The Traveller

‘I dedicate you to the infinite Wisdom, and pray that your horizon may always be wider than you can see.’

I re-read The Zahir by Paulo Coelho this evening.

I read the book for the first time around two years ago, when I was possessed by my own Zahir- a concept, for want of better description, that I obsessed over, leaving me no time to do or think anything else. My life revolved around this concept, so much so that I ceased to exist in soul and spirit. In the peak of my fixation, I read The Zahir as my Zahir would have liked me to- an ode to my state of madness/holiness.

And today, I see how far I have come.

I feel the shackles of my past break away, and I know that this is the moment where I identify my acomodador..

‘…The paragraph I had just read fit in with the idea of forgetting one’s personal history and being left only with the instinct that develops out of the various difficulties and tragedies one has experienced. This is what the shamans of Mexico did and what the nomads on the steppes of Central Asia preached.’

The Journey of Life is the Journey to Ithaca.. it teaches us more than we set out to learn. Before we learn, it is imperative to un-learn, for a slate of scribbles refusing to be erased is tantamount to a broken slate.  And it is in this constant cycle of learning and un-learning, of renewal and redemption, can we find our true identity, our purpose of existence.

This moment in time marks a beginning…a beginning with a name. For I will ‘accept that I am a new person who has just been reborn, and that, from now on, I will be reborn every day…’

Every day, every moment, all I desire is to be like the Steppes, empty, infinite, and at the same time, full of life.

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