Like the Flowing River - Page 31

'I arrived here with only two items of clothing, and when I had been here for two weeks, a mouse started nibbling one of them and...'

But no one was interested in the end of the story; they were sure that he was simply an astute businessman trying to invent a legend that would justify him putting up the price of a stay at the temple still more.

The Tea Ceremony

In Japan, I took part in a tea ceremony. You go into a small room, tea is served, and that's it really, except that everything is done with so much ritual and ceremony that a banal daily event is transformed into a moment of communion with the universe.

The tea master, Okakura Kakuzo, explains what happens:

'The ceremony is a way of worshipping the beautiful and the simple. All one's efforts are concentrated on trying to achieve perfection through the imperfect gestures of daily life. Its beauty consists in the respect with which it is performed. If a mere cup of tea can bring us closer to God, we should watch out for all the other dozens of opportunities that each ordinary day offers us.'

The Cloud and the Sand Dune

'As everyone knows, the life of a cloud is very busy and very short,' writes Bruno Ferrero. And here's a related story.

A young cloud was born in the midst of a great storm over the Mediterranean Sea, but he did not even have time to grow up there, for a strong wind pushed all the clouds over towards Africa.

As soon as the clouds reached the continent, the climate changed. A bright sun was shining in the sky and, stretched out beneath them, lay the golden sands of the Sahara. Since it almost never rains in the desert, the wind continued pushing the clouds towards the forests in the south.

Meanwhile, as happens with young humans too, the young cloud decided to leave his parents and his older friends in order to discover the world.

'What are you doing?' cried the wind. 'The desert's the same all over. Rejoin the other clouds, and we'll go to Central Africa where there are amazing mountains and trees!'

But the young cloud, a natural rebel, refused to obey, and, gradually, he dropped down until he found a gentle, generous breeze that allowed him to hover over the golden sands. After much toing and froing, he noticed that one of the dunes was smiling at him.

He saw that the dune was also young, newly formed by the wind that had just passed over. He fell in love with her golden hair right there and then.

'Good morning,' he said. 'What's life like down there?'

'I have the company of the other dunes, of the sun and the wind, and of the caravans that occasionally pass through here. Sometimes it's really hot, but it's still bearable. What's life like up there?'

'We have the sun and wind too, but the good thing is that I can travel across the sky and see more things.'

'For me,' said the dune, 'life is short. When the wind returns from the forests, I will disappear.'

'And does that make you sad?'

'It makes me feel that I have no purpose in life.'

'I feel the same. As soon as another wind comes along, I'll go south and be transformed into rain; but that is my destiny.'

The dune hesitated for a moment, then said:

'Did you know that here in the desert, we call the rain paradise?'

'I had no idea I could ever be that important,' said the cloud proudly.

'I've heard other older dunes tell stories about the rain. They say that, after the rain, we are all covered with grass and flowers. But I'll never experience that, because in the desert it rains so rarely.'

It was the cloud's turn to hesitate now. Then he smiled broadly and said:

'If you like, I could rain on you now. I know I've only just got here, but I love you, and I'd like to stay here for ever.'

'When I first saw you up in the sky, I fell in love with you too,' said the dune. 'But if you transform your lovely white hair into rain, you will die.'

'Love never dies,' said the dune. 'It is transformed, and, besides, I want to show you what paradise is like.'

And he began to caress the dune with little drops of rain, so that they could stay together for longer, until a rainbow appeared.

Tags: Paulo Coelho Fiction
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