This is the text of my first book club presentation this month on Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist.
When the protagonist of the book, a Spanish shepherd named Santiago, was sixteen, he told his father that he wanted to travel. His father objected, saying that all the travelers who pass through Andalusia, where they live, are the same as the Andalusians, and say that they want to come to live in Andalusia. In his words, we hear the echo of what we ourselves have said on vacation: “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to live here?”
Obviously, Santiago’s father is proud of his home. He cannot imagine why anyone would ever want to leave. The only Andalusians who travel are shepherds because their job requires it. He gives Santiago three ancient Spanish coins as part of his inheritance, telling him to buy a flock of sheep. The older man thinks this an “acceptable” way to travel.
The boy could see in his father’s gaze a desire to be able, himself, to travel the world – a desire that was still alive, despite his father’s having had to bury it, over dozens of years, under the burden of struggling for water to drink, food to eat, and the same place to sleep every night of his life. (pp. 9-10)
Reading that passage, I had to wonder if Santiago was projecting a bit of himself onto his father. We do this to our parents, and for that matter, to other people we think we know – or even those we simply encounter. “If this makes me happy, it will make you happy, too,” we tell them.
My mom and sister, for example, tell me that a busy social schedule would make me happy. Frankly, the thought of being as busy as they are, without time to sit and write, would make me miserable. I get exhausted and need a nap after just glancing at their calendars. Then again, sitting and writing for the three to five hours a day (or longer when I’m on a roll) as I do would probably drive them nuts.
The impetus for the story happens when Santiago spends the night in the ruins of an old church and dreams a dream he has had once before. Both times he has awakened from the dream before he reaches what he thinks should be the end. In the dream, a child comes to play with his sheep. Suddenly, the dream child takes Santiago’s hands and transports him to the Egyptian pyramids. “If you come here, you will find a hidden treasure,” she tells him.
Once he begins his journey, Santiago encounters Melchizedek in the plaza of the first town he visits. Melchizedek tells him that the greatest lie is one everyone comes to believe:
[The greatest lie is] that at a certain point in our lives, we lose control of what’s happening to us, and our lives become controlled by fate. pp. 17-18)
According to Melchizedek, someone’s Personal Legend is what they have always wanted to accomplish. When people are young, they know what their Personal Legend is and the path to it seems clear. Anything is possible because young people are not afraid to dream. “But as time passes, a mysterious force begins to convince them that it is impossible for them to realize their Personal Legend.” Then he tells Santiago,
To realize one’s Personal Legend is one’s only real obligation.” (pp. 21-22)
Coelho tells the story of Santiago’s journey to find his Personal Legend in the form of a fable or morality story. Perhaps because of my mood when I read it, I received the message. This book is one I will buy multiple copies of and insist that my friends read.
Last Updated on July 24, 2012 by
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