat
all.Theboynoticedthatthe
man’sclothingwasstrange.
HelookedlikeanArab,
whichwasnotunusualin
thoseparts.Africawasonlya
fewhoursfromTarifa;one
hadonlytocrossthenarrow
straitsbyboat.Arabsoften
appearedinthecity,shopping
andchantingtheirstrange
prayersseveraltimesaday.
“Whereareyoufrom?”the
boyasked.
“Frommanyplaces.”
“Noonecanbefrommany
places,”theboysaid.“I’ma
shepherd,andIhavebeento
manyplaces,butIcomefrom
onlyoneplace—fromacity
nearanancientcastle.That’s
whereIwasborn.”
“Wellthen,wecouldsay
thatIwasborninSalem.”
Theboydidn’tknowwhere
Salemwas,buthedidn’t
wanttoask,fearingthathe
wouldappearignorant.He
lookedatthepeopleinthe
plazaforawhile;theywere
comingandgoing,andallof
themseemedtobeverybusy.
“So,whatisSalemlike?”he
asked,tryingtogetsomesort
ofclue.
“It’slikeitalwayshas
been.”
Noclueyet.Butheknew
thatSalemwasn’tin
Andalusia.Ifitwere,he
wouldalreadyhaveheardof
it.
“Andwhatdoyoudoin
Salem?”heinsisted.
“WhatdoIdoinSalem?”
Theoldmanlaughed.“Well,
I’mthekingofSalem!”
Peoplesaystrangethings,
theboythought.Sometimes
it’sbettertobewiththe
sheep,whodon’tsay
anything.Andbetterstillto
bealonewithone’sbooks.
Theytelltheirincredible
storiesatthetimewhenyou
wanttohearthem.Butwhen
you’retalkingtopeople,they
saysomethingsthatareso
strangethatyoudon’tknow
howtocontinuethe
conversation.
“MynameisMelchizedek,”
saidtheoldman.“Howmany
sheepdoyouhave?”
“Enough,”saidtheboy.He
couldseethattheoldman
wantedtoknowmoreabout
hislife.
“Well,then,we’vegota
problem.Ican’thelpyouif
youfeelyou’vegotenough
sheep.”
Theboywasgetting
irritated.Hewasn’taskingfor
help.Itwastheoldmanwho
hadaskedforadrinkofhis
wine,andhadstartedthe
conversation.
“Givememybook,”the
boysaid.“Ihavetogoand
gathermysheepandget
going.”
“Givemeone-tenthofyour
sheep,”saidtheoldman,
“andI’lltellyouhowtofind
thehiddentreasure.”
Theboyrememberedhis
dream,andsuddenly
everythingwascleartohim.
Theoldwomanhadn’t
chargedhimanything,butthe
oldman—maybehewasher
husband—wasgoingtofinda
waytogetmuchmoremoney
inexchangeforinformation
aboutsomethingthatdidn’t
evenexist.Theoldmanwas
probablyaGypsy,too.
Butbeforetheboycould
sayanything,theoldman
leanedover,pickedupa
stick,andbegantowritein
thesandoftheplaza.
Somethingbrightreflected
fromhischestwithsuch
intensitythattheboywas
momentarilyblinded.Witha
movementthatwastooquick
forsomeonehisage,theman
coveredwhateveritwaswith
hiscape.Whenhisvision
returnedtonormal,theboy
wasabletoreadwhattheold
manhadwritteninthesand.
There,inthesandofthe
plazaofthatsmallcity,the
boyreadthenamesofhis
fatherandhismotherandthe
nameoftheseminaryhehad
attended.Hereadthenameof
themerchant’sdaughter,
whichhehadn’tevenknown,
andhereadthingshehad
nevertoldanyone.
“I’MTHEKINGOFSALEM,”THE
OLDMANHADSAID.
“Whywouldakingbe
talkingwithashepherd?”the
boyasked,awedand
embarrassed.
“Forseveralreasons.But
let’ssaythatthemost
importantisthatyouhave
succeededindiscovering
yourPersonalLegend.”
Theboydidn’tknowwhata
person’s“PersonalLegend”
was.
“It’swhatyouhavealways
wantedtoaccomplish.
Everyone,whentheyare
young,knowswhattheir
PersonalLegendis.
“Atthatpointintheirlives,
everythingisclearand
everythingispossible.They
arenotafraidtodream,andto
yearnforeverythingthey
wouldliketoseehappento
themintheirlives.But,as
timepasses,amysterious
forcebeginstoconvincethem
thatitwillbeimpossiblefor
themtorealizetheirPersonal
Legend.”
Noneofwhattheoldman
wassayingmademuchsense
totheboy.Buthewantedto
knowwhatthe“mysterious
force”was;themerchant’s
daughterwouldbeimpressed
whenhetoldheraboutthat!
“It’saforcethatappearsto
benegative,butactually
showsyouhowtorealize
yourPersonalLegend.It
preparesyourspiritandyour
will,becausethereisone
greattruthonthisplanet:
whoeveryouare,orwhatever
itisthatyoudo,whenyou
reallywantsomething,it’s
becausethatdesireoriginated
inthesouloftheuniverse.
It’syourmissiononearth.”
“Evenwhenallyouwantto
doistravel?Ormarrythe
daughterofatextile
merchant?”
“Yes,orevensearchfor
treasure.TheSoulofthe
Worldisnourishedby
people’shappiness.Andalso
byunhappiness,envy,and
jealousy.Torealizeone’s
PersonalLegendisaperson’s
onlyrealobligation.All
thingsareone.
“And,whenyouwant
something,alltheuniverse
conspiresinhelpingyouto
achieveit.”
Theywerebothsilentfora
time,observingtheplazaand
thetownspeople.Itwasthe
oldmanwhospokefirst.
“Whydoyoutendaflockof
sheep?”
“BecauseIliketotravel.”
Theoldmanpointedtoa
bakerstandinginhisshop
windowatonecornerofthe
plaza.“Whenhewasachild,
thatmanwantedtotravel,
too.Buthedecidedfirstto
buyhisbakeryandputsome
moneyaside.Whenhe’san
oldman,he’sgoingtospend
amonthinAfrica.Henever
realizedthatpeopleare
capable,atanytimeintheir
lives,ofdoingwhatthey
dreamof.”
“Heshouldhavedecidedto
becomeashepherd,”theboy
said.
“Well,hethoughtabout
that,”theoldmansaid.“But
bakersaremoreimportant
peoplethanshepherds.
Bakershavehomes,while
shepherdssleepoutinthe
open.Parentswouldrather
seetheirchildrenmarry
bakersthanshepherds.”
Theboyfeltapanginhis
heart,thinkingaboutthe
merchant’sdaughter.There
wassurelyabakerinher
town.
Theoldmancontinued,“In
thelongrun,whatpeople
thinkaboutshepherdsand
bakersbecomesmore
importantforthemthantheir
ownPersonalLegends.”
Theoldmanleafedthrough
thebook,andfelltoreadinga
pagehecameto.Theboy
waited,andtheninterrupted
theoldmanjustashehimself
hadbeeninterrupted.“Why
areyoutellingmeallthis?”
“Becauseyouaretryingto
realizeyourPersonalLegend.
Andyouareatthepoint
whereyou’reabouttogiveit
allup.”
“Andthat’swhenyou
alwaysappearonthescene?”
“Notalwaysinthisway,but
Ialwaysappearinoneform
oranother.SometimesI
appearintheformofa
solution,oragoodidea.At
othertimes,atacrucial
moment,Imakeiteasierfor
thingstohappen.Thereare
otherthingsIdo,too,but
mostofthetimepeopledon’t
realizeI’vedonethem.”
Theoldmanrelatedthat,the
weekbefore,hehadbeen
forcedtoappearbeforea
miner,andhadtakentheform
ofastone.Theminerhad
abandonedeverythingtogo
miningforemeralds.Forfive
yearshehadbeenworkinga
certainriver,andhad
examinedhundredsof
thousandsofstoneslooking
foranemerald.Theminer
wasabouttogiveitallup,
rightatthepointwhen,ifhe
weretoexaminejustone
morestone—justonemore—
hewouldfindhisemerald.
Sincetheminerhad
sacrificedeverythingtohis
PersonalLegend,theoldman
decidedtobecomeinvolved.
Hetransformedhimselfintoa
stonethatrolleduptothe
miner’sfoot.Theminer,with
alltheangerandfrustration
ofhisfivefruitlessyears,
pickedupthestoneandthrew
itaside.Buthehadthrownit
withsuchforcethatitbroke
thestoneitfellupon,and
there,embeddedinthe
brokenstone,wasthemost
beautifulemeraldinthe
world.
“Peoplelearn,earlyintheir
lives,whatistheirreasonfor
being,”saidtheoldman,with
acertainbitterness.“Maybe
that’swhytheygiveuponit
soearly,too.Butthat’sthe
wayitis.”
Theboyremindedtheold
manthathehadsaid
somethingabouthidden
treasure.
“Treasureisuncoveredby
theforceofflowingwater,
anditisburiedbythesame
currents,”saidtheoldman.
“Ifyouwanttolearnabout
yourowntreasure,youwill
havetogivemeone-tenthof
yourflock.”
“Whataboutone-tenthof
mytreasure?”
Theoldmanlooked
disappointed.“Ifyoustartout
bypromisingwhatyoudon’t
evenhaveyet,you’lllose
yourdesiretoworktoward
gettingit.”
Theboytoldhimthathe
hadalreadypromisedtogive
one-tenthofhistreasureto
theGypsy.
“Gypsiesareexpertsat
gettingpeopletodothat,”
sighedtheoldman.“Inany
case,it’sgoodthatyou’ve
learnedthateverythinginlife
hasitsprice.Thisiswhatthe
WarriorsoftheLighttryto
teach.”
Theoldmanreturnedthe
booktotheboy.
“Tomorrow,atthissame
time,bringmeatenthofyour
flock.AndIwilltellyouhow
tofindthehiddentreasure.
Goodafternoon.”
Andhevanishedaroundthe
corneroftheplaza.
THEBOYBEGANAGAINTO
READHISBOOK,BUTHEWASNO
longerabletoconcentrate.He
wastenseandupset,because
heknewthattheoldmanwas
right.Hewentovertothe
bakeryandboughtaloafof
bread,thinkingaboutwhether
ornotheshouldtellthebaker
whattheoldmanhadsaid
abouthim.Sometimesit’s
bettertoleavethingsasthey
are,hethoughttohimself,
anddecidedtosaynothing.If
heweretosayanything,the
bakerwouldspendthreedays
thinkingaboutgivingitall
up,eventhoughhehadgotten
usedtothewaythingswere.
Theboycouldcertainlyresist
causingthatkindofanxiety
forthebaker.Sohebeganto
wanderthroughthecity,and
foundhimselfatthegates.
Therewasasmallbuilding
there,withawindowat
whichpeopleboughttickets
toAfrica.Andheknewthat
EgyptwasinAfrica.
“CanIhelpyou?”askedthe
manbehindthewindow.
“Maybetomorrow,”saidthe
boy,movingaway.Ifhesold
justoneofhissheep,he’d
haveenoughtogettothe
othershoreofthestrait.The
ideafrightenedhim.
“Anotherdreamer,”saidthe
ticketsellertohisassistant,
watchingtheboywalkaway.
“Hedoesn’thaveenough
moneytotravel.”
Whilestandingattheticket
window,theboyhad
rememberedhisflock,and
decidedheshouldgobackto
beingashepherd.Intwo
yearshehadlearned
everythingabout
shepherding:heknewhowto
shearsheep,howtocarefor
pregnantewes,andhowto
protectthesheepfrom
wolves.Heknewallthe
fieldsandpasturesof
Andalusia.Andheknewwhat
wasthefairpriceforevery
oneofhisanimals.
Hedecidedtoreturntohis
friend’sstablebythelongest
routepossible.Ashewalked
pastthecity’scastle,he
interruptedhisreturn,and
climbedthestonerampthat
ledtothetopofthewall.
Fromthere,hecouldsee
Africainthedistance.
Someonehadoncetoldhim
thatitwasfromtherethatthe
Moorshadcome,tooccupy
allofSpain.
Hecouldseealmostthe
entirecityfromwherehesat,
includingtheplazawherehe
hadtalkedwiththeoldman.
CursethemomentImetthat
oldman,hethought.Hehad
cometothetownonlytofind
awomanwhocouldinterpret
hisdream.Neitherthewoman
northeoldmanwasatall
impressedbythefactthathe
wasashepherd.Theywere
solitaryindividualswhono
longerbelievedinthings,and
didn’tunderstandthat
shepherdsbecomeattachedto
theirsheep.Heknew
everythingabouteach
memberofhisflock:heknew
whichoneswerelame,which
onewastogivebirthtwo
monthsfromnow,andwhich
werethelaziest.Heknew
howtoshearthem,andhow
toslaughterthem.Ifheever
decidedtoleavethem,they
wouldsuffer.
Thewindbegantopickup.
Heknewthatwind:people
calleditthelevanter,because
onittheMoorshadcome
fromtheLevantattheeastern
endoftheMediterranean.
Thelevanterincreasedin
intensity.HereIam,between
myflockandmytreasure,the
boythought.Hehadto
choosebetweensomethinghe
hadbecomeaccustomedto
andsomethinghewantedto
have.Therewasalsothe
merchant’sdaughter,butshe
wasn’tasimportantashis
flock,becauseshedidn’t
dependonhim.Maybeshe
didn’tevenrememberhim.
Hewassurethatitmadeno
differencetoheronwhich
dayheappeared:forher,
everydaywasthesame,and
wheneachdayisthesameas
thenext,it’sbecausepeople
failtorecognizethegood
thingsthathappenintheir
liveseverydaythatthesun
rises.
Ileftmyfather,mymother,
andthetowncastlebehind.
Theyhavegottenusedtomy
beingaway,andsohaveI.
Thesheepwillgetusedtomy
notbeingthere,too,theboy
thought.
Fromwherehesat,hecould
observetheplaza.People
continuedtocomeandgo
fromthebaker’sshop.A
youngcouplesatonthe
benchwherehehadtalked
withtheoldman,andthey
kissed.
“Thatbaker…”hesaidto
himself,withoutcompleting
thethought.Thelevanterwas
stillgettingstronger,andhe
feltitsforceonhisface.That
windhadbroughttheMoors,
yes,butithadalsobrought
thesmellofthedesertandof
veiledwomen.Ithadbrought
withitthesweatandthe
dreamsofmenwhohadonce
lefttosearchforthe
unknown,andforgoldand
adventure—andforthe
Pyramids.Theboyfelt
jealousofthefreedomofthe
wind,andsawthathecould
havethesamefreedom.There
wasnothingtoholdhimback
excepthimself.Thesheep,
themerchant’sdaughter,and
thefieldsofAndalusiawere
onlystepsalongthewayto
hisPersonalLegend.
Thenextday,theboymet
theoldmanatnoon.He
broughtsixsheepwithhim.
“I’msurprised,”theboy
said.“Myfriendboughtall
theothersheepimmediately.
Hesaidthathehadalways
dreamedofbeingashepherd,
andthatitwasagoodomen.”
“That’sthewayitalways
is,”saidtheoldman.“It’s
calledtheprincipleof
favorability.Whenyouplay
cardsthefirsttime,youare
almostsuretowin.
Beginner’sluck.”
“Whyisthat?”
“Becausethereisaforce
thatwantsyoutorealizeyour
PersonalLegend;itwhets
yourappetitewithatasteof
success.”
Thentheoldmanbeganto
inspectthesheep,andhesaw
thatonewaslame.Theboy
explainedthatitwasn’t
important,sincethatsheep
wasthemostintelligentofthe
flock,andproducedthemost
wool.
“Whereisthetreasure?”he
asked.
“It’sinEgypt,nearthe
Pyramids.”
Theboywasstartled.The
oldwomanhadsaidthesame
thing.Butshehadn’tcharged
himanything.
“Inordertofindthe
treasure,youwillhaveto
followtheomens.Godhas
preparedapathforeveryone
tofollow.Youjusthaveto
readtheomensthatheleftfor
you.”
Beforetheboycouldreply,
abutterflyappearedand
flutteredbetweenhimandthe
oldman.Heremembered
somethinghisgrandfather
hadoncetoldhim:that
butterflieswereagoodomen.
Likecrickets,andlike
grasshoppers;likelizardsand
four-leafclovers.
“That’sright,”saidtheold
man,abletoreadtheboy’s
thoughts.“Justasyour
grandfathertaughtyou.These
aregoodomens.”
Theoldmanopenedhis
cape,andtheboywasstruck
bywhathesaw.Theoldman
woreabreastplateofheavy
gold,coveredwithprecious
stones.Theboyrecalledthe
brilliancehehadnoticedon
thepreviousday.
Hereallywasaking!He
mustbedisguisedtoavoid
encounterswiththieves.
“Takethese,”saidtheold
man,holdingoutawhite
stoneandablackstonethat
hadbeenembeddedatthe
centerofthebreastplate.
“TheyarecalledUrimand
Thummim.Theblack
signifies‘yes,’andthewhite
‘no.’Whenyouareunableto
readtheomens,theywillhelp
youtodoso.Alwaysaskan
objectivequestion.
“But,ifyoucan,trytomake
yourowndecisions.The
treasureisatthePyramids;
thatyoualreadyknew.ButI
hadtoinsistonthepayment
ofsixsheepbecauseIhelped
youtomakeyourdecision.”
Theboyputthestonesinhis
pouch.Fromthenon,he
wouldmakehisown
decisions.
“Don’tforgetthat
everythingyoudealwithis
onlyonethingandnothing
else.Anddon’tforgetthe
languageofomens.And,
aboveall,don’tforgetto
followyourPersonalLegend
throughtoitsconclusion.
“ButbeforeIgo,Iwantto
tellyoualittlestory.
“Acertainshopkeepersent
hissontolearnaboutthe
secretofhappinessfromthe
wisestmanintheworld.The
ladwanderedthroughthe
desertforfortydays,and
finallycameuponabeautiful
castle,highatopamountain.
Itwastherethatthewiseman
lived.
“Ratherthanfindinga
saintlyman,though,ourhero,
onenteringthemainroomof
thecastle,sawahiveof
activity:tradesmencameand
went,peoplewereconversing
inthecorners,asmall
orchestrawasplayingsoft
music,andtherewasatable
coveredwithplattersofthe
mostdeliciousfoodinthat
partoftheworld.Thewise
manconversedwith
everyone,andtheboyhadto
waitfortwohoursbeforeit
washisturntobegiventhe
man’sattention.
“Thewisemanlistened
attentivelytotheboy’s
explanationofwhyhehad
come,buttoldhimthathe
didn’thavetimejustthento
explainthesecretof
happiness.Hesuggestedthat
theboylookaroundthe
palaceandreturnintwo
hours.
“‘Meanwhile,Iwanttoask
youtodosomething,’said
thewiseman,handingthe
boyateaspoonthatheldtwo
dropsofoil.‘Asyouwander
around,carrythisspoonwith
youwithoutallowingtheoil
tospill.’
“Theboybeganclimbing
anddescendingthemany
stairwaysofthepalace,
keepinghiseyesfixedonthe
spoon.Aftertwohours,he
returnedtotheroomwhere
thewisemanwas.
“‘Well,’askedthewise
man,‘didyouseethePersian
tapestriesthatarehangingin
mydininghall?Didyousee
thegardenthatittookthe
mastergardenertenyearsto
create?Didyounoticethe
beautifulparchmentsinmy
library?’
“Theboywasembarrassed,
andconfessedthathehad
observednothing.Hisonly
concernhadbeennottospill
theoilthatthewisemanhad
entrustedtohim.
“‘Thengobackandobserve
themarvelsofmyworld,’
saidthewiseman.‘You
cannottrustamanifyou
don’tknowhishouse.’
“Relieved,theboypicked
upthespoonandreturnedto
hisexplorationofthepalace,
thistimeobservingallofthe
worksofartontheceilings
andthewalls.Hesawthe
gardens,themountainsall
aroundhim,thebeautyofthe
flowers,andthetastewith
whicheverythinghadbeen
selected.Uponreturningto
thewiseman,herelatedin
detaileverythinghehadseen.
“‘Butwherearethedropsof
oilIentrustedtoyou?’asked
thewiseman.
“Lookingdownatthespoon
heheld,theboysawthatthe
oilwasgone.
“‘Well,thereisonlyone
pieceofadviceIcangive
you,’saidthewisestofwise
men.‘Thesecretofhappiness
istoseeallthemarvelsofthe
world,andnevertoforgetthe
dropsofoilonthespoon.’”
Theshepherdsaidnothing.
Hehadunderstoodthestory
theoldkinghadtoldhim.A
shepherdmayliketotravel,
butheshouldneverforget
abouthissheep.
Theoldmanlookedatthe
boyand,withhishandsheld
together,madeseveral
strangegesturesoverthe
boy’shead.Then,takinghis
sheep,hewalkedaway.
ATTHEHIGHESTPOINTIN
TARIFATHEREISANOLDFORT,
builtbytheMoors.Fromatop
itswalls,onecancatcha
glimpseofAfrica.
Melchizedek,thekingof
Salem,satonthewallofthe
fortthatafternoon,andfelt
thelevanterblowinginhis
face.Thesheepfidgeted
nearby,uneasywiththeirnew
ownerandexcitedbyso
muchchange.Allthey
wantedwasfoodandwater.
Melchizedekwatcheda
smallshipthatwasplowing
itswayoutoftheport.He
wouldneveragainseethe
boy,justashehadneverseen
Abrahamagainafterhaving
chargedhimhisone-tenth
fee.Thatwashiswork.
Thegodsshouldnothave
desires,becausetheydon’t
havePersonalLegends.But
thekingofSalemhoped
desperatelythattheboy
wouldbesuccessful.
It’stoobadthathe’squickly
goingtoforgetmyname,he
thought.Ishouldhave
repeateditforhim.Then
whenhespokeaboutmehe
wouldsaythatIam
Melchizedek,thekingof
Salem.
Helookedtotheskies,
feelingabitabashed,and
said,“Iknowit’sthevanity
ofvanities,asyousaid,my
Lord.Butanoldking
sometimeshastotakesome
prideinhimself.”
HOWSTRANGEAFRICAIS,
THOUGHTTHEBOY.
Hewassittinginabarvery
muchliketheotherbarshe
hadseenalongthenarrow
streetsofTangier.Somemen
weresmokingfromagigantic
pipethattheypassedfrom
onetotheother.Injustafew
hourshehadseenmen
walkinghandinhand,women
withtheirfacescovered,and
prieststhatclimbedtothe
topsoftowersandchanted—
aseveryoneabouthimwent
totheirkneesandplacedtheir
foreheadsontheground.
“Apracticeofinfidels,”he
saidtohimself.Asachildin
church,hehadalwayslooked
attheimageofSaintSantiago
Matamorosonhiswhite
horse,hisswordunsheathed,
andfiguressuchasthese
kneelingathisfeet.Theboy
feltillandterriblyalone.The
infidelshadanevillook
aboutthem.
Besidesthis,intherushof
histravelshehadforgottena
detail,justonedetail,which
couldkeephimfromhis
treasureforalongtime:only
Arabicwasspokeninthis
country.
Theownerofthebar
approachedhim,andtheboy
pointedtoadrinkthathad
beenservedatthenexttable.
Itturnedouttobeabittertea.
Theboypreferredwine.
Buthedidn’tneedtoworry
aboutthatrightnow.Whathe
hadtobeconcernedabout
washistreasure,andhowhe
wasgoingtogoaboutgetting
it.Thesaleofhissheephad
lefthimwithenoughmoney
inhispouch,andtheboy
knewthatinmoneytherewas
magic;whoeverhasmoneyis
neverreallyalone.Before
long,maybeinjustafew
days,hewouldbeatthe
Pyramids.Anoldman,witha
breastplateofgold,wouldn’t
haveliedjusttoacquiresix
sheep.
Theoldmanhadspoken
aboutsignsandomens,and,
astheboywascrossingthe
strait,hehadthoughtabout
omens.Yes,theoldmanhad
knownwhathewastalking
about:duringthetimetheboy
hadspentinthefieldsof
Andalusia,hehadbecome
usedtolearningwhichpath
heshouldtakebyobserving
thegroundandthesky.He
haddiscoveredthatthe
presenceofacertainbird
meantthatasnakewas
nearby,andthatacertain
shrubwasasignthatthere
waswaterinthearea.The
sheephadtaughthimthat.
IfGodleadsthesheepso
well,hewillalsoleadaman,
hethought,andthatmade
himfeelbetter.Thetea
seemedlessbitter.
“Whoareyou?”hehearda
voiceaskhiminSpanish.
Theboywasrelieved.He
wasthinkingaboutomens,
andsomeonehadappeared.
“Howcomeyouspeak
Spanish?”heasked.Thenew
arrivalwasayoungmanin
Westerndress,butthecolor
ofhisskinsuggestedhewas
fromthiscity.Hewasabout
thesameageandheightas
theboy.
“Almosteveryonehere
speaksSpanish.We’reonly
twohoursfromSpain.”
“Sitdown,andletmetreat
youtosomething,”saidthe
boy.“Andaskforaglassof
wineforme.Ihatethistea.”
“Thereisnowineinthis
country,”theyoungmansaid.
“Thereligionhereforbidsit.”
Theboytoldhimthenthat
heneededtogettothe
Pyramids.Healmostbeganto
tellabouthistreasure,but
decidednottodoso.Ifhe
did,itwaspossiblethatthe
Arabwouldwantapartofit
aspaymentfortakinghim
there.Herememberedwhat
theoldmanhadsaidabout
offeringsomethingyoudidn’t
evenhaveyet.
“I’dlikeyoutotakeme
thereifyoucan.Icanpay
youtoserveasmyguide.”
“Doyouhaveanyideahow
togetthere?”thenewcomer
asked.
Theboynoticedthatthe
ownerofthebarstood
nearby,listeningattentively
totheirconversation.Hefelt
uneasyattheman’spresence.
Buthehadfoundaguide,and
didn’twanttomissoutonan
opportunity.
“Youhavetocrossthe
entireSaharadesert,”saidthe
youngman.“Andtodothat,
youneedmoney.Ineedto
knowwhetheryouhave
enough.”
Theboythoughtitastrange
question.Buthetrustedinthe
oldman,whohadsaidthat,
whenyoureallywant
something,theuniverse
alwaysconspiresinyour
favor.
Hetookhismoneyfromhis
pouchandshowedittothe
youngman.Theownerofthe
barcameoverandlooked,as
well.Thetwomenexchanged
somewordsinArabic,and
thebarownerseemed
irritated.
“Let’sgetoutofhere,”said
thenewarrival.“Hewantsus
toleave.”
Theboywasrelieved.He
gotuptopaythebill,butthe
ownergrabbedhimand
begantospeaktohiminan
angrystreamofwords.The
boywasstrong,andwanted
toretaliate,buthewasina
foreigncountry.Hisnew
friendpushedtheowner
aside,andpulledtheboy
outsidewithhim.“Hewanted
yourmoney,”hesaid.
“Tangierisnotliketherestof
Africa.Thisisaport,and
everyporthasitsthieves.”
Theboytrustedhisnew
friend.Hehadhelpedhimout
inadangeroussituation.He
tookouthismoneyand
countedit.
“Wecouldgettothe
Pyramidsbytomorrow,”said
theother,takingthemoney.
“ButIhavetobuytwo
camels.”
Theywalkedtogether
throughthenarrowstreetsof
Tangier.Everywherethere
werestallswithitemsfor
sale.Theyreachedthecenter
ofalargeplazawherethe
marketwasheld.Therewere
thousandsofpeoplethere,
arguing,selling,andbuying;
vegetablesforsaleamongst
daggers,andcarpets
displayedalongsidetobacco.
Buttheboynevertookhis
eyeoffhisnewfriend.After
all,hehadallhismoney.He
thoughtaboutaskinghimto
giveitback,butdecidedthat
wouldbeunfriendly.He
knewnothingaboutthe
customsofthestrangeland
hewasin.
“I’lljustwatchhim,”he
saidtohimself.Heknewhe
wasstrongerthanhisfriend.
Suddenly,thereinthemidst
ofallthatconfusion,hesaw
themostbeautifulswordhe
hadeverseen.Thescabbard
wasembossedinsilver,and
thehandlewasblackand
encrustedwithprecious
stones.Theboypromised
himselfthat,whenhe
returnedfromEgypt,he
wouldbuythatsword.
“Asktheownerofthatstall
howmuchtheswordcosts,”
hesaidtohisfriend.Thenhe
realizedthathehadbeen
distractedforafewmoments,
lookingatthesword.His
heartsqueezed,asifhischest
hadsuddenlycompressedit.
Hewasafraidtolookaround,
becauseheknewwhathe
wouldfind.Hecontinuedto
lookatthebeautifulsword
forabitlonger,untilhe
summonedthecourageto
turnaround.
Allaroundhimwasthe
market,withpeoplecoming
andgoing,shoutingand
buying,andthearomaof
strangefoods…butnowhere
couldhefindhisnew
companion.
Theboywantedtobelieve
thathisfriendhadsimply
becomeseparatedfromhim
byaccident.Hedecidedto
stayrightthereandawaithis
return.Ashewaited,apriest
climbedtothetopofanearby
towerandbeganhischant;
everyoneinthemarketfellto
theirknees,touchedtheir
foreheadstotheground,and
tookupthechant.Then,like
acolonyofworkerants,they
dismantledtheirstallsand
left.
Thesunbeganitsdeparture,
aswell.Theboywatchedit
throughitstrajectoryfor
sometime,untilitwashidden
behindthewhitehouses
surroundingtheplaza.He
recalledthatwhenthesun
hadrisenthatmorning,he
wasonanothercontinent,still
ashepherdwithsixtysheep,
andlookingforwardto
meetingwithagirl.That
morninghehadknown
everythingthatwasgoingto
happentohimashewalked
throughthefamiliarfields.
Butnow,asthesunbeganto
set,hewasinadifferent
country,astrangerina
strangeland,wherehe
couldn’tevenspeakthe
language.Hewasnolongera
shepherd,andhehadnothing,
noteventhemoneytoreturn
andstarteverythingover.
Allthishappenedbetween
sunriseandsunset,theboy
thought.Hewasfeelingsorry
forhimself,andlamentingthe
factthathislifecouldhave
changedsosuddenlyandso
drastically.
Hewassoashamedthathe
wantedtocry.Hehadnever
evenweptinfrontofhisown
sheep.Butthemarketplace
wasempty,andhewasfar
fromhome,sohewept.He
weptbecauseGodwasunfair,
andbecausethiswastheway
Godrepaidthosewho
believedintheirdreams.
WhenIhadmysheep,Iwas
happy,andImadethose
aroundmehappy.Peoplesaw
mecomingandwelcomed
me,hethought.ButnowI’m
sadandalone.I’mgoingto
becomebitteranddistrustful
ofpeoplebecauseoneperson
betrayedme.I’mgoingto
hatethosewhohavefound
theirtreasurebecauseInever
foundmine.AndI’mgoingto
holdontowhatlittleIhave,
becauseI’mtooinsignificant
toconquertheworld.
Heopenedhispouchtosee
whatwasleftofhis
possessions;maybetherewas
abitleftofthesandwichhe
hadeatenontheship.Butall
hefoundwastheheavybook,
hisjacket,andthetwostones
theoldmanhadgivenhim.
Ashelookedatthestones,
hefeltrelievedforsome
reason.Hehadexchangedsix
sheepfortwopreciousstones
thathadbeentakenfroma
goldbreastplate.Hecould
sellthestonesandbuya
returnticket.ButthistimeI’ll
besmarter,theboythought,
removingthemfromthe
pouchsohecouldputthemin
hispocket.Thiswasaport
town,andtheonlytruthful
thinghisfriendhadtoldhim
wasthatporttownsarefullof
thieves.
Nowheunderstoodwhythe
ownerofthebarhadbeenso
upset:hewastryingtotell
himnottotrustthatman.
“I’mlikeeveryoneelse—I
seetheworldintermsof
whatIwouldliketosee
happen,notwhatactually
does.”
Heranhisfingersslowly
overthestones,sensingtheir
temperatureandfeelingtheir
surfaces.Theywerehis
treasure.Justhandlingthem
madehimfeelbetter.They
remindedhimoftheoldman.
“Whenyouwantsomething,
alltheuniverseconspiresin
helpingyoutoachieveit,”he
hadsaid.
Theboywastryingto
understandthetruthofwhat
theoldmanhadsaid.There
hewasintheempty
marketplace,withoutacentto
hisname,andwithnota
sheeptoguardthroughthe
night.Butthestoneswere
proofthathehadmetwitha
king—akingwhoknewof
theboy’spast.
“They’recalledUrimand
Thummim,andtheycanhelp
youtoreadtheomens.”The
boyputthestonesbackinthe
pouchanddecidedtodoan
experiment.Theoldmanhad
saidtoaskveryclear
questions,andtodothat,the
boyhadtoknowwhathe
wanted.So,heaskedifthe
oldman’sblessingwasstill
withhim.
Hetookoutoneofthe
stones.Itwas“yes.”
“AmIgoingtofindmy
treasure?”heasked.
Hestuckhishandintothe
pouch,andfeltaroundfor
oneofthestones.Ashedid
so,bothofthempushed
throughaholeinthepouch
andfelltotheground.The
boyhadneverevennoticed
thattherewasaholeinhis
pouch.Hekneltdowntofind
UrimandThummimandput
thembackinthepouch.But
ashesawthemlyingthereon
theground,anotherphrase
cametohismind.
“Learntorecognizeomens,
andfollowthem,”theold
kinghadsaid.
Anomen.Theboysmiledto
himself.Hepickedupthetwo
stonesandputthembackin
hispouch.Hedidn’tconsider
mendingthehole—thestones
couldfallthroughanytime
theywanted.Hehadlearned
thattherewerecertainthings
oneshouldn’taskabout,soas
nottofleefromone’sown
PersonalLegend.“Ipromised
thatIwouldmakemyown
decisions,”hesaidtohimself.
Butthestoneshadtoldhim
thattheoldmanwasstillwith
him,andthatmadehimfeel
moreconfident.Helooked
aroundattheemptyplaza
again,feelinglessdesperate
thanbefore.Thiswasn’ta
strangeplace;itwasanew
one.
Afterall,whathehad
alwayswantedwasjustthat:
toknownewplaces.Evenif
henevergottothePyramids,
hehadalreadytraveled
fartherthananyshepherdhe
knew.Oh,iftheyonlyknew
howdifferentthingsarejust
twohoursbyshipfromwhere
theyare,hethought.
Althoughhisnewworldat
themomentwasjustan
emptymarketplace,hehad
alreadyseenitwhenitwas
teemingwithlife,andhe
wouldneverforgetit.He
rememberedthesword.It
hurthimabittothinkabout
it,buthehadneverseenone
likeitbefore.Ashemused
aboutthesethings,herealized
thathehadtochoosebetween
thinkingofhimselfasthe
poorvictimofathiefandas
anadventurerinquestofhis
treasure.
“I’manadventurer,looking
fortreasure,”hesaidto
himself.
HEWASSHAKENINTO
WAKEFULNESSBYSOMEONE.
HEhadfallenasleepinthe
middleofthemarketplace,
andlifeintheplazawas
abouttoresume.
Lookingaround,hesought
hissheep,andthenrealized
thathewasinanewworld.
Butinsteadofbeing
saddened,hewashappy.He
nolongerhadtoseekout
foodandwaterforthesheep;
hecouldgoinsearchofhis
treasure,instead.Hehadnota
centinhispocket,buthehad
faith.Hehaddecided,the
nightbefore,thathewouldbe
asmuchanadventurerasthe
oneshehadadmiredin
books.
Hewalkedslowlythrough
themarket.Themerchants
wereassemblingtheirstalls,
andtheboyhelpedacandy
sellertodohis.Thecandy
sellerhadasmileonhisface:
hewashappy,awareofwhat
hislifewasabout,andready
tobeginaday’swork.His
smileremindedtheboyofthe
oldman—themysteriousold
kinghehadmet.“Thiscandy
merchantisn’tmakingcandy
sothatlaterhecantravelor
marryashopkeeper’s
daughter.He’sdoingit
becauseit’swhathewantsto
do,”thoughttheboy.He
realizedthathecoulddothe
samethingtheoldmanhad
done—sensewhethera
personwasneartoorfar
fromhisPersonalLegend.
Justbylookingatthem.It’s
easy,andyetI’veneverdone
itbefore,hethought.
Whenthestallwas
assembled,thecandyseller
offeredtheboythefirstsweet
hehadmadefortheday.The
boythankedhim,ateit,and
wentonhisway.Whenhe
hadgoneonlyashort
distance,herealizedthat,
whiletheywereerectingthe
stall,oneofthemhadspoken
ArabicandtheotherSpanish.
Andtheyhadunderstood
eachotherperfectlywell.
Theremustbealanguage
thatdoesn’tdependonwords,
theboythought.I’vealready
hadthatexperiencewithmy
sheep,andnowit’s
happeningwithpeople.
Hewaslearningalotofnew
things.Someofthemwere
thingsthathehadalready
experienced,andweren’t
reallynew,butthathehad
neverperceivedbefore.And
hehadn’tperceivedthem
becausehehadbecome
accustomedtothem.He
realized:IfIcanlearnto
understandthislanguage
withoutwords,Icanlearnto
understandtheworld.
Relaxedandunhurried,he
resolvedthathewouldwalk
throughthenarrowstreetsof
Tangier.Onlyinthatway
wouldhebeabletoreadthe
omens.Heknewitwould
requirealotofpatience,but
shepherdsknowallabout
patience.Onceagainhesaw
that,inthatstrangeland,he
wasapplyingthesame
lessonshehadlearnedwith
hissheep.
“Allthingsareone,”theold
manhadsaid.
THECRYSTALMERCHANT
AWOKEWITHTHEDAY,AND
FELTthesameanxietythathe
felteverymorning.Hehad
beeninthesameplacefor
thirtyyears:ashopatthetop
ofahillystreetwherefew
customerspassed.Nowitwas
toolatetochangeanything—
theonlythinghehadever
learnedtodowastobuyand
sellcrystalglassware.There
hadbeenatimewhenmany
peopleknewofhisshop:
Arabmerchants,Frenchand
Englishgeologists,German
soldierswhowerealways
well-heeled.Inthosedaysit
hadbeenwonderfultobe
sellingcrystal,andhehad
thoughthowhewould
becomerich,andhave
beautifulwomenathissideas
hegrewolder.
But,astimepassed,Tangier
hadchanged.Thenearbycity
ofCeutahadgrownfaster
thanTangier,andbusiness
hadfallenoff.Neighbors
movedaway,andthere
remainedonlyafewsmall
shopsonthehill.Andnoone
wasgoingtoclimbthehill
justtobrowsethroughafew
smallshops.
Butthecrystalmerchanthad
nochoice.Hehadlivedthirty
yearsofhislifebuyingand
sellingcrystalpieces,and
nowitwastoolatetodo
anythingelse.
Hespenttheentiremorning
observingtheinfrequent
comingsandgoingsinthe
street.Hehaddonethisfor
years,andknewtheschedule
ofeveryonewhopassed.But,
justbeforelunchtime,aboy
stoppedinfrontoftheshop.
Hewasdressednormally,but
thepracticedeyesofthe
crystalmerchantcouldsee
thattheboyhadnomoneyto
spend.Nevertheless,the
merchantdecidedtodelayhis
lunchforafewminutesuntil
theboymovedon.
ACARDHANGINGINTHE
DOORWAYANNOUNCEDTHAT
severallanguageswere
spokenintheshop.Theboy
sawamanappearbehindthe
counter.
“Icancleanupthoseglasses
inthewindow,ifyouwant,”
saidtheboy.“Thewaythey
looknow,nobodyisgoingto
wanttobuythem.”
Themanlookedathim
withoutresponding.
“Inexchange,youcould
givemesomethingtoeat.”
Themanstillsaidnothing,
andtheboysensedthathe
wasgoingtohavetomakea
decision.Inhispouch,hehad
hisjacket—hecertainly
wasn’tgoingtoneeditinthe
desert.Takingthejacketout,
hebegantocleantheglasses.
Inhalfanhour,hehad
cleanedalltheglassesinthe
window,and,ashewasdoing
so,twocustomershadentered
theshopandboughtsome
crystal.
Whenhehadcompletedthe
cleaning,heaskedtheman
forsomethingtoeat.“Let’s
goandhavesomelunch,”
saidthecrystalmerchant.
Heputasignonthedoor,
andtheywenttoasmallcafé
nearby.Astheysatdownat
theonlytableintheplace,the
crystalmerchantlaughed.
“Youdidn’thavetodoany
cleaning,”hesaid.“The
Koranrequiresmetofeeda
hungryperson.”
“Wellthen,whydidyoulet
medoit?”theboyasked.
“Becausethecrystalwas
dirty.AndbothyouandI
neededtocleanseourminds
ofnegativethoughts.”
Whentheyhadeaten,the
merchantturnedtotheboy
andsaid,“I’dlikeyouto
workinmyshop.Two
customerscameintoday
whileyouwereworking,and
that’sagoodomen.”
Peopletalkalotabout
omens,thoughttheshepherd.
Buttheyreallydon’tknow
whatthey’resaying.JustasI
hadn’trealizedthatforso
manyyearsIhadbeen
speakingalanguagewithout
wordstomysheep.
“Doyouwanttogotowork
forme?”themerchantasked.
“Icanworkfortherestof
today,”theboyanswered.
“I’llworkallnight,until
dawn,andI’llcleanevery
pieceofcrystalinyourshop.
Inreturn,Ineedmoneytoget
toEgypttomorrow.”
Themerchantlaughed.
“Evenifyoucleanedmy
crystalforanentireyear…
evenifyouearnedagood
commissionsellingevery
piece,youwouldstillhaveto
borrowmoneytogetto
Egypt.Therearethousandsof
kilometersofdesertbetween
hereandthere.”
Therewasamomentof
silencesoprofoundthatit
seemedthecitywasasleep.
Nosoundfromthebazaars,
noargumentsamongthe
merchants,nomenclimbing
tothetowerstochant.No
hope,noadventure,noold
kingsorPersonalLegends,no
treasure,andnoPyramids.It
wasasiftheworldhadfallen
silentbecausetheboy’ssoul
had.Hesatthere,staring
blanklythroughthedoorof
thecafé,wishingthathehad
died,andthateverything
wouldendforeveratthat
moment.
Themerchantlooked
anxiouslyattheboy.Allthe
joyhehadseenthatmorning
hadsuddenlydisappeared.
“Icangiveyouthemoney
youneedtogetbacktoyour
country,myson,”saidthe
crystalmerchant.
Theboysaidnothing.He
gotup,adjustedhisclothing,
andpickeduphispouch.
“I’llworkforyou,”hesaid.
Andafteranotherlong
silence,headded,“Ineed
moneytobuysomesheep.”
PARTTWO
THEBOYHADBEENWORKING
FORTHECRYSTALMERCHANT
foralmostamonth,andhe
couldseethatitwasn’t
exactlythekindofjobthat
wouldmakehimhappy.The
merchantspenttheentireday
mumblingbehindthecounter,
tellingtheboytobecareful
withthepiecesandnotto
breakanything.
Buthestayedwiththejob
becausethemerchant,
althoughhewasanold
grouch,treatedhimfairly;the
boyreceivedagood
commissionforeachpiecehe
sold,andhadalreadybeen
abletoputsomemoney
aside.Thatmorninghehad
donesomecalculating:ifhe
continuedtoworkeveryday
ashehadbeen,hewould
needawholeyeartobeable
tobuysomesheep.
“I’dliketobuildadisplay
caseforthecrystal,”theboy
saidtothemerchant.“We
couldplaceitoutside,and
attractthosepeoplewhopass
atthebottomofthehill.”
“I’veneverhadonebefore,”
themerchantanswered.
“Peoplewillpassbyand
bumpintoit,andpieceswill
bebroken.”
“Well,whenItookmy
sheepthroughthefieldssome
ofthemmighthavediedifwe
hadcomeuponasnake.But
that’sthewaylifeiswith
sheepandwithshepherds.”
Themerchantturnedtoa
customerwhowantedthree
crystalglasses.Hewas
sellingbetterthanever…asif
timehadturnedbacktothe
olddayswhenthestreethad
beenoneofTangier’smajor
attractions.
“Businesshasreally
improved,”hesaidtotheboy,
afterthecustomerhadleft.
“I’mdoingmuchbetter,and
soonyou’llbeabletoreturn
toyoursheep.Whyaskmore
outoflife?”
“Becausewehaveto
respondtoomens,”theboy
said,almostwithoutmeaning
to;thenheregrettedwhathe
hadsaid,becausethe
merchanthadnevermetthe
king.
“It’scalledtheprincipleof
favorability,beginner’sluck.
Becauselifewantsyouto
achieveyourPersonal
Legend,”theoldkinghad
said.
Butthemerchant
understoodwhattheboyhad
said.Theboy’sverypresence
intheshopwasanomen,and,
astimepassedandmoney
waspouringintothecash
drawer,hehadnoregrets
abouthavinghiredtheboy.
Theboywasbeingpaidmore
moneythanhedeserved,
becausethemerchant,
thinkingthatsaleswouldn’t
amounttomuch,hadoffered
theboyahighcommission
rate.Hehadassumedhe
wouldsoonreturntohis
sheep.
“Whydidyouwanttogetto
thePyramids?”heasked,to
getawayfromthebusinessof
thedisplay.
“BecauseI’vealwaysheard
aboutthem,”theboy
answered,sayingnothing
abouthisdream.Thetreasure
wasnownothingbuta
painfulmemory,andhetried
toavoidthinkingaboutit.
“Idon’tknowanyone
aroundherewhowouldwant
tocrossthedesertjusttosee
thePyramids,”saidthe
merchant.“They’rejustapile
ofstones.Youcouldbuild
oneinyourbackyard.”
“You’veneverhaddreams
oftravel,”saidtheboy,
turningtowaitonacustomer
whohadenteredtheshop.
Twodayslater,the
merchantspoketotheboy
aboutthedisplay.
“Idon’tmuchlikechange,”
hesaid.“YouandIaren’tlike
Hassan,thatrichmerchant.If
hemakesabuyingmistake,it
doesn’taffecthimmuch.But
wetwohavetolivewithour
mistakes.”
That’strueenough,theboy
thought,ruefully.
“Whydidyouthinkwe
shouldhavethedisplay?”
“Iwanttogetbacktomy
sheepfaster.Wehavetotake
advantagewhenluckison
ourside,anddoasmuchto
helpitasit’sdoingtohelpus.
It’scalledtheprincipleof
favorability.Orbeginner’s
luck.”
Themerchantwassilentfor
afewmoments.Thenhesaid,
“TheProphetgaveusthe
Koran,andleftusjustfive
obligationstosatisfyduring
ourlives.Themostimportant
istobelieveonlyintheone
trueGod.Theothersareto
prayfivetimesaday,fast
duringRamadan,andbe
charitabletothepoor.”
Hestoppedthere.Hiseyes
filledwithtearsashespoke
oftheProphet.Hewasa
devoutman,and,evenwith
allhisimpatience,hewanted
tolivehislifeinaccordance
withMuslimlaw.
“What’sthefifth
obligation?”theboyasked.
“Twodaysago,yousaid
thatIhadneverdreamedof
travel,”themerchant
answered.“Thefifth
obligationofeveryMuslimis
apilgrimage.Weareobliged,
atleastonceinourlives,to
visittheholycityofMecca.
“Meccaisalotfartheraway
thanthePyramids.WhenI
wasyoung,allIwantedtodo
wasputtogetherenough
moneytostartthisshop.I
thoughtthatsomedayI’dbe
rich,andcouldgotoMecca.I
begantomakesomemoney,
butIcouldneverbring
myselftoleavesomeonein
chargeoftheshop;the
crystalsaredelicatethings.At
thesametime,peoplewere
passingmyshopallthetime,
headingforMecca.Someof
themwererichpilgrims,
travelingincaravanswith
servantsandcamels,butmost
ofthepeoplemakingthe
pilgrimagewerepoorerthan
I.
“Allwhowenttherewere
happyathavingdoneso.
Theyplacedthesymbolsof
thepilgrimageonthedoorsof
theirhouses.Oneofthem,a
cobblerwhomadehisliving
mendingboots,saidthathe
hadtraveledforalmostayear
throughthedesert,butthathe
gotmoretiredwhenhehadto
walkthroughthestreetsof
Tangierbuyinghisleather.”
“Well,whydon’tyougoto
Meccanow?”askedtheboy.
“Becauseit’sthethoughtof
Meccathatkeepsmealive.
That’swhathelpsmeface
thesedaysthatareallthe
same,thesemutecrystalson
theshelves,andlunchand
dinneratthatsamehorrible
café.I’mafraidthatifmy
dreamisrealized,I’llhaveno
reasontogoonliving.
“Youdreamaboutyour
sheepandthePyramids,but
you’redifferentfromme,
becauseyouwanttorealize
yourdreams.Ijustwantto
dreamaboutMecca.I’ve
alreadyimaginedathousand
timescrossingthedesert,
arrivingatthePlazaofthe
SacredStone,theseventimes
Iwalkarounditbefore
allowingmyselftotouchit.
I’vealreadyimaginedthe
peoplewhowouldbeatmy
side,andthoseinfrontofme,
andtheconversationsand
prayerswewouldshare.But
I’mafraidthatitwouldallbe
adisappointment,soIprefer
justtodreamaboutit.”
Thatday,themerchantgave
theboypermissiontobuild
thedisplay.Noteveryonecan
seehisdreamscometruein
thesameway.
TWOMOREMONTHSPASSED,
ANDTHESHELFBROUGHTmany
customersintothecrystal
shop.Theboyestimatedthat,
ifheworkedforsixmore
months,hecouldreturnto
Spainandbuysixtysheep,
andyetanothersixty.Inless
thanayear,hewouldhave
doubledhisflock,andhe
wouldbeabletodobusiness
withtheArabs,becausehe
wasnowabletospeaktheir
strangelanguage.Sincethat
morninginthemarketplace,
hehadneveragainmadeuse
ofUrimandThummim,
becauseEgyptwasnowjust
asdistantadreamforhimas
wasMeccaforthemerchant.
Anyway,theboyhadbecome
happyinhiswork,and
thoughtallthetimeaboutthe
daywhenhewould
disembarkatTarifaasa
winner.
“Youmustalwaysknow
whatitisthatyouwant,”the
oldkinghadsaid.Theboy
knew,andwasnowworking
towardit.Maybeitwashis
treasuretohavewoundupin
thatstrangeland,metupwith
athief,anddoubledthesize
ofhisflockwithoutspending
acent.
Hewasproudofhimself.
Hehadlearnedsome
importantthings,likehowto
dealincrystal,andaboutthe
languagewithoutwords…and
aboutomens.Oneafternoon
hehadseenamanatthetop
ofthehill,complainingthatit
wasimpossibletofinda
decentplacetogetsomething
todrinkaftersuchaclimb.
Theboy,accustomedto
recognizingomens,spoketo
themerchant.
“Let’ssellteatothepeople
whoclimbthehill.”
“Lotsofplacesselltea
aroundhere,”themerchant
said.
“Butwecouldsellteain
crystalglasses.Thepeople
willenjoytheteaandwantto
buytheglasses.Ihavebeen
toldthatbeautyisthegreat
seducerofmen.”
Themerchantdidn’t
respond,butthatafternoon,
aftersayinghisprayersand
closingtheshop,heinvited
theboytositwithhimand
sharehishookah,thatstrange
pipeusedbytheArabs.
“Whatisityou’relooking
for?”askedtheoldmerchant.
“I’vealreadytoldyou.I
needtobuymysheepback,
soIhavetoearnthemoneyto
doso.”
Themerchantputsomenew
coalsinthehookah,and
inhaleddeeply.
“I’vehadthisshopforthirty
years.Iknowgoodcrystal
frombad,andeverythingelse
thereistoknowaboutcrystal.
Iknowitsdimensionsand
howitbehaves.Ifweserve
teaincrystal,theshopis
goingtoexpand.Andthen
I’llhavetochangemywayof
life.”
“Well,isn’tthatgood?”
“I’malreadyusedtothe
waythingsare.Beforeyou
came,Iwasthinkingabout
howmuchtimeIhadwasted
inthesameplace,whilemy
friendshadmovedon,and
eitherwentbankruptordid
betterthantheyhadbefore.It
mademeverydepressed.
Now,Icanseethatithasn’t
beentoobad.Theshopis
exactlythesizeIalways
wantedittobe.Idon’twant
tochangeanything,becauseI
don’tknowhowtodealwith
change.I’musedtothewayI
am.”
Theboydidn’tknowwhat
tosay.Theoldman
continued,“Youhavebeena
realblessingtome.Today,I
understandsomethingIdidn’t
seebefore:everyblessing
ignoredbecomesacurse.I
don’twantanythingelsein
life.Butyouareforcingme
tolookatwealthandat
horizonsIhaveneverknown.
NowthatIhaveseenthem,
andnowthatIseehow
immensemypossibilitiesare,
I’mgoingtofeelworsethanI
didbeforeyouarrived.
BecauseIknowthethingsI
shouldbeabletoaccomplish,
andIdon’twanttodoso.”
It’sgoodIrefrainedfrom
sayinganythingtothebaker
inTarifa,thoughttheboyto
himself.
Theywentonsmokingthe
pipeforawhileasthesun
begantoset.Theywere
conversinginArabic,andthe
boywasproudofhimselffor
beingabletodoso.Therehad
beenatimewhenhethought
thathissheepcouldteachhim
everythingheneededtoknow
abouttheworld.Butthey
couldneverhavetaughthim
Arabic.
Thereareprobablyother
thingsintheworldthatthe
sheepcan’tteachme,thought
theboyasheregardedtheold
merchant.Alltheyeverdo,
really,islookforfoodand
water.Andmaybeitwasn’t
thattheywereteachingme,
butthatIwaslearningfrom
them.
“Maktub,”themerchant
said,finally.
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“Youwouldhavetohave
beenbornanArabto
understand,”heanswered.
“Butinyourlanguageit
wouldbesomethinglike‘Itis
written.’”
And,ashesmotheredthe
coalsinthehookah,hetold
theboythathecouldbeginto
sellteainthecrystalglasses.
Sometimes,there’sjustno
waytoholdbacktheriver.
THEMENCLIMBEDTHEHILL,
ANDTHEYWERETIREDwhen
theyreachedthetop.But
theretheysawacrystalshop
thatofferedrefreshingmint
tea.Theywentintodrinkthe
tea,whichwasservedin
beautifulcrystalglasses.
“Mywifeneverthoughtof
this,”saidone,andhebought
somecrystal—hewas
entertaininggueststhatnight,
andtheguestswouldbe
impressedbythebeautyof
theglassware.Theotherman
remarkedthatteawasalways
moredeliciouswhenitwas
servedincrystal,becausethe
aromawasretained.Thethird
saidthatitwasatraditionin
theOrienttousecrystal
glassesforteabecauseithad
magicalpowers.
Beforelong,thenews
spread,andagreatmany
peoplebegantoclimbthehill
toseetheshopthatwasdoing
somethingnewinatradethat
wassoold.Othershopswere
openedthatservedteain
crystal,buttheyweren’tat
thetopofahill,andtheyhad
littlebusiness.
Eventually,themerchant
hadtohiretwomore
employees.Hebeganto
importenormousquantitiesof
tea,alongwithhiscrystal,
andhisshopwassoughtout
bymenandwomenwitha
thirstforthingsnew.
And,inthatway,the
monthspassed.
THEBOYAWOKEBEFORE
DAWN.ITHADBEENELEVEN
monthsandninedayssince
hehadfirstsetfootonthe
Africancontinent.
HedressedinhisArabian
clothingofwhitelinen,
boughtespeciallyforthisday.
Heputhisheadclothinplace
andsecureditwitharing
madeofcamelskin.Wearing
hisnewsandals,he
descendedthestairssilently.
Thecitywasstillsleeping.
Hepreparedhimselfa
sandwichanddranksomehot
teafromacrystalglass.Then
hesatinthesun-filled
doorway,smokingthe
hookah.
Hesmokedinsilence,
thinkingofnothing,and
listeningtothesoundofthe
windthatbroughtthescentof
thedesert.Whenhehad
finishedhissmoke,he
reachedintooneofhis
pockets,andsattherefora
fewmoments,regardingwhat
hehadwithdrawn.
Itwasabundleofmoney.
Enoughtobuyhimselfa
hundredandtwentysheep,a
returnticket,andalicenseto
importproductsfromAfrica
intohisowncountry.
Hewaitedpatientlyforthe
merchanttoawakenandopen
theshop.Thenthetwowent
offtohavesomemoretea.
“I’mleavingtoday,”said
theboy.“IhavethemoneyI
needtobuymysheep.And
youhavethemoneyyouneed
togotoMecca.”
Theoldmansaidnothing.
“Willyougivemeyour
blessing?”askedtheboy.
“Youhavehelpedme.”The
mancontinuedtopreparehis
tea,sayingnothing.Thenhe
turnedtotheboy.
“Iamproudofyou,”he
said.“Youbroughtanew
feelingintomycrystalshop.
ButyouknowthatI’mnot
goingtogotoMecca.Justas
youknowthatyou’renot
goingtobuyyoursheep.”
“Whotoldyouthat?”asked
theboy,startled.
“Maktub,”saidtheold
crystalmerchant.
Andhegavetheboyhis
blessing.
THEBOYWENTTOHISROOM
ANDPACKEDHISBELONGINGS.
Theyfilledthreesacks.Ashe
wasleaving,hesaw,inthe
corneroftheroom,hisold
shepherd’spouch.Itwas
bunchedup,andhehad
hardlythoughtofitforalong
time.Ashetookhisjacket
outofthepouch,thinkingto
giveittosomeoneinthe
street,thetwostonesfellto
thefloor.Urimand
Thummim.
Itmadetheboythinkofthe
oldking,anditstartledhimto
realizehowlongithadbeen
sincehehadthoughtofhim.
Fornearlyayear,hehadbeen
workingincessantly,thinking
onlyofputtingasideenough
moneysothathecouldreturn
toSpainwithpride.
“Neverstopdreaming,”the
oldkinghadsaid.“Follow
theomens.”
TheboypickedupUrim
andThummim,and,once
again,hadthestrange
sensationthattheoldking
wasnearby.Hehadworked
hardforayear,andthe
omenswerethatitwastime
togo.
I’mgoingtogobackto
doingjustwhatIdidbefore,
theboythought.Eventhough
thesheepdidn’tteachmeto
speakArabic.
Butthesheephadtaught
himsomethingevenmore
important:thattherewasa
languageintheworldthat
everyoneunderstood,a
languagetheboyhadused
throughoutthetimethathe
wastryingtoimprovethings
attheshop.Itwasthe
languageofenthusiasm,of
thingsaccomplishedwith
loveandpurpose,andaspart
ofasearchforsomething
believedinanddesired.
Tangierwasnolongera
strangecity,andhefeltthat,
justashehadconqueredthis
place,hecouldconquerthe
world.
“Whenyouwantsomething,
alltheuniverseconspiresto
helpyouachieveit,”theold
kinghadsaid.
Buttheoldkinghadn’tsaid
anythingaboutbeingrobbed,
oraboutendlessdeserts,or
aboutpeoplewhoknowwhat
theirdreamsarebutdon’t
wanttorealizethem.Theold
kinghadn’ttoldhimthatthe
Pyramidswerejustapileof
stones,orthatanyonecould
buildoneinhisbackyard.
Andhehadforgottento
mentionthat,whenyouhave
enoughmoneytobuyaflock
largerthantheoneyouhad
before,youshouldbuyit.
Theboypickeduphis
pouchandputitwithhis
otherthings.Hewentdown
thestairsandfoundthe
merchantwaitingonaforeign
couple,whiletwoother
customerswalkedaboutthe
shop,drinkingteafrom
crystalglasses.Itwasmore
activitythanusualforthis
timeofthemorning.From
wherehestood,hesawfor
thefirsttimethattheold
merchant’shairwasvery
muchlikethehairoftheold
king.Herememberedthe
smileofthecandyseller,on
hisfirstdayinTangier,when
hehadnothingtoeatand
nowheretogo—thatsmile
hadalsobeenliketheold
king’ssmile.
It’salmostasifhehadbeen
hereandlefthismark,he
thought.Andyet,noneof
thesepeoplehasevermetthe
oldking.Ontheotherhand,
hesaidthathealways
appearedtohelpthosewho
aretryingtorealizetheir
PersonalLegend.
Heleftwithoutsayinggoodbyetothecrystalmerchant.
Hedidn’twanttocrywiththe
otherpeoplethere.Hewas
goingtomisstheplaceand
allthegoodthingshehad
learned.Hewasmore
confidentinhimself,though,
andfeltasthoughhecould
conquertheworld.
“ButI’mgoingbacktothe
fieldsthatIknow,totake
careofmyflockagain.”He
saidthattohimselfwith
certainty,buthewasno
longerhappywithhis
decision.Hehadworkedfor
anentireyeartomakea
dreamcometrue,andthat
dream,minutebyminute,
wasbecominglessimportant.
Maybebecausethatwasn’t
reallyhisdream.
Whoknows…maybeit’s
bettertobelikethecrystal
merchant:nevergotoMecca,
andjustgothroughlife
wantingtodoso,hethought,
againtryingtoconvince
himself.ButasheheldUrim
andThummiminhishand,
theyhadtransmittedtohim
thestrengthandwillofthe
oldking.Bycoincidence—or
maybeitwasanomen,the
boythought—hecametothe
barhehadenteredonhisfirst
daythere.Thethiefwasn’t
there,andtheownerbrought
himacupoftea.
Icanalwaysgobackto
beingashepherd,theboy
thought.Ilearnedhowtocare
forsheep,andIhaven’t
forgottenhowthat’sdone.
ButmaybeI’llneverhave
anotherchancetogettothe
PyramidsinEgypt.Theold
manworeabreastplateof
gold,andheknewaboutmy
past.Hereallywasaking,a
wiseking.
ThehillsofAndalusiawere
onlytwohoursaway,but
therewasanentiredesert
betweenhimandthe
Pyramids.Yettheboyfelt
thattherewasanotherwayto
regardhissituation:hewas
actuallytwohourscloserto
histreasure…thefactthatthe
twohourshadstretchedinto
anentireyeardidn’tmatter.
IknowwhyIwanttoget
backtomyflock,hethought.
Iunderstandsheep;they’re
nolongeraproblem,andthey
canbegoodfriends.Onthe
otherhand,Idon’tknowif
thedesertcanbeafriend,and
it’sinthedesertthatIhaveto
searchformytreasure.IfI
don’tfindit,Icanalwaysgo
home.Ifinallyhaveenough
money,andallthetimeI
need.Whynot?
Hesuddenlyfelt
tremendouslyhappy.He
couldalwaysgobackto
beingashepherd.Hecould
alwaysbecomeacrystal
salesmanagain.Maybethe
worldhadotherhidden
treasures,buthehadadream,
andhehadmetwithaking.
Thatdoesn’thappentojust
anyone!
Hewasplanningasheleft
thebar.Hehadremembered
thatoneofthecrystal
merchant’ssuppliers
transportedhiscrystalby
meansofcaravansthat
crossedthedesert.Heheld
UrimandThummiminhis
hand;becauseofthosetwo
stones,hewasonceagainon
thewaytohistreasure.
“Iamalwaysnearby,when
someonewantstorealize
theirPersonalLegend,”the
oldkinghadtoldhim.
Whatcoulditcosttogo
overtothesupplier’s
warehouseandfindoutifthe
Pyramidswerereallythatfar
away?
THEENGLISHMANWASSITTING
ONABENCHINASTRUCTURE
thatsmelledofanimals,
sweat,anddust;itwaspart
warehouse,partcorral.I
neverthoughtI’dendupina
placelikethis,hethought,as
heleafedthroughthepagesof
achemicaljournal.Tenyears
attheuniversity,andhereI
aminacorral.
Buthehadtomoveon.He
believedinomens.Allhislife
andallhisstudieswereaimed
atfindingtheonetrue
languageoftheuniverse.
Firsthehadstudied
Esperanto,thentheworld’s
religions,andnowitwas
alchemy.Heknewhowto
speakEsperanto,he
understoodallthemajor
religionswell,buthewasn’t
yetanalchemist.Hehad
unraveledthetruthsbehind
importantquestions,buthis
studieshadtakenhimtoa
pointbeyondwhichhecould
notseemtogo.Hehadtried
invaintoestablisha
relationshipwithan
alchemist.Butthealchemists
werestrangepeople,who
thoughtonlyabout
themselves,andalmost
alwaysrefusedtohelphim.
Whoknows,maybetheyhad
failedtodiscoverthesecretof
theMasterWork—the
Philosopher’sStone—andfor
thisreasonkepttheir
knowledgetothemselves.
Hehadalreadyspentmuch
ofthefortunelefttohimby
hisfather,fruitlesslyseeking
thePhilosopher’sStone.He
hadspentenormousamounts
oftimeatthegreatlibraries
oftheworld,andhad
purchasedalltherarestand
mostimportantvolumeson
alchemy.Inonehehadread
that,manyyearsago,a
famousArabianalchemist
hadvisitedEurope.Itwas
saidthathewasmorethan
twohundredyearsold,and
thathehaddiscoveredthe
Philosopher’sStoneandthe
ElixirofLife.The
Englishmanhadbeen
profoundlyimpressedbythe
story.Buthewouldnever
havethoughtitmorethanjust
amyth,hadnotafriendofhis
—returningfroman
archaeologicalexpeditionin
thedesert—toldhimaboutan
Arabthatwaspossessedof
exceptionalpowers.
“HelivesattheAl-Fayoum
oasis,”hisfriendhadsaid.
“Andpeoplesaythatheis
twohundredyearsold,andis
abletotransformanymetal
intogold.”
TheEnglishmancouldnot
containhisexcitement.He
canceledallhiscommitments
andpulledtogetherthemost
importantofhisbooks,and
nowherehewas,sitting
insideadusty,smelly
warehouse.Outside,ahuge
caravanwasbeingprepared
foracrossingoftheSahara,
andwasscheduledtopass
throughAl-Fayoum.
I’mgoingtofindthat
damnedalchemist,the
Englishmanthought.Andthe
odoroftheanimalsbecamea
bitmoretolerable.
AyoungArab,alsoloaded
downwithbaggage,entered,
andgreetedtheEnglishman.
“Whereareyoubound?”
askedtheyoungArab.
“I’mgoingintothedesert,”
themananswered,turning
backtohisreading.Hedidn’t
wantanyconversationatthis
point.Whatheneededtodo
wasreviewallhehadlearned
overtheyears,becausethe
alchemistwouldcertainlyput
himtothetest.
TheyoungArabtookouta
bookandbegantoread.The
bookwaswritteninSpanish.
That’sgood,thoughtthe
Englishman.Hespoke
SpanishbetterthanArabic,
and,ifthisboywasgoingto
Al-Fayoum,therewouldbe
someonetotalktowhenthere
werenootherimportant
thingstodo.
“THAT’SSTRANGE,”SAIDTHE
BOY,ASHETRIEDONCEagain
toreadtheburialscenethat
beganthebook.“I’vebeen
tryingfortwoyearstoread
thisbook,andInevergetpast
thesefirstfewpages.”Even
withoutakingtoprovidean
interruption,hewasunableto
concentrate.
Hestillhadsomedoubts
aboutthedecisionhehad
made.Buthewasableto
understandonething:making
adecisionwasonlythe
beginningofthings.When
someonemakesadecision,he
isreallydivingintoastrong
currentthatwillcarryhimto
placeshehadneverdreamed
ofwhenhefirstmadethe
decision.
WhenIdecidedtoseekout
mytreasure,Ineverimagined
thatI’dwindupworkingina
crystalshop,hethought.And
joiningthiscaravanmayhave
beenmydecision,butwhere
itgoesisgoingtobea
mysterytome.
NearbywastheEnglishman,
readingabook.Heseemed
unfriendly,andhadlooked
irritatedwhentheboyhad
entered.Theymighteven
havebecomefriends,butthe
Englishmanclosedoffthe
conversation.
Theboyclosedhisbook.He
feltthathedidn’twanttodo
anythingthatmightmakehim
lookliketheEnglishman.He
tookUrimandThummim
fromhispocket,andbegan
playingwiththem.
Thestrangershouted,“Urim
andThummim!”
Inaflashtheboyputthem
backinhispocket.
“They’renotforsale,”he
said.
“They’renotworthmuch,”
theEnglishmananswered.
“They’reonlymadeofrock
crystal,andtherearemillions
ofrockcrystalsintheearth.
Butthosewhoknowabout
suchthingswouldknowthat
thoseareUrimand
Thummim.Ididn’tknowthat
theyhadtheminthispartof
theworld.”
“Theyweregiventomeasa
presentbyaking,”theboy
said.
Thestrangerdidn’tanswer;
instead,heputhishandinhis
pocket,andtookouttwo
stonesthatwerethesameas
theboy’s.
“Didyousayaking?”he
asked.
“Iguessyoudon’tbelieve
thatakingwouldtalkto
someonelikeme,a
shepherd,”hesaid,wanting
toendtheconversation.
“Notatall.Itwasshepherds
whowerethefirstto
recognizeakingthattherest
oftheworldrefusedto
acknowledge.So,it’snot
surprisingthatkingswould
talktoshepherds.”
Andhewenton,fearingthat
theboywouldn’tunderstand
whathewastalkingabout,
“It’sintheBible.Thesame
bookthattaughtmeabout
UrimandThummim.These
stonesweretheonlyformof
divinationpermittedbyGod.
Thepriestscarriedthemina
goldenbreastplate.”
Theboywassuddenly
happytobethereatthe
warehouse.
“Maybethisisanomen,”
saidtheEnglishman,half
aloud.
“Whotoldyouabout
omens?”Theboy’sinterest
wasincreasingbythe
moment.
“Everythinginlifeisan
omen,”saidtheEnglishman,
nowclosingthejournalhe
wasreading.“Thereisa
universallanguage,
understoodbyeverybody,but
alreadyforgotten.Iamin
searchofthatuniversal
language,amongotherthings.
That’swhyI’mhere.Ihave
tofindamanwhoknowsthat
universallanguage.An
alchemist.”
Theconversationwas
interruptedbythewarehouse
boss.
“You’reinluck,youtwo,”
thefatArabsaid.“There’sa
caravanleavingtodayforAlFayoum.”
“ButI’mgoingtoEgypt,”
theboysaid.
“Al-FayoumisinEgypt,”
saidtheArab.“Whatkindof
Arabareyou?”
“That’sagoodluckomen,”
theEnglishmansaid,afterthe
fatArabhadgoneout.“IfI
could,I’dwriteahuge
encyclopediajustaboutthe
wordsluckandcoincidence.
It’swiththosewordsthatthe
universallanguageis
written.”
Hetoldtheboyitwasno
coincidencethathehadmet
himwithUrimand
Thummiminhishand.And
heaskedtheboyifhe,too,
wereinsearchofthe
alchemist.
“I’mlookingforatreasure,”
saidtheboy,andhe
immediatelyregrettedhaving
saidit.ButtheEnglishman
appearednottoattachany
importancetoit.
“Inaway,soamI,”hesaid.
“Idon’tevenknowwhat
alchemyis,”theboywas
saying,whenthewarehouse
bosscalledtothemtocome
outside.
“I’MTHELEADEROFTHE
CARAVAN,”SAIDADARK-EYED,
beardedman.“Iholdthe
poweroflifeanddeathfor
everypersonItakewithme.
Thedesertisacapricious
lady,andsometimesshe
drivesmencrazy.”
Therewerealmosttwo
hundredpeoplegathered
there,andfourhundred
animals—camels,horses,
mules,andfowl.Inthecrowd
werewomen,children,anda
numberofmenwithswords
attheirbeltsandriflesslung
ontheirshoulders.The
Englishmanhadseveral
suitcasesfilledwithbooks.
Therewasababbleofnoise,
andtheleaderhadtorepeat
himselfseveraltimesfor
everyonetounderstandwhat
hewassaying.
“Therearealotofdifferent
peoplehere,andeachhashis
ownGod.ButtheonlyGodI
serveisAllah,andinhis
nameIswearthatIwilldo
everythingpossibleonce
againtowinoutoverthe
desert.ButIwanteachand
everyoneofyoutoswearby
theGodyoubelieveinthat
youwillfollowmyordersno
matterwhat.Inthedesert,
disobediencemeansdeath.”
Therewasamurmurfrom
thecrowd.Eachwas
swearingquietlytohisorher
ownGod.Theboysworeto
JesusChrist.TheEnglishman
saidnothing.Andthemurmur
lastedlongerthanasimple
vowwouldhave.Thepeople
werealsoprayingtoheaven
forprotection.
Alongnotewassoundedon
abugle,andeveryone
mountedup.Theboyandthe
Englishmanhadbought
camels,andclimbed
uncertainlyontotheirbacks.
Theboyfeltsorryforthe
Englishman’scamel,loaded
downashewaswiththe
casesofbooks.
“There’snosuchthingas
coincidence,”saidthe
Englishman,pickingupthe
conversationwhereithad
beeninterruptedinthe
warehouse.“I’mherebecause
afriendofmineheardofan
Arabwho…”
Butthecaravanbeganto
move,anditwasimpossible
tohearwhattheEnglishman
wassaying.Theboyknew
whathewasaboutto
describe,though:the
mysteriouschainthatlinks
onethingtoanother,thesame
chainthathadcausedhimto
becomeashepherd,thathad
causedhisrecurringdream,
thathadbroughthimtoacity
nearAfrica,tofindaking,
andtoberobbedinorderto
meetacrystalmerchant,
and…
Thecloseronegetsto
realizinghisPersonal
Legend,themorethat
PersonalLegendbecomeshis
truereasonforbeing,thought
theboy.
Thecaravanmovedtoward
theeast.Ittraveledduringthe
morning,haltedwhenthesun
wasatitsstrongest,and
resumedlateintheafternoon.
Theboyspokeverylittlewith
theEnglishman,whospent
mostofhistimewithhis
books.
Theboyobservedinsilence
theprogressoftheanimals
andpeopleacrossthedesert.
Noweverythingwasquite
differentfromhowitwasthat
daytheyhadsetout:then,
therehadbeenconfusionand
shouting,thecriesofchildren
andthewhinnyingof
animals,allmixedwiththe
nervousordersoftheguides
andthemerchants.
But,inthedesert,therewas
onlythesoundoftheeternal
wind,andofthehoofbeatsof
theanimals.Eventheguides
spokeverylittletoone
another.
“I’vecrossedthesesands
manytimes,”saidoneofthe
cameldriversonenight.“But
thedesertissohuge,andthe
horizonssodistant,thatthey
makeapersonfeelsmall,and
asifheshouldremainsilent.”
Theboyunderstood
intuitivelywhathemeant,
evenwithouteverhavingset
footinthedesertbefore.
Wheneverhesawthesea,or
afire,hefellsilent,impressed
bytheirelementalforce.
I’velearnedthingsfromthe
sheep,andI’velearnedthings
fromcrystal,hethought.Ican
learnsomethingfromthe
desert,too.Itseemsoldand
wise.
Thewindneverstopped,
andtheboyrememberedthe
dayhehadsatatthefortin
Tarifawiththissamewind
blowinginhisface.It
remindedhimofthewool
fromhissheep…hissheep
whowerenowseekingfood
andwaterinthefieldsof
Andalusia,astheyalways
had.
“They’renotmysheep
anymore,”hesaidtohimself,
withoutnostalgia.“They
mustbeusedtotheirnew
shepherd,andhaveprobably
alreadyforgottenme.That’s
good.Creatureslikethe
sheep,thatareusedto
traveling,knowaboutmoving
on.”
Hethoughtofthe
merchant’sdaughter,andwas
surethatshehadprobably
married.Perhapstoabaker,
ortoanothershepherdwho
couldreadandcouldtellher
excitingstories—afterall,he
probablywasn’ttheonlyone.
Buthewasexcitedathis
intuitiveunderstandingofthe
cameldriver’scomment:
maybehewasalsolearning
theuniversallanguagethat
dealswiththepastandthe
presentofallpeople.
“Hunches,”hismotherused
tocallthem.Theboywas
beginningtounderstandthat
intuitionisreallyasudden
immersionofthesoulintothe
universalcurrentoflife,
wherethehistoriesofall
peopleareconnected,andwe
areabletoknoweverything,
becauseit’sallwrittenthere.
“Maktub,”theboysaid,
rememberingthecrystal
merchant.
Thedesertwasallsandin
somestretches,androckyin
others.Whenthecaravanwas
blockedbyaboulder,ithad
togoaroundit;iftherewasa
largerockyarea,theyhadto
makeamajordetour.Ifthe
sandwastoofineforthe
animals’hooves,theysought
awaywherethesandwas
moresubstantial.Insome
places,thegroundwas
coveredwiththesaltofdrieduplakes.Theanimalsbalked
atsuchplaces,andthecamel
driverswereforcedto
dismountandunburdentheir
charges.Thedriverscarried
thefreightthemselvesover
suchtreacherousfooting,and
thenreloadedthecamels.Ifa
guideweretofallillordie,
thecameldriverswoulddraw
lotsandappointanewone.
Butallthishappenedfor
onebasicreason:nomatter
howmanydetoursand
adjustmentsitmade,the
caravanmovedtowardthe
samecompasspoint.Once
obstacleswereovercome,it
returnedtoitscourse,
sightingonastarthat
indicatedthelocationofthe
oasis.Whenthepeoplesaw
thatstarshininginthe
morningsky,theyknewthey
wereontherightcourse
towardwater,palmtrees,
shelter,andotherpeople.It
wasonlytheEnglishmanwho
wasunawareofallthis;he
was,forthemostpart,
immersedinreadinghis
books.
Theboy,too,hadhisbook,
andhehadtriedtoreadit
duringthefirstfewdaysof
thejourney.Buthefoundit
muchmoreinterestingto
observethecaravanandlisten
tothewind.Assoonashe
hadlearnedtoknowhis
camelbetter,andtoestablish
arelationshipwithhim,he
threwthebookaway.
Althoughtheboyhad
developedasuperstitionthat
eachtimeheopenedthebook
hewouldlearnsomething
important,hedecideditwas
anunnecessaryburden.
Hebecamefriendlywiththe
cameldriverwhotraveled
alongsidehim.Atnight,as
theysataroundthefire,the
boyrelatedtothedriverhis
adventuresasashepherd.
Duringoneofthese
conversations,thedrivertold
ofhisownlife.
“IusedtolivenearEl
Cairum,”hesaid.“Ihadmy
orchard,mychildren,anda
lifethatwouldchangenotat
alluntilIdied.Oneyear,
whenthecropwasthebest
ever,weallwenttoMecca,
andIsatisfiedtheonlyunmet
obligationinmylife.Icould
diehappily,andthatmademe
feelgood.
“Oneday,theearthbeganto
tremble,andtheNile
overfloweditsbanks.Itwas
somethingthatIthought
couldhappenonlytoothers,
nevertome.Myneighbors
fearedtheywouldloseall
theirolivetreesintheflood,
andmywifewasafraidthat
wewouldloseourchildren.I
thoughtthateverythingI
ownedwouldbedestroyed.
“Thelandwasruined,andI
hadtofindsomeotherwayto
earnaliving.SonowI’ma
cameldriver.Butthatdisaster
taughtmetounderstandthe
wordofAllah:peopleneed
notfeartheunknownifthey
arecapableofachievingwhat
theyneedandwant.
“Weareafraidoflosing
whatwehave,whetherit’s
ourlifeorourpossessions
andproperty.Butthisfear
evaporateswhenwe
understandthatourlife
storiesandthehistoryofthe
worldwerewrittenbythe
samehand.”
Sometimes,theircaravan
metwithanother.Onealways
hadsomethingthattheother
needed—asifeverything
wereindeedwrittenbyone
hand.Astheysataroundthe
fire,thecameldrivers
exchangedinformationabout
windstorms,andtoldstories
aboutthedesert.
Atothertimes,mysterious,
hoodedmenwouldappear;
theywereBedouinswhodid
surveillancealongthe
caravanroute.Theyprovided
warningsaboutthievesand
barbariantribes.Theycame
insilenceanddepartedthe
sameway,dressedinblack
garmentsthatshowedonly
theireyes.Onenight,acamel
drivercametothefirewhere
theEnglishmanandtheboy
weresitting.“Thereare
rumorsoftribalwars,”he
toldthem.
Thethreefellsilent.The
boynotedthattherewasa
senseoffearintheair,even
thoughnoonesaidanything.
Onceagainhewas
experiencingthelanguage
withoutwords…theuniversal
language.
TheEnglishmanaskedif
theywereindanger.
“Onceyougetintothe
desert,there’snogoing
back,”saidthecameldriver.
“And,whenyoucan’tgo
back,youhavetoworryonly
aboutthebestwayofmoving
forward.Therestisupto
Allah,includingthedanger.”
Andheconcludedbysaying
themysteriousword:
“Maktub.”
“Youshouldpaymore
attentiontothecaravan,”the
boysaidtotheEnglishman,
afterthecameldriverhadleft.
“Wemakealotofdetours,
butwe’realwaysheadingfor
thesamedestination.”
“Andyououghttoread
moreabouttheworld,”
answeredtheEnglishman.
“Booksarelikecaravansin
thatrespect.”
Theimmensecollectionof
peopleandanimalsbeganto
travelfaster.Thedayshad
alwaysbeensilent,butnow,
eventhenights—whenthe
travelerswereaccustomedto
talkingaroundthefires—had
alsobecomequiet.And,one
day,theleaderofthecaravan
madethedecisionthatthe
firesshouldnolongerbe
lighted,soasnottoattract
attentiontothecaravan.
Thetravelersadoptedthe
practiceofarrangingthe
animalsinacircleatnight,
sleepingtogetherinthecenter
asprotectionagainstthe
nocturnalcold.Andthe
leaderpostedarmedsentinels
atthefringesofthegroup.
TheEnglishmanwasunable
tosleeponenight.Hecalled
totheboy,andtheytooka
walkalongthedunes
surroundingtheencampment.
Therewasafullmoon,and
theboytoldtheEnglishman
thestoryofhislife.
TheEnglishmanwas
fascinatedwiththepartabout
theprogressachievedatthe
crystalshopaftertheboy
beganworkingthere.
“That’stheprinciplethat
governsallthings,”hesaid.
“Inalchemy,it’scalledthe
SouloftheWorld.Whenyou
wantsomethingwithallyour
heart,that’swhenyouare
closesttotheSoulofthe
World.It’salwaysapositive
force.”
Healsosaidthatthiswas
notjustahumangift,that
everythingonthefaceofthe
earthhadasoul,whether
mineral,vegetable,oranimal
—orevenjustasimple
thought.
“Everythingonearthis
beingcontinuously
transformed,becausethe
earthisalive…andithasa
soul.Wearepartofthatsoul,
sowerarelyrecognizethatit
isworkingforus.Butinthe
crystalshopyouprobably
realizedthateventheglasses
werecollaboratinginyour
success.”
Theboythoughtaboutthat
forawhileashelookedatthe
moonandthebleachedsands.
“Ihavewatchedthecaravan
asitcrossedthedesert,”he
said.“Thecaravanandthe
desertspeakthesame
language,andit’sforthat
reasonthatthedesertallows
thecrossing.It’sgoingtotest
thecaravan’severystepto
seeifit’sintime,and,ifitis,
wewillmakeittotheoasis.”
“Ifeitherofushadjoined
thiscaravanbasedonlyon
personalcourage,butwithout
understandingthatlanguage,
thisjourneywouldhavebeen
muchmoredifficult.”
Theystoodtherelookingat
themoon.
“That’sthemagicof
omens,”saidtheboy.“I’ve
seenhowtheguidesreadthe
signsofthedesert,andhow
thesoulofthecaravanspeaks
tothesoulofthedesert.”
TheEnglishmansaid,“I’d
betterpaymoreattentionto
thecaravan.”
“AndI’dbetterreadyour
books,”saidtheboy.
THEYWERESTRANGEBOOKS.
THEYSPOKEABOUTMERCURY,
salt,dragons,andkings,and
hedidn’tunderstandanyofit.
Buttherewasoneideathat
seemedtorepeatitself
throughoutallthebooks:all
thingsarethemanifestation
ofonethingonly.
Inoneofthebookshe
learnedthatthemost
importanttextintheliterature
ofalchemycontainedonlya
fewlines,andhadbeen
inscribedonthesurfaceofan
emerald.
“It’stheEmeraldTablet,”
saidtheEnglishman,proud
thathemightteachsomething
totheboy.
“Well,then,whydowe
needallthesebooks?”the
boyasked.
“Sothatwecanunderstand
thosefewlines,”the
Englishmananswered,
withoutappearingreallyto
believewhathehadsaid.
Thebookthatmost
interestedtheboytoldthe
storiesofthefamous
alchemists.Theyweremen
whohaddedicatedtheir
entirelivestothepurification
ofmetalsintheirlaboratories;
theybelievedthat,ifametal
wereheatedformanyyears,
itwouldfreeitselfofallits
individualproperties,and
whatwasleftwouldbethe
SouloftheWorld.ThisSoul
oftheWorldallowedthemto
understandanythingonthe
faceoftheearth,becauseit
wasthelanguagewithwhich
allthingscommunicated.
Theycalledthatdiscoverythe
MasterWork—itwaspart
liquidandpartsolid.
“Can’tyoujustobservemen
andomensinorderto
understandthelanguage?”the
boyasked.
“Youhaveamaniafor
simplifyingeverything,”
answeredtheEnglishman,
irritated.“Alchemyisa
seriousdiscipline.Everystep
hastobefollowedexactlyas
itwasfollowedbythe
masters.”
Theboylearnedthatthe
liquidpartoftheMaster
WorkwascalledtheElixirof
Life,andthatitcuredall
illnesses;italsokeptthe
alchemistfromgrowingold.
Andthesolidpartwascalled
thePhilosopher’sStone.
“It’snoteasytofindthe
Philosopher’sStone,”saidthe
Englishman.“Thealchemists
spentyearsintheir
laboratories,observingthe
firethatpurifiedthemetals.
Theyspentsomuchtime
closetothefirethatgradually
theygaveupthevanitiesof
theworld.Theydiscovered
thatthepurificationofthe
metalshadledtoa
purificationofthemselves.”
Theboythoughtaboutthe
crystalmerchant.Hehadsaid
thatitwasagoodthingfor
theboytocleanthecrystal
pieces,sothathecouldfree
himselffromnegative
thoughts.Theboywas
becomingmoreandmore
convincedthatalchemycould
belearnedinone’sdailylife.
“Also,”saidthe
Englishman,“the
Philosopher’sStonehasa
fascinatingproperty.Asmall
sliverofthestonecan
transformlargequantitiesof
metalintogold.”
Havingheardthat,theboy
becameevenmoreinterested
inalchemy.Hethoughtthat,
withsomepatience,he’dbe
abletotransformeverything
intogold.Hereadthelivesof
thevariouspeoplewhohad
succeededindoingso:
Helvétius,Elias,Fulcanelli,
andGeber.Theywere
fascinatingstories:eachof
themlivedouthisPersonal
Legendtotheend.They
traveled,spokewithwise
men,performedmiraclesfor
theincredulous,andowned
thePhilosopher’sStoneand
theElixirofLife.
Butwhentheboywantedto
learnhowtoachievethe
MasterWork,hebecame
completelylost.Therewere
justdrawings,coded
instructions,andobscure
texts.
“WHYDOTHEYMAKETHINGS
SOCOMPLICATED?”HEasked
theEnglishmanonenight.
Theboyhadnoticedthatthe
Englishmanwasirritable,and
missedhisbooks.
“Sothatthosewhohavethe
responsibilityfor
understandingcan
understand,”hesaid.
“Imagineifeveryonewent
aroundtransformingleadinto
gold.Goldwouldloseits
value.
“It’sonlythosewhoare
persistent,andwillingto
studythingsdeeply,who
achievetheMasterWork.
That’swhyI’mhereinthe
middleofthedesert.I’m
seekingatruealchemistwho
willhelpmetodecipherthe
codes.”
“Whenwerethesebooks
written?”theboyasked.
“Manycenturiesago.”
“Theydidn’thavethe
printingpressinthosedays,”
theboyargued.“Therewas
nowayforeverybodyto
knowaboutalchemy.Why
didtheyusesuchstrange
language,withsomany
drawings?”
TheEnglishmandidn’t
answerhimdirectly.Hesaid
thatforthepastfewdayshe
hadbeenpayingattentionto
howthecaravanoperated,but
thathehadn’tlearned
anythingnew.Theonlything
hehadnoticedwasthattalk
ofwarwasbecomingmore
andmorefrequent.
THENONEDAYTHEBOY
RETURNEDTHEBOOKSTOTHE
Englishman.“Didyoulearn
anything?”theEnglishman
asked,eagertohearwhatit
mightbe.Heneededsomeone
totalktosoastoavoid
thinkingaboutthepossibility
ofwar.
“Ilearnedthattheworldhas
asoul,andthatwhoever
understandsthatsoulcanalso
understandthelanguageof
things.Ilearnedthatmany
alchemistsrealizedtheir
PersonalLegends,andwound
updiscoveringtheSoulofthe
World,thePhilosopher’s
Stone,andtheElixirofLife.
“But,aboveall,Ilearned
thatthesethingsareallso
simplethattheycouldbe
writtenonthesurfaceofan
emerald.”
TheEnglishmanwas
disappointed.Theyearsof
research,themagicsymbols,
thestrangewords,andthe
laboratoryequipment…none
ofthishadmadean
impressionontheboy.His
soulmustbetooprimitiveto
understandthosethings,he
thought.
Hetookbackhisbooksand
packedthemawayagainin
theirbags.
“Gobacktowatchingthe
caravan,”hesaid.“That
didn’tteachmeanything,
either.”
Theboywentbackto
contemplatingthesilenceof
thedesert,andthesandraised
bytheanimals.“Everyone
hashisorherownwayof
learningthings,”hesaidto
himself.“Hiswayisn’tthe
sameasmine,normineas
his.Butwe’rebothinsearch
ofourPersonalLegends,and
Irespecthimforthat.”
THECARAVANBEGANTO
TRAVELDAYANDNIGHT.THE
hoodedBedouinsreappeared
moreandmorefrequently,
andthecameldriver—who
hadbecomeagoodfriendof
theboy’s—explainedthatthe
warbetweenthetribeshad
alreadybegun.Thecaravan
wouldbeveryluckytoreach
theoasis.
Theanimalswere
exhausted,andthementalked
amongthemselveslessand
less.Thesilencewasthe
worstaspectofthenight,
whenthemeregroanofa
camel—whichbeforehad
beennothingbutthegroanof
acamel—nowfrightened
everyone,becauseitmight
signalaraid.
Thecameldriver,though,
seemednottobevery
concernedwiththethreatof
war.
“I’malive,”hesaidtothe
boy,astheyateabunchof
datesonenight,withnofires
andnomoon.“WhenI’m
eating,that’sallIthinkabout.
IfI’monthemarch,Ijust
concentrateonmarching.IfI
havetofight,itwillbejustas
goodadaytodieasany
other.
“BecauseIdon’tlivein
eithermypastormyfuture.
I’minterestedonlyinthe
present.Ifyoucan
concentratealwaysonthe
present,you’llbeahappy
man.You’llseethatthereis
lifeinthedesert,thatthere
arestarsintheheavens,and
thattribesmenfightbecause
theyarepartofthehuman
race.Lifewillbeapartyfor
you,agrandfestival,because
lifeisthemomentwe’re
livingrightnow.”
Twonightslater,ashewas
gettingreadytobeddown,
theboylookedforthestar
theyfollowedeverynight.He
thoughtthatthehorizonwasa
bitlowerthanithadbeen,
becauseheseemedtosee
starsonthedesertitself.
“It’stheoasis,”saidthe
cameldriver.
“Well,whydon’twego
thererightnow?”theboy
asked.
“Becausewehavetosleep.”
THEBOYAWOKEASTHESUN
ROSE.THERE,INFRONTOFhim,
wherethesmallstarshad
beenthenightbefore,wasan
endlessrowofdatepalms,
stretchingacrosstheentire
desert.
“We’vedoneit!”saidthe
Englishman,whohadalso
awakenedearly.
Buttheboywasquiet.He
wasathomewiththesilence
ofthedesert,andhewas
contentjusttolookatthe
trees.Hestillhadalongway
togotoreachthePyramids,
andsomedaythismorning
wouldjustbeamemory.But
thiswasthepresentmoment
—thepartythecameldriver
hadmentioned—andhe
wantedtoliveitashedidthe
lessonsofhispastandhis
dreamsofthefuture.
Althoughthevisionofthe
datepalmswouldsomedaybe
justamemory,rightnowit
signifiedshade,water,anda
refugefromthewar.
Yesterday,thecamel’sgroan
signaleddanger,andnowa
rowofdatepalmscould
heraldamiracle.
Theworldspeaksmany
languages,theboythought.
THETIMESRUSHPAST,ANDSO
DOTHECARAVANS,thoughtthe
alchemist,ashewatchedthe
hundredsofpeopleand
animalsarrivingattheoasis.
Peoplewereshoutingatthe
newarrivals,dustobscured
thedesertsun,andthe
childrenoftheoasiswere
burstingwithexcitementat
thearrivalofthestrangers.
Thealchemistsawthetribal
chiefsgreettheleaderofthe
caravan,andconversewith
himatlength.
Butnoneofthatmatteredto
thealchemist.Hehadalready
seenmanypeoplecomeand
go,andthedesertremained
asitwas.Hehadseenkings
andbeggarswalkingthe
desertsands.Theduneswere
changedconstantlybythe
wind,yetthesewerethesame
sandshehadknownsincehe
wasachild.Healways
enjoyedseeingthehappiness
thatthetravelersexperienced
when,afterweeksofyellow
sandandbluesky,theyfirst
sawthegreenofthedate
palms.MaybeGodcreated
thedesertsothatmancould
appreciatethedatetrees,he
thought.
Hedecidedtoconcentrate
onmorepracticalmatters.He
knewthatinthecaravanthere
wasamantowhomhewasto
teachsomeofhissecrets.The
omenshadtoldhimso.He
didn’tknowthemanyet,but
hispracticedeyewould
recognizehimwhenhe
appeared.Hehopedthatit
wouldbesomeoneascapable
ashispreviousapprentice.
Idon’tknowwhythese
thingshavetobetransmitted
bywordofmouth,he
thought.Itwasn’texactlythat
theyweresecrets;God
revealedhissecretseasilyto
allhiscreatures.
Hehadonlyoneexplanation
forthisfact:thingshavetobe
transmittedthiswaybecause
theyweremadeupfromthe
purelife,andthiskindoflife
cannotbecapturedinpictures
orwords.
Becausepeoplebecome
fascinatedwithpicturesand
words,andwindupforgetting
theLanguageoftheWorld.
THEBOYCOULDN’TBELIEVE
WHATHEWASSEEING:THE
oasis,ratherthanbeingjusta
wellsurroundedbyafew
palmtrees—ashehadseen
onceinageographybook—
wasmuchlargerthanmany
townsbackinSpain.There
werethreehundredwells,
fiftythousanddatetrees,and
innumerablecoloredtents
spreadamongthem.
“ItlookslikeAThousand
andOneNights,”saidthe
Englishman,impatientto
meetwiththealchemist.
Theyweresurroundedby
children,curioustolookat
theanimalsandpeoplethat
werearriving.Themenofthe
oasiswantedtoknowifthey
hadseenanyfighting,andthe
womencompetedwithone
anotherforaccesstothecloth
andpreciousstonesbrought
bythemerchants.Thesilence
ofthedesertwasadistant
dream;thetravelersinthe
caravanweretalking
incessantly,laughingand
shouting,asiftheyhad
emergedfromthespiritual
worldandfoundthemselves
onceagainintheworldof
people.Theywererelieved
andhappy.
Theyhadbeentaking
carefulprecautionsinthe
desert,butthecameldriver
explainedtotheboythat
oaseswerealwaysconsidered
tobeneutralterritories,
becausethemajorityofthe
inhabitantswerewomenand
children.Therewereoases
throughoutthedesert,butthe
tribesmenfoughtinthe
desert,leavingtheoasesas
placesofrefuge.
Withsomedifficulty,the
leaderofthecaravanbrought
allhispeopletogetherand
gavethemhisinstructions.
Thegroupwastoremain
thereattheoasisuntilthe
conflictbetweenthetribes
wasover.Sincetheywere
visitors,theywouldhaveto
sharelivingspacewiththose
wholivedthere,andwould
begiventhebest
accommodations.Thatwas
thelawofhospitality.Then
heaskedthateveryone,
includinghisownsentinels,
handovertheirarmstothe
menappointedbythetribal
chieftains.
“Thosearetherulesof
war,”theleaderexplained.
“Theoasesmaynotshelter
armiesortroops.”
Totheboy’ssurprise,the
Englishmantookachromeplatedrevolveroutofhisbag
andgaveittothemenwho
werecollectingthearms.
“Whyarevolver?”he
asked.
“Ithelpedmetotrustin
people,”theEnglishman
answered.
Meanwhile,theboythought
abouthistreasure.Thecloser
hegottotherealizationofhis
dream,themoredifficult
thingsbecame.Itseemedasif
whattheoldkinghadcalled
“beginner’sluck”wereno
longerfunctioning.Inhis
pursuitofthedream,hewas
beingconstantlysubjectedto
testsofhispersistenceand
courage.Sohecouldnotbe
hasty,norimpatient.Ifhe
pushedforwardimpulsively,
hewouldfailtoseethesigns
andomensleftbyGodalong
hispath.
Godplacedthemalongmy
path.Hehadsurprised
himselfwiththethought.
Untilthen,hehadconsidered
theomenstobethingsofthis
world.Likeeatingor
sleeping,orlikeseekinglove
orfindingajob.Hehadnever
thoughtofthemintermsofa
languageusedbyGodto
indicatewhatheshoulddo.
“Don’tbeimpatient,”he
repeatedtohimself.“It’slike
thecameldriversaid:‘Eat
whenit’stimetoeat.And
movealongwhenit’stimeto
movealong.’”
Thatfirstday,everyone
sleptfromexhaustion,
includingtheEnglishman.
Theboywasassignedaplace
farfromhisfriend,inatent
withfiveotheryoungmenof
abouthisage.Theywere
peopleofthedesert,and
clamoredtohearhisstories
aboutthegreatcities.
Theboytoldthemabouthis
lifeasashepherd,andwas
abouttotellthemofhis
experiencesatthecrystal
shopwhentheEnglishman
cameintothetent.
“I’vebeenlookingforyou
allmorning,”hesaid,ashe
ledtheboyoutside.“Ineed
youtohelpmefindoutwhere
thealchemistlives.”
First,theytriedtofindhim
ontheirown.Analchemist
wouldprobablyliveina
mannerthatwasdifferent
fromthatoftherestofthe
peopleattheoasis,anditwas
likelythatinhistentanoven
wascontinuouslyburning.
Theysearchedeverywhere,
andfoundthattheoasiswas
muchlargerthantheycould
haveimagined;therewere
hundredsoftents.
“We’vewastedalmostthe
entireday,”saidthe
Englishman,sittingdown
withtheboynearoneofthe
wells.
“Maybewe’dbetterask
someone,”theboysuggested.
TheEnglishmandidn’twant
totellothersabouthis
reasonsforbeingattheoasis,
andcouldn’tmakeuphis
mind.But,finally,heagreed
thattheboy,whospokebetter
Arabicthanhe,shoulddoso.
Theboyapproachedawoman
whohadcometothewellto
fillagoatskinwithwater.
“Goodafternoon,ma’am.
I’mtryingtofindoutwhere
thealchemistliveshereatthe
oasis.”
Thewomansaidshehad
neverheardofsuchaperson,
andhurriedaway.Butbefore
shefled,sheadvisedtheboy
thathehadbetternottryto
conversewithwomenwho
weredressedinblack,
becausetheyweremarried
women.Heshouldrespect
tradition.
TheEnglishmanwas
disappointed.Itseemedhe
hadmadethelongjourneyfor
nothing.Theboywasalso
saddened;hisfriendwasin
pursuitofhisPersonal
Legend.And,whensomeone
wasinsuchpursuit,theentire
universemadeaneffortto
helphimsucceed—that’s
whattheoldkinghadsaid.
Hecouldn’thavebeenwrong.
“Ihadneverheardof
alchemistsbefore,”theboy
said.“Maybenooneherehas,
either.”
TheEnglishman’seyeslit
up.“That’sit!Maybenoone
hereknowswhatanalchemist
is!Findoutwhoitiswho
curesthepeople’sillnesses!”
Severalwomendressedin
blackcametothewellfor
water,buttheboywould
speaktononeofthem,
despitetheEnglishman’s
insistence.Thenaman
approached.
“Doyouknowsomeone
herewhocurespeople’s
illnesses?”theboyasked.
“Allahcuresourillnesses,”
saidtheman,clearly
frightenedofthestrangers.
“You’relookingforwitch
doctors.”Hespokesome
versesfromtheKoran,and
movedon.
Anothermanappeared.He
wasolder,andwascarryinga
smallbucket.Theboy
repeatedhisquestion.
“Whydoyouwanttofind
thatsortofperson?”theArab
asked.
“Becausemyfriendherehas
traveledformanymonthsin
ordertomeetwithhim,”the
boysaid.
“Ifsuchamanishereatthe
oasis,hemustbethevery
powerfulone,”saidtheold
manafterthinkingforafew
moments.“Noteventhetribal
chieftainsareabletoseehim
whentheywantto.Only
whenheconsents.
“Waitfortheendofthe
war.Thenleavewiththe
caravan.Don’ttrytoenter
intothelifeoftheoasis,”he
said,andwalkedaway.
ButtheEnglishmanwas
exultant.Theywereonthe
righttrack.
Finally,ayoungwoman
approachedwhowasnot
dressedinblack.Shehada
vesselonhershoulder,and
herheadwascoveredbya
veil,butherfacewas
uncovered.Theboy
approachedhertoaskabout
thealchemist.
Atthatmoment,itseemed
tohimthattimestoodstill,
andtheSouloftheWorld
surgedwithinhim.Whenhe
lookedintoherdarkeyes,and
sawthatherlipswerepoised
betweenalaughandsilence,
helearnedthemostimportant
partofthelanguagethatall
theworldspoke—the
languagethateveryoneon
earthwascapableof
understandingintheirheart.
Itwaslove.Somethingolder
thanhumanity,moreancient
thanthedesert.Something
thatexertedthesameforce
whenevertwopairsofeyes
met,ashadtheirshereatthe
well.Shesmiled,andthat
wascertainlyanomen—the
omenhehadbeenawaiting,
withoutevenknowinghe
was,forallhislife.Theomen
hehadsoughttofindwithhis
sheepandinhisbooks,inthe
crystalsandinthesilenceof
thedesert.
ItwasthepureLanguageof
theWorld.Itrequiredno
explanation,justasthe
universeneedsnoneasit
travelsthroughendlesstime.
Whattheboyfeltatthat
momentwasthathewasin
thepresenceoftheonly
womaninhislife,andthat,
withnoneedforwords,she
recognizedthesamething.
Hewasmorecertainofit
thanofanythingintheworld.
Hehadbeentoldbyhis
parentsandgrandparentsthat
hemustfallinloveandreally
knowapersonbefore
becomingcommitted.But
maybepeoplewhofeltthat
wayhadneverlearnedthe
universallanguage.Because,
whenyouknowthat
language,it’seasyto
understandthatsomeonein
theworldawaitsyou,whether
it’sinthemiddleofthedesert
orinsomegreatcity.And
whentwosuchpeople
encountereachother,and
theireyesmeet,thepastand
thefuturebecome
unimportant.Thereisonly
thatmoment,andthe
incrediblecertaintythat
everythingunderthesunhas
beenwrittenbyonehand
only.Itisthehandthat
evokeslove,andcreatesa
twinsoulforeverypersonin
theworld.Withoutsuchlove,
one’sdreamswouldhaveno
meaning.
Maktub,thoughttheboy.
TheEnglishmanshookthe
boy:“Comeon,askher!”
Theboysteppedcloserto
thegirl,andwhenshesmiled,
hedidthesame.
“What’syourname?”he
asked.
“Fatima,”thegirlsaid,
avertinghereyes.
“That’swhatsomewomen
inmycountryarecalled.”
“It’sthenameofthe
Prophet’sdaughter,”Fatima
said.“Theinvaderscarried
thenameeverywhere.”The
beautifulgirlspokeofthe
invaderswithpride.
TheEnglishmanprodded
him,andtheboyaskedher
aboutthemanwhocured
people’sillnesses.
“That’sthemanwhoknows
allthesecretsoftheworld,”
shesaid.“Hecommunicates
withthegeniesofthedesert.”
Thegenieswerethespirits
ofgoodandevil.Andthegirl
pointedtothesouth,
indicatingthatitwastherethe
strangemanlived.Thenshe
filledhervesselwithwater
andleft.
TheEnglishmanvanished,
too,gonetofindthe
alchemist.Andtheboysat
therebythewellforalong
time,rememberingthatone
dayinTarifathelevanterhad
broughttohimtheperfumeof
thatwoman,andrealizing
thathehadlovedherbefore
heevenknewsheexisted.He
knewthathisloveforher
wouldenablehimtodiscover
everytreasureintheworld.
Thenextday,theboy
returnedtothewell,hoping
toseethegirl.Tohis
surprise,theEnglishmanwas
there,lookingoutatthe
desert.
“Iwaitedallafternoonand
evening,”hesaid.“He
appearedwiththefirststars
ofevening.ItoldhimwhatI
wasseeking,andheaskedme
ifIhadevertransformedlead
intogold.Itoldhimthatwas
whatIhadcomehereto
learn.
“HetoldmeIshouldtryto
doso.That’sallhesaid:‘Go
andtry.’”
Theboydidn’tsay
anything.Thepoor
Englishmanhadtraveledall
thisway,onlytobetoldthat
heshouldrepeatwhathehad
alreadydonesomanytimes.
“So,thentry,”hesaidtothe
Englishman.
“That’swhatI’mgoingto
do.I’mgoingtostartnow.”
AstheEnglishmanleft,
Fatimaarrivedandfilledher
vesselwithwater.
“Icametotellyoujustone
thing,”theboysaid.“Iwant
youtobemywife.Ilove
you.”
Thegirldroppedthe
container,andthewater
spilled.
“I’mgoingtowaitherefor
youeveryday.Ihavecrossed
thedesertinsearchofa
treasurethatissomewhere
nearthePyramids,andfor
me,thewarseemedacurse.
Butnowit’sablessing,
becauseitbroughtmeto
you.”
“Thewarisgoingtoend
someday,”thegirlsaid.
Theboylookedaroundhim
atthedatepalms.He
remindedhimselfthathehad
beenashepherd,andthathe
couldbeashepherdagain.
Fatimawasmoreimportant
thanhistreasure.
“Thetribesmenarealways
insearchoftreasure,”thegirl
said,asifshehadguessed
whathewasthinking.“And
thewomenofthedesertare
proudoftheirtribesmen.”
Sherefilledhervesseland
left.
Theboywenttothewell
everydaytomeetwith
Fatima.Hetoldherabouthis
lifeasashepherd,aboutthe
king,andaboutthecrystal
shop.Theybecamefriends,
andexceptforthefifteen
minuteshespentwithher,
eachdayseemedthatitwould
neverpass.Whenhehad
beenattheoasisforalmosta
month,theleaderofthe
caravancalledameetingof
allofthepeopletraveling
withhim.
“Wedon’tknowwhenthe
warwillend,sowecan’t
continueourjourney,”he
said.“Thebattlesmaylastfor
alongtime,perhapseven
years.Therearepowerful
forcesonbothsides,andthe
warisimportanttoboth
armies.It’snotabattleof
goodagainstevil.It’sawar
betweenforcesthatare
fightingforthebalanceof
power,and,whenthattypeof
battlebegins,itlastslonger
thanothers—becauseAllahis
onbothsides.”
Thepeoplewentbackto
wheretheywereliving,and
theboywenttomeetwith
Fatimathatafternoon.Hetold
heraboutthemorning’s
meeting.“Thedayafterwe
met,”Fatimasaid,“youtold
methatyoulovedme.Then,
youtaughtmesomethingof
theuniversallanguageand
theSouloftheWorld.
Becauseofthat,Ihave
becomeapartofyou.”
Theboylistenedtothe
soundofhervoice,and
thoughtittobemore
beautifulthanthesoundof
thewindinthedatepalms.
“Ihavebeenwaitingforyou
hereatthisoasisforalong
time.Ihaveforgottenabout
mypast,aboutmytraditions,
andthewayinwhichmenof
thedesertexpectwomento
behave.EversinceIwasa
child,Ihavedreamedthatthe
desertwouldbringmea
wonderfulpresent.Now,my
presenthasarrived,andit’s
you.”
Theboywantedtotakeher
hand.ButFatima’shands
heldtothehandlesofherjug.
“Youhavetoldmeabout
yourdreams,abouttheold
kingandyourtreasure.And
you’vetoldmeaboutomens.
Sonow,Ifearnothing,
becauseitwasthoseomens
thatbroughtyoutome.AndI
amapartofyourdream,a
partofyourPersonalLegend,
asyoucallit.
“That’swhyIwantyouto
continuetowardyourgoal.If
youhavetowaituntilthewar
isover,thenwait.Butifyou
havetogobeforethen,goon
inpursuitofyourdream.The
dunesarechangedbythe
wind,butthedesertnever
changes.That’sthewayit
willbewithourloveforeach
other.
“Maktub,”shesaid.“IfI
amreallyapartofyour
dream,you’llcomebackone
day.”
Theboywassadasheleft
herthatday.Hethoughtofall
themarriedshepherdshehad
known.Theyhadadifficult
timeconvincingtheirwives
thattheyhadtogooffinto
distantfields.Loverequired
themtostaywiththepeople
theyloved.
HetoldFatimathat,attheir
nextmeeting.
“Thedeserttakesourmen
fromus,andtheydon’t
alwaysreturn,”shesaid.“We
knowthat,andweareusedto
it.Thosewhodon’treturn
becomeapartoftheclouds,a
partoftheanimalsthathide
intheravinesandofthe
waterthatcomesfromthe
earth.Theybecomeapartof
everything…theybecomethe
SouloftheWorld.
“Somedocomeback.And
thentheotherwomenare
happybecausetheybelieve
thattheirmenmayoneday
return,aswell.Iusedtolook
atthosewomenandenvy
themtheirhappiness.Now,I
toowillbeoneofthewomen
whowait.
“I’madesertwoman,and
I’mproudofthat.Iwantmy
husbandtowanderasfreeas
thewindthatshapesthe
dunes.And,ifIhaveto,Iwill
acceptthefactthathehas
becomeapartoftheclouds,
andtheanimals,andthe
waterofthedesert.”
Theboywenttolookforthe
Englishman.Hewantedto
tellhimaboutFatima.Hewas
surprisedwhenhesawthat
theEnglishmanhadbuilt
himselfafurnaceoutsidehis
tent.Itwasastrangefurnace,
fueledbyfirewood,witha
transparentflaskheatingon
top.AstheEnglishmanstared
outatthedesert,hiseyes
seemedbrighterthantheyhad
whenhewasreadinghis
books.
“Thisisthefirstphaseof
thejob,”hesaid.“Ihaveto
separateoutthesulfur.Todo
thatsuccessfully,Imusthave
nofearoffailure.Itwasmy
fearoffailurethatfirstkept
mefromattemptingthe
MasterWork.Now,I’m
beginningwhatIcouldhave
startedtenyearsago.ButI’m
happyatleastthatIdidn’t
waittwentyyears.”
Hecontinuedtofeedthe
fire,andtheboystayedon
untilthedesertturnedpinkin
thesettingsun.Hefeltthe
urgetogooutintothedesert,
toseeifitssilenceheldthe
answerstohisquestions.
Hewanderedforawhile,
keepingthedatepalmsofthe
oasiswithinsight.Helistened
tothewind,andfeltthe
stonesbeneathhisfeet.Here
andthere,hefoundashell,
andrealizedthatthedesert,in
remotetimes,hadbeenasea.
Hesatonastone,and
allowedhimselftobecome
hypnotizedbythehorizon.
Hetriedtodealwiththe
conceptofloveasdistinct
frompossession,andcouldn’t
separatethem.ButFatima
wasawomanofthedesert,
and,ifanythingcouldhelp
himtounderstand,itwasthe
desert.
Ashesattherethinking,he
sensedmovementabovehim.
Lookingup,hesawapairof
hawksflyinghighinthesky.
Hewatchedthehawksas
theydriftedonthewind.
Althoughtheirflight
appearedtohavenopattern,
itmadeacertainkindof
sensetotheboy.Itwasjust
thathecouldn’tgraspwhatit
meant.Hefollowedthe
movementofthebirds,trying
toreadsomethingintoit.
Maybethesedesertbirds
couldexplaintohimthe
meaningoflovewithout
ownership.
Hefeltsleepy.Inhisheart,
hewantedtoremainawake,
buthealsowantedtosleep.“I
amlearningtheLanguageof
theWorld,andeverythingin
theworldisbeginningto
makesensetome…eventhe
flightofthehawks,”hesaid
tohimself.And,inthatmood,
hewasgratefultobeinlove.
Whenyouareinlove,things
makeevenmoresense,he
thought.
Suddenly,oneofthehawks
madeaflashingdivethrough
thesky,attackingtheother.
Asitdidso,asudden,
fleetingimagecametothe
boy:anarmy,withitsswords
attheready,ridingintothe
oasis.Thevisionvanished
immediately,butithad
shakenhim.Hehadheard
peoplespeakofmirages,and
hadalreadyseensome
himself:theyweredesires
that,becauseoftheir
intensity,materializedover
thesandsofthedesert.Buthe
certainlydidn’tdesirethatan
armyinvadetheoasis.
Hewantedtoforgetabout
thevision,andreturntohis
meditation.Hetriedagainto
concentrateonthepink
shadesofthedesert,andits
stones.Buttherewas
somethingthereinhisheart
thatwouldn’tallowhimtodo
so.
“Alwaysheedtheomens,”
theoldkinghadsaid.The
boyrecalledwhathehadseen
inthevision,andsensedthat
itwasactuallygoingtooccur.
Herose,andmadehisway
backtowardthepalmtrees.
Onceagain,heperceivedthe
manylanguagesinthethings
abouthim:thistime,the
desertwassafe,anditwasthe
oasisthathadbecome
dangerous.
Thecameldriverwasseated
atthebaseofapalmtree,
observingthesunset.Hesaw
theboyappearfromtheother
sideofthedunes.
“Anarmyiscoming,”the
boysaid.“Ihadavision.”
“Thedesertfillsmen’s
heartswithvisions,”the
cameldriveranswered.
Buttheboytoldhimabout
thehawks:thathehadbeen
watchingtheirflightandhad
suddenlyfelthimselftohave
plungedtotheSoulofthe
World.
Thecameldriver
understoodwhattheboywas
saying.Heknewthatany
giventhingonthefaceofthe
earthcouldrevealthehistory
ofallthings.Onecouldopen
abooktoanypage,orlookat
aperson’shand;onecould
turnacard,orwatchthe
flightofthebirds…whatever
thethingobserved,onecould
findaconnectionwithhis
experienceofthemoment.
Actually,itwasn’tthatthose
things,inthemselves,
revealedanythingatall;it
wasjustthatpeople,looking
atwhatwasoccurringaround
them,couldfindameansof
penetrationtotheSoulofthe
World.
Thedesertwasfullofmen
whoearnedtheirlivingbased
ontheeasewithwhichthey
couldpenetratetotheSoulof
theWorld.Theywereknown
asseers,andtheywereheld
infearbywomenandthe
elderly.Tribesmenwerealso
waryofconsultingthem,
becauseitwouldbe
impossibletobeeffectivein
battleifoneknewthathewas
fatedtodie.Thetribesmen
preferredthetasteofbattle,
andthethrillofnotknowing
whattheoutcomewouldbe;
thefuturewasalreadywritten
byAllah,andwhathehad
writtenwasalwaysforthe
goodofman.Sothe
tribesmenlivedonlyforthe
present,becausethepresent
wasfullofsurprises,andthey
hadtobeawareofmany
things:Wherewasthe
enemy’ssword?Wherewas
hishorse?Whatkindofblow
shouldonedelivernextin
ordertoremainalive?The
cameldriverwasnota
fighter,andhehadconsulted
withseers.Manyofthemhad
beenrightaboutwhatthey
said,whilesomehadbeen
wrong.Then,oneday,the
oldestseerhehadeversought
out(andtheonemosttobe
feared)hadaskedwhythe
cameldriverwasso
interestedinthefuture.
“Well…soIcandothings,”
hehadresponded.“AndsoI
canchangethosethingsthatI
don’twanttohappen.”
“Butthentheywouldn’tbe
apartofyourfuture,”theseer
hadsaid.
“Well,maybeIjustwantto
knowthefuturesoIcan
preparemyselfforwhat’s
coming.”
“Ifgoodthingsarecoming,
theywillbeapleasant
surprise,”saidtheseer.“If
badthingsare,andyouknow
inadvance,youwillsuffer
greatlybeforetheyeven
occur.”
“Iwanttoknowaboutthe
futurebecauseI’maman,”
thecameldriverhadsaidto
theseer.“Andmenalways
livetheirlivesbasedonthe
future.”
Theseerwasaspecialistin
thecastingoftwigs;hethrew
themontheground,and
madeinterpretationsbasedon
howtheyfell.Thatday,he
didn’tmakeacast.He
wrappedthetwigsinapiece
ofclothandputthembackin
hisbag.
“Imakemyliving
forecastingthefuturefor
people,”hesaid.“Iknowthe
scienceofthetwigs,andI
knowhowtousethemto
penetratetotheplacewhere
alliswritten.There,Ican
readthepast,discoverwhat
hasalreadybeenforgotten,
andunderstandtheomens
thatarehereinthepresent.
“Whenpeopleconsultme,
it’snotthatI’mreadingthe
future;Iamguessingatthe
future.Thefuturebelongsto
God,anditisonlyhewho
revealsit,underextraordinary
circumstances.HowdoI
guessatthefuture?Basedon
theomensofthepresent.The
secretishereinthepresent.If
youpayattentiontothe
present,youcanimprove
uponit.And,ifyouimprove
onthepresent,whatcomes
laterwillalsobebetter.
Forgetaboutthefuture,and
liveeachdayaccordingtothe
teachings,confidentthatGod
loveshischildren.Eachday,
initself,bringswithitan
eternity.”
Thecameldriverhadasked
whatthecircumstanceswere
underwhichGodwould
allowhimtoseethefuture.
“Onlywhenhe,himself,
revealsit.AndGodonly
rarelyrevealsthefuture.
Whenhedoesso,itisfor
onlyonereason:it’safuture
thatwaswrittensoastobe
altered.”
Godhadshowntheboya
partofthefuture,thecamel
driverthought.Whywasit
thathewantedtheboyto
serveashisinstrument?
“Goandspeaktothetribal
chieftains,”saidthecamel
driver.“Tellthemaboutthe
armiesthatareapproaching.”
“They’lllaughatme.”
“Theyaremenofthedesert,
andthemenofthedesertare
usedtodealingwithomens.”
“Well,then,theyprobably
alreadyknow.”
“They’renotconcerned
withthatrightnow.They
believethatiftheyhaveto
knowaboutsomethingAllah
wantsthemtoknow,
someonewilltellthemabout
it.Ithashappenedmany
timesbefore.But,thistime,
thepersonisyou.”
TheboythoughtofFatima.
Andhedecidedhewouldgo
toseethechiefsofthetribes.
THEBOYAPPROACHEDTHE
GUARDATTHEFRONTOFTHE
hugewhitetentatthecenter
oftheoasis.
“Iwanttoseethechieftains.
I’vebroughtomensfromthe
desert.”
Withoutresponding,the
guardenteredthetent,where
heremainedforsometime.
Whenheemerged,itwas
withayoungArab,dressedin
whiteandgold.Theboytold
theyoungermanwhathehad
seen,andthemanaskedhim
towaitthere.Hedisappeared
intothetent.
Nightfell,andan
assortmentoffightingmen
andmerchantsenteredand
exitedthetent.Onebyone,
thecampfireswere
extinguished,andtheoasis
fellasquietasthedesert.
Onlythelightsinthegreat
tentremained.Duringallthis
time,theboythoughtabout
Fatima,andhewasstill
unabletounderstandhislast
conversationwithher.
Finally,afterhoursof
waiting,theguardbadethe
boyenter.Theboywas
astonishedbywhathesaw
inside.Nevercouldhehave
imaginedthat,thereinthe
middleofthedesert,there
existedatentlikethisone.
Thegroundwascoveredwith
themostbeautifulcarpetshe
hadeverwalkedupon,and
fromthetopofthestructure
hunglampsofhandwrought
gold,eachwithalighted
candle.Thetribalchieftains
wereseatedatthebackofthe
tentinasemicircle,resting
uponrichlyembroideredsilk
cushions.Servantscameand
wentwithsilvertraysladen
withspicesandtea.Other
servantsmaintainedthefires
inthehookahs.The
atmospherewassuffusedwith
thesweetscentofsmoke.
Therewereeightchieftains,
buttheboycouldsee
immediatelywhichofthem
wasthemostimportant:an
Arabdressedinwhiteand
gold,seatedatthecenterof
thesemicircle.Athisside
wastheyoungArabtheboy
hadspokenwithearlier.
“Whoisthisstrangerwho
speaksofomens?”askedone
ofthechieftains,eyeingthe
boy.
“ItisI,”theboyanswered.
Andhetoldwhathehadseen.
“Whywouldthedesert
revealsuchthingstoa
stranger,whenitknowsthat
wehavebeenherefor
generations?”saidanotherof
thechieftains.
“Becausemyeyesarenot
yetaccustomedtothedesert,”
theboysaid.“Icanseethings
thateyeshabituatedtothe
desertmightnotsee.”
AndalsobecauseIknow
abouttheSouloftheWorld,
hethoughttohimself.
“Theoasisisneutral
ground.Nooneattacksan
oasis,”saidathirdchieftain.
“IcanonlytellyouwhatI
saw.Ifyoudon’twantto
believeme,youdon’thaveto
doanythingaboutit.”
Themenfellintoan
animateddiscussion.They
spokeinanArabicdialect
thattheboydidn’t
understand,but,whenhe
madetoleave,theguardtold
himtostay.Theboybecame
fearful;theomenstoldhim
thatsomethingwaswrong.
Heregrettedhavingspokento
thecameldriveraboutwhat
hehadseeninthedesert.
Suddenly,theelderatthe
centersmiledalmost
imperceptibly,andtheboy
feltbetter.Themanhadn’t
participatedinthediscussion,
and,infact,hadn’tsaida
worduptothatpoint.Butthe
boywasalreadyusedtothe
LanguageoftheWorld,and
hecouldfeelthevibrationsof
peacethroughoutthetent.
Nowhisintuitionwasthathe
hadbeenrightincoming.
Thediscussionended.The
chieftainsweresilentfora
fewmomentsastheylistened
towhattheoldmanwas
saying.Thenheturnedtothe
boy:thistimehisexpression
wascoldanddistant.
“Twothousandyearsago,in
adistantland,amanwho
believedindreamswas
thrownintoadungeonand
thensoldasaslave,”theold
mansaid,nowinthedialect
theboyunderstood.“Our
merchantsboughtthatman,
andbroughthimtoEgypt.All
ofusknowthatwhoever
believesindreamsalso
knowshowtointerpret
them.”
Theeldercontinued,“When
thepharaohdreamedofcows
thatwerethinandcowsthat
werefat,thismanI’m
speakingofrescuedEgypt
fromfamine.Hisnamewas
Joseph.He,too,wasa
strangerinastrangeland,like
you,andhewasprobably
aboutyourage.”
Hepaused,andhiseyes
werestillunfriendly.
“Wealwaysobservethe
Tradition.TheTradition
savedEgyptfromfaminein
thosedays,andmadethe
Egyptiansthewealthiestof
peoples.TheTradition
teachesmenhowtocrossthe
desert,andhowtheirchildren
shouldmarry.TheTradition
saysthatanoasisisneutral
territory,becausebothsides
haveoases,andsobothare
vulnerable.”
Noonesaidawordasthe
oldmancontinued.
“ButtheTraditionalsosays
thatweshouldbelievethe
messagesofthedesert.
Everythingweknowwas
taughttousbythedesert.”
Theoldmangaveasignal,
andeveryonestood.The
meetingwasover.The
hookahswereextinguished,
andtheguardsstoodat
attention.Theboymade
readytoleave,buttheold
manspokeagain:
“Tomorrow,wearegoingto
breaktheagreementthatsays
thatnooneattheoasismay
carryarms.Throughoutthe
entiredaywewillbeonthe
lookoutforourenemies.
Whenthesunsets,themen
willonceagainsurrender
theirarmstome.Forevery
tendeadmenamongour
enemies,youwillreceivea
pieceofgold.
“Butarmscannotbedrawn
unlesstheyalsogointo
battle.Armsareascapricious
asthedesert,and,iftheyare
notused,thenexttimethey
mightnotfunction.Ifatleast
oneofthemhasn’tbeenused
bytheendoftheday
tomorrow,onewillbeused
onyou.”
Whentheboyleftthetent,
theoasiswasilluminated
onlybythelightofthefull
moon.Hewastwenty
minutesfromhistent,and
begantomakehiswaythere.
Hewasalarmedbywhat
hadhappened.Hehad
succeededinreaching
throughtotheSoulofthe
World,andnowthepricefor
havingdonesomightbehis
life.Itwasafrighteningbet.
Buthehadbeenmakingrisky
betseversincethedayhehad
soldhissheeptopursuehis
PersonalLegend.And,asthe
cameldriverhadsaid,todie
tomorrowwasnoworsethan
dyingonanyotherday.
Everydaywastheretobe
livedortomarkone’s
departurefromthisworld.
Everythingdependedonone
word:“Maktub.”
Walkingalonginthe
silence,hehadnoregrets.If
hediedtomorrow,itwould
bebecauseGodwasnot
willingtochangethefuture.
Hewouldatleasthavedied
afterhavingcrossedthestrait,
afterhavingworkedina
crystalshop,andafterhaving
knownthesilenceofthe
desertandFatima’seyes.He
hadlivedeveryoneofhis
daysintenselysincehehad
lefthomesolongago.Ifhe
diedtomorrow,hewould
alreadyhaveseenmorethan
othershepherds,andhewas
proudofthat.
Suddenlyhehearda
thunderingsound,andhewas
throwntothegroundbya
windsuchashehadnever
known.Theareawasswirling
industsointensethatithid
themoonfromview.Before
himwasanenormouswhite
horse,rearingoverhimwitha
frighteningscream.
Whentheblindingdusthad
settledabit,theboytrembled
atwhathesaw.Astridethe
animalwasahorseman
dressedcompletelyinblack,
withafalconperchedonhis
leftshoulder.Heworea
turbanandhisentireface,
exceptforhiseyes,was
coveredwithablackkerchief.
Heappearedtobea
messengerfromthedesert,
buthispresencewasmuch
morepowerfulthanthatofa
meremessenger.
Thestrangehorsemandrew
anenormous,curvedsword
fromascabbardmountedon
hissaddle.Thesteelofits
bladeglitteredinthelightof
themoon.
“Whodarestoreadthe
meaningoftheflightofthe
hawks?”hedemanded,so
loudlythathiswordsseemed
toechothroughthefifty
thousandpalmtreesofAlFayoum.
“ItisIwhodaredtodoso,”
saidtheboy.Hewas
remindedoftheimageof
SantiagoMatamoros,
mountedonhiswhitehorse,
withtheinfidelsbeneathhis
hooves.Thismanlooked
exactlythesame,exceptthat
nowtheroleswerereversed.
“ItisIwhodaredtodoso,”
herepeated,andhelowered
hisheadtoreceiveablow
fromthesword.“Manylives
willbesaved,becauseIwas
abletoseethroughtothe
SouloftheWorld.”
Thesworddidn’tfall.
Instead,thestrangerlowered
itslowly,untilthepoint
touchedtheboy’sforehead.It
drewadropletofblood.
Thehorsemanwas
completelyimmobile,aswas
theboy.Itdidn’tevenoccur
totheboytoflee.Inhisheart,
hefeltastrangesenseofjoy:
hewasabouttodieinpursuit
ofhisPersonalLegend.And
forFatima.Theomenshad
beentrue,afterall.Herehe
was,face-to-facewithhis
enemy,buttherewasnoneed
tobeconcernedaboutdying
—theSouloftheWorld
awaitedhim,andhewould
soonbeapartofit.And,
tomorrow,hisenemywould
alsobeapartofthatSoul.
Thestrangercontinuedto
holdtheswordattheboy’s
forehead.“Whydidyouread
theflightofthebirds?”
“Ireadonlywhatthebirds
wantedtotellme.They
wantedtosavetheoasis.
Tomorrowallofyouwilldie,
becausetherearemoremen
attheoasisthanyouhave.”
Theswordremainedwhere
itwas.“Whoareyouto
changewhatAllahhas
willed?”
“Allahcreatedthearmies,
andhealsocreatedthe
hawks.Allahtaughtmethe
languageofthebirds.
Everythinghasbeenwritten
bythesamehand,”theboy
said,rememberingthecamel
driver’swords.
Thestrangerwithdrewthe
swordfromtheboy’s
forehead,andtheboyfelt
immenselyrelieved.Buthe
stillcouldn’tflee.
“Becarefulwithyour
prognostications,”saidthe
stranger.“Whensomethingis
written,thereisnowayto
changeit.”
“AllIsawwasanarmy,”
saidtheboy.“Ididn’tseethe
outcomeofthebattle.”
Thestrangerseemed
satisfiedwiththeanswer.But
hekepttheswordinhishand.
“Whatisastrangerdoingina
strangeland?”
“Iamfollowingmy
PersonalLegend.It’snot
somethingyouwould
understand.”
Thestrangerplacedhis
swordinitsscabbard,andthe
boyrelaxed.
“Ihadtotestyourcourage,”
thestrangersaid.“Courageis
thequalitymostessentialto
understandingtheLanguage
oftheWorld.”
Theboywassurprised.The
strangerwasspeakingof
thingsthatveryfewpeople
knewabout.
“Youmustnotletup,even
afterhavingcomesofar,”he
continued.“Youmustlove
thedesert,butnevertrustit
completely.Becausethe
deserttestsallmen:it
challengeseverystep,and
killsthosewhobecome
distracted.”
Whathesaidremindedthe
boyoftheoldking.
“Ifthewarriorscomehere,
andyourheadisstillonyour
shouldersatsunset,comeand
findme,”saidthestranger.
Thesamehandthathad
brandishedtheswordnow
heldawhip.Thehorsereared
again,raisingacloudofdust.
“Wheredoyoulive?”
shoutedtheboy,asthe
horsemanrodeaway.
Thehandwiththewhip
pointedtothesouth.
Theboyhadmetthe
alchemist.
NEXTMORNING,THEREWERE
TWOTHOUSANDARMEDmen
scatteredthroughoutthepalm
treesatAl-Fayoum.Before
thesunhadreacheditshigh
point,fivehundredtribesmen
appearedonthehorizon.The
mountedtroopsenteredthe
oasisfromthenorth;it
appearedtobeapeaceful
expedition,buttheyall
carriedarmshiddenintheir
robes.Whentheyreachedthe
whitetentatthecenterofAlFayoum,theywithdrewtheir
scimitarsandrifles.Andthey
attackedanemptytent.
Themenoftheoasis
surroundedthehorsemen
fromthedesertandwithin
halfanhourallbutoneofthe
intrudersweredead.The
childrenhadbeenkeptatthe
othersideofagroveofpalm
trees,andsawnothingof
whathadhappened.The
womenhadremainedintheir
tents,prayingforthe
safekeepingoftheir
husbands,andsawnothingof
thebattle,either.Wereitnot
forthebodiesthereonthe
ground,itwouldhave
appearedtobeanormalday
attheoasis.
Theonlytribesmanspared
wasthecommanderofthe
battalion.Thatafternoon,he
wasbroughtbeforethetribal
chieftains,whoaskedhim
whyhehadviolatedthe
Tradition.Thecommander
saidthathismenhadbeen
starvingandthirsty,
exhaustedfrommanydaysof
battle,andhaddecidedto
taketheoasissoastobeable
toreturntothewar.
Thetribalchieftainsaidthat
hefeltsorryforthe
tribesmen,butthatthe
Traditionwassacred.He
condemnedthecommanderto
deathwithouthonor.Rather
thanbeingkilledbyablade
orabullet,hewashanged
fromadeadpalmtree,where
hisbodytwistedinthedesert
wind.
Thetribalchieftaincalled
fortheboy,andpresented
himwithfiftypiecesofgold.
Herepeatedhisstoryabout
JosephofEgypt,andasked
theboytobecomethe
counseloroftheoasis.
WHENTHESUNHADSET,AND
THEFIRSTSTARSMADEtheir
appearance,theboystartedto
walktothesouth.He
eventuallysightedasingle
tent,andagroupofArabs
passingbytoldtheboythatit
wasaplaceinhabitedby
genies.Buttheboysatdown
andwaited.
Notuntilthemoonwashigh
didthealchemistrideinto
view.Hecarriedtwodead
hawksoverhisshoulder.
“Iamhere,”theboysaid.
“Youshouldn’tbehere,”
thealchemistanswered.“Or
isityourPersonalLegend
thatbringsyouhere?”
“Withthewarsbetweenthe
tribes,it’simpossibletocross
thedesert.SoIhavecome
here.”
Thealchemistdismounted
fromhishorse,andsignaled
thattheboyshouldenterthe
tentwithhim.Itwasatent
likemanyattheoasis.The
boylookedaroundforthe
ovensandotherapparatus
usedinalchemy,butsaw
none.Therewereonlysome
booksinapile,asmall
cookingstove,andthe
carpets,coveredwith
mysteriousdesigns.
“Sitdown.We’llhave
somethingtodrinkandeat
thesehawks,”saidthe
alchemist.
Theboysuspectedthatthey
werethesamehawkshehad
seenonthedaybefore,buthe
saidnothing.Thealchemist
lightedthefire,andsoona
deliciousaromafilledthe
tent.Itwasbetterthanthe
scentofthehookahs.
“Whydidyouwanttosee
me?”theboyasked.
“Becauseoftheomens,”the
alchemistanswered.“The
windtoldmeyouwouldbe
coming,andthatyouwould
needhelp.”
“It’snotIthewindspoke
about.It’stheotherforeigner,
theEnglishman.He’stheone
that’slookingforyou.”
“Hehasotherthingstodo
first.Buthe’sontheright
track.Hehasbeguntotryto
understandthedesert.”
“Andwhataboutme?”
“Whenapersonreally
desiressomething,allthe
universeconspirestohelp
thatpersontorealizehis
dream,”saidthealchemist,
echoingthewordsoftheold
king.Theboyunderstood.
Anotherpersonwasthereto
helphimtowardhisPersonal
Legend.
“Soyouaregoingto
instructme?”
“No.Youalreadyknowall
youneedtoknow.Iamonly
goingtopointyouinthe
directionofyourtreasure.”
“Butthere’satribalwar,”
theboyreiterated.
“Iknowwhat’shappening
inthedesert.”
“Ihavealreadyfoundmy
treasure.Ihaveacamel,I
havemymoneyfromthe
crystalshop,andIhavefifty
goldpieces.Inmyown
country,Iwouldbearich
man.”
“Butnoneofthatisfromthe
Pyramids,”saidthe
alchemist.
“IalsohaveFatima.Sheisa
treasuregreaterthananything
elseIhavewon.”
“Shewasn’tfoundatthe
Pyramids,either.”
Theyateinsilence.The
alchemistopenedabottleand
pouredaredliquidintothe
boy’scup.Itwasthemost
deliciouswinehehadever
tasted.
“Isn’twineprohibited
here?”theboyasked
“It’snotwhatentersmen’s
mouthsthat’sevil,”saidthe
alchemist.“It’swhatcomes
outoftheirmouthsthatis.”
Thealchemistwasabit
daunting,but,astheboy
drankthewine,herelaxed.
Aftertheyfinishedeating
theysatoutsidethetent,
underamoonsobrilliantthat
itmadethestarspale.
“Drinkandenjoyyourself,”
saidthealchemist,noticing
thattheboywasfeeling
happier.“Restwelltonight,
asifyouwereawarrior
preparingforcombat.
Rememberthatwherever
yourheartis,thereyouwill
findyourtreasure.You’ve
gottofindthetreasure,so
thateverythingyouhave
learnedalongthewaycan
makesense.
“Tomorrow,sellyourcamel
andbuyahorse.Camelsare
traitorous:theywalk
thousandsofpacesandnever
seemtotire.Thensuddenly,
theykneelanddie.Buthorses
tirebitbybit.Youalways
knowhowmuchyoucanask
ofthem,andwhenitisthat
theyareabouttodie.”
THEFOLLOWINGNIGHT,THE
BOYAPPEAREDATTHE
alchemist’stentwithahorse.
Thealchemistwasready,and
hemountedhisownsteedand
placedthefalcononhisleft
shoulder.Hesaidtotheboy,
“Showmewherethereislife
outinthedesert.Onlythose
whocanseesuchsignsoflife
areabletofindtreasure.”
Theybegantorideoutover
thesands,withthemoon
lightingtheirway.Idon’t
knowifI’llbeabletofind
lifeinthedesert,theboy
thought.Idon’tknowthe
desertthatwellyet.
Hewantedtosaysotothe
alchemist,buthewasafraid
oftheman.Theyreachedthe
rockyplacewheretheboy
hadseenthehawksinthe
sky,butnowtherewasonly
silenceandthewind.
“Idon’tknowhowtofind
lifeinthedesert,”theboy
said.“Iknowthatthereislife
here,butIdon’tknowwhere
tolook.”
“Lifeattractslife,”the
alchemistanswered.
Andthentheboy
understood.Heloosenedthe
reinsonhishorse,who
gallopedforwardoverthe
rocksandsand.Thealchemist
followedastheboy’shorse
ranforalmosthalfanhour.
Theycouldnolongerseethe
palmsoftheoasis—onlythe
giganticmoonabovethem,
anditssilverreflectionsfrom
thestonesofthedesert.
Suddenly,fornoapparent
reason,theboy’shorsebegan
toslow.
“There’slifehere,”theboy
saidtothealchemist.“Idon’t
knowthelanguageofthe
desert,butmyhorseknows
thelanguageoflife.”
Theydismounted,andthe
alchemistsaidnothing.
Advancingslowly,they
searchedamongthestones.
Thealchemiststopped
abruptly,andbenttothe
ground.Therewasahole
thereamongthestones.The
alchemistputhishandinto
thehole,andthenhisentire
arm,uptohisshoulder.
Somethingwasmovingthere,
andthealchemist’seyes—the
boycouldseeonlyhiseyes—
squintedwithhiseffort.His
armseemedtobebattling
withwhateverwasinthe
hole.Then,withamotionthat
startledtheboy,hewithdrew
hisarmandleapedtohisfeet.
Inhishand,hegraspeda
snakebythetail.
Theboyleaptaswell,but
awayfromthealchemist.The
snakefoughtfrantically,
makinghissingsoundsthat
shatteredthesilenceofthe
desert.Itwasacobra,whose
venomcouldkillapersonin
minutes.
“Watchoutforhisvenom,”
theboysaid.Buteventhough
thealchemisthadputhis
handinthehole,andhad
surelyalreadybeenbitten,his
expressionwascalm.“The
alchemististwohundred
yearsold,”theEnglishman
hadtoldhim.Hemustknow
howtodealwiththesnakes
ofthedesert.
Theboywatchedashis
companionwenttohishorse
andwithdrewascimitar.
Withitsblade,hedrewa
circleinthesand,andthenhe
placedthesnakewithinit.
Theserpentrelaxed
immediately.
“Nottoworry,”saidthe
alchemist.“Hewon’tleave
thecircle.Youfoundlifein
thedesert,theomenthatI
needed.”
“Whywasthatso
important?”
“BecausethePyramidsare
surroundedbythedesert.”
Theboydidn’twanttotalk
aboutthePyramids.Hisheart
washeavy,andhehadbeen
melancholysincethe
previousnight.Tocontinue
hissearchforthetreasure
meantthathehadtoabandon
Fatima.
“I’mgoingtoguideyou
acrossthedesert,”the
alchemistsaid.
“Iwanttostayattheoasis,”
theboyanswered.“I’ve
foundFatima,and,asfaras
I’mconcerned,she’sworth
morethantreasure.”
“Fatimaisawomanofthe
desert,”saidthealchemist.
“Sheknowsthatmenhaveto
goawayinordertoreturn.
Andshealreadyhasher
treasure:it’syou.Nowshe
expectsthatyouwillfind
whatitisyou’relookingfor.”
“Well,whatifIdecideto
stay?”
“Letmetellyouwhatwill
happen.You’llbethe
counseloroftheoasis.You
haveenoughgoldtobuy
manysheepandmany
camels.You’llmarryFatima,
andyou’llbothbehappyfor
ayear.You’lllearntolove
thedesert,andyou’llgetto
knoweveryoneofthefifty
thousandpalms.You’llwatch
themastheygrow,
demonstratinghowtheworld
isalwayschanging.And
you’llgetbetterandbetterat
understandingomens,
becausethedesertisthebest
teacherthereis.
“Sometimeduringthe
secondyear,you’llremember
aboutthetreasure.Theomens
willbegininsistentlytospeak
ofit,andyou’lltrytoignore
them.You’lluseyour
knowledgeforthewelfareof
theoasisanditsinhabitants.
Thetribalchieftainswill
appreciatewhatyoudo.And
yourcamelswillbringyou
wealthandpower.
“Duringthethirdyear,the
omenswillcontinuetospeak
ofyourtreasureandyour
PersonalLegend.You’llwalk
around,nightafternight,at
theoasis,andFatimawillbe
unhappybecauseshe’llfeelit
wasshewhointerruptedyour
quest.Butyouwillloveher,
andshe’llreturnyourlove.
You’llrememberthatshe
neveraskedyoutostay,
becauseawomanofthe
desertknowsthatshemust
awaitherman.Soyouwon’t
blameher.Butmanytimes
you’llwalkthesandsofthe
desert,thinkingthatmaybe
youcouldhaveleft…thatyou
couldhavetrustedmorein
yourloveforFatima.Because
whatkeptyouattheoasis
wasyourownfearthatyou
mightnevercomeback.At
thatpoint,theomenswilltell
youthatyourtreasureis
buriedforever.
“Then,sometimeduringthe
fourthyear,theomenswill
abandonyou,becauseyou’ve
stoppedlisteningtothem.
Thetribalchieftainswillsee
that,andyou’llbedismissed
fromyourpositionas
counselor.But,bythen,
you’llbearichmerchant,
withmanycamelsandagreat
dealofmerchandise.You’ll
spendtherestofyourdays
knowingthatyoudidn’t
pursueyourPersonalLegend,
andthatnowit’stoolate.
“Youmustunderstandthat
loveneverkeepsamanfrom
pursuinghisPersonal
Legend.Ifheabandonsthat
pursuit,it’sbecauseitwasn’t
truelove…thelovethat
speakstheLanguageofthe
World.”
Thealchemisterasedthe
circleinthesand,andthe
snakeslitheredawayamong
therocks.Theboy
rememberedthecrystal
merchantwhohadalways
wantedtogotoMecca,and
theEnglishmaninsearchof
thealchemist.Hethoughtof
thewomanwhohadtrustedin
thedesert.Andhelookedout
overthedesertthathad
broughthimtothewomanhe
loved.
Theymountedtheirhorses,
andthistimeitwastheboy
whofollowedthealchemist
backtotheoasis.Thewind
broughtthesoundsofthe
oasistothem,andtheboy
triedtohearFatima’svoice.
Butthatnight,ashehad
watchedthecobrawithinthe
circle,thestrangehorseman
withthefalcononhis
shoulderhadspokenoflove
andtreasure,ofthewomenof
thedesertandofhisPersonal
Legend.
“I’mgoingwithyou,”the
boysaid.Andheimmediately
feltpeaceinhisheart.
“We’llleavetomorrow
beforesunrise,”wasthe
alchemist’sonlyresponse.
THEBOYSPENTASLEEPLESS
NIGHT.TWOHOURSBEFORE
dawn,heawokeoneofthe
boyswhosleptinhistent,
andaskedhimtoshowhim
whereFatimalived.They
wenttohertent,andtheboy
gavehisfriendenoughgold
tobuyasheep.
Thenheaskedhisfriendto
gointothetentwhereFatima
wassleeping,andtoawaken
herandtellherthathewas
waitingoutside.Theyoung
Arabdidashewasasked,and
wasgivenenoughgoldtobuy
yetanothersheep.
“Nowleaveusalone,”said
theboytotheyoungArab.
TheArabreturnedtohistent
tosleep,proudtohavehelped
thecounseloroftheoasis,
andhappyathavingenough
moneytobuyhimselfsome
sheep.
Fatimaappearedatthe
entrancetothetent.Thetwo
walkedoutamongthepalms.
Theboyknewthatitwasa
violationoftheTradition,but
thatdidn’tmattertohimnow.
“I’mgoingaway,”hesaid.
“AndIwantyoutoknowthat
I’mcomingback.Iloveyou
because…”
“Don’tsayanything,”
Fatimainterrupted.“Oneis
lovedbecauseoneisloved.
Noreasonisneededfor
loving.”
Buttheboycontinued,“I
hadadream,andImetwitha
king.Isoldcrystaland
crossedthedesert.And,
becausethetribesdeclared
war,Iwenttothewell,
seekingthealchemist.So,I
loveyoubecausetheentire
universeconspiredtohelpme
findyou.”
Thetwoembraced.Itwas
thefirsttimeeitherhad
touchedtheother.
“I’llbeback,”theboysaid.
“Beforethis,Ialways
lookedtothedesertwith
longing,”saidFatima.“Now
itwillbewithhope.My
fatherwentawayoneday,but
hereturnedtomymother,
andhehasalwayscomeback
sincethen.”
Theysaidnothingelse.
Theywalkedabitfarther
amongthepalms,andthen
theboyleftheratthe
entrancetohertent.
“I’llreturn,justasyour
fathercamebacktoyour
mother,”hesaid.
HesawthatFatima’seyes
werefilledwithtears.
“You’recrying?”
“I’mawomanofthe
desert,”shesaid,avertingher
face.“Butaboveall,I’ma
woman.”
Fatimawentbacktoher
tent,and,whendaylight
came,shewentouttodothe
choresshehaddonefor
years.Buteverythinghad
changed.Theboywasno
longerattheoasis,andthe
oasiswouldneveragainhave
thesamemeaningithadhad
onlyyesterday.Itwouldno
longerbeaplacewithfifty
thousandpalmtreesandthree
hundredwells,wherethe
pilgrimsarrived,relievedat
theendoftheirlongjourneys.
Fromthatdayon,theoasis
wouldbeanemptyplacefor
her.
Fromthatdayon,itwasthe
desertthatwouldbe
important.Shewouldlookto
iteveryday,andwouldtryto
guesswhichstartheboywas
followinginsearchofhis
treasure.Shewouldhaveto
sendherkissesonthewind,
hopingthatthewindwould
touchtheboy’sface,and
wouldtellhimthatshewas
alive.Thatshewaswaiting
forhim,awomanawaitinga
courageousmaninsearchof
histreasure.Fromthatday
on,thedesertwouldrepresent
onlyonethingtoher:the
hopeforhisreturn.
“DON’TTHINKABOUTWHAT
YOU’VELEFTBEHIND,”the
alchemistsaidtotheboyas
theybegantorideacrossthe
sandsofthedesert.
“Everythingiswritteninthe
SouloftheWorld,andthere
itwillstayforever.”
“Mendreammoreabout
cominghomethanabout
leaving,”theboysaid.He
wasalreadyreaccustomedto
thedesert’ssilence.
“Ifwhatonefindsismade
ofpurematter,itwillnever
spoil.Andonecanalways
comeback.Ifwhatyouhad
foundwasonlyamomentof
light,liketheexplosionofa
star,youwouldfindnothing
onyourreturn.”
Themanwasspeakingthe
languageofalchemy.Butthe
boyknewthathewas
referringtoFatima.
Itwasdifficultnottothink
aboutwhathehadleft
behind.Thedesert,withits
endlessmonotony,puthimto
dreaming.Theboycouldstill
seethepalmtrees,thewells,
andthefaceofthewomanhe
loved.Hecouldseethe
Englishmanathis
experiments,andthecamel
driverwhowasateacher
withoutrealizingit.Maybe
thealchemisthasneverbeen
inlove,theboythought.
Thealchemistrodeinfront,
withthefalcononhis
shoulder.Thebirdknewthe
languageofthedesertwell,
andwhenevertheystopped,
heflewoffinsearchofgame.
Onthefirstdayhereturned
witharabbit,andonthe
secondwithtwobirds.
Atnight,theyspreadtheir
sleepinggearandkepttheir
fireshidden.Thedesert
nightswerecold,andwere
becomingdarkeranddarker
asthephasesofthemoon
passed.Theywentonfora
week,speakingonlyofthe
precautionstheyneededto
followinordertoavoidthe
battlesbetweenthetribes.
Thewarcontinued,andat
timesthewindcarriedthe
sweet,sicklysmellofblood.
Battleshadbeenfought
nearby,andthewind
remindedtheboythatthere
wasthelanguageofomens,
alwaysreadytoshowhim
whathiseyeshadfailedto
observe.
Ontheseventhday,the
alchemistdecidedtomake
campearlierthanusual.The
falconflewofftofindgame,
andthealchemistofferedhis
watercontainertotheboy.
“Youarealmostattheend
ofyourjourney,”saidthe
alchemist.“Icongratulateyou
forhavingpursuedyour
PersonalLegend.”
“Andyou’vetoldme
nothingalongtheway,”said
theboy.“Ithoughtyouwere
goingtoteachmesomeofthe
thingsyouknow.Awhile
ago,Irodethroughthedesert
withamanwhohadbookson
alchemy.ButIwasn’tableto
learnanythingfromthem.”
“Thereisonlyonewayto
learn,”thealchemist
answered.“It’sthrough
action.Everythingyouneed
toknowyouhavelearned
throughyourjourney.You
needtolearnonlyonething
more.”
Theboywantedtoknow
whatthatwas,butthe
alchemistwassearchingthe
horizon,lookingforthe
falcon.
“Whyareyoucalledthe
alchemist?”
“Becausethat’swhatIam.”
“Andwhatwentwrong
whenotheralchemiststriedto
makegoldandwereunableto
doso?”
“Theywerelookingonlyfor
gold,”hiscompanion
answered.“Theywere
seekingthetreasureoftheir
PersonalLegend,without
wantingactuallytoliveout
thePersonalLegend.”
“WhatisitthatIstillneed
toknow?”theboyasked.
Butthealchemistcontinued
tolooktothehorizon.And
finallythefalconreturned
withtheirmeal.Theyduga
holeandlittheirfireinit,so
thatthelightoftheflames
wouldnotbeseen.
“I’manalchemistsimply
becauseI’manalchemist,”he
said,ashepreparedthemeal.
“Ilearnedthesciencefrom
mygrandfather,wholearned
fromhisfather,andsoon,
backtothecreationofthe
world.Inthosetimes,the
MasterWorkcouldbewritten
simplyonanemerald.But
menbegantorejectsimple
things,andtowritetracts,
interpretations,and
philosophicalstudies.They
alsobegantofeelthatthey
knewabetterwaythanothers
had.YettheEmeraldTablet
isstillalivetoday.”
“Whatwaswrittenonthe
EmeraldTablet?”theboy
wantedtoknow.
Thealchemistbeganto
drawinthesand,and
completedhisdrawinginless
thanfiveminutes.Ashe
drew,theboythoughtofthe
oldking,andtheplazawhere
theyhadmetthatday;it
seemedasifithadtaken
placeyearsandyearsago.
“Thisiswhatwaswrittenon
theEmeraldTablet,”saidthe
alchemist,whenhehad
finished.
Theboytriedtoreadwhat
waswritteninthesand.
“It’sacode,”saidtheboy,a
bitdisappointed.“Itlooks
likewhatIsawinthe
Englishman’sbooks.”
“No,”thealchemist
answered.“It’sliketheflight
ofthosetwohawks;itcan’t
beunderstoodbyreason
alone.TheEmeraldTabletis
adirectpassagetotheSoulof
theWorld.
“Thewisemenunderstood
thatthisnaturalworldisonly
animageandacopyof
paradise.Theexistenceof
thisworldissimplya
guaranteethatthereexistsa
worldthatisperfect.God
createdtheworldsothat,
throughitsvisibleobjects,
mencouldunderstandhis
spiritualteachingsandthe
marvelsofhiswisdom.
That’swhatImeanby
action.”
“ShouldIunderstandthe
EmeraldTablet?”theboy
asked.
“Perhaps,ifyouwereina
laboratoryofalchemy,this
wouldbetherighttimeto
studythebestwayto
understandtheEmerald
Tablet.Butyouareinthe
desert.Soimmerseyourself
init.Thedesertwillgiveyou
anunderstandingofthe
world;infact,anythingon
thefaceoftheearthwilldo
that.Youdon’tevenhaveto
understandthedesert:allyou
havetodoiscontemplatea
simplegrainofsand,andyou
willseeinitallthemarvels
ofcreation.”
“HowdoIimmersemyself
inthedesert?”
“Listentoyourheart.It
knowsallthings,becauseit
camefromtheSoulofthe
World,anditwilloneday
returnthere.”
THEYCROSSEDTHEDESERTFOR
ANOTHERTWODAYSINsilence.
Thealchemisthadbecome
muchmorecautious,because
theywereapproachingthe
areawherethemostviolent
battleswerebeingwaged.As
theymovedalong,theboy
triedtolistentohisheart.
Itwasnoteasytodo;in
earliertimes,hishearthad
alwaysbeenreadytotellits
story,butlatelythatwasn’t
true.Therehadbeentimes
whenhisheartspenthours
tellingofitssadness,andat
othertimesitbecameso
emotionaloverthedesert
sunrisethattheboyhadto
hidehistears.Hisheartbeat
fastestwhenitspoketothe
boyoftreasure,andmore
slowlywhentheboystared
entrancedattheendless
horizonsofthedesert.Buthis
heartwasneverquiet,even
whentheboyandthe
alchemisthadfalleninto
silence.
“Whydowehavetolisten
toourhearts?”theboyasked,
whentheyhadmadecamp
thatday.
“Because,whereveryour
heartis,thatiswhereyou’ll
findyourtreasure.”
“Butmyheartisagitated,”
theboysaid.“Ithasits
dreams,itgetsemotional,and
it’sbecomepassionateovera
womanofthedesert.Itasks
thingsofme,anditkeepsme
fromsleepingmanynights,
whenI’mthinkingabout
her.”
“Well,that’sgood.Your
heartisalive.Keeplistening
towhatithastosay.”
Duringthenextthreedays,
thetwotravelerspassedbya
numberofarmedtribesmen,
andsawothersonthe
horizon.Theboy’sheart
begantospeakoffear.Ittold
himstoriesithadheardfrom
theSouloftheWorld,stories
ofmenwhosoughttofind
theirtreasureandnever
succeeded.Sometimesit
frightenedtheboywiththe
ideathathemightnotfindhis
treasure,orthathemightdie
thereinthedesert.Atother
times,ittoldtheboythatit
wassatisfied:ithadfound
loveandriches.
“Myheartisatraitor,”the
boysaidtothealchemist,
whentheyhadpausedtorest
thehorses.“Itdoesn’twant
metogoon.”
“Thatmakessense,”the
alchemistanswered.
“Naturallyit’safraidthat,in
pursuingyourdream,you
mightloseeverythingyou’ve
won.”
“Well,then,whyshouldI
listentomyheart?”
“Becauseyouwillnever
againbeabletokeepitquiet.
Evenifyoupretendnotto
haveheardwhatittellsyou,it
willalwaysbethereinside
you,repeatingtoyouwhat
you’rethinkingaboutlifeand
abouttheworld.”
“YoumeanIshouldlisten,
evenifit’streasonous?”
“Treasonisablowthat
comesunexpectedly.Ifyou
knowyourheartwell,itwill
neverbeabletodothatto
you.Becauseyou’llknowits
dreamsandwishes,andwill
knowhowtodealwiththem.
“Youwillneverbeableto
escapefromyourheart.So
it’sbettertolistentowhatit
hastosay.Thatway,you’ll
neverhavetofearan
unanticipatedblow.”
Theboycontinuedtolisten
tohisheartastheycrossed
thedesert.Hecameto
understanditsdodgesand
tricks,andtoacceptitasit
was.Helosthisfear,and
forgotabouthisneedtogo
backtotheoasis,because,
oneafternoon,hishearttold
himthatitwashappy.“Even
thoughIcomplain
sometimes,”itsaid,“it’s
becauseI’mtheheartofa
person,andpeople’shearts
arethatway.Peopleare
afraidtopursuetheirmost
importantdreams,because
theyfeelthattheydon’t
deservethem,orthatthey’ll
beunabletoachievethem.
We,theirhearts,become
fearfuljustthinkingofloved
oneswhogoawayforever,or
ofmomentsthatcouldhave
beengoodbutweren’t,orof
treasuresthatmighthave
beenfoundbutwereforever
hiddeninthesands.Because,
whenthesethingshappen,we
sufferterribly.”
“Myheartisafraidthatit
willhavetosuffer,”theboy
toldthealchemistonenight
astheylookedupatthe
moonlesssky.
“Tellyourheartthatthefear
ofsufferingisworsethanthe
sufferingitself.Andthatno
hearthaseversufferedwhen
itgoesinsearchofits
dreams,becauseeverysecond
ofthesearchisasecond’s
encounterwithGodandwith
eternity.”
“Everysecondofthesearch
isanencounterwithGod,”
theboytoldhisheart.“When
Ihavebeentrulysearching
formytreasure,everyday
hasbeenluminous,because
I’veknownthateveryhour
wasapartofthedreamthatI
wouldfindit.WhenIhave
beentrulysearchingformy
treasure,I’vediscovered
thingsalongthewaythatI
neverwouldhaveseenhadI
nothadthecouragetotry
thingsthatseemedimpossible
forashepherdtoachieve.”
Sohisheartwasquietforan
entireafternoon.Thatnight,
theboysleptdeeply,and,
whenheawoke,hisheart
begantotellhimthingsthat
camefromtheSoulofthe
World.Itsaidthatallpeople
whoarehappyhaveGod
withinthem.Andthat
happinesscouldbefoundina
grainofsandfromthedesert,
asthealchemisthadsaid.
Becauseagrainofsandisa
momentofcreation,andthe
universehastakenmillionsof
yearstocreateit.“Everyone
onearthhasatreasurethat
awaitshim,”hisheartsaid.
“We,people’shearts,seldom
saymuchaboutthose
treasures,becausepeopleno
longerwanttogoinsearchof
them.Wespeakofthemonly
tochildren.Later,wesimply
letlifeproceed,initsown
direction,towarditsownfate.
But,unfortunately,veryfew
followthepathlaidoutfor
them—thepathtotheir
PersonalLegends,andto
happiness.Mostpeoplesee
theworldasathreatening
place,and,becausetheydo,
theworldturnsout,indeed,to
beathreateningplace.
“So,we,theirhearts,speak
moreandmoresoftly.We
neverstopspeakingout,but
webegintohopethatour
wordswon’tbeheard:we
don’twantpeopletosuffer
becausetheydon’tfollow
theirhearts.”
“Whydon’tpeople’shearts
tellthemtocontinueto
followtheirdreams?”theboy
askedthealchemist.
“Becausethat’swhatmakes
aheartsuffermost,andhearts
don’tliketosuffer.”
Fromthenon,theboy
understoodhisheart.He
askedit,please,nevertostop
speakingtohim.Heasked
that,whenhewanderedfar
fromhisdreams,hisheart
presshimandsoundthe
alarm.Theboysworethat,
everytimeheheardthe
alarm,hewouldheedits
message.
Thatnight,hetoldallofthis
tothealchemist.Andthe
alchemistunderstoodthatthe
boy’shearthadreturnedto
theSouloftheWorld.
“SowhatshouldIdonow?”
theboyasked.
“Continueinthedirectionof
thePyramids,”saidthe
alchemist.“Andcontinueto
payheedtotheomens.Your
heartisstillcapableof
showingyouwherethe
treasureis.”
“IsthattheonethingIstill
neededtoknow?”
“No,”thealchemist
answered.“Whatyoustill
needtoknowisthis:beforea
dreamisrealized,theSoulof
theWorldtestseverything
thatwaslearnedalongthe
way.Itdoesthisnotbecause
itisevil,butsothatwecan,
inadditiontorealizingour
dreams,masterthelessons
we’velearnedaswe’ve
movedtowardthatdream.
That’sthepointatwhich
mostpeoplegiveup.It’sthe
pointatwhich,aswesayin
thelanguageofthedesert,
one‘diesofthirstjustwhen
thepalmtreeshaveappeared
onthehorizon.’
“Everysearchbeginswith
beginner’sluck.Andevery
searchendswiththevictor’s
beingseverelytested.”
Theboyrememberedanold
proverbfromhiscountry.It
saidthatthedarkesthourof
thenightcamejustbeforethe
dawn.
ONTHEFOLLOWINGDAY,THE
FIRSTCLEARSIGNOFdanger
appeared.Threearmed
tribesmenapproached,and
askedwhattheboyandthe
alchemistweredoingthere.
“I’mhuntingwithmy
falcon,”thealchemist
answered.
“We’regoingtohaveto
searchyoutoseewhether
you’rearmed,”oneofthe
tribesmensaid.
Thealchemistdismounted
slowly,andtheboydidthe
same.
“Whyareyoucarrying
money?”askedthetribesman,
whenhehadsearchedthe
boy’sbag.
“Ineedittogettothe
Pyramids,”hesaid.
Thetribesmanwhowas
searchingthealchemist’s
belongingsfoundasmall
crystalflaskfilledwitha
liquid,andayellowglassegg
thatwasslightlylargerthana
chicken’segg.
“Whatarethesethings?”he
asked.
“That’sthePhilosopher’s
StoneandtheElixirofLife.
It’stheMasterWorkofthe
alchemists.Whoever
swallowsthatelixirwill
neverbesickagain,anda
fragmentfromthatstone
turnsanymetalintogold.”
TheArabslaughedathim,
andthealchemistlaughed
along.Theythoughthis
answerwasamusing,and
theyallowedtheboyandthe
alchemisttoproceedwithall
oftheirbelongings.
“Areyoucrazy?”theboy
askedthealchemist,when
theyhadmovedon.“What
didyoudothatfor?”
“Toshowyouoneoflife’s
simplelessons,”thealchemist
answered.“Whenyou
possessgreattreasureswithin
you,andtrytotellothersof
them,seldomareyou
believed.”
Theycontinuedacrossthe
desert.Witheverydaythat
passed,theboy’sheart
becamemoreandmoresilent.
Itnolongerwantedtoknow
aboutthingsofthepastor
future;itwascontentsimply
tocontemplatethedesert,and
todrinkwiththeboyfromthe
SouloftheWorld.Theboy
andhishearthadbecome
friends,andneitherwas
capablenowofbetrayingthe
other.
Whenhisheartspoketo
him,itwastoprovidea
stimulustotheboy,andto
givehimstrength,because
thedaysofsilencetherein
thedesertwerewearisome.
Hishearttoldtheboywhat
hisstrongestqualitieswere:
hiscourageinhavinggiven
uphissheepandintryingto
liveouthisPersonalLegend,
andhisenthusiasmduringthe
timehehadworkedatthe
crystalshop.
Andhishearttoldhim
somethingelsethattheboy
hadnevernoticed:ittoldthe
boyofdangersthathad
threatenedhim,butthathe
hadneverperceived.His
heartsaidthatonetimeithad
hiddentherifletheboyhad
takenfromhisfather,because
ofthepossibilitythattheboy
mightwoundhimself.Andit
remindedtheboyoftheday
whenhehadbeenilland
vomitingoutinthefields,
afterwhichhehadfalleninto
adeepsleep.Therehadbeen
twothievesfartheraheadwho
wereplanningtostealthe
boy’ssheepandmurderhim.
But,sincetheboyhadn’t
passedby,theyhaddecided
tomoveon,thinkingthathe
hadchangedhisroute.
“Doesaman’sheartalways
helphim?”theboyaskedthe
alchemist.
“Mostlyjusttheheartsof
thosewhoaretryingto
realizetheirPersonal
Legends.Buttheydohelp
children,drunkards,andthe
elderly,too.”
“DoesthatmeanthatI’ll
neverrunintodanger?”
“Itmeansonlythattheheart
doeswhatitcan,”the
alchemistsaid.
Oneafternoon,theypassed
bytheencampmentofoneof
thetribes.Ateachcornerof
thecampwereArabsgarbed
inbeautifulwhiterobes,with
armsattheready.Themen
weresmokingtheirhookahs
andtradingstoriesfromthe
battlefield.Noonepaidany
attentiontothetwotravelers.
“There’snodanger,”the
boysaid,whentheyhad
movedonpastthe
encampment.
Thealchemistsounded
angry:“Trustinyourheart,
butneverforgetthatyou’rein
thedesert.Whenmenareat
warwithoneanother,the
SouloftheWorldcanhear
thescreamsofbattle.Noone
failstosufferthe
consequencesofeverything
underthesun.”
Allthingsareone,theboy
thought.Andthen,asifthe
desertwantedtodemonstrate
thatthealchemistwasright,
twohorsemenappearedfrom
behindthetravelers.
“Youcan’tgoanyfarther,”
oneofthemsaid.“You’rein
theareawherethetribesare
atwar.”
“I’mnotgoingveryfar,”the
alchemistanswered,looking
straightintotheeyesofthe
horsemen.Theyweresilent
foramoment,andthen
agreedthattheboyandthe
alchemistcouldmovealong.
Theboywatchedthe
exchangewithfascination.
“Youdominatedthose
horsemenwiththewayyou
lookedatthem,”hesaid.
“Youreyesshowthe
strengthofyoursoul,”
answeredthealchemist.
That’strue,theboythought.
Hehadnoticedthat,inthe
midstofthemultitudeof
armedmenbackatthe
encampment,therehadbeen
onewhostaredfixedlyatthe
two.Hehadbeensofaraway
thathisfacewasn’teven
visible.Buttheboywas
certainthathehadbeen
lookingatthem.
Finally,whentheyhad
crossedthemountainrange
thatextendedalongtheentire
horizon,thealchemistsaid
thattheywereonlytwodays
fromthePyramids.
“Ifwe’regoingtogoour
separatewayssoon,”theboy
said,“thenteachmeabout
alchemy.”
“Youalreadyknowabout
alchemy.Itisabout
penetratingtotheSoulofthe
World,anddiscoveringthe
treasurethathasbeen
reservedforyou.”
“No,that’snotwhatImean.
I’mtalkingabout
transformingleadintogold.”
Thealchemistfellassilent
asthedesert,andanswered
theboyonlyaftertheyhad
stoppedtoeat.
“Everythingintheuniverse
evolved,”hesaid.“And,for
wisemen,goldisthemetal
thatevolvedthefurthest.
Don’taskmewhy;Idon’t
knowwhy.Ijustknowthat
theTraditionisalwaysright.
“Menhavenever
understoodthewordsofthe
wise.Sogold,insteadof
beingseenasasymbolof
evolution,becamethebasis
forconflict.”
“Therearemanylanguages
spokenbythings,”theboy
said.“Therewasatimewhen,
forme,acamel’swhinnying
wasnothingmorethan
whinnying.Thenitbecamea
signalofdanger.And,finally,
itbecamejustawhinny
again.”
Butthenhestopped.The
alchemistprobablyalready
knewallthat.
“Ihaveknowntrue
alchemists,”thealchemist
continued.“Theylocked
themselvesintheir
laboratories,andtriedto
evolve,asgoldhad.Andthey
foundthePhilosopher’s
Stone,becausethey
understoodthatwhen
somethingevolves,
everythingaroundthatthing
evolvesaswell.
“Othersstumbleduponthe
stonebyaccident.They
alreadyhadthegift,andtheir
soulswerereadierforsuch
thingsthanthesoulsof
others.Buttheydon’tcount.
They’requiterare.
“Andthentherewerethe
others,whowereinterested
onlyingold.Theynever
foundthesecret.Theyforgot
thatlead,copper,andiron
havetheirownPersonal
Legendstofulfill.And
anyonewhointerfereswith
thePersonalLegendof
anotherthingneverwill
discoverhisown.”
Thealchemist’swords
echoedoutlikeacurse.He
reachedoverandpickedupa
shellfromtheground.
“Thisdesertwasoncea
sea,”hesaid.
“Inoticedthat,”theboy
answered.
Thealchemisttoldtheboy
toplacetheshelloverhisear.
Hehaddonethatmanytimes
whenhewasachild,andhad
heardthesoundofthesea.
“Theseahaslivedoninthis
shell,becausethat’sits
PersonalLegend.Anditwill
neverceasedoingsountilthe
desertisonceagaincovered
bywater.”
Theymountedtheirhorses,
androdeoutinthedirection
ofthePyramidsofEgypt.
THESUNWASSETTINGWHEN
THEBOY’SHEARTSOUNDEDa
dangersignal.Theywere
surroundedbygiganticdunes,
andtheboylookedatthe
alchemisttoseewhetherhe
hadsensedanything.Buthe
appearedtobeunawareof
anydanger.Fiveminutes
later,theboysawtwo
horsemenwaitingaheadof
them.Beforehecouldsay
anythingtothealchemist,the
twohorsemenhadbecome
ten,andthenahundred.And
thentheywereeverywherein
thedunes.
Theyweretribesmen
dressedinblue,withblack
ringssurroundingtheir
turbans.Theirfaceswere
hiddenbehindblueveils,with
onlytheireyesshowing.
Evenfromadistance,their
eyesconveyedthestrengthof
theirsouls.Andtheireyes
spokeofdeath.
THETWOWERETAKENTOA
NEARBYMILITARYCAMP.A
soldiershovedtheboyand
thealchemistintoatent
wherethechiefwasholdinga
meetingwithhisstaff.
“Thesearethespies,”said
oneofthemen.
“We’rejusttravelers,”the
alchemistanswered.
“Youwereseenatthe
enemycampthreedaysago.
Andyouweretalkingwith
oneofthetroopsthere.”
“I’mjustamanwho
wandersthedesertandknows
thestars,”saidthealchemist.
“Ihavenoinformationabout
troopsoraboutthemovement
ofthetribes.Iwassimply
actingasaguideformy
friendhere.”
“Whoisyourfriend?”the
chiefasked.
“Analchemist,”saidthe
alchemist.“Heunderstands
theforcesofnature.Andhe
wantstoshowyouhis
extraordinarypowers.”
Theboylistenedquietly.
Andfearfully.
“Whatisaforeignerdoing
here?”askedanotherofthe
men.
“Hehasbroughtmoneyto
givetoyourtribe,”saidthe
alchemist,beforetheboy
couldsayaword.And
seizingtheboy’sbag,the
alchemistgavethegoldcoins
tothechief.
TheArabacceptedthem
withoutaword.Therewas
enoughtheretobuyalotof
weapons.
“Whatisanalchemist?”he
asked,finally.
“It’samanwhounderstands
natureandtheworld.Ifhe
wantedto,hecoulddestroy
thiscampjustwiththeforce
ofthewind.”
Themenlaughed.They
wereusedtotheravagesof
war,andknewthatthewind
couldnotdeliverthemafatal
blow.Yeteachfelthisheart
beatabitfaster.Theywere
menofthedesert,andthey
werefearfulofsorcerers.
“Iwanttoseehimdoit,”
saidthechief.
“Heneedsthreedays,”
answeredthealchemist.“He
isgoingtotransformhimself
intothewind,justto
demonstratehispowers.Ifhe
can’tdoso,wehumblyoffer
youourlives,forthehonorof
yourtribe.”
“Youcan’tofferme
somethingthatisalready
mine,”thechiefsaid,
arrogantly.Buthegrantedthe
travelersthreedays.
Theboywasshakingwith
fear,butthealchemisthelped
himoutofthetent.
“Don’tletthemseethat
you’reafraid,”thealchemist
said.“Theyarebravemen,
andtheydespisecowards.”
Buttheboycouldn’teven
speak.Hewasabletodoso
onlyaftertheyhadwalked
throughthecenterofthe
camp.Therewasnoneedto
imprisonthem:theArabs
simplyconfiscatedtheir
horses.So,onceagain,the
worldhaddemonstratedits
manylanguages:thedesert
onlymomentsagohadbeen
endlessandfree,andnowit
wasanimpenetrablewall.
“Yougavethemeverything
Ihad!”theboysaid.
“EverythingI’vesavedinmy
entirelife!”
“Well,whatgoodwouldit
betoyouifyouhadtodie?”
thealchemistanswered.
“Yourmoneysavedusfor
threedays.It’snotoftenthat
moneysavesaperson’slife.”
Buttheboywastoo
frightenedtolistentowords
ofwisdom.Hehadnoidea
howhewasgoingto
transformhimselfintothe
wind.Hewasn’tan
alchemist!
Thealchemistaskedoneof
thesoldiersforsometea,and
pouredsomeontheboy’s
wrists.Awaveofrelief
washedoverhim,andthe
alchemistmutteredsome
wordsthattheboydidn’t
understand.
“Don’tgiveintoyour
fears,”saidthealchemist,ina
strangelygentlevoice.“If
youdo,youwon’tbeableto
talktoyourheart.”
“ButIhavenoideahowto
turnmyselfintothewind.”
“Ifapersonislivingouthis
PersonalLegend,heknows
everythingheneedstoknow.
Thereisonlyonethingthat
makesadreamimpossibleto
achieve:thefearoffailure.”
“I’mnotafraidoffailing.
It’sjustthatIdon’tknow
howtoturnmyselfintothe
wind.”
“Well,you’llhavetolearn;
yourlifedependsonit.”
“ButwhatifIcan’t?”
“Thenyou’lldieinthe
midstoftryingtorealizeyour
PersonalLegend.That’salot
betterthandyinglikemillions
ofotherpeople,whonever
evenknewwhattheir
PersonalLegendswere.
“Butdon’tworry,”the
alchemistcontinued.“Usually
thethreatofdeathmakes
peoplealotmoreawareof
theirlives.”
THEFIRSTDAYPASSED.THERE
WASAMAJORBATTLEnearby,
andanumberofwounded
werebroughtbacktothe
camp.Thedeadsoldierswere
replacedbyothers,andlife
wenton.Deathdoesn’t
changeanything,theboy
thought.
“Youcouldhavediedlater
on,”asoldiersaidtothebody
ofoneofhiscompanions.
“Youcouldhavediedafter
peacehadbeendeclared.But,
inanycase,youweregoing
todie.”
Attheendoftheday,the
boywentlookingforthe
alchemist,whohadtakenhis
falconoutintothedesert.
“Istillhavenoideahowto
turnmyselfintothewind,”
theboyrepeated.
“RememberwhatItoldyou:
theworldisonlythevisible
aspectofGod.Andthatwhat
alchemydoesistobring
spiritualperfectioninto
contactwiththematerial
plane.”
“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Feedingmyfalcon.”
“IfI’mnotabletoturn
myselfintothewind,we’re
goingtodie,”theboysaid.
“Whyfeedyourfalcon?”
“You’retheonewhomay
die,”thealchemistsaid.“I
alreadyknowhowtoturn
myselfintothewind.”
ONTHESECONDDAY,THEBOY
CLIMBEDTOTHETOPOFAcliff
nearthecamp.Thesentinels
allowedhimtogo;theyhad
alreadyheardaboutthe
sorcererwhocouldturn
himselfintothewind,and
theydidn’twanttogonear
him.Inanycase,thedesert
wasimpassable.
Hespenttheentire
afternoonofthesecondday
lookingoutoverthedesert,
andlisteningtohisheart.The
boyknewthedesertsensed
hisfear.
Theybothspokethesame
language.
ONTHETHIRDDAY,THECHIEF
METWITHHISOFFICERS.He
calledthealchemisttothe
meetingandsaid,“Let’sgo
seetheboywhoturnshimself
intothewind.”
“Let’s,”thealchemist
answered.
Theboytookthemtothe
cliffwherehehadbeenon
thepreviousday.Hetold
themalltobeseated.
“It’sgoingtotakeawhile,”
theboysaid.
“We’reinnohurry,”the
chiefanswered.“Wearemen
ofthedesert.”
Theboylookedoutatthe
horizon.Therewere
mountainsinthedistance.
Andthereweredunes,rocks,
andplantsthatinsistedon
livingwheresurvivalseemed
impossible.Therewasthe
desertthathehadwandered
forsomanymonths;despite
allthattime,heknewonlya
smallpartofit.Withinthat
smallpart,hehadfoundan
Englishman,caravans,tribal
wars,andanoasiswithfifty
thousandpalmtreesandthree
hundredwells.
“Whatdoyouwanthere
today?”thedesertaskedhim.
“Didn’tyouspendenough
timelookingatme
yesterday?”
“Somewhereyouare
holdingthepersonIlove,”
theboysaid.“So,whenI
lookoutoveryoursands,I
amalsolookingather.Iwant
toreturntoher,andIneed
yourhelpsothatIcanturn
myselfintothewind.”
“Whatislove?”thedesert
asked.
“Loveisthefalcon’sflight
overyoursands.Becausefor
him,youareagreenfield,
fromwhichhealwaysreturns
withgame.Heknowsyour
rocks,yourdunes,andyour
mountains,andyouare
generoustohim.”
“Thefalcon’sbeakcarries
bitsofme,myself,”thedesert
said.“Foryears,Icareforhis
game,feedingitwiththelittle
waterthatIhave,andthenI
showhimwherethegameis.
And,oneday,asIenjoythe
factthathisgamethriveson
mysurface,thefalcondives
outofthesky,andtakesaway
whatI’vecreated.”
“Butthat’swhyyoucreated
thegameinthefirstplace,”
theboyanswered.“To
nourishthefalcon.Andthe
falconthennourishesman.
And,eventually,manwill
nourishyoursands,wherethe
gamewillonceagain
flourish.That’showthe
worldgoes.”
“Soisthatwhatloveis?”
“Yes,that’swhatloveis.
It’swhatmakesthegame
becomethefalcon,thefalcon
becomeman,andman,inhis
turn,thedesert.It’swhat
turnsleadintogold,and
makesthegoldreturntothe
earth.”
“Idon’tunderstandwhat
you’retalkingabout,”the
desertsaid.
“Butyoucanatleast
understandthatsomewherein
yoursandsthereisawoman
waitingforme.Andthat’s
whyIhavetoturnmyself
intothewind.”
Thedesertdidn’tanswer
himforafewmoments.
Thenittoldhim,“I’llgive
youmysandstohelpthe
windtoblow,but,alone,I
can’tdoanything.Youhave
toaskforhelpfromthe
wind.”
Abreezebegantoblow.
Thetribesmenwatchedthe
boyfromadistance,talking
amongthemselvesina
languagethattheboy
couldn’tunderstand.
Thealchemistsmiled.
Thewindapproachedthe
boyandtouchedhisface.It
knewoftheboy’stalkwith
thedesert,becausethewinds
knoweverything.Theyblow
acrosstheworldwithouta
birthplace,andwithnoplace
todie.
“Helpme,”theboysaid.
“Onedayyoucarriedthe
voiceofmylovedoneto
me.”
“Whotaughtyoutospeak
thelanguageofthedesertand
thewind?”
“Myheart,”theboy
answered.
Thewindhasmanynames.
Inthatpartoftheworld,it
wascalledthesirocco,
becauseitbroughtmoisture
fromtheoceanstotheeast.In
thedistantlandtheboycame
from,theycalleditthe
levanter,becausethey
believedthatitbroughtwith
itthesandsofthedesert,and
thescreamsoftheMoorish
wars.Perhaps,intheplaces
beyondthepastureswherehis
sheeplived,menthoughtthat
thewindcamefrom
Andalusia.But,actually,the
windcamefromnoplaceat
all,nordiditgotoanyplace;
that’swhyitwasstronger
thanthedesert.Someone
mightonedayplanttreesin
thedesert,andevenraise
sheepthere,butneverwould
theyharnessthewind.
“Youcan’tbethewind,”the
windsaid.“We’retwovery
differentthings.”
“That’snottrue,”theboy
said.“Ilearnedthe
alchemist’ssecretsinmy
travels.Ihaveinsidemethe
winds,thedeserts,theoceans,
thestars,andeverything
createdintheuniverse.We
wereallmadebythesame
hand,andwehavethesame
soul.Iwanttobelikeyou,
abletoreacheverycornerof
theworld,crosstheseas,
blowawaythesandsthat
covermytreasure,andcarry
thevoiceofthewomanI
love.”
“Iheardwhatyouwere
talkingabouttheotherday
withthealchemist,”thewind
said.“Hesaidthateverything
hasitsownPersonalLegend.
Butpeoplecan’tturn
themselvesintothewind.”
“Justteachmetobethe
windforafewmoments,”the
boysaid.“SoyouandIcan
talkaboutthelimitless
possibilitiesofpeopleandthe
winds.”
Thewind’scuriositywas
aroused,somethingthathad
neverhappenedbefore.It
wantedtotalkaboutthose
things,butitdidn’tknow
howtoturnamanintothe
wind.Andlookhowmany
thingsthewindalreadyknew
howtodo!Itcreateddeserts,
sankships,felledentire
forests,andblewthrough
citiesfilledwithmusicand
strangenoises.Itfeltthatit
hadnolimits,yetherewasa
boysayingthattherewere
otherthingsthewindshould
beabletodo.
“Thisiswhatwecalllove,”
theboysaid,seeingthatthe
windwasclosetogranting
whatherequested.“When
youareloved,youcando
anythingincreation.When
youareloved,there’snoneed
atalltounderstandwhat’s
happening,because
everythinghappenswithin
you,andevenmencanturn
themselvesintothewind.As
longasthewindhelps,of
course.”
Thewindwasaproud
being,anditwasbecoming
irritatedwithwhattheboy
wassaying.Itcommencedto
blowharder,raisingthe
desertsands.Butfinallyit
hadtorecognizethat,even
makingitsmayaroundthe
world,itdidn’tknowhowto
turnamanintothewind.And
itknewnothingaboutlove.
“Inmytravelsaroundthe
world,I’veoftenseenpeople
speakingofloveandlooking
towardtheheavens,”the
windsaid,furiousathaving
toacknowledgeitsown
limitations.“Maybeit’sbetter
toaskheaven.”
“Wellthen,helpmedo
that,”theboysaid.“Fillthis
placewithasandstormso
strongthatitblotsoutthe
sun.ThenIcanlookto
heavenwithoutblinding
myself.”
Sothewindblewwithallits
strength,andtheskywas
filledwithsand.Thesunwas
turnedintoagoldendisk.
Atthecamp,itwasdifficult
toseeanything.Themenof
thedesertwerealready
familiarwiththatwind.They
calleditthesimum,anditwas
worsethanastormatsea.
Theirhorsescriedout,andall
theirweaponswerefilled
withsand.
Ontheheights,oneofthe
commandersturnedtothe
chiefandsaid,“Maybewe
hadbetterendthis!”
Theycouldbarelyseethe
boy.Theirfaceswerecovered
withthebluecloths,andtheir
eyesshowedfear.
“Let’sstopthis,”another
commandersaid.
“Iwanttoseethegreatness
ofAllah,”thechiefsaid,with
respect.“Iwanttoseehowa
manturnshimselfintothe
wind.”
Buthemadeamentalnote
ofthenamesofthetwomen
whohadexpressedtheirfear.
Assoonasthewindstopped,
hewasgoingtoremovethem
fromtheircommands,
becausetruemenofthe
desertarenotafraid.
“Thewindtoldmethatyou
knowaboutlove,”theboy
saidtothesun.“Ifyouknow
aboutlove,youmustalso
knowabouttheSoulofthe
World,becauseit’smadeof
love.”
“FromwhereIam,”thesun
said,“IcanseetheSoulof
theWorld.Itcommunicates
withmysoul,andtogether
wecausetheplantstogrow
andthesheeptoseekout
shade.FromwhereIam—
andI’malongwayfromthe
earth—Ilearnedhowtolove.
IknowthatifIcameevena
littlebitclosertotheearth,
everythingtherewoulddie,
andtheSouloftheWorld
wouldnolongerexist.Sowe
contemplateeachother,and
wewanteachother,andI
giveitlifeandwarmth,andit
givesmemyreasonfor
living.”
“Soyouknowaboutlove,”
theboysaid.
“AndIknowtheSoulofthe
World,becausewehave
talkedatgreatlengthtoeach
otherduringthisendlesstrip
throughtheuniverse.Ittells
methatitsgreatestproblemis
that,upuntilnow,onlythe
mineralsandvegetables
understandthatallthingsare
one.Thatthere’snoneedfor
irontobethesameascopper,
orcopperthesameasgold.
Eachperformsitsownexact
functionasauniquebeing,
andeverythingwouldbea
symphonyofpeaceifthe
handthatwroteallthishad
stoppedonthefifthdayof
creation.
“Buttherewasasixthday,”
thesunwenton.
“Youarewise,becauseyou
observeeverythingfroma
distance,”theboysaid.“But
youdon’tknowaboutlove.If
therehadn’tbeenasixthday,
manwouldnotexist;copper
wouldalwaysbejustcopper,
andleadjustlead.It’strue
thateverythinghasits
PersonalLegend,butoneday
thatPersonalLegendwillbe
realized.Soeachthinghasto
transformitselfinto
somethingbetter,andto
acquireanewPersonal
Legend,until,someday,the
SouloftheWorldbecomes
onethingonly.”
Thesunthoughtaboutthat,
anddecidedtoshinemore
brightly.Thewind,which
wasenjoyingthe
conversation,startedtoblow
withgreaterforce,sothatthe
sunwouldnotblindtheboy.
“Thisiswhyalchemy
exists,”theboysaid.“Sothat
everyonewillsearchforhis
treasure,findit,andthen
wanttobebetterthanhewas
inhisformerlife.Leadwill
playitsroleuntiltheworld
hasnofurtherneedforlead;
andthenleadwillhaveto
turnitselfintogold.
“That’swhatalchemistsdo.
Theyshowthat,whenwe
strivetobecomebetterthan
weare,everythingaroundus
becomesbetter,too.”
“Well,whydidyousaythat
Idon’tknowaboutlove?”the
sunaskedtheboy.
“Becauseit’snotlovetobe
staticlikethedesert,norisit
lovetoroamtheworldlike
thewind.Andit’snotloveto
seeeverythingfroma
distance,likeyoudo.Loveis
theforcethattransformsand
improvestheSoulofthe
World.WhenIfirstreached
throughtoit,Ithoughtthe
SouloftheWorldwas
perfect.Butlater,Icouldsee
thatitwaslikeotheraspects
ofcreation,andhaditsown
passionsandwars.Itiswe
whonourishtheSoulofthe
World,andtheworldwelive
inwillbeeitherbetteror
worse,dependingonwhether
webecomebetterorworse.
Andthat’swherethepower
oflovecomesin.Because
whenwelove,wealways
strivetobecomebetterthan
weare.”
“Sowhatdoyouwantof
me?”thesunasked.
“Iwantyoutohelpmeturn
myselfintothewind,”the
boyanswered.
“Natureknowsmeasthe
wisestbeingincreation,”the
sunsaid.“ButIdon’tknow
howtoturnyouintothe
wind.”
“Then,whomshouldIask?”
Thesunthoughtfora
minute.Thewindwas
listeningclosely,andwanted
totelleverycornerofthe
worldthatthesun’swisdom
haditslimitations.Thatit
wasunabletodealwiththis
boywhospoketheLanguage
oftheWorld.
“Speaktothehandthat
wroteall,”saidthesun.
Thewindscreamedwith
delight,andblewharderthan
ever.Thetentswerebeing
blownfromtheirtiestothe
earth,andtheanimalswere
beingfreedfromtheirtethers.
Onthecliff,themenclutched
ateachotherastheysought
tokeepfrombeingblown
away.
Theboyturnedtothehand
thatwroteall.Ashedidso,
hesensedthattheuniverse
hadfallensilent,andhe
decidednottospeak.
Acurrentofloverushed
fromhisheart,andtheboy
begantopray.Itwasaprayer
thathehadneversaidbefore,
becauseitwasaprayer
withoutwordsorpleas.His
prayerdidn’tgivethanksfor
hissheephavingfoundnew
pastures;itdidn’taskthatthe
boybeabletosellmore
crystal;anditdidn’tbeseech
thatthewomanhehadmet
continuetoawaithisreturn.
Inthesilence,theboy
understoodthatthedesert,the
wind,andthesunwerealso
tryingtounderstandthesigns
writtenbythehand,andwere
seekingtofollowtheirpaths,
andtounderstandwhathad
beenwrittenonasingle
emerald.Hesawthatomens
werescatteredthroughoutthe
earthandinspace,andthat
therewasnoreasonor
significanceattachedtotheir
appearance;hecouldseethat
notthedeserts,northewinds,
northesun,norpeopleknew
whytheyhadbeencreated.
Butthatthehandhada
reasonforallofthis,andthat
onlythehandcouldperform
miracles,ortransformthesea
intoadesert…oramaninto
thewind.Becauseonlythe
handunderstoodthatitwasa
largerdesignthathadmoved
theuniversetothepointat
whichsixdaysofcreation
hadevolvedintoaMaster
Work.
Theboyreachedthroughto
theSouloftheWorld,and
sawthatitwasapartofthe
SoulofGod.Andhesawthat
theSoulofGodwashisown
soul.Andthathe,aboy,
couldperformmiracles.
THESIMUMBLEWTHATDAYAS
ITHADNEVERBLOWNbefore.
Forgenerationsthereafter,the
Arabsrecountedthelegendof
aboywhohadturnedhimself
intothewind,almost
destroyingamilitarycamp,in
defianceofthemostpowerful
chiefinthedesert.
Whenthesimumceasedto
blow,everyonelookedtothe
placewheretheboyhad
been.Buthewasnolonger
there;hewasstandingnextto
asand-coveredsentinel,on
thefarsideofthecamp.
Themenwereterrifiedat
hissorcery.Buttherewere
twopeoplewhowere
smiling:thealchemist,
becausehehadfoundhis
perfectdisciple,andthechief,
becausethatdisciplehad
understoodthegloryofGod.
Thefollowingday,the
generalbadetheboyandthe
alchemistfarewell,and
providedthemwithanescort
partytoaccompanythemas
farastheychose.
THEYRODEFORTHEENTIRE
DAY.TOWARDTHEENDOFthe
afternoon,theycameupona
Copticmonastery.The
alchemistdismounted,and
toldtheescortstheycould
returntothecamp.
“Fromhereon,youwillbe
alone,”thealchemistsaid.
“Youareonlythreehours
fromthePyramids.”
“Thankyou,”saidtheboy.
“YoutaughtmetheLanguage
oftheWorld.”
“Ionlyinvokedwhatyou
alreadyknew.”
Thealchemistknockedon
thegateofthemonastery.A
monkdressedinblackcame
tothegates.Theyspokefora
fewminutesintheCoptic
tongue,andthealchemist
badetheboyenter.
“Iaskedhimtoletmeuse
thekitchenforawhile,”the
alchemistsmiled.
Theywenttothekitchenat
thebackofthemonastery.
Thealchemistlightedthefire,
andthemonkbroughthim
somelead,whichthe
alchemistplacedinaniron
pan.Whentheleadhad
becomeliquid,thealchemist
tookfromhispouchthe
strangeyellowegg.He
scrapedfromitasliveras
thinasahair,wrappeditin
wax,andaddedittothepan
inwhichtheleadhadmelted.
Themixturetookona
reddishcolor,almostthe
colorofblood.Thealchemist
removedthepanfromthe
fire,andsetitasidetocool.
Ashedidso,hetalkedwith
themonkaboutthetribal
wars.
“Ithinkthey’regoingtolast
foralongtime,”hesaidto
themonk.
Themonkwasirritated.The
caravanshadbeenstoppedat
Gizaforsometime,waiting
forthewarstoend.“But
God’swillbedone,”the
monksaid.
“Exactly,”answeredthe
alchemist.
Whenthepanhadcooled,
themonkandtheboylooked
atit,dazzled.Theleadhad
driedintotheshapeofthe
pan,butitwasnolongerlead.
Itwasgold.
“WillIlearntodothat
someday?”theboyasked.
“ThiswasmyPersonal
Legend,notyours,”the
alchemistanswered.“ButI
wantedtoshowyouthatit
waspossible.”
Theyreturnedtothegates
ofthemonastery.There,the
alchemistseparatedthedisk
intofourparts.
“Thisisforyou,”hesaid,
holdingoneofthepartsoutto
themonk.“It’sforyour
generositytothepilgrims.”
“Butthispaymentgoeswell
beyondmygenerosity,”the
monkresponded.
“Don’tsaythatagain.Life
mightbelistening,andgive
youlessthenexttime.”
Thealchemistturnedtothe
boy.“Thisisforyou.To
makeupforwhatyougaveto
thegeneral.”
Theboywasabouttosay
thatitwasmuchmorethanhe
hadgiventhegeneral.Buthe
keptquiet,becausehehad
heardwhatthealchemistsaid
tothemonk.
“Andthisisforme,”said
thealchemist,keepingoneof
theparts.“BecauseIhaveto
returntothedesert,where
therearetribalwars.”
Hetookthefourthpartand
handedittothemonk.
“Thisisfortheboy.Ifhe
everneedsit.”
“ButI’mgoinginsearchof
mytreasure,”theboysaid.
“I’mveryclosetoitnow.”
“AndI’mcertainyou’llfind
it,”thealchemistsaid.
“Thenwhythis?”
“Becauseyouhavealready
lostyoursavingstwice.Once
tothethief,andoncetothe
general.I’manold,
superstitiousArab,andI
believeinourproverbs.
There’sonethatsays,
‘Everythingthathappens
oncecanneverhappenagain.
Buteverythingthathappens
twicewillsurelyhappena
thirdtime.’”Theymounted
theirhorses.
“IWANTTOTELLYOUASTORY
ABOUTDREAMS,”SAIDTHE
alchemist.
Theboybroughthishorse
closer.
“InancientRome,atthe
timeofEmperorTiberius,
therelivedagoodmanwho
hadtwosons.Onewasinthe
military,andhadbeensentto
themostdistantregionsofthe
empire.Theothersonwasa
poet,anddelightedallof
Romewithhisbeautiful
verses.
“Onenight,thefatherhada
dream.Anangelappearedto
him,andtoldhimthatthe
wordsofoneofhissons
wouldbelearnedand
repeatedthroughouttheworld
forallgenerationstocome.
Thefatherwokefromhis
dreamgratefulandcrying,
becauselifewasgenerous,
andhadrevealedtohim
somethinganyfatherwould
beproudtoknow.
“Shortlythereafter,the
fatherdiedashetriedtosave
achildwhowasabouttobe
crushedbythewheelsofa
chariot.Sincehehadlivedhis
entirelifeinamannerthat
wascorrectandfair,hewent
directlytoheaven,wherehe
mettheangelthathad
appearedinhisdream.
“‘Youwerealwaysagood
man,’theangelsaidtohim.
‘Youlivedyourlifeina
lovingway,anddiedwith
dignity.Icannowgrantyou
anywishyoudesire.’
“‘Lifewasgoodtome,’the
mansaid.‘Whenyou
appearedinmydream,Ifelt
thatallmyeffortshadbeen
rewarded,becausemyson’s
poemswillbereadbymen
forgenerationstocome.I
don’twantanythingfor
myself.Butanyfatherwould
beproudofthefame
achievedbyonewhomhe
hadcaredforasachild,and
educatedashegrewup.
Sometimeinthedistant
future,Iwouldliketoseemy
son’swords.’
“Theangeltouchedthe
man’sshoulder,andthey
werebothprojectedfarinto
thefuture.Theywereinan
immensesetting,surrounded
bythousandsofpeople
speakingastrangelanguage.
“Themanweptwith
happiness.
“‘Iknewthatmyson’s
poemswereimmortal,’he
saidtotheangelthroughhis
tears.‘Canyoupleasetellme
whichofmyson’spoems
thesepeoplearerepeating?’
“Theangelcamecloserto
theman,and,with
tenderness,ledhimtoa
benchnearby,wheretheysat
down.
“‘Theversesofyourson
whowasthepoetwerevery
popularinRome,’theangel
said.‘Everyonelovedthem
andenjoyedthem.Butwhen
thereignofTiberiusended,
hispoemswereforgotten.
Thewordsyou’rehearing
nowarethoseofyoursonin
themilitary.’
“Themanlookedatthe
angelinsurprise.
“‘Yoursonwenttoserveat
adistantplace,andbecamea
centurion.Hewasjustand
good.Oneafternoon,oneof
hisservantsfellill,andit
appearedthathewoulddie.
Yoursonhadheardofarabbi
whowasabletocure
illnesses,andherodeoutfor
daysanddaysinsearchof
thisman.Alongtheway,he
learnedthatthemanhewas
seekingwastheSonofGod.
Hemetotherswhohadbeen
curedbyhim,andthey
instructedyoursoninthe
man’steachings.Andso,
despitethefactthathewasa
Romancenturion,he
convertedtotheirfaith.
Shortlythereafter,hereached
theplacewherethemanhe
waslookingforwasvisiting.’
“‘Hetoldthemanthatone
ofhisservantswasgravely
ill,andtherabbimadeready
togotohishousewithhim.
Butthecenturionwasaman
offaith,and,lookingintothe
eyesoftherabbi,heknew
thathewassurelyinthe
presenceoftheSonofGod.’
“‘Andthisiswhatyourson
said,’theangeltoldtheman.
‘Thesearethewordshesaid
totherabbiatthatpoint,and
theyhaveneverbeen
forgotten:“MyLord,Iamnot
worthythatyoushouldcome
undermyroof.Butonly
speakawordandmyservant
willbehealed.””’
Thealchemistsaid,“No
matterwhathedoes,every
persononearthplaysa
centralroleinthehistoryof
theworld.Andnormallyhe
doesn’tknowit.”
Theboysmiled.Hehad
neverimaginedthatquestions
aboutlifewouldbeofsuch
importancetoashepherd.
“Good-bye,”thealchemist
said.
“Good-bye,”saidtheboy.
THEBOYRODEALONG
THROUGHTHEDESERTFOR
SEVERALhours,listening
avidlytowhathishearthad
tosay.Itwashisheartthat
wouldtellhimwherehis
treasurewashidden.
“Whereyourtreasureis,
therealsowillbeyourheart,”
thealchemisthadtoldhim.
Buthisheartwasspeaking
ofotherthings.Withpride,it
toldthestoryofashepherd
whohadlefthisflockto
followadreamhehadontwo
differentoccasions.Ittoldof
PersonalLegend,andofthe
manymenwhohadwandered
insearchofdistantlandsor
beautifulwomen,confronting
thepeopleoftheirtimeswith
theirpreconceivednotions.It
spokeofjourneys,
discoveries,books,and
change.
Ashewasabouttoclimb
yetanotherdune,hisheart
whispered,“Beawareofthe
placewhereyouarebrought
totears.That’swhereIam,
andthat’swhereyour
treasureis.”
Theboyclimbedthedune
slowly.Afullmoonrose
againinthestarrysky:ithad
beenamonthsincehehadset
forthfromtheoasis.The
moonlightcastshadows
throughthedunes,creating
theappearanceofarolling
sea;itremindedtheboyof
thedaywhenthathorsehad
rearedinthedesert,andhe
hadcometoknowthe
alchemist.Andthemoonfell
onthedesert’ssilence,andon
aman’sjourneyinsearchof
treasure.
Whenhereachedthetopof
thedune,hisheartleapt.
There,illuminatedbythe
lightofthemoonandthe
brightnessofthedesert,stood
thesolemnandmajestic
PyramidsofEgypt.
Theboyfelltohisknees
andwept.HethankedGod
formakinghimbelieveinhis
PersonalLegend,andfor
leadinghimtomeetaking,a
merchant,anEnglishman,
andanalchemist.Andabove
allforhishavingmeta
womanofthedesertwhohad
toldhimthatlovewould
neverkeepamanfromhis
PersonalLegend.
Ifhewantedto,hecould
nowreturntotheoasis,go
backtoFatima,andlivehis
lifeasasimpleshepherd.
Afterall,thealchemist
continuedtoliveinthe
desert,eventhoughhe
understoodtheLanguageof
theWorld,andknewhowto
transformleadintogold.He
didn’tneedtodemonstrate
hisscienceandarttoanyone.
Theboytoldhimselfthat,on
thewaytowardrealizinghis
ownPersonalLegend,hehad
learnedallheneededto
know,andhadexperienced
everythinghemighthave
dreamedof.
Butherehewas,atthepoint
offindinghistreasure,andhe
remindedhimselfthatno
projectiscompleteduntilits
objectivehasbeenachieved.
Theboylookedatthesands
aroundhim,andsawthat,
wherehistearshadfallen,a
scarabbeetlewasscuttling
throughthesand.Duringhis
timeinthedesert,hehad
learnedthat,inEgypt,the
scarabbeetlesareasymbolof
God.
Anotheromen!Theboy
begantodigintothedune.As
hedidso,hethoughtofwhat
thecrystalmerchanthadonce
said:thatanyonecouldbuild
apyramidinhisbackyard.
Theboycouldseenowthat
hecouldn’tdosoifheplaced
stoneuponstonefortherest
ofhislife.
Throughoutthenight,the
boydugattheplacehehad
chosen,butfoundnothing.
Hefeltweighteddownbythe
centuriesoftimesincethe
Pyramidshadbeenbuilt.But
hedidn’tstop.Hestruggled
tocontinuediggingashe
foughtthewind,whichoften
blewthesandbackintothe
excavation.Hishandswere
abradedandexhausted,buthe
listenedtohisheart.Ithad
toldhimtodigwherehis
tearsfell.
Ashewasattemptingtopull
outtherocksheencountered,
heheardfootsteps.Several
figuresapproachedhim.
Theirbacksweretothe
moonlight,andtheboycould
seeneithertheireyesnortheir
faces.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
oneofthefiguresdemanded.
Becausehewasterrified,
theboydidn’tanswer.Hehad
foundwherehistreasurewas,
andwasfrightenedatwhat
mighthappen.
“We’rerefugeesfromthe
tribalwars,andweneed
money,”theotherfiguresaid.
“Whatareyouhidingthere?”
“I’mnothidinganything,”
theboyanswered.
Butoneofthemseizedthe
boyandyankedhimbackout
ofthehole.Another,whowas
searchingtheboy’sbags,
foundthepieceofgold.
“There’sgoldhere,”hesaid.
Themoonshoneontheface
oftheArabwhohadseized
him,andintheman’seyes
theboysawdeath.
“He’sprobablygotmore
goldhiddenintheground.”
Theymadetheboycontinue
digging,buthefound
nothing.Asthesunrose,the
menbegantobeattheboy.
Hewasbruisedandbleeding,
hisclothingwastornto
shreds,andhefeltthatdeath
wasnear.
“Whatgoodismoneyto
youifyou’regoingtodie?
It’snotoftenthatmoneycan
savesomeone’slife,”the
alchemisthadsaid.Finally,
theboyscreamedatthemen,
“I’mdiggingfortreasure!”
And,althoughhismouthwas
bleedingandswollen,hetold
hisattackersthathehadtwice
dreamedofatreasurehidden
nearthePyramidsofEgypt.
Themanwhoappearedto
betheleaderofthegroup
spoketooneoftheothers:
“Leavehim.Hedoesn’thave
anythingelse.Hemusthave
stolenthisgold.”
Theboyfelltothesand,
nearlyunconscious.The
leadershookhimandsaid,
“We’releaving.”
Butbeforetheyleft,he
camebacktotheboyand
said,“You’renotgoingto
die.You’lllive,andyou’ll
learnthatamanshouldn’tbe
sostupid.Twoyearsago,
righthereonthisspot,Ihada
recurrentdream,too.I
dreamedthatIshouldtravel
tothefieldsofSpainandlook
foraruinedchurchwhere
shepherdsandtheirsheep
slept.Inmydream,therewas
asycamoregrowingoutof
theruinsofthesacristy,andI
wastoldthat,ifIdugatthe
rootsofthesycamore,I
wouldfindahiddentreasure.
ButI’mnotsostupidasto
crossanentiredesertjust
becauseofarecurrent
dream.”
Andtheydisappeared.
Theboystoodupshakily,
andlookedoncemoreatthe
Pyramids.Theyseemedto
laughathim,andhelaughed
back,hisheartburstingwith
joy.
Becausenowheknew
wherehistreasurewas.
EPILOGUE
THEBOYREACHEDTHESMALL,
ABANDONEDCHURCHJUSTas
nightwasfalling.The
sycamorewasstilltherein
thesacristy,andthestars
couldstillbeseenthroughthe
half-destroyedroof.He
rememberedthetimehehad
beentherewithhissheep;it
hadbeenapeacefulnight…
exceptforthedream.
Nowhewasherenotwith
hisflock,butwithashovel.
Hesatlookingattheskyfor
alongtime.Thenhetook
fromhisknapsackabottleof
wine,anddranksome.He
rememberedthenightinthe
desertwhenhehadsatwith
thealchemist,astheylooked
atthestarsanddrankwine
together.Hethoughtofthe
manyroadshehadtraveled,
andofthestrangewayGod
hadchosentoshowhimhis
treasure.Ifhehadn’tbelieved
inthesignificanceof
recurrentdreams,hewould
nothavemettheGypsy
woman,theking,thethief,
or…“Well,it’salonglist.
Butthepathwaswrittenin
theomens,andtherewasno
wayIcouldgowrong,”he
saidtohimself.
Hefellasleep,andwhenhe
awokethesunwasalready
high.Hebegantodigatthe
baseofthesycamore.
“Youoldsorcerer,”theboy
shouteduptothesky.“You
knewthewholestory.You
evenleftabitofgoldatthe
monasterysoIcouldgetback
tothischurch.Themonk
laughedwhenhesawme
comebackintatters.Couldn’t
youhavesavedmefrom
that?”
“No,”heheardavoiceon
thewindsay.“IfIhadtold
you,youwouldn’thaveseen
thePyramids.They’re
beautiful,aren’tthey?”
Theboysmiled,and
continueddigging.Halfan
hourlater,hisshovelhit
somethingsolid.Anhour
later,hehadbeforehima
chestofSpanishgoldcoins.
Therewerealsoprecious
stones,goldmasksadorned
withredandwhitefeathers,
andstonestatuesembedded
withjewels.Thespoilsofa
conquestthatthecountryhad
longagoforgotten,andthat
someconquistadorhadfailed
totellhischildrenabout.
TheboytookoutUrimand
Thummimfromhisbag.He
hadusedthetwostonesonly
once,onemorningwhenhe
wasatamarketplace.Hislife
andhispathhadalways
providedhimwithenough
omens.
HeplacedUrimand
Thummiminthechest.They
werealsoapartofhisnew
treasure,becausetheywerea
reminderoftheoldking,
whomhewouldneversee
again.
It’strue;lifereallyis
generoustothosewhopursue
theirPersonalLegend,the
boythought.Thenhe
rememberedthathehadto
gettoTarifasohecouldgive
one-tenthofhistreasureto
theGypsywoman,ashehad
promised.ThoseGypsiesare
reallysmart,hethought.
Maybeitwasbecausethey
movedaroundsomuch.
Thewindbegantoblow
again.Itwasthelevanter,the
windthatcamefromAfrica.
Itdidn’tbringwithitthe
smellofthedesert,northe
threatofMoorishinvasion.
Instead,itbroughtthescent
ofaperfumeheknewwell,
andthetouchofakiss—a
kissthatcamefromfaraway,
slowly,slowly,untilitrested
onhislips.
Theboysmiled.Itwasthe
firsttimeshehaddonethat.
“I’mcoming,Fatima,”he
said.
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
PAULOCOELHOwasbornin
RiodeJaneiro,Brazil,the
citywherehenowlives.His
ownlifehasinmanyways
beenasvariedandunusualas
theprotagonistsofhis
internationallyacclaimed
novels.Likethem,Paulo
Coelhohasfollowedadream
inaquestforfulfillment.His
owndream,tobeawriter,
metwithfrustration
throughoutmuchofhisearly
adultlife,atimeinwhichhe
workedatvarious
professions,someofthem
materiallyrewardingbut
spirituallyunfulfilling.“I
alwaysknew,”hesays,“that
myPersonalLegend,tousea
termfromalchemy,wasto
write.”Hewasthirty-eight
whenhepublishedhisfirst
book.
In1970,afterdecidingthat
lawschoolwasnotforhim,
hetraveledthroughmuchof
SouthAmerica,NorthAfrica,
Mexico,andEurope.
ReturningtoBrazilaftertwo
years,hebeganasuccessful
careeraspopularsongwriter.
In1974,hewasimprisonedfor
ashorttimebythemilitary
dictatorshipthenrulingin
Brazil.In1980,heexperienced
oneofthedefiningmoments
ofhislife:hewalkedthefive
hundred-plusmileRoadof
SantiagodeCompostelain
northwesternSpain.Onthis
ancienthighway,usedfor
centuriesbypilgrimsfrom
Francetogettothecathedral
saidtohousetheremainsof
St.James,heachievedaselfawarenessandaspiritual
awakeningthathelater
describedinThePilgrimage.
PauloCoelhooncesaidthat
followingyourdreamislike
learningaforeignlanguage;
youwillmakemistakesbut
youwillgetthereintheend.
In1988,hepublishedThe
Alchemist,anovelthat
exploresthistheme,andit
launchedhimasan
internationalbestselling
author.Specifically,Paulo
Coelhoisrecognizedforhis
powerfulstorytelling
techniqueandtheprofound
spiritualinsightsheblends
seamlesslyintohisparables.
Sincethen,TheAlchemisthas
soldmorethantwentymillion
copiesworldwideandhas
beentranslatedintosome
fifty-sixlanguages.In
additiontoThePilgrimage
andTheAlchemist,Paulo
Coelhohaswrittenluminous
novelsaboutthedifferent
streamsofourlives,
includingBytheRiverPiedra
ISatDownandWept,The
Valkyries,TheFifth
Mountain,andVeronika
DecidestoDie.Awinnerof
numerousliteraryprizes,
PauloCoelhoisalsoa
prominentspeakerfor
humanitariancauses.In1999,
hereceivedaCrystalAward
forArtisticAchievementat
theDavosEconomicForum
Conference.
InternationalAcclaimfor
PauloCoelho’sThe
Alchemist
“The story has the comic charm,
dramatic tension, and psychological
intensity of a fairy tale, but it’s full of
specific wisdom as well…. A sweetly
exotictaleforyoungandoldalike.”
—PublishersWeekly
“Beneath this novel’s compelling story
and the shimmering elegance with
whichit’stoldliesabedrockofwisdom
aboutfollowingone’sheart.”
—Booklist
“As memorable and meaningful as
Saint-Exupéry’sTheLittlePrince.”
—AustinAmerican-Statesman
“Atouching,inspiringfable.”
—IndianapolisStar
“Alittlepokeintheribsfromonhigh.”
—DetroitFreePress
“TheAlchemistisafabuloussuccess.”
—DerSpiegel(Germany)
“A remarkable tale about the most
magical of all journeys: the quest to
fulfill one’s destiny. I recommend The
Alchemist to anyone who is
passionatelycommittedtoclaimingthe
lifeoftheirdreams—today.”
—AnthonyRobbins,authorof
AwakentheGiantWithin
“An entrepreneurial tale of universal
wisdomwecanapplytothebusinessof
ourownlives.”
—SpencerJohnson,M.D.,authorof
WhoMovedMyCheese
“An adventure story full of magic and
wisdom.”
—RudolfoAnaya,authorofBlessMe,
Ultima
“The Alchemist is a beautiful book
about magic, dreams and the treasures
weseekelsewhereandthenfindatour
doorstep.”
—MadonnainSonntag-Aktuell
(Germany)
“TheAlchemistisanunabasheddelight
andinspirationalwonder.Thisfableisa
roseate amalgam of spiritual quest,
existential puzzle, lovely sensitivity,
anddeepstrength.”
—MalcolmBoyd,authorof
AreYouRunningwithMe,Jesus?
“Paulo Coelho knows the secret of
literaryalchemy.”
—KenzaburoOé,winneroftheNobel
PrizeinLiterature
“Amosttenderandgentlestory.Itisa
rare gem of a book, and will most
certainly touch the very core of every
heart earnestly seeking its own destiny
onthejourneyoflife.”
—GeraldG.Jampolsky,M.D.,coauthor
of
ChangeYourMind,ChangeYourLife
andLoveIsLettingGoofFear
“Rarely do I come across a story with
the directness and simplicity of
Coelho’s The Alchemist. It lifts the
readeroutoftimeandfocusesthrougha
believably unlikely story on a young
dreamer looking for himself. A
beautiful story with a pointed message
foreveryreader.”
—JosephGirzone,authorofJoshua
“This is the type of book that makes
youunderstandmoreaboutyourselfand
about life. It has philosophy, and is
spicedwithcolors,flavorsandsubjects,
likeafairytale.Alovelybook.”
—Yedi’otAharonot(Israel)
“AboynamedSantiagojoinstheranks
ofCandideandPinocchiobytakingus
onaveryexcellentadventure.”
—PaulZindel,authorofthePulitzer
Prize–winningplay,
TheEffectofGammaRaysonMan-inthe-MoonMarigolds
“The mystic quality in the odd
adventures of the boy, Santiago, may
bringnotonlyhimbutotherswhoread
thisfinebookclosertorecognizingand
reachingtheirowninnerdestinies.”
—CharlotteZolotow,authorofIfYou
Listen
“PauloCoelhogivesyoutheinspiration
to follow your own dreams by seeing
the world through your own eyes and
notsomeoneelse’s.”
—LynnAndrews,authorofthe
MedicineWomanseries
“Nothing is impossible, such is
Coelho’smessage,aslongasyouwish
it with all your heart. No other book
bears so much hope, small wonder its
author became a guru among all those
insearchofthemeaningoflife.”
—Focus(Germany)
“TheAlchemistisatrulypoeticbook.”
—WeltamSonntag(Germany)
“Dotted throughout the story and
illuminated in a poetic style are
metaphors and deep insights that stir
ourimaginationandtransportthereader
onafantasticjourneyofthesoul.”
—Yomiuri-Shinbun(Japan)
“The Alchemist brings to mind The
LittlePrincebySaint-ExupéryandThe
Prophet by Khalil Gibran, as well as
biblicalparables.”
—GazetaWymborcza(Poland)
“The Alchemist is a beautiful and
heartwarming story with an exotic
flavor…. You may or may not agree
withPauloCoelho’sphilosophy,butit’s
nonetheless a tale that comforts our
heartsasmuchasoursouls.”
—Bergensavisen(Norway)
“The Alchemist is like a modern-day
The Little Prince. A supreme and
simplebook.”
—MiloradPavic(Serbia)
“Among Latin American writers, only
Columbia’s Gabriel Garcia Marquez is
more widely read than Brazil’s Paulo
Coelho.”
—TheEconomist
ALSOBYPAULOCOELHO
ThePilgrimage:AContemporary
QuestforAncientWisdom
TheValkyries:AnEncounterwith
Angels
BytheRiverPiedraISatDownand
Wept
TheFifthMountain
TheIllustratedAlchemist
VeronikaDecidestoDie
CREDITS
Coverdesign:DoreenLouie
Coverphotograph�byJ.
Sims/FPGInternational
Copyright
ThisbookisanEnglishversionofO
Alquimista,thePortugueseoriginal
edition,publishedinBrazilbyEditora
RoccoLtd.(RiodeJaneiro).Copyright
©1988byPauloCoelho.Thisedition
waspreparedbyAlanR.Clarkein
consultationwithPauloCoelho.
THEALCHEMIST.Copyright©1993
byPauloCoelho.Allrightsreserved
underInternationalandPan-American
CopyrightConventions.Bypaymentof
therequiredfees,youhavebeen
grantedthenon-exclusive,nontransferablerighttoaccessandreadthe
textofthise-bookon-screen.Nopartof
thistextmaybereproduced,
transmitted,down-loaded,decompiled,
reverseengineered,orstoredinor
introducedintoanyinformationstorage
andretrievalsystem,inanyformorby
anymeans,whetherelectronicor
mechanical,nowknownorhereinafter
invented,withouttheexpresswritten
permissionofHarperCollinse-books™.
ePubeditionJuly2005ISBN
9780061741241
LibraryofCongressCataloging-inPublicationDatahasbeenordered.
ISBN0–06–250217–4(cloth)
ISBN0–06–250218–2(paperback)
10987654321
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