Like the Flowing River

'Can't you?' the Queen said in a pitying tone. 'Try again:

draw a long breath, and shut your eyes.'

Alice laughed. 'There's no use trying,' she said: 'one

can't believe impossible things.'

'I daresay you haven't had much practice,' said the

Queen. 'When I was your age, I always did it for half-an—

hour a day. Why, sometimes, I've believed as many as six

impossible things before breakfast.'

Life is constantly telling us: 'Believe!' Believing that a miracle could happen at any moment is necessary for our happiness, but also for our protection and to justify our existence. In today's world, many people think it is impossible to do away with poverty, to bring about a just society, and to lessen the religious tension that appears to be growing with each day.

Most people avoid the struggle for the most diverse of reasons: conformism, age, a sense of the ridiculous, a feeling of impotence. We see our fellow human beings being treated unjustly and we say nothing. 'I'm not going to get involved in fights unnecessarily' is the excuse given.

This is the attitude of the coward. Anyone travelling a spiritual path carries with him a code of honour that must be obeyed. A voice crying out against wrongdoing is always heard by God.

Even so, sometimes we hear the following remark: 'I live my life believing in dreams, and I often do my best to combat injustice, but I always end up disappointed.'

A warrior of light knows that certain impossible battles nevertheless deserve to be fought, which is why he is not afraid of disappointments, for he knows the power of his sword and the strength of his love. He vehemently rejects those who are incapable of taking decisions and are always trying to shift responsibility for all the bad things that happen in the world onto someone else.

If he does not struggle against what is wrong - even if it seems beyond his strength - he will never find the right road.

Arash Hejazi once sent me the following note: 'Today, I got caught in a heavy shower while walking alon

g the street. Fortunately, I had my umbrella and my rain-cape; however, both were in the boot of my car, which was parked some way away. While I was running to get them, I thought about the strange signal I was receiving from God: we always have the necessary resources to face the storms that life throws at us, but most of the time, those resources are locked up in the depths of our heart, and we waste an enormous amount of time trying to find them. By the time we've found them, we have already been defeated by adversity.'

Let us, therefore, always be prepared; otherwise, we either miss an opportunity or lose the battle.

The Storm Approaches

I know that a storm is coming because I can look far into the distance and see what is happening on the horizon. Of course, the light helps - the sun is setting, and that always emphasizes the shapes of the clouds. I can see flickers of lightning, too.

There is not a sound to be heard. The wind is blowing neither more nor less strongly than before, but I know there is going to be a storm because I am used to studying the horizon.

I stop walking. There is nothing more exciting or more terrifying than watching a storm approach. My first thought is to seek shelter, but that could prove dangerous. A shelter can turn out to be a trap - soon the wind will start to blow and will be strong enough to tear off roof tiles, break branches and bring down electricity lines.

I remember an old friend of mine who lived in Normandy as a child and who witnessed the Allied landing in Nazi-occupied France. I'll never forget his words: 'I woke up, and the horizon was full of warships. On the beach beside my house, the German soldiers were watching the same scene, but what terrified me most was the silence. The total silence that precedes a life-or-death struggle.'

It is that same silence that surrounds me now, and which is gradually being replaced by the sound - very soft - of the breeze in the maize fields around me. The atmospheric pressure is changing. The storm is getting closer and closer, and the silence is beginning to give way to the gentle rustling of leaves.

I have witnessed many storms in my life. Most storms have taken me by surprise, and so I've had to learn - and very quickly too - to look farther off, to understand that I cannot control the weather, to practise the art of patience, and to respect nature's fury. Things do not always happen the way I would have wanted, and it's best that I get used to that.

Many years ago, I wrote a song that said: 'I lost my fear of the rain because when the rain falls to earth it always brings with it something of the air.' It's best to master my fear, to be worthy of the words I wrote, and to understand that, however bad the storm, it will eventually pass.

The wind has begun to blow harder. I am in open countryside and there are trees on the horizon that, at least in theory, will attract the lightning. My skin is waterproof, even if my clothes get soaked. So it is best simply to enjoy what I'm seeing rather than go racing off in search of safety.

Another half an hour passes. My grandfather, who was an engineer, liked to teach me the laws of physics while we were out having fun together: 'After a lightning flash, count the seconds before the next peal of thunder and multiply by 340 metres, which is the speed of sound. That way, you'll always know how far off the thunder is.' A little complicated, perhaps, but I've been doing that calculation since I was a child, and I know that, right now, this storm is two kilometres away.

There is still enough light for me to be able to see the shape of the clouds. They are the sort pilots refer to as Cb - cumulonimbus. These are shaped like anvils, as if a blacksmith were hammering the skies, forging swords for furious gods who must, at this moment, be immediately over the town of Tarbes.

I can see the storm approaching. As with any storm, it brings with it destruction, but it also waters the fields; and, with the rain, falls the wisdom of the heavens. As with any storm, it will pass. The more violent the storm, the more quickly it will pass.

I have, thank God, learned to face storms.