Monthly Archives: July 2008

The Man Who Saved Christmas

Free Writing

Christmas – only days away; plastic snowmen and glowing reindeer adorn the lawns of neighborhoods all across America. All is calm, all is bright, and yet there is something tragically wrong about this Christmas night.With swift passage through Congress, the Anti-Intolerance legislation was signed into law prohibiting the public display of religious symbols. The traditional centerpiece enjoyed by millions every Christmas, the Nativity Scene, is now gone.

This is one of those perennial issues that often stir emotions to the brink. But taking a lighter approach to the argument, wouldn’t it be fun if, somehow, through some bizarre chain of events, the person who most fervently opposes open displays of religion, became the mouthpiece from which a fictitious law like the Anti-Intolerance bill, was overturned?

This story brings to life a witty rendition of the political struggles fought every December over something as humble and yet powerful as the display of the Nativity Scene.

Warrior Of Light: The two drops of oil

Free Writing, , ,

Standing above the little town of Tarifa is an old fort built by the Moors. I remember sitting here with my wife, Christina, in 1982, and for the first time looking at a continent from across a narrow stretch of water: Africa. At that time I could not dream that such a lazy moment in the late afternoon would inspire a scene in my best-known book, “The Alchemist”. Nor could I have dreamed that the story that follows, heard in the car, would serve as an excellent example for all of us who are searching for some balance between discipline and compassion.

A merchant sent his son to learn the Secret of Happiness from the wisest of men. The young man wandered through the desert for forty days until he reached a beautiful castle at the top of a mountain. There lived the sage that the young man was looking for.

However, instead of finding a holy man, our hero entered a room and saw a great deal of activity; merchants coming and going, people chatting in the corners, a small orchestra playing sweet melodies, and there was a table laden with the most delectable dishes of that part of the world.

The wise man talked to everybody, and the young man had to wait for two hours until it was time for his audience.

With considerable patience, he listened attentively to the reason for the boy’s visit, but told him that at that moment he did not have the time to explain to him the Secret of Happiness.

He suggested that the young man take a stroll around his palace and come back in two hours’ time.

“However, I want to ask you a favor,” he added, handing the boy a teaspoon, in which he poured two drops of oil. “While you walk, carry this spoon and don’t let the oil spill.”

The young man began to climb up and down the palace staircases, always keeping his eyes fixed on the spoon. At the end of two hours he returned to the presence of the wise man.

“So,” asked the sage, “did you see the Persian tapestries hanging in my dining room? Did you see the garden that the Master of Gardeners took ten years to create? Did you notice the beautiful parchments in my library?”

Embarrassed, the young man confessed that he had seen nothing. His only concern was not to spill the drops of oil that the wise man had entrusted to him.

“So, go back and see the wonders of my world,” said the wise man. “You can’t trust a man if you don’t know his house.”

Now more at ease, the young man took the spoon and strolled again through the palace, this time paying attention to all the works of art that hung from the ceiling and walls. He saw the gardens, the mountains all around the palace, the delicacy of the flowers, the taste with which each work of art was placed in its niche. Returning to the sage, he reported in detail all that he had seen.

“But where are the two drops of oil that I entrusted to you?” asked the sage.

Looking down at the spoon, the young man realized that he had spilled the oil.

“Well, that is the only advice I have to give you,” said the sage of sages. “The Secret of Happiness lies in looking at all the wonders of the world and never forgetting the two drops of oil in the spoon.”

http://paulocoelhoblog.com/warrioroflight

www.warriorofthelight.com

Gratitude

Poetry

Thank you for every wispy, barely-there hair on her fragile skull
Thank you for her questing hands,
ever stronger with longer and longer reach,
that try to touch the world and bring it to her.

Thank you for her sturdy legs and feet
now planted to get a taller perspective on the world.

Thank you for her bright eyes, rosebud lips,
her eagerness to grasp and feel and taste
and know the world that daily expands around her.

Thank you for her skin,
especially those spots on her neck and belly
that distil that special blend of softness
and johnsons-baby-washedness that is the essence of babydom.

Thank you for the very selfness of her self,
the parts of us now parts of her,
the fizz in her eye,
the ready smile,
the chuckle deep in her throat when she’s really amused,
often by something small.

Thank you for all that she is and will become.
Thank you for my child.

Chronicles of the HEdge

Sci-Fi

Approaching the eve of the third millennium, there was great anticipation for the future of mankind. Optimism flourished, humanity teetered on the edge of the old order, ready to explode into the new. Slowly, however, the darker side of human nature once again manifested itself. The quest for power became paramount to all else; teritorial politics and class battles became the cry of the day. Dreams of the perfect world began to fade.

These struggles saw many groups fall from the political landscape. As with the early Church, those professing a Christian faith became outcasts. Under heavy persecution, they were forced to practice their faith in secret underground enclaves. Their persecutors were determined to finish the Christian genocide that had begun over two thousand years ago. In spite of the ever-looming threat of capture, a brave band of evangelists join forces to preach the Gospel to a hostile world. John Rex, one of the leaders of this underground network, is the focus of HEdge’s search-and-destroy mission.

Mercilessly hunting down his prey, Roderick Banchard is just as devoted to his evil campaign as the Christians are to their evangelistic cause. Disaster, cleverly contrived by Banchard and his HEdge soldiers, strike the Christians at every turn. Good and evil clash, and Rex’s mission is nearly crushed as he is forced to make a seemingly hopeless choice.

With everything at stake, the world watches as one man, forced to choose between two loves, is thrust center-stage in a global confrontation. Ultimately, the inhabitants of Earth are issued a warning they must heed before it’s too late.

Crosses

Poetry

Here, beneath summer showers,

Where lilac’s scent and thoughts

Hang heavy, he gathers memories

Of the not so distant past —

 

Faces, places, voices

He wishes he had long

Ago forgotten.

 

Yet, they drone on —

Like the beat of a drummer

In a marching band,

Continually tapping the same

Monotonous rhythm with each

Step he takes.

 

He ponders choices —

Good, bad, indifferent —

They were his to make.

 

But, these thoughts —

These memories that

Plague him, are what

Affect him most —

 

For often he feels —

In some strange, twisted

Way — they have chosen him —

Now, his cross to carry.