Ever since I can remember myself, I have been greatly fond of reading. And writing, but that's something I discovered much later. I could never explain exactly how I managed to "devour" an average of twenty logy tomes per year or how I was still able to score straight "A"s at school, despite the amount of time I spent not studying.
Obviously, no one can expect from my eleven year-old self to be familiar with the world's greatest literary masterpieces, but, for an eleven year-old, to be able to read a six hundred page book in a little less than a week should be considered an accomplishment.
Yet, hungrily consuming book after book for most of my pre-teen years didn't offer much intellectual stimulation. Maybe, that was because my literary interests included magic wands and sparkly vampires.
These times are gone for good, though, and I have considerably expanded my mental library. A few nights ago, I, very hastily, read the final thirty pages of Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist. I wasn't in a desperation to finish the book, but I was looking forward to commence reading The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo -which has, so far, proved to be a much easier read than most of my attempts in reading books with a philosophical edge. Despite the clarity of the book's precept, even from its first pages, it took me some time to seriously consider what The Alchemist had taught me.
Despite strong reaction from my father, as well as discouraging comments from my cousins and school principal, I was determined to follow my "Personal Legend", to become a journalist (Or a writer; potato, potato for me.). Not that much of an adventure, but it seems that my critics' primal concern is my obtaining employment. Apparently, my studying journalism won't be particularly profitable for me in the long run.
At school, in Literature, we studied a poem; Ithaka, by Kavafis. Ithaka represents one's personal goals, while the struggles they come across along the way are likened to Ulysses' adventures. And, while, the deadly Cyclops and the wrath of the gods appear to be insurmountable obstacles, the difficulties one has to face while pursuing a goal, pale in comparison.
Similarly, the protagonist of The Alchemist, the young shepherd Santiago gets mugged on numerous occasions, deserts the woman he loves, roams the desert, only to find out that his "treasure" was located where he originally begun his journey. Yet, after all the hardships he had to endure, he manages to fulfill his "Personal Legend".
The Alchemist taught me that something as insignificant as an, essentially, otiose "advice" is not to be considered an "insurmountable obstacle" and, certainly, cannot stem my pursuit of my own personal legend. Maybe I am not looking for a treasure near the Pyramids of Egypt, but my goal may be just as fulfilling, if not more.
Those who don't understand their personal legends will fail to comprehend its teachings.
