Inspirations ― selections from Classic Literature by Paulo Coelho

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Ancients believed that all things ― visible and invisible ― were compose of four different substances, uncreated and imperishable: Earth, Water, Air and Fire. It’s important to stress that these elements were not simply considered in their material form ― they were in fact understood symbolically. The attributes of each element then corresponded to a specific spiritual, mental or physical dimension.

Thus, the elemental air is not only the air, but a temper, a way to behave, bringing back specific colours and smells, portraying a particular universe. Elemental water goes far beyond the sea or he oceans, lakes and pools to reach a dominion of beautiful dreams, possibilities and ideas. The Greek philosopher Empedocles, who lived sometime in the fifth century BC, is the one who proposed a precise theory of the four elements, and, after him, Aristotle made it a pillar of his philosophical system. The theory of the elements was a great success in Antiquity as well as during the Middle Ages, both in the east and in the west.

The four elements symbolize both our world in all its dimensions and the way we dwell in this world, the way we see it.

 

 

Water

Subtle Realm ― Unconsciousness ― Mind ― Dreams ― Strategy ― Logic ― Possibilities ― Passivity ― Mobility

Water. Deep water. Infinitely deep water of the primordial ocean, where everything is possible. It is the origin of the world, an ocean far bigger and wider than what we see on earth. Something huge and fantastic, bottomless. It is the return to a kind of dissolution, with all its dangers, and the chance for a new birth. We can find horrid monsters and fascinating creatures in the depths of the water. The liquid cannot support us, but we know that life itself first appeared in water. The unconscious life dwells here, the deepest desires from like fishes in the darkest part of the ocean and then rise towards the light, where they can transform themselves into new dreams and ideas. Water was linked to the ‘lymphatic’ temper in ancient medicine, to signify a sort of calm but rather passive temperament. Of course, our body and the world are bound together by myriads of subtle links and correspondences. The following texts illustrate this in their own ways.

 

Hans Christian Andersen: The Ugly Duckling ― we confront the awkwardness of a different life among more ‘normal’ lives, and the struggle to affirm something worthwhile.

‘The Prologue’ from Tales from the Thousand and one Nights ― we hear the whimsical story of Shahrazad and her tormented destiny: because she was supposed to die, she invented a strategy to survive. Water is likewise imagination and invention, the very deep root of our mind that can reveal to us many treasures, Those treasures, unfortunately, can be ambiguous.

Niccolò Machiavelli: from The Prince illustrates how fear itself can be a valuable tool in some situations. Fear, like those unknown monsters from the deep, can show us how strength is often linked to the stranger parts of the human being.

Lewis Carroll: from Through the Looking-Glass― ‘Looking-glass House’ ― tells us that reality can be slightly different from how we usually think about it. And the ｅxpression, ‘to walk through the looking-glass’, is now commonly used to explain how the way we perceive reality can be altered, sometimes in its own way, and without us.

Sun-tzu: from The Art of War ― ‘Forms and Dispositions’ ― provides us with enigmatic and puzzling advice. The ground, or the earth, is called forth, but water lies like a sort of reminder ― a reminder of the origins of mind and the very basis of will.

 

 

Earth

Winter ― Body ― Decay ― Womb ― Mother ― Receptive ― Passive ― Stagnation (Prison) ― Roots

Earth. The earth, square and steady, strong and quite solid, gives a firm basis to our actions and bears all kinds of births. It is the place of the grotto, of the mountain, of the rocks and deserts, all places where something quite new can appear and grow. It is, too, the figure of the Great Mother, the eternal Virgin, and the womb of all humankind. But it can also be the place of decay, of stagnation and despair. Earth is linked to the cold, and to the melancholic temper. Dark and cold, but able to give birth to all life. The earth is like an underground temple, disquieting and essential, where every path converges and meets. It is like the winter of the world, when everything seems to be dead, but when in fact new life awaits. It is like the vibrant preparation of spring, hidden in the depths of caves. But, indeed, fertility itself inhabits the earth, like an eternal promise of renewal.

 

Oscar Wilde: from De Profundis, expresses the extreme despair of being abandoned to himself and discovering the secret chambers of his soul. But one has to struggle with these thoughts in the most courageous way in order to overcome them.

Bram Stoker: from Dracula ― ‘Dr. Seward’s Diary’― shows us the darkness of the human soul and the risk of the loss of humanity. When the ‘master’ Dracula approaches, the servant becomes mad and discovers new parts of himself, but without any kind of protection.

Hannah Arendt: from Eichmann and the Holocaust ― going even deeper into degradation. The figure of the monster turns itself into something much more trivial, and, because of this, becomes even more monstrous. What can evil be? How can it really exist? This seems to be the question Arendt asks herself. Sometimes, the monster can just turn himself into a clown… but a deadly one.                  

W. B. Yeats: from Selected Poems ― ‘He wishes for the Cloths of Heaven’ and ‘The Song of Wandering Aengus’― Fortunately, we go out of the prison and into open space with Yeats’s poems: refreshing and hopeful, the pleasures and security of a renewed earth tell us the beauty of the future and the promises of a new land. This simplicity tells us, too, of the origin of time and the very inception of human history.

D. H. Lawrence: from Lady Chatterley’s Lover ― A new departure is always possible, as we can experience it with Lady Chatterley. The waltz of the seasons and the song of desire melt together to form a powerful hymn to earthly delights, magnified by some scattered flowers over a womb. Rain, too, and the delicacy of kisses melt to create a unique scenery of love and affection. Thus the earth can redeem a life, regenerate bodies and give hope.

 

 

Air

Breath ― Life ― Communication ― Action ― Instability ― Agitation (not action)

The air is unsteady, fearsome and uncontrollable. It is the realm of mind, the idea of the spirit and the world of change. The winds, the clouds, the mist, all atmospheric phenomena, belong to the air. But when we breathe we know that the world is real and that we belong to it. When we take in air, and when we breathe it out, we can feel the very pace of creation. Untouchable, the air can only be felt, or lived. Infinite and invisible, it shapes mountains and creates the waves. It takes up sand and creates the landscapes of reason and madness. It takes up sand and creates the landscapes of reason and madness. When you hear the wind passing through the branches of a tree, you can hear the wind passing through the branches of a tree, you can hear God’s voice whispering or roaring his words to your and to the universe. But anger can be found in those winds. St John said, ‘The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst mot tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth’ (John, 3:8). The air is the great sign of the spirit, but it can also be the uncontrolled life of emotions and beliefs abandoned to their own devices. The torment, the tempest or the hurricane are the wages of unconsciousness and action, but if it is not tamed it leads to instability and agitation. This ambiguity finds its own path in the texts of this section.

 

Nelson Mandela: from No Easy Walk to Freedom ― ‘Black Man in a White Man’s Court’ ― opens a breach in one of the most unfair political systems of all times, namely apartheid. This letter remains a very clear declaration, a call for freedom and justice, Of course, those two words are in some contexts now out of fashion, but for the people who endured such an unbearable situation those tow word were everything. Political action can sometimes touch a kind of universal nerve, and its seeds can give beautiful plants.

Gabriel García Márquez: from One Hundred Years of Solitude ― Far away from politics, the life and fate of Remedios the Beauty in One Hundred Years of Solitude transport us a supernatural America, where the dead smell of strong perfumes and women can fly wrapped in white sheets… The parable of Remedios the Beauty reveals the strength of the miraculous and its compelling power of attraction.

Robert Louis Stevenson: from The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde ― ‘Henry Jekyll’s Full Statement of the Case’ ― Stranger yet tells of the transformation of a scientist into something quite different. The distortion of shape and morals invented by Jekyll bears witness to the unconscious and will given free rein. Like an echo of Wilde’s experience, Dr Jekyll imagines a new behavior, symbolically expressed by a potion. But this one is not the ‘potable gold’ of the alchemist: it is, rather, a great dissolution of the self and the summoning of unreached parts of the personality.

George Orwell: from Nineteen Eighty-Four ― The most impressive illustration of this ‘imagination’ can be found in the Two Minutes Hate ― people give vent to their innermost fears in a public blast of hate. The reforming revolution turned into something disastrous and people are manipulated and slowly destroyed by  Big Brother and his agents.

Jorge Luis Borges: from Fictions ― ‘The Library of Babel’ ―presents itself as a remarkable mirror, despite Borges’ own horror of that object. The spectacular structure of the unlikely library throws us into the labyrinth, another favorite theme in the author’s work. Bu the description of the library reveals an obsession with the discovery of the Book, the Book of all books… or, better, God’s Book. This ultimate journey can be viewed through the insane ‘memory’ of a great author, recalled in Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose, with ‘Jorge de Burgos’.  And if air allows travel, it allows, too, losing oneself. And this can be a form of madness.

 

 

Fire

Spirit ― Light ― Heat ― Darkness (Smoke) Hymn ― Hell ― Motion: Root of all change

At last, Fire appears as the Element. The final one, the most dangerous, even if, as it was said before, the elemental fire is not the common fire, which is like an image, an approximation of the central and ‘true’ fire. There are, too, many kinds of fire. Some of them burn to ashes and destroy. Some others, subtler, give life and strength. The fire Moses saw in the burning bush is not the one of Hell. Fire, like blood, is hot, it brings light, and t is the sign of spirit and love, but a high kind of love. If the fire is not understood, or if its seeker is not of the same nature, everything can be burnt and destroyed. So it is not always possible to experience fully the presence of this great fire. Sometimes it is better just to feel it, or to see its reflection. Otherwise, the proud will be disappointed. As we can see, once again, the element is ambivalent. It gives as it takes, as you take or give. But what is always present is light. The essential, beautiful and everlasting light.

 

From the Rig Veda ― ‘Hymns to Agni, God of the Sacrifice’ ― goes far back, to the very root of our world and its mystery. T birth of the gods, like a mystery within a mystery, evokes the birth of light. Agni Appears to be Fire itself, the personification of one of the greatest symbols of Vedic and Hindu cosmology, and the symbol of sacrifice, but a sacrifice that makes a bridge between men and gods.

From c ― Sayings of the Early Christian Monks ― ‘Visions’ ― move the frontier between madness and sanity. Often the spiritual visions are compared to a fire, a great fire of divine origin. Like the tongues of fire of the Pentecost, it is a strong current pouring down from Heaven to earth. And the aura of a saint reminds us of the process of (dangerous) imitation between man and God, a strange and blasphemous imitation that can be regarded also as a sacred one. Mercy could be the key…

From the Bhagavad Gita ― we reach a new dominion, that is to say the way a man can become a god; and if we understand that Arjuna and Krishna are both sides of the same unique Being, it is easier to know what all this means: divine fire can be like a hidden reality, and it is up to us to conquer and reveal it…

From the Dead Sea Scrolls ― The hymn talks about mercy, and mercy can be very difficult ― sometimes even impossible ―to give. But when it occurs, like unexpected rain in a desert land, it washes away all the injuries, insults and betrayals to allow a certain perfection to arise.

Leopold Sacher-Masoch: from Venus in Furs ― The dark fire of desire burns like a fire in the chimney. This fire, shared by different visions of love, illuminates ‘Madam Venus’ and opens a new space for desire and fantasy, but through a very complex process.

Kahlil Gibran: from The Prophet tells us ― Love, then, is like the great and dangerous fire, able to kill or the give life. Why fire and live? It is melted with blood, too. And the heart is the crucible of love, but there are so many different kinds of love. The one Gibran speaks of does to belong to us…

Rumi: from Spiritual Verses ― Rumi’s poems are always enigmatic, following not one but several paths. The ‘light of God’ can be the lantern that guides you through the miseries of ego and earthly struggles, and Rumi’s wisdom enlightens you without the help of reason.

Rabindranath Tagore: from Selected Poems ― ‘Brahmā, Viṣṇu, Śiva’ ― Finally, this optimistic conception of love is reflected, in a magnified way, in Tagore’s poems. The evocation of Creation and the immensity of a burning sky end in an everlasting beginning, with the energy of a new day. It is the miracle of life rehearsed by the gods themselves for humans’ sake.

Mary Shelley: from Frankenstein deals with another fire, the fire of hate. This novel is perhaps one of the more violent ones, because the creator and his creature hate each other beyond the limits of life and death. It goes deep into mankind’s desire for eternity, but a mock eternity that reveals all the evil sides of us. Unlike Dr Jekyll, Dr Frankenstein wants something he does not understand. And hence he is punished with his own destruction.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. (Matt. 6:28―9)