“The life of a warrior cannot possibly be cold and lonely and without feelings, because it is based on his affection, his devotion, his dedication to his beloved. And who, you may ask, is his beloved? I will show you now.”
He squatted in front of us and caressed the ground gently. “This Earth, this World. For a warrior there can be no greater love.”
“Only if one loves this Earth with unbending passion can one release one’s sadness. A warrior is always joyful because his love is unalterable and his beloved, the Earth embraces and bestows upon him inconceivable gifts. The sadness belongs only to those who hate the very things that gives shelter to their beings.”
“This lovely Being, which is alive to its last recesses and understands every feeling, soothed me, it cured me of my pains, and finally when I had fully understood my love for it, it taught me freedom.”
He paused. The silence around us was frightening. The wind hissed softly and then I heard the distant barking of a lone dog.
“That dog barking is the saddest thing one can hear. It comes from a house in that valley towards the south. A man is shouting through his dog, since they are companion slaves for life, his sadness, his boredom. He’s begging his death to come and release him from the dull and dreary chains of his life.”
“That barking and the loneliness it creates, speaks of the feelings of men. Men for whom an entire life was like one Saturday afternoon, an afternoon which was not altogether miserable, but rather hot and dull and uncomfortable. They sweated and fussed a great deal. They didn’t know where to go, or what to do. That afternoon left them only with the memory of petty annoyances and tedium, and then suddenly it was over; it was already night.”
“The antidote that kills that poison is here,” he said, caressing the ground. “Only the love for this splendorous Being can give freedom to a warrior’s spirit; and freedom is joy, efficiency and abandon in the face of any odds. That is the last lesson. It is always left for the last moment, for the moment of ultimate solitude when a man faces his death and his aloneness. Only then does it make sense.”
Tales of Power
by Carlos Casteneda
pp. 291-294
by Carlos Casteneda
pp. 291-294
