Sunday, November 11, 2007

The Witch and I

Last night I started reading Paulo Coelho's "The Witch of Portobello". I love his books: the words he uses to weave his stories always get stuck in my soul somewhere, making me think and feel deeper than I expected to.

It's not much different with the witch. On page 5 the words zoomed into my heart and I had to read it over and over.

Somehow Mr. Coelho put the tip of his finger on the most sensitive part of my being while he was describing an episode from Athena's life through the eyes of an admirer.

Here is what he wrote:

"But then, how many of us will be saved the pain of seeing the most important things in our lives disappearing from one moment to the next? I don't just mean people, but our ideas and dreams too: we might survive a day, a week, a few years but we're all condemned to lose. Our body remains alive, yet, sooner or later, our soul will receive the mortal blow. The perfect crime - for we don't know who murdered our joy."

The next paragraph explains so perfectly how I see myself during the times we tried to conceive, when I was dreaming of my own child, buying baby clothes, living the dream during those few weeks I was pregnant:

"I'm finally coming to accept that I was only a temporary inhabitant, there as a favor, like someone who finds himself in a beautiful mansion, eating exquisite food, aware that this is only a party, that the mansion belongs to someone else, and that the time will come when the lights will go out, the owners will go to bed, the servants will return to their quarters, the door will close, and he'll be out in the street again, waiting for a taxi or a bus to restore him to the mediocrity of his every day life."

And then the harshest of realities when I woke up:

"...This is the universe I'll have to live with for the rest of my days... I'll wake up sweating and go into the kitchen for a glass of water. I'll understand that in order to combat ghosts you must use weapons that form no part of reality. Then... I'll place and open pair of scissors on my bedside table to snip off the end of the dream. The next day, I'll look at the scissors with a touch of regret, but I must adapt to living in the world again or risk going mad."

Just when you think you're getting a grip on living a strong and painless life having accepted the cruel, cold fact of Infertility, it creeps in from somewhere and you're looking - silently and stunned again - at the empty spaces where your dreams should've been...


Fertilize Me said...

Whoa, that is good stuff - deep stuff harsh but true stuff

Pamela Jeanne said...

So true, and with the holidays the empty spaces becomes all that much more glaring...

Thanks for sharing these passages as they capture the emotions and sensations of lost dreams so well.

Thanks, too, for your reading and commenting today. Always brings a smile to my face when I see you've been by. Hope you and your family are staying strong ... as always wishing you nothing but the best.

Anonymous said...

I'm a big Paulo Coelho's fan and I don't know if you heard about his blog
I've started as a fan and now I'm collaborating with him and thought that you would like to enter his universe.
Check the blog, if you want, or subscribe to his newsletter
You'll see a community of warriors of light sharing ideas, dreams and most importantly following their personal legend.


The Warrior sometimes fights with those he loves.
(Manual of the Warrior of Light)

Jenna said...

Unreal! yes, it seems that our pain is rekindled even by the words of someone else.

Wishing you well Karen.

SaraS-P said...

reminders can pop up and make us think even when we don't expect it

Summer said...

Those passages resonate for me, too. I have never read any of his work, but I think I'll try to pick up a copy of the witch.

Deathstar said...

Wow, very powerful words, that book is going on my list. I understand too well. Will be chanting for you and your mum.....