After just finishing Paulo Coelho’s “The Alchemist” I have to say that it is quite possibly one of my favourite books. It was a brief rendition of a long journey filled with parables of wisdom that the main character Santiago took to heart.
I so needed to read this book. It was recommended to me from a few different sources, and I am so glad I did. I do not want to give the whole story away here, because I hope if you have not read it yet, that you will check it out.
I could relate to some of Santiago’s challenges, and the emotional effects that life’s challenges can erupt within us.
One of many portions of the story that affected me was as follows:
He was in a foreign land, did not speak the language, but found someone who spoke his dialect, and because of that common ground he trusted him, or perhaps had no choice but to hope he could trust him. This person snuck off with all of Santiago’s money. Santiago had just sold all he had worked for, for that money. It was all he had. That portion actually brought me to tears when thinking about it. Santiago had everything of financial value taken from him. He was left with nothing, and for a moment he wanted to never trust anyone again. He was angry and hurt. I’ve been there, just wanting to hate the person, or thing that you feel has taken all of what you have as valuable. He thought for a moment why am I on this journey, I shouldn’t even have been here. I have been there too. Why did I make this stupid choice to be here? But often times it is not stupidity that leads us somewhere, but our heart. Perhaps at times they are two and the same.
Sometimes we feel we can trust friends, and family, but perhaps they are not who we think they are. So many children nowadays grow up without fathers single mothers everywhere struggle to do what is right for their children. Many mothers end up feeling guilty for having raised them alone, but that is not necessarily their fault. In many cases children are better off without the influence of certain family members. I heard once that family is not predominately by blood, but more so by choice.
I know for myself growing up without a father did not seem like the end of the world. I had a wonderful mother who loved me more then I think is humanly possible, it is a love that I still do not fully understand. Her answer to me when I ask how is it that you love me so much is simply that I am hers. But I was his too, and he never had to sense to understand what that meant, how could I expect that he would act out of love if he did not understand? Perhaps in his way he loves me, but I have been hurt for too many years. Perhaps subconsciously hoping for a “real” dad, whatever that meant. A man who would love me no matter what I did or became. Who would be proud of my achievements, and perhaps disappointed at my bad choices a man who would be a father. He was never there for me, or my mother. He never even had a chance to know who I was, over the span of his life and our short shallow conversations he never knew me.
I only hope that the hurt inside does not linger, that hate does not grow. Life is too short to give the power of my future to someone who was never there for me to begin with. Not to ever make the wonderful woman who poured her life into mine as though she did anything but the best for me. Even if I could have handpicked my own mother I would not have been able to pick a more extraordinary woman.
This entry was supposed to be about the prodigal, and it is. The book affected me on so many levels. It made me think about my family, my choices, my journey in life, my dreams, my strengths, the things that have hurt me. It made me think of the stupidity that religion so obviously prescribes sometimes. I think I could make a list of all my stupid choices, but what would that help? I do not know. Sometimes it helps to talk about the thinks that hurt us, so we can let it go move on with our lives sans the pain, the guilt, the depression.
I feel like I want to read the book again. Read the end again, although I already went back and read the end a second time. Perhaps I did not fully understand the book, or how it ended, but I know that it helped me. I know that it is definitely one of the best books I have read in a long time. Perhaps I will write more about it later. If you are reading this and you have read the book send me your thoughts about it.
I think I feel a little more vulnerable since reading it, as if my heart is right at the surface, perhaps trying to speak to me like Santiago’s spoke to him. Unlike Santiago I do not think that I know how to understand the voice of the Soul of the World. I used to think I did, the older I get the more I think that I do not understand much. I was told that is what happens, but never really thought it would happen to me. I guess I am ok with it.
Either way, read “The Alchemist”
Sincerely,
The Prodigal
