pty. Just as you
can read an  entire encyclopedia  about love without knowing how to love. No
one will ever prove that  God exists. Certain things in life simply have  to
be experienced -- and never  explained. Love is such  a thing. God -- who is
love  --  is also  such  a thing. Faith  is a  childhood experience, in that
magical sense that Jesus taught us: 'Children are the kingdom of  God.' "God
will never enter your head. The door that He uses is your heart."
     The abbot  always said that  Abbot Joseph had prayed so much that he no
longer had anything to worry about -- his passions had been conquered. Those
words reached the ears of one of the wise men at the monastery of Sceta, who
called his novitiates  together after their evening meal. "You have heard it
said that Abbot Joseph  has no  further  temptations to overcome," he  said.
"The lack of a struggle weakens the soul. Let us ask that the Lord send down
a powerful  temptation to Abbot Joseph. And, if he is able  to  resist  that
temptation, let us  ask for another and  another. And  when he is once again
struggling to resist temptation, let us pray that he never says: 'Lord, take
this  devil away.'  Let  us pray that  instead  he asks: 'Lord,  give me the
strength to win out over evil'"
     There  is a moment in every day  when it  is difficult to  see clearly:
evening time. Light and darkness  blend, and nothing is completely clear nor
completely  dark.  In most spiritual  traditions, this moment is  considered
holy.  The Catholic tradition  teaches us that we should say  a Hail Mary at
six o'clock in the evening. In the  Quechuan  tradition,  if we  run  into a
friend in the afternoon  and we are still with him  at evening time, we must
start  all  over,  greeting him again with  a "Good  evening." At  dusk, the
balance between man and the planet is tested. God mixes shadow and  light to
see  if  the Earth has the courage  to go on turning. If the  Earth  is  not
frightened by the darkness, night passes -- a new sun shines the next day.
     The German  philosopher,  Schopenhauer, was strolling along a street in
Dresden,  seeking the answers to questions  that bothered  him. Passing by a
garden, he  decided to sit and  look at the flowers. One of the residents of
the  neighborhood observed  the philosopher's strange behavior and  summoned
the police.  Minutes  later, an  officer  approached  Schopenhauer. "Who are
you," the officer asked brusquely.  Schopenhauer looked the policeman up and
down. "If  you can help  me find the answer  to that question," he  said, "I
will be eternally grateful to you."
     A  man searching for wisdom decided to go up into the mountains,  since
he had been told that every two years  God appeared there. During his  first
year there,  he  ate everything that the land had to  offer. Eventually, the
supply was exhausted, and he had to return to the city. "God is unfair!"  he
exclaimed. "Didn't he know that I waited for a year to hear his voice. I was
hungry  and  had to come back  to town." At  that moment, an angel appeared.
"God would  like very much to talk with you," the angel said. "For an entire
year  he fed you.  He was hoping that you would produce your own  food after
that.  But what did  you  plant? If a man is unable  to grow  fruit where he
lives, he is not ready to talk with God."
     People say,  "Well, it seems that freedom for  man consists of choosing
his  own brand  of  slavery. I work  eight  hours a  day, and  if  I  get  a
promotion, I'll have to work  twelve. I got married, and now I  have no time
to myself. I looked for God, and now I have to attend cult  meetings, masses
and other religious ceremonies. Everything that's important in life -- love,
work, faith --  winds up becoming  a burden that's too  heavy  to bear." The
master  says: "Only love allows us to escape. Only love  turns slavery  into
freedom. If we cannot love, it is better to stop now. Jesus said: 'Better to
be  blind in one eye than for  the entire body to perish in darkness.' "Hard
words. But true."
     A hermit fasted for an entire year, eating only once a week. After this
sacrifice,  he asked that God reveal to him the  true meaning  of a  certain
passage  in  the Bible. No response  was heard. "What  a waste of time," the
hermit said  to himself.  "I  gave up so much, and  God didn't even  answer!
Better to leave  these parts and  find  a monk  who knows the meaning of the
verse." At that moment, an  angel appeared. "The  twelve months  of  fasting
served only  to  make you believe that you were better than  others, and God
does not answer a vain person,"  the angel said. "But when you were  humble,
and sought help from others, God  sent me." And the angel  explained what he
wanted to know.
     The master says: "Notice how certain words were formed  so  as  to show
their  meaning clearly. "Let us  take  the word  "preoccupation." It  can be
divided in  two: "pre" and  "occupation."  It  means to occupy  oneself with
something  before it happens. "Who,  in the entire universe, could have  the
gift of occupying himself with a thing that has not yet happened?  Never  be
preoccupied. Be attentive to your destiny and to your path. Learn everything
you need  to know in order to handle the bright  sword entrusted to you. Pay
attention to how  your friends, your masters and  your  enemies fight. Train
yourself sufficiently, but do not commit the worst of errors: believing that
you know what kind of blow your adversary is going to deliver."
     Friday comes, you go home,  and  you pick up the  newspapers  that  you
weren't  able to  read during the  week. You turn on the television with the
sound off. You  put on a cassette  tape. You use the remote  control to jump
from one channel to the other, as you try to turn the pages of the paper and
listen to the music.  The papers  contain nothing  new, the  TV programs are
repetitious,  and you've  already heard the  cassette dozens of times.  Your
wife is  attending  to the children, sacrificing  her youthful years without
really  understanding why  she  is doing so. An excuse occurs to you: "Well,
that's the way life is." No, that's not the way life is. Life is enthusiasm.
Try to remember  where it  was that you hid away your  enthusiasm. Take your
wife and children with you and try  to find it again, before it's  too late.
Love never kept anyone from following his dream.
     On  Christmas Eve, the wanderer and his  wife did an evaluation of  the
year  that  was  about  to end. During dinner at the  only  restaurant  in a
village in the Pyrenees, the wanderer began to complain about something that
hadn't  gone the way  he thought  it should  have.  His wife  stared at  the
Christmas tree decorating  the restaurant. The wanderer thought that she was
no longer interested in the conversation, and  changed the subject:  "Aren't
the lights on the tree pretty!" he said. "They are," his wife answered. "But
if you look  closely, among the dozens of bulbs there is one that has burned
out. It seems to me that, instead of seeing  the past year in  terms  of the
dozens of blessings that illuminated it, you are fixating on  the only  bulb
that illuminated nothing."
     "Look  at  that humble  holy man, walking  the road", said one devil to
another. "I think I'll go over there and conquer his soul." "He won't listen
to you, because he is concerned only with holy  things," said his companion.
But the devil, in his usual ardent fashion, dressed himself as the Archangel
Gabriel, and appeared before  the holy man.  "I have come  to help you,"  he
said. "You must have me confused with someone else,"  answered the holy man.
"I have done nothing in my life  to deserve the  attention of an angel." And
he continued on his way, never knowing what he had avoided.
     A friend of the wanderer went to a play on Broadway, and went out for a
drink  during  the intermission.  The  lobby  was crowded, and  people  were
smoking,  talking and  drinking. A pianist was playing, but  no one paid any
attention to his  music. The wanderer's friend sipped  her drink and studied
the  musician. He seemed  bored -- just doing  his job and  waiting  for the
intermission  to  end.  After  another drink, and  feeling  a bit  high, she
approached the  piano. "You're a pain in the  neck! Why don't you play  just
for yourself?" she exclaimed. The pianist  was  surprised. And then he began
to play the kind of music he liked.  In just a few minutes, the entire lobby
fell silent. When the song was over, there was enthusiastic applause.
     Saint Francis of Assisi was a very popular young man when he decided to
leave  it  all  behind and do his life's  work. Saint Clare  was a beautiful
young woman when she took her vow of chastity. Saint  Raimundo Lull knew the
great intellectuals  of  his  time when he  went off  into  the desert.  The
spiritual quest is, above all, a challenge. Whoever uses it to flee from his
problems will not go very far.  It does  no good for someone who cannot make
friends to retire from the  world.  It accomplishes nothing to take a vow of
poverty if you are already unable to earn a living. And it makes no sense to
become humble  if one is already a coward. It is one thing to have something
and give it up. It is another not to have something and to condemn those who
have. It is easy for a weak man to go around preaching absolute charity, but
what good is it? The  master says: "Praise the Lord's work. Conquer yourself
as you confront the world."
     It is easy to be difficult. All we have to do is stay away from people,
and  in that way, avoid  suffering.  That way, we don't have  to  risk love,
disappointment, frustrated dreams. It is easy to be difficult. We don't have
to be concerned about phone calls we should have made, people who ask us for
help, charity that should be extended. It is easy to  be difficult. We  just
have to pretend that we  live in an ivory  tower, and never shed  a tear. We
just have to spend  the rest of our lives  playing  a role. It is easy to be
difficult. All we have to do is reject everything good that life offers.
     The  patient said to his physician,  "Doctor,  I am ruled by fear,  and
fear  has  taken  away  all joy." "Here  in my office, there is a mouse that
nibbles  at  my  books,"  the doctor said.  "If I become desperate  over the
mouse, he  will hide from me, and I'll do nothing else with my life but hunt
for  him. Instead, I have put  all of my best books in a safe  place,  and I
allow him to eat at some of the others.  That way, he continues to be only a
mouse,  and not a monster.  Fear a few things,  and  concentrate all of your
fear on them -- so you can be courageous in facing the important things."
     The master says: "Often it is easier to love than to be  loved. We find
it  hard  to accept  the help and support of others. Our  attempts to appear
independent  deprive  others  of the opportunity to  demonstrate their love.
Many  parents,  in their old age,  rob their children of the  chance to show
them the same affection and support they received as children. Many husbands
(and  wives),  when  they  are  overtaken  by affliction,  feel  ashamed  at
depending upon others.  As a result, the waters of  love do  not spread. You
should accept  a  gesture of love from someone. You have to allow  others to
help  you,  to give you the strength to go on. If  you accept such love with
purity  and  humility,  you will understand that Love  is neither giving nor
receiving -- it is participating."
     Eve was walking through the Garden of Eden, when the serpent approached
her. "Eat this apple," he said. Eve, well taught by God, refused.  "Eat this
apple," the serpent insisted. "Because you have to become more beautiful for
your husband." "I don't need it," Eve answered. "He has no one else but me."
The serpent laughed: "Of course he  does." Since Eve did not believe him, he
took her to the top  of a hill where there was a  well.  "She's  down there.
That's where Adam  hid  her."  Eve  looked  in  and saw  a  beautiful  woman
reflected in the water. And then she ate the apple the snake offered.
     Excerpts  from a "Letter to my Heart:"  "My heart, I will never condemn
you or criticize you. Nor will I ever be  ashamed  of  what  you say. I know
that you  are  a beloved child  of God, and that He protects  you  within  a
glorious and loving radiance. I believe in you, my heart. I am on your side,
and I will always ask for blessing in my prayers. I will always ask that you
find the help and support you  need.  I believe in you, my heart. I  believe
that you will share your love with anyone who  needs or deserves it. That my
path is your path, and that we will walk together  to the Holy Spirit. I ask
of  you: trust in me. Know that I love you and that I am trying to give  you
all the freedom you need  to continue beating joyfully in  my breast. I will
do everything  I  can so that you never  feel uncomfortable with my presence
surrounding you."
     The master says: "When we decide to act,  it is natural that unexpected
conflict should arise.  It is natural that we will be wounded as a result of
such conflict.  Wounds heal:  they stay  on as scars, and that is  blessing.
Such scars stay with  us for the rest of our lives, and are of great help to
us.  If at some  point -- for whatever reason -- our desire to return to the
past  is strong, we have  only to  look at our scars. Scars are the marks of
handcuffs, and remind us of the  horrors of prison -- and with that reminder
we move forward again."
     In his Epistle to the Corinthians, Saint  Paul tells us that  sweetness
is one  of the main characteristics of love.  Let  us  never forget: love is
tenderness.  A  rigid soul does not  allow the  hand of God  to mold  it  in
accordance with His desires. The wanderer was traveling a narrow road in the
north of Spain, when he saw a man stretched out in a bed of flowers. "Aren't
you  crushing those flowers?" the wanderer  asked. "No,"  the man  answered.
"I'm trying to take a bit their sweetness from them."
     The master says: "Pray every day. Even if your prayers are wordless and
ask for nothing, and can hardly be understood. Make a habit of your prayers.
If that is difficult at the  beginning, decide for yourself: 'I am going  to
pray every day this week.' And renew that promise for each of the next seven
days. Remember that you are creating not only a  more intimate link with the
spiritual world;  you  are also training  your will. It  is  through certain
practices that we  develop the  discipline needed for life's combat. It does
no good to forget the resolution one  day  and pray twice the  next.  Nor to
pray seven times the same day, and go  through the rest of the week thinking
that you  have completed  your task. Certain  things have to  occur with the
right pace and rhythm."
     An evil man, about  to die, meets an  angel  at the gates to  Hell. The
angel says to him: "It is enough for you to have done one good thing in your
life,  and  that  will  help you."  "Think  hard,"  the angel said. The  man
remembers that one time, as he was walking through a forest, he saw a spider
in his path and detoured so as  not  to  step on it.  The angel smiles and a
spider web comes down from the  sky, allowing the man to ascend to Paradise.
Others among the condemned take advantage of the web,  and begin to make the
climb. But the man turns  on them and begins to push them off, fearing  that
the web will break.  At that  moment, it  breaks, and the man is once  again
returned to Hell. "What  a pity," the man hears the angel say. "Your concern
with yourself turned the only good thing you ever did into evil."
     The master says: "A crossroad is a holy  place. There, the pilgrim  has
to  make  a  decision.  That  is  why the  gods  usually  sleep and  eat  at
crossroads. Where roads cross, two great forces are concentrated -- the path
that will be chosen, and the path to be ignored. Both are transformed into a
single  path,  but  only  for  a short period of time. The pilgrim may rest,
sleep a bit, and  even consult with the gods that inhabit the crossroad. But
no one can remain there forever: once his choice is made, he has to move on,
without thinking  about the path he has  rejected.  Otherwise, the crossroad
becomes a curse."
     Humanity  has  committed some of its worst crimes  in  the  name of the
truth. Men and women  have been burned at  the stake. The entire culture  of
some civilizations has been destroyed. Those who committed the sin of eating
meat  were  kept at  a  distance.  Those who sought  a  different  path were
ostracized. One person, in the name of truth,  was crucified. But --  before
He  died -- He  left us a great  definition  of the  Truth. It  is  not what
provides us with certitudes. It is  not what makes us better than others. It
is not  what we  keep within the prison of our preconceived ideas. The Truth
is what makes  us free. "Know the Truth, and the truth will make thee free,"
He said.
     One of the monks at the monastery at Sceta committed a grave error, and
the wisest of hermits was summoned  by the  brothers to judge  him. The wise
hermit did not want to come, but the group was so insistent  that he agreed.
Before  he left his place, though, he took a  bucket and made  some holes in
its  bottom.  Then,  he  filled it  with sand, and began  his  walk  to  the
monastery. The father  superior, noticing the bucket, asked what it was for.
"I have come  to judge another," the hermit said. "My  sins are running  out
behind me, as does the sand in this bucket. But, since I  do not look behind
me,  and  cannot see my  own  sins, I  am able to  judge another." The monks
immediately decided not to proceed with the judgment.
     Written on the wall of a small church in  the Pyrenees: "Lord, may this
candle I  have just lit Make  light, And illuminate me when I  have problems
and make decisions. May it  make fire, So that You can burn away my egotism,
pride and  impurity. May it  make a flame, So that You can warm my heart and
teach  me to love. I  cannot remain for  long in Your church. But in leaving
this candle, a bit of  myself remains here. Help  me to extend  my prayer to
the activities of this day. Amen."
     A friend of the wanderer decided to spend a few weeks at a monastery in
Nepal.  One afternoon, he entered one of the many  temples of the monastery,
and saw a smiling monk seated on the altar. "Why are you smiling," he asked.
"Because I understand the  meaning  of bananas," said the monk,  opening his
bag and taking out a rotten banana. "This is a life that ran its course, and
was not made use of -- and now it is too late." Then he removed from his bag
a banana that was still green. He showed it  to the man, and put  it back in
his  bag. "This is a life that has not yet  run  its course, and  awaits the
right moment," he said. Finally, he took from  his bag a ripe banana, peeled
it, and  shared it with the man, saying: "This is  the present  moment. Know
how to live it without fear."
     A woman friend had gone out  with  the exact amount of money she needed
to take her son  to  the movies. The boy was excited, and every minute asked
his mother how long  it would take to  get there. When she was  stopped at a
traffic  light, she saw a beggar seated on the sidewalk. "Give all the money
you have with you to him," she  heard a voice say. The woman argued with the
voice. She had promised to take her son to  the  movies. "Give  it all," the
voice insisted.  "I can give  him half, and my  son can go in alone while  I
wait outside," she said. But the voice didn't want to  discuss  it. "Give it
all!" She had no time to explain it  all to the boy. She stopped the car and
held out all  the money she had  to the  beggar. "God  exists, and you  have
proved  it to me," the  beggar said.  "Today is  my birthday. I was sad, and
ashamed to be begging. So, I decided not to beg: if God exists, he will give
me a present."
     A man is walking  through a small village in the middle of  a downpour,
and sees a house burning. As  he approaches it, he sees a  man surrounded by
flames seated  in  the living  room.  "Hey, your  house  is  on fire!",  the
traveler shouts. "I  know that,"  the man answers. "Well then, why don't you
get out?" "Because it's raining," says the  man.  "My mother  always told me
you can catch pneumonia going out in the rain." Zao Chi's comment about  the
fable: "Wise is the man who can leave a  situation when  he sees that  he is
forced to do so."
     In certain magic traditions,  disciples devote  one  day a year -- or a
weekend  if it  is needed -- to enter into contact with the objects in their
home. They touch each  object and  ask aloud: "Do I  really need this?" They
take the  books from their shelves: "Will I ever  reread this?" They examine
each souvenir they have kept:  "Do I  still consider  the  moment  that this
object reminds me of to be important?" They open  all of their closets: "How
long  is  it  since I wore this?  Do I really  need  it?" The  master  says:
"Objects  have  their  own  energy.  When they are not used, they turn  into
standing water in the house -- a good place for rot and  for  mosquitos. You
must be attentive, and allow that energy to flow freely. If you keep what is
old, the new has no place in which to manifest itself."
     There is an old Peruvian legend that tells of a city where everyone was
happy. Its  inhabitants did  as they  pleased, and got  along well with each
other.  Except for the mayor, who was sad  because he had nothing to govern.
The jail was empty, the court was never used, and the notary office produced
nothing, because a man's word was worth  more than the paper  it was written
on. One day, the mayor called in some workmen from a distant  place to build
an enclosure at the  center of the village's  main  square. For  a week, the
sound of hammers and saws could be heard. At the end of the week, the  mayor
invited  everyone in the village to the  inauguration. With great solemnity,
the  fence  boards were  removed and  there could be seen...a  gallows.  The
people  asked  each other what the gallows  was doing  there. In fear,  they
began to  use the court to resolve anything that before  had been settled by
mutual agreement. They  went to the notary office to register documents that
recorded what before  had simply  been a man's  word. And they began to  pay
attention to what the mayor said, fearing the law. The legend says  that the
gallows never was used. But its presence changed everything.
     The master says: "From now on -- and for the next few hundred years  --
the  universe is going  to  boycott  all those have  preconceived ideas. The
energy of  the Earth  has  to be renewed. New ideas need space. The body and
the  soul need new challenges. The future is  knocking on our door,  and all
ideas  -- except those that  are based  upon preconceptions -- will  have  a
chance  to  appear.  What is  important  will remain; what  is  useless will
disappear. But  let  each person judge only his own concepts. We are not the
judges of the  dreams of others. In order  to have faith in our own path, it
is not necessary to prove  that another's  path is wrong. One who  does that
does not believe in his own steps."
     Life is like a great bike race, the goal of which is to live  one's own
Personal  Destiny. At  the  starting  line,  we  are  all  together, sharing
camaraderie and enthusiasm. But, as the race develops, the initial joy gives
way  to challenges: exhaustion, monotony,  doubts  as  to one's  ability. We
notice that some friends refuse to  accept the challenges -- they are  still
in  the race, but only  because they cannot  stop  in the middle  of a road.
There  are  many of them. They ride along with the  support car,  talk among
themselves  and complete the task. We find ourselves outdistancing them; and
then we  have to confront solitude, the surprises around unfamiliar  curves,
problems with  the  bicycle. We  wind  up asking ourselves  if the effort is
worth it. Yes, it is worth it. Don't give up.
     A master  and his disciple are riding across  the Saudi Arabian desert.
The master makes use of  every  moment of  their ride  to teach the disciple
about faith. "Trust in God," he says. "God never abandons his  children." At
night, in their camp, the master  asks the disciple to  tie the horses  to a
nearby rock. The  disciple goes to the  rock, but  remembers what the master
has taught him: "He must be  testing me,"  he  thinks. "I should  leave  the
horses to  God."  And he leaves  the horses unfettered. In  the morning, the
disciple sees that  the horses have disappeared. Revolted,  he comes back to
his master. "You know nothing about God," he exclaims. "I left the horses in
His care,  and  now  the  animals  are gone."  "God  wanted to  care for the
horses," the  master answered. "But to do that, he needed  your hands to tie
them."
     "Perhaps  Jesus sent some  of his apostles to Hell to save souls," John
says. "Even in Hell, all is not lost." The idea surprises the wanderer. John
is a fireman in  Los  Angeles, and  today is his  day  off. "Why  do you say
that?" the wanderer asks. "Because I've gone through Hell here on  earth.  I
go into buildings that are in flames and see people desperate to escape, and
many times I risk my life to save  them. I'm only a particle in this immense
universe, forced to act like a hero in the many fires I've fought. If I -- a
nothing -- can  do such things, imagine what Jesus could do! I have no doubt
that  some  of His  apostles have  infiltrated Hell,  and are  there  saving
souls."
     The master says: "A great many of the primitive civilizations practiced
the custom of  burying  their  dead in  a fetal position.  'He is being born
again, in another life, and we must place him in the same position he was in
when he came into this world,' they said. For those civilizations, death was
only another step along the way of the universe. Little by little, the world
has lost its calm acceptance of death. But it's not important what we think,
or  what we do or what we believe in: each of us will die one day. Better to
do as the old  Yaqui indians did:  regard death  as an advisor.  Always ask:
'Since I'm going to die, what should I be doing now?'"
     Life is not about giving or receiving advice. If we need assistance, it
is better to  see how others solve - - or fail  to  solve -- their problems.
Our  angel is always  present, and often uses someone else's lips to tell us
something.  But it usually reaches us in a casual way, generally at a moment
in which -- although we are attentive -- our preoccupations prevent us  from
seeing  the  miracle  of life. We must allow our angel to speak to us in the
way he knows  best -- when he thinks it is needed.  The master says: "Advice
is a  theory about  life  --  and the  practice  of life  is generally quite
different."
     A padre  in the  Charismatic  Renewal movement in Rio  de  Janeiro  was
riding  on a bus when he suddenly heard a voice saying that he  should stand
up and preach the word of  Christ right there.  The padre began to  converse
with  the  voice: "They'll  think  I'm  ridiculous!  This is no place for  a
sermon." But the voice insisted that he had to  speak out. "I'm a timid man,
please don't ask  this of me," he implored.  The internal impulse persisted.
Then he  remembered his  promise  -- to accept  all of Christ's  designs. He
stood up --  consumed  with embarrassment  --  and  began to  speak  of  the
Evangelist. The riders listened to  him in silence. He looked at each of the
passengers, and all were staring directly at him. He said everything that he
was feeling, completed his sermon and sat down. Even today, he  has no  idea
what task he was performing there  on the bus. But that he was performing  a
mission, he has no doubt whatsoever. An
     African witch doctor is leading his novice through the jungle. Although
he  is quite elderly, he makes his way with agility, while his young  novice
slips a falls many times. The novice picks himself up,  swears, spits on the
traitorous ground and continues to follow  his  master. After a  long  hike,
they  reach a sacred place. Without pausing, the witch doctor  turns  around
and begins  to  walk back  to where they  had started.  "You have  taught me
nothing today," says the novice, after  falling again. "I have been teaching
you something, but you have failed to learn it," says the witch doctor. "I'm
trying to teach you how  to deal with  life's  mistakes." "And how should  I
deal  with them?" "The same  way as you should  deal with the falls you have
taken," answers  the  witch doctor. "Instead  of cursing the place where you
fall, you should try to find out what made you slip in the first place."
     The father superior of the monastery at Sceta was visited one afternoon
by a hermit.  "My  spiritual  advisor does  not know how to direct  me," the
hermit said. "Should I leave him?" The father superior said not a  word, and
the hermit returned to the  desert. A week  later, he  returned to visit the
father  superior. "My spiritual advisor does not know how  to direct me," he
said.  "I  have  decided to leave  him."  "That  is wise,"  said  the father
superior. "When a man perceives that his soul is discontented, he cannot ask
for advice. Make the  decisions needed to preserve your passage through this
life."
     A  young  woman  comes  to  see  the  wanderer.  "I want  to  tell  you
something," she says. "I have always believed that I had the gift of curing.
But I never had the courage to try it with anyone. Until one day, my husband
was  having great pain in his  left leg, and  there was no one available  to
help him. I decided -- with some  embarrassment -- to  place my hands on his
leg and ask  that the pain disappear. "I did this without really believing I
would be  able to help  him, and as I did so, I heard him  praying. 'Please,
Lord, make  my wife  capable of being the  Messenger  of Your light and your
strength,'  he said. My hand began to become hot, and  the pain disappeared.
"Afterwards,  I ask him why he had prayed  that way. He answered that it was
in order to give  me confidence. Today, I am able  to cure, thanks  to those
words."
     The philosopher, Aristipus,  was enjoying his  power  at  the court  of
Dionysus,  the tyrant  of  Syracuse. One  afternoon,  he came upon  Diogenes
preparing  a meal  of  lentils  for  himself.  "If you  were willing  to  be
courteous to Dionysus, you would  not have  to eat lentils," Aristipus said.
"If you knew how to enjoy lentils, you  would not have  to be  courteous  to
Dionysus," Diogenes answered.  The  master says: "It is true that everything
has  its price, but the price is always relative. When we follow our dreams,
we may give  the impression to others that we are miserable and unhappy. But
what others think is not  important. What is  important is  the  joy  in our
heart."
     A man who  lived  in  Turkey  was told  of a great  master who lived in
Persia. Without hesitation, he sold all of his belongings, said good-bye  to
his  family  and went  off in  search  of wisdom.  After  several  years  of
wandering,  he found the hut where the  great master  lived.  With fear  and
respect, he knocked  on  his  door.  The great master  appeared. "I am  from
Turkey,"  the man  said. "I have  come  all  this  way  to  ask you just one
question." The  old man was  surprised, but said, "Fine. You may ask  me one
question."  "I want to be clear about what it is that I am asking. May I say
it in  Turkish?" "Yes," said the wise man. "And I have already answered your
only question. If there  is anything else you want to  know, ask your heart.
It will provide you with the answer." And he closed the door.
     The master says: "The word is power. Words transform the world, and man
as well. "We  have all heard it  said:  'We  should not  talk about the good
things that have happened  to  us, because the  envy of others will ruin our
happiness.' Nothing of the sort. Those  who are  winners speak with pride of
the miracles in their lives. If you release positive energy into the air, it
attracts more  positive energy,  and makes  those  who  really wish you well
happy. As for the envious and defeated, they  can only  do  damage to you if
you give them this power.  Have  no fear. Speak out about the good things in
your life to whoever will listen. The Soul of the World has a great need for
your happiness."
     There was a Spanish king who was very proud of his lineage. He was also
know to  be cruel to those who were weak. He was  walking one day  with  his
senior people through a field in Aragon, where, years before, his father had
fallen  in  battle.  They  came upon  a holy man there,  picking through  an
enormous pile  of  bones. "What are  you  doing there?" asked the king. "All
honor to Your Majesty," said the holy man. "When I learned that  the king of
Spain was coming here, I decided to recover the bones of your father to give
them to you. But no matter how hard I look, I cannot find them. They are the
same as the bones of the farmers, the poor, the beggars and the slaves."
     "Who is the best swordsman?" asked a warrior of  his master. "Go to the
field near  the monastery,"  his master answered.  "There is a rock there. I
want you to insult the rock." "But why would I do that?" the disciple asked.
"The  rock will not respond."  "Well, then  attack it with  your sword," the
master  said. "I  won't do that,  either,"  the disciple answered. "My sword
would break. And if I  attack the rock with my hands, I'll injure my fingers
and  have no  impact  on  it. That  wasn't  what  I asked.  Who is  the best
swordsman?" "The  best is  the one who  is like  the rock," said his master.
"Without unsheathing a sword, it demonstrates that no one can conquer it."
     The wanderer arrives at the  village of  San Martin de Unx, in Navarra,
and is able to find the woman who keeps the key to the Roman  church in  the
ruined  place. With  great kindness, she climbs the narrow stairs  and opens
the door.  The darkness  and the  silence  of  the medieval  temple have  an
emotional impact on the wanderer. He falls into conversation with the woman,
and as they talk, mentions that, although it is mid-day, little  can be seen
of the beautiful works of art there in the church. "The detail can  be  seen
only  at dawn," the woman  says. "The legend says that it  was this that the
builders  of the church wanted  to teach us: that God has a  particular time
for showing us His glory."
     The  master says:  "There  are two gods.  The god  that  our professors
taught us about, and the  God who teaches us. The god of  whom people always
speak,  and the God that speaks to us. The god we have  learned to fear, and
the God who speaks to us  of compassion. There are two  gods. The god who is
on high, and the God who takes part  in our daily  lives. The  god who makes
demands upon us, and the God who pardons our debts. The god who threatens us
with  the  fires of Hell, and the God who shows us  the best path. There are
two  gods. A god who crushes  us under our sins,  and a God who liberates us
with His love."
     The sculptor, Michelangelo, was  once asked  how it was  that  he could
create such beautiful works. "It's very simple," he answered. "When  I  look
at a block of  marble,  I see  the sculpture inside  it. All I have to do is
remove what doesn't  belong." The master says:  "There is a work of art each
of us was destined to  create. That is the central point of our life, and --
no matter how we try to deceive ourselves -- we know  how important it is to
our happiness. Usually, that work of art is covered by years of fears, guilt
and indecision. But, if we decide to remove those things that do not belong,
if we have no doubt  as to  our capability, we  are capable of going forward
with the  mission that  is  our destiny. That is the only way to  live  with
honor."
     An old man who is about to  die calls a young man to his side and tells
him a story  of  heroism:  in wartime, he had  helped  a man to  survive. He
provided the man with shelter, food and protection.  When  the  man who  had
been saved was once again in a safe place, he decided  to betray his saviour
and turn him over to  the enemy. "How did you escape?" the young man  asked.
"I didn't escape. I was the betrayer," said the old man. "But in telling the
story as if I were the hero, I can understand everything he did for me."
     The master says: "We all need love. Love is a part of human  nature, as
much  as  eating,  drinking  and  sleeping.  Sometimes  we  find  ourselves,
completely alone, looking at a beautiful sunset, and we think: 'This  beauty
isn't  important, because I have no one to share it with.' At such times, we
should  ask: how often have we been asked to give love, and turned away? How
many  times  have  we  been  fearful  of  approaching  someone  and  saying,
unmistakably, that we love  them? Beware  of solitude. It  is as much of  an
addiction  as  the  most  dangerous narcotic. If  the sunset no longer makes
sense to you, be humble, and  go in  search of love. Know that  --  as  with
other spiritual blessings -- the more you are willing  to give, the more you
will receive in return."
     A  Spanish  missionary was visiting an island when he  came  upon three
Aztec  holy  men. "How do  you  pray?" the padre  asked.  "We have  only one
prayer," one of the Aztecs answered. "We say, 'God, you are three and we are
three.  Have pity  on us.'" "I'm going to  teach you a  prayer that God will
hear," said the  missionary. And he taught them a Catholic  prayer, and went
on his way. Shortly before returning  to Spain, he stopped again at the same
island. When his ship approached the shore, the padre saw the three holy men
walking  across  the  water toward him. "Father, father," one of them  said.
"Please teach us again that prayer that God  listens to.  We  have forgotten
the words." "It's not important," the  padre answered, having witnessed  the
miracle. And  he asked God's pardon for not having understood that He speaks
all languages.
     Saint  John of the Cross teaches us that, along our spiritual path,  we
should  not look for visions, or believe the statements we  hear from others
on the same path. Our only  support should be our  faith, because that faith
is clear, transparent and  born within us. It cannot confused.  A writer was
conversing with a priest, and asked what it was  to experience God. "I don't
know,"  the priest answered.  "The only experience I have had  so far is the
experience of my faith in God." And that is the most important.
     The master says: "Forgiveness is a two-way street. Each time we forgive
someone, we are  also pardoning ourselves. If we are tolerant of  others, it
is easier to accept our own mistakes. That way, without guilt or bitterness,
we are able to improve our approach to life. When, out of weakness, we allow
hatred, envy and intolerance to vibrate around us, we wind up being consumed
by the vibrations. Peter  asked Christ: 'Master,  should I forgive the other
person  seven  times?'  And  Christ  answered: 'Not just  seven, but seventy
times.' The  act of  forgiving  cleanses the astral  plane, and shows us the
true light of the Divinity."
     The master  says:  "The  ancient  masters were accustomed  to  creating
"personages"  to help  their disciples to deal with the darker side of their
personality.  Many of the stories about the creation of such personages have
become well-known fairy tales. The process is simple: you have only to place
your anxieties, fears and  disappointments  within  an  invisible  being who
stands  at  your  left  side. He  functions as  a "villain"  in  your  life,
suggesting  attitudes that you would not like to adopt -- but wind  up doing
so. Once that personage is created, it is easier to  reject his advice. It's
extremely simple. And that's why it works so well."
     "How can I know what is the best way  to  act  in my  life?" a disciple
asked his master. The master asked that the disciple build a table. When the
table was almost finished -- needing only  the  nails driven into the top --
the master  approached the disciple. The disciple was driving the nails with
three  precise  strokes.  One nail,  though,  was  more  difficult, and  the
disciple had to hit it one more time. The fourth blow drove it too deep, and
the wood was scarred. "Your hand was used to three blows of the hammer," the
master said. "When any action becomes habitual, it loses its meaning; and it
may wind up causing damage.  Every action is  your action, and there is only
one secret: never let the habit take command of your moveme