The traveler continues his journey. He doesn't complain of boredom now; he complains, rather, that he is tired. But at that point he rests, enjoys the landscape, and then carries on.
Instead of spending his whole life destroying the roads he was afraid of following, he begins to love the road he is on.
Even if his final destination remains a mystery, even if, at some point, he makes a wrong decision, God sees his courage and sends him the necessary inspiration to put matters right.
What continues to trouble him is not what happens, but a fear that he won't know how to deal with it. Once he has decided to follow his path and has no alternative, he discovers that he has great willpower and that events bend to his decisions.
"Difficulty" is the name of an ancient tool that was created purely to help us define who we are.
Religions teach that faith and transformation are the only ways of drawing near to God.
Faith shows us that we are never alone.
Transformation helps us to love the mystery.
And when everything seems dark, and we feel alone and helpless, we won't look back, for fear of seeing the changes that have taken place in our soul. We will look ahead.
We will not fear what happens tomorrow, because yesterday we had someone watching over us.
And that same Presence will remain at our side.
That Presence will shelter us from suffering.
Or It will give us the strength to face it with dignity.
We will go farther than we think. We will seek out the place where the morning star is born. And we will be surprised when we get there how much easier it was than we had imagined.
The Unwanted Visitor visits those who don't change and those who do. But those who did change can say: "My life was an interesting one. I didn't squander my blessing."
And to those who believe that adventures are dangerous, I say, try routine; that kills you far more quickly.
And someone said:
"When everything looks black, we need to raise our spirits. So, talk to us about beauty."
And he answered:
People always say: "It's inner beauty that matters, not outer beauty."
Well, that's not true.
If it were, why would flowers put so much energy into attracting bees? And why would raindrops transform themselves into a rainbow when they encounter the sun? Because nature longs for beauty, and is satisfied only when beauty can be exalted. Outer beauty is inner beauty made visible, and it manifests itself in the light that flows from our eyes. It doesn't matter if a person is badly dressed or doesn't conform to our idea of elegance, or even if he isn't concerned about impressing other people. The eyes are the mirror of the soul and reflect everything that seems to be hidden; and, like a mirror, they also reflect the person looking into them. So if the person looking into someone's eyes has a dark soul, he will see only his own ugliness.
Beauty is present in all creation, but the dangerous fact is that, because we human beings are often cut off from the Divine Energy, we allow ourselves to be influenced by what other people think. We deny our own beauty because others can't or won't recognize it. Instead of accepting ourselves as we are, we try to imitate what we see around us. We try to be what other people think of as "pretty," and, little by little, our soul fades, our will weakens, and all the potential we had to make the world a more beautiful place withers away.
We forget that the world is what we imagine it to be.
We stop being the moonlight and become, instead, the pool of water reflecting it. Tomorrow, the water will evaporate in the sun. And all because, one day, someone said: "You are ugly." Or: "She is pretty." With those three simple words, they stole away all our self-confidence.
And we become ugly and embittered.
At that moment, we can draw comfort from so-called wisdom, an accumulation of ideas put together by people wishing to define the world instead of respecting the mystery of life. This "wisdom" consists of all the unnecessary rules, regulations, and measurements intended to establish a standard of behavior.
According to that false wisdom, we should not be concerned about beauty because it is superficial and ephemeral.
That isn't true. All the beings created under the sun, from birds to mountains, from flowers to rivers, reflect the miracle of creation.
If we resist the temptation to allow other people to define who we are, then we will gradually be able to let the sun inside our own soul shine forth.
Love passes by and says: "I never noticed you before."
And our soul responds: "Well, pay more attention, because here I am. It took a breeze to blow the dust from your eyes, but now that you have recognized me, don't leave me again, because all of us desire beauty."
Beauty exists not in sameness but in difference. Who could imagine a giraffe without its long neck or a cactus without its spines? The irregularity of the mountain peaks that surround us is what makes them so imposing. If we tried to make them all the same, they would no longer command our respect.
It is the imperfect that astonishes and attracts us.
When we look at a cedar tree, we don't think: "The branches should be all the same length." We think: "How strong it is."
When we see a snake, we never say: "He is crawling along the ground, while I am walking with head erect." We think: "He might be small, but his skin is colorful, his movements elegant, and he is more powerful than I."
When the camel crosses the desert and takes us to the place we want to reach, we never say: "He's humpbacked and has ugly teeth." We think: "He deserves my love for his loyalty and help. Without him, I would never be able to explore the world."
A sunset is always more beautiful when it is covered with irregularly shaped clouds, because only then can it reflect the many colors out of which dreams and poetry are made.
Pity those who think: "I am not beautiful. That's why Love has not knocked at my door." In fact, Love did knock, but when they opened the door, they weren't prepared to welcome Love in.
They were too busy trying to make themselves beautiful first, when, in fact, they were fine as they were.
They were trying to imitate others, when Love was looking for something original.
They were trying to reflect what came from outside, forgetting that the brightest light comes from within.
And a young man who would have to leave that night said:
"I was never sure which direction to take."
And he answered:
Like the sun, life spreads its light in all directions.
When we are born, we want everything at once and cannot control the energy we have been given.
But, if we want to make a fire, we have to focus all the sun's rays on one spot.
And the great secret that the Divine Energy revealed to the world was fire. Not just fire for burning, but the fire that transforms wheat into bread.
And there comes a moment when we need to focus that inner fire so that our life will have some meaning.
Then we ask the heavens: "But what meaning?"
Some immediately brush this question aside; it's bothersome, it won't let you sleep, and there's no easy answer. They are the ones who, later on, will live tomorrow as if it were yesterday.
And when the Unwanted Visitor arrives, they will say: "My life was too short; I squandered my blessing."
Others embrace the question, but since they don't know the answer, they start to read what was written by those who have already faced up to the challenge. And suddenly they find an answer which they judge to be correct.
When that happens, they become the slaves of that answer. They draw up laws intended to force others to accept what they believe to be the sole reason for existence. They build temples to justify it and courts for those who reject what they consider to be the absolute truth.
Finally, there are those who saw at once that the question was a trap; there is no answer.
Instead of wasting time grappling with that trap, they decide to
act. They go back to their childhood and look for what filled them with enthusiasm then and--disregarding the advice of their elders--devote their life to it.
Because Enthusiasm is the Sacred Fire.
They slowly discover that their actions are linked to a mysterious impulse beyond human knowledge. And they bow their heads as a sign of respect for that mystery and pray that they will not be diverted from a path they do not know, a path which they have chosen to travel because of the flame burning in their hearts.
They use their intuition when they can and resort to discipline when intuition fails them.
They seem quite mad. And sometimes they behave like mad people, but they are not mad. They have discovered true Love and Will.
And those two things reveal the goal and the direction that they should follow.
Their will is crystalline, their Love is pure, and their steps determined. In moments of doubt or sadness, they never forget: "I am an instrument. Allow me to be an instrument capable of manifesting Your Will."
They have chosen their road, and they may understand what their goal is only when they find themselves before the Unwanted Visitor. That is the beauty of the person who continues onward with enthusiasm and respect for the mystery of life as his only guide; his road is beautiful and his burden light.
The goal can be large or small, it can be far away or right next door; he goes in search of it with respect and honor. He knows what each step means and how much it cost in effort, training, and intuition.
He focuses not just on the goal to be reached, but on everything happening around him. He often has to stop because his strength fails him.
At such moments, Love appears and says: "You think you're heading toward a specific point, but the whole justification for the goal's existence lies in your love for it. Rest a little, but as soon as you can, get up and carry on. Because ever since your goal found out that you were traveling toward it, it has been running to meet you."
Those who ignore the question, those who answer it, and those who understand that the only way to confront it is to take action will all meet the same obstacles and be made happy by the same things, but only the person who accepts God's plan with humility and courage knows that he is on the right road.
And a woman who was getting on in years and had never found a husband said:
"Love has always passed me by."
And he answered:
In order to hear Love's words, you must allow Love to approach.
However, when it does draw near, we fear what it might say to us, because Love is free and is not ruled by our will or by what we do.
All lovers know this but refuse to accept it. They think they can seduce Love through submission, power, beauty, wealth, tears, and smiles.
True Love, however, is the love that seduces and will never allow itself to be seduced.
Love transforms, Love heals. But sometimes it lays deadly traps and ends up destroying the person who decided to surrender himself completely. How can the force that moves the world and keeps the stars in their places be at once so creative and so devastating?
We are used to thinking that what we give is the same as what we receive, but people who love expecting to be loved in return are wasting their time.
Love is an act of faith, not an exchange.
Contradictions are what make love grow. Conflicts are what allow love to remain by our side.
Life is too short for us to keep important words like "I love you" locked in our hearts.
But do not always expect to hear the same words back. We love because we need to love. Otherwise, love loses all meaning and the sun ceases to shine.
A rose dreams of enjoying the company of bees, but none appears. The sun asks:
"Aren't you tired of waiting?"
"Yes," answers the rose, "but if I close my petals, I will wither and die."
And yet, even when Love does not appear, we remain open to its presence. Sometimes, when loneliness seems about to crush everything, the only way to resist is to keep on loving.
Our great goal in life is to love. The rest is silence.
We need to love. Even when it leads us to the land where the lakes are made of tears--that secret, mysterious place, the land of tears!
Tears speak for themselves. And when we feel that we have cried all we needed to cry, they still continue to flow. And just when we believe that our life is destined to be a long walk through the Vale of Sorrows, the tears suddenly vanish.
Because we managed to keep our heart open, despite the pain.
Because we realized that the person who left us did not take the sun with them or leave darkness in their place. They simply left, and with every farewell comes a hidden hope.
It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Our one true choice is to plunge into the mystery of that uncontrollable force. We could say: "I've suffered greatly before, and I know that this won't last, either" and thus drive Love from our door. But if we did that, we would become dead to life.
Because Nature is a manifestation of the Love of God. Regardless of what we do, Nature continues to love us. Let us, therefore, respect and understand what Nature teaches us.
We love because Love sets us free, and we say things that we once never even had the courage to whisper to ourselves.
We make a decision that we kept putting off.
We learn to say no without thinking of that word as somehow cursed.
We learn to say yes without fearing the consequences.
We forget everything we were taught about Love, because each encounter is different and brings its own agonies and ecstasies.
We sing more loudly when the person we love is far away and whisper poems when he is near, even if he doesn't listen and pays no attention to either songs or whispers.
We don't close our eyes to the Universe and then complain: "It's dark." We keep our eyes wide open, knowing that the light could lead us to do undreamed-of things. That is all part of love.
Our heart is open to love and we surrender to it without fear, because we have nothing more to lose.
Then, when we go home, we discover that someone was there waiting for us, looking for the same thing and experiencing the same anxieties and longings.
Because love is like the water that is transformed into a cloud; it's lifted up into the heavens, where it can see everything from a distance, aware that one day it will have to return to Earth.
Because love is like the cloud that is transformed into rain; it is drawn down to the Earth, where it waters the fields.
Love is only a word, until we decide to let it possess us with all its force.
Love is only a word, until someone arrives to give it meaning.
Don't give up. Remember, it's always the last key on the key ring that opens the door.
However, one young man disagreed:
"Your words are beautiful, but the truth is that we never have much choice. Life and our community have already taken charge of planning our fate."
An old man added:
"And I can't go back and recover lost moments."
And he answered:
What I am about to say may be of no use on the eve of an invasion. Nevertheless, take note of my words so that, one day, everyone may know how we lived in Jerusalem.
After thinking a little, the Copt went on:
No one can go back, but everyone can go forward.
And tomorrow, when the sun rises, all you have to say to yourselves is:
I am going to think of this day as the first day of my life.
I will look on the members of my family with surprise and amazement, glad to discover that they are by my side, silently sharing that much talked about but little understood thing called love.
I will ask to join the first camel train that appears on the horizon, without asking where it is going. And I will leave it as soon as something more interesting catches my eye.
I will pass a beggar, who will as
k me for money. I might give it to him, or I might walk past him, thinking that he will only spend it on drink. As I do, I will hear his insults and understand that it is simply his way of communicating with me.
I will pass someone trying to destroy a bridge. I might try to stop him, or I might realize that he is doing it because he has no one waiting for him on the other side. This is his way of trying to fend off his own loneliness.
I will look at everything and everyone as if for the first time, especially the small things that I have grown used to, quite forgetting the magic surrounding them. The desert sands, for example, which are moved by an energy I cannot understand--because I cannot see the wind.
Instead of noting down things I'm unlikely to forget on the piece of parchment I always carry with me, I will write a poem. Even if I have never written one before and even if I never do so again, I will at least know that I once had the courage to put my feelings into words.
When I reach a small village that I know well, I will enter it by a different route. I will be smiling, and the inhabitants will say to one another: "He must be mad, because war and destruction have left the soil barren."
But I will keep smiling, because it pleases me to know that they think I am mad. My smile is my way of saying: "You can destroy my body, but not my soul."
Tonight, before leaving, I'm going to spend time sorting through the pile of things I never had the patience to put in order. And I will find that a little of my history is there. All the letters, the notes, the cuttings and receipts will take on their own life and have strange stories to tell me--about the past and about the future. All the different things in the world, all the roads traveled, all the entrances and exits of my life.
I am going to put on a shirt I often wear, and, for the first time, I am going to notice how it was made. I am going to imagine the hands that wove the cotton and the river where the fibers of the plant were born. I will understand that all those now invisible things are a part of the history of my shirt.
And even the things I am accustomed to--like the sandals which, after long use, have become an extension of my feet--will be clothed in the mystery of discovery.
Since I am heading off into the future, I will be helped by the scuff marks left on my sandals from when I stumbled in the past.