The atmosphere in the monastery was tense during that study period. The Elder, as we affectionately called the oldest monk of the Order, had been invited to give a lecture at a university and had not yet returned from the trip. Until his return, I had been left in charge of the direction. Recently, Alex had taken the role of general coordinator of the courses. He had decided to establish a path that the monks would have to follow from then on. The courses would no longer be of free choice, as had always been the case. Criteria were established for the course of studies, under the assumption that some knowledge is fundamental to the understanding of others, like primordial and indispensable steps on the infinite staircase toward greater knowledge. The Elder had approved the new plan and, before traveling, held a meeting with the monks so that everyone could be informed and clear up any doubts. However, changes bring unease, discomfort, and discontent. If in change lies the core of evolution, there also sprouts the germ of dissatisfaction in those who feel affected by the transformations demanded by life’s movements. Almost no one likes to get up from the comfortable armchair they consider their own by the long time spent sitting in it. Although comfort, convenience, and privilege foster delay and inequality, it is impossible to deny their still-active roots in common behaviour. Without realizing it, they influence the way we interpret events and interfere in our actions and reactions, choices and destiny, in the use or waste of opportunities. They are ancestral conditionings, with a heavy burden of primitivism and immobility.
As the days went by, the murmur grew louder. Several requests were denied by Alex, redirecting the applicants to other courses according to the study plan drawn by the coordination, and not to those desired by the monks, contrary to habits that, being so old, had become vices or supposed rights. As if that were not enough, some rejections affected the wishes of those who had been in the Order much longer than Alex. Popular wisdom sustains that seniority means rank. A fallacy created by interests of convenience, often obscure and not always fair. Ability, competence, and commitment are assumptions with a greater degree of equity and justice than the chronology of admission to an institution, company, or brotherhood. Ability refers to the innate skill for the exercise of a specific function; competence refers to the skill acquired through studies and practices; commitment reveals itself through the level of dedication and effort indispensable to the task. On the other hand, ability is not established only through cognitive intelligence and erudition. There is no denying the existence of geniuses at the service of shadows. Not rarely, they are ourselves when, dissatisfied or contradicted, we foster conflict, disaggregation and, consequently, even unconsciously, sow pain and suffering. Good and noble feelings are essential in the exercise of separating good from evil. It falls to us the meticulous task of valuing the light reverberated in the use of virtues as a means of moving through the obstacles inherent to relationships and daily life. Humility, simplicity, compassion, gentleness, sensibility, firmness, patience, tolerance, honesty, purity, among other virtues, in the confluence of love with wisdom, illustrate the level of spiritual development achieved. In conflict situations, lucidity allied to emotional balance proves more useful, valuable, and necessary than any genius or diploma, regardless of one’s cognitive ability to solve complicated mathematical calculations, cite renowned authors, or the prestige of the university attended.
Dissatisfaction escalated in tone within the monastery. Although the majority had gladly accepted the changes, recognizing their importance and necessity, one could perceive the formation of a small group of discontented monks, whose behaviour bordered on revolt. A few, when articulate and insistent, can muffle the voice of the majority and contaminate the unsuspecting and distracted. Then the danger spreads. As the one responsible for the direction in the absence of the Elder, inexperienced, I took too long to act in order to quell the heated tempers and keep the monastery united. Until one day we were in the canteen, gathered for lunch, when Ibrahim, one of the oldest members of the Order, whose request had been denied by Alex under the argument that before pursuing the desired study he needed to complete another as a prerequisite, questioned publicly the reason for the refusal. The decision had been based on the new rules, without taking into account Ibrahim’s knowledge, experience, and trajectory in the monastery over so many years. In a fraction of a second, the conversation turned into a harsh argument. Envy, jealousy, spite, abuses, and disrespect were words used in the exchange of accusations. The harshness in the tone of voice, in the content of the words, and in the foundation of the arguments illustrated the seriousness and the lack of control of the situation. It was not an isolated disagreement between Alex and Ibrahim. Some monks took sides. The animosity escalated in intensity, evidencing a fracture in the structure of the monastery. Not physical or material, but spiritual and energetic. Companies, families and friendships; empires, tribes and marriages, once prosperous and happy, collapse when such movements are neglected. Contrary to what many believe, the greatest danger does not come from outside, but lies latent and patient within, waiting for neglect and imbalance to manifest and destroy everything and everyone around, including, and above all, oneself. We are hosts, wielders, and heirs of our own tragedy. Laments and complaints are of no use.
Discomfort takes hold immediately in the presence of discord and misunderstanding. The atmosphere in the canteen, where all the monks were gathered for lunch, usually cheerful and relaxed, became heavy and sombre. Stunned, I asked the two to accompany me to the director’s office. Although I did not know exactly how to act, I understood that something needed to be done immediately in an attempt to prevent the conflict from spreading and the discord from embittering other hearts. I let each one present their reasons, encouraged dialogue and understanding, but I was unable to weave peace. They remained resolute and inflexible in their positions and convictions. They left with the promise that they would reflect on their behaviour. There was the pressing need for them to expand their inner boundaries so that one could fit in the other’s heart. That was my request to both. Despite wishing for it, I did not believe that, at that moment, it was possible. They were closed to the clarity of thought and serenity of feeling, as we always are when dominated by intransigence, hatred, or resentment. Inflexibility rests on the so-called tunnel certainty, the one in which the gaze is fixed in a single direction, without considering the immense beauty and the thousand possibilities of the universe that exist and pulse beyond the walls of misunderstanding and intolerance, which diminish and narrow the objective and the truth. In moments like these, it becomes essential that something or someone be capable of demolishing those walls, and then ending the conflicts. In their wake, the dense feelings and suffering that accompany and encourage discord will disappear.
Before traveling, the Elder had given a lecture in which he developed the following reasoning: “We live in a planetary moment in which no one has yet managed to completely detach from the influences that anchor delay, stimulate confrontations, and imprison us in behavioural vices that so greatly postpone evolution. To a greater or lesser degree, we still oscillate between light and shadow. Duality exists, but it does not need to endure. At some point, it must be overcome. An intrinsic and extrinsic journey at the same time, which not only speaks of finding peace but allows the primordial movement toward freedom. To be free is not merely to do whatever one pleases. The reckless and irresponsible have always done so without ever deriving any evolutionary advantage. Among other issues, genuine freedom concerns the deconstruction of the unhealthy and painful prisons of suffering, in which each one places themselves by not knowing how to refine and guide their own choices. It happens in those times when we fail to see the thousand possibilities that will always be available. Those who say they have no choices know nothing about choices. They reveal immaturity or lack of courage. When a decision is not capable of generating well-being, balance, and serenity, it means that another one, still hidden or unadmitted, is waiting. The refusal to act or react in automatic mode, in which, driven by conflicts, hatreds, fears, and resentments, we usually plunge into the abyss of pain, is the primordial step toward transformation. Freedom begins with the self-permission to go where we have never been inside ourselves. There is no other way to find the sacred, open doors, and move forward. It is necessary to let a part of who we are die every day. Otherwise, there will be no space for someone different and better to be reborn in us”. He paused before adding an important comment: “Suffering is not normal and inevitable, but rather an ailment of the soul, whose roots go back to one’s own misunderstandings, typical of immaturity attached to harshness, privileges, impatience, and intolerance used as lenses to interpret the world and filters to direct relationships. The scenario will appear grey, the characters will seem bitter, and often the outcomes will prove tragic. It is not just about the inability to understand people and possibilities. It is much more. We mistreat ourselves when we move out of pride, vanity, greed, vengeance, and selfishness. Without realizing it, we generate the discomfort and adversities we live. We foster the barn of contrarieties and, afterwards, we feed ourselves on those sufferings. As long as we refuse to find the choices that remove anguish and restore balance, we will waste countless opportunities for advancement and growth”. They were words of value for life, which also served as a forewarning of the events that would soon threaten the integrity and harmony of the monastery.
In the morning, after breakfast, the monks divided themselves among the various courses offered. We had lunch. The afternoon was reserved for reading, conversations, and reflections. Before dinner, there was a lecture for everyone. With small variations, such was the monastery’s routine. That night, as planned, the lecture was Ibrahim’s responsibility. I thought about changing it, but then considered that if I did so, it would give everyone the impression that he had been punished for his outburst in the cafeteria. I didn’t want that. Besides, Alex had also been inelegant. I believed that, since they had had an entire afternoon to reflect and calm their tempers, there would be no problem. They were educated, cultured, and well-prepared adults. What a mistake. Emotional balance is not learned in books. It is a conquest of the spirit throughout the journey, when one manages to make substantial, angular shifts, from the futile to the essential, from shallow and immediate conquests to those deep and eternal. It is the art of self-denial, fundamental to the balance and strength indispensable to the next steps; otherwise, we remain stagnant in endless conflicts and suffering. Without my being able to prevent it, a veiled duel had set in at the monastery. Two small groups disputed who held reason and truth. Which will would prevail in lamentable performances of futile and empty power. The subject of the lecture was a text by Plato called The Ring of Gyges, in which a peaceful peasant, upon finding a ring that made whoever wore it invisible, began to commit abominable acts of greed and vengeance, previously unthinkable to that seemingly humble man. Once protected by the cloak of invisibility, an unknown and unlikely personality revealed the true face of the shepherd. From the start of the lecture, with an evident deviation from its purpose, Ibrahim drew a parallel with the position recently taken up by Alex, full of subliminal provocations toward the young coordinator’s decisions. He argued, fictitiously, without citing name or institution, how individuals, under the most diverse and altruistic pretexts, took advantage of posts or temporary powers to harm people with whom they had problems, dislikes, or rivalries. Some positions, because of the enormous powers invested in them, were equivalent to Gyges’ ring in revealing hidden aspects of the personality of those who held them when they felt untouchable. Alex’s reaction, although frank, was equally aggressive. An unprecedented uproar arose. Nothing like it had ever happened at the monastery. Thanks to the wisdom and serenity present in most of the monks, the two groups were prevented from continuing with their offenses, avoiding even sadder and more regrettable consequences. After tempers cooled down, though emotions still ran high, I asked everyone to retire to their rooms. It was a time to think. Nobody had dinner that night.
With intermittent and restless sleep, I woke before dawn. I went to the cafeteria in search of a mug of coffee. I was very upset. Not only because of the ill feeling created, but also because the commotion had occurred while the monastery was under my direction. To my surprise, when I arrived, I found the Elder sitting at one of the tables near the window with a view of the mountains. When he saw me, he signalled that there was fresh coffee in the pot. I filled a mug and sat beside him. I did not find his traditional smile, nor any trace of condemnation in his features. His expression was one of serenity. I understood that he was already aware of what had happened. Before I could say anything, Alex and Ibrahim entered the cafeteria accompanied by Heitor, the Argentine monk, psychoanalyst, writer, and my great friend. At once, I realized that the Elder had already spoken with Heitor. Consequently, the monks had been summoned for a conversation. Once everyone was properly seated, the good monk asked each to present his reasons in an attempt to explain what had happened. He allowed counterarguments, as many times as he deemed necessary. He did not authorize interruptions or interferences so that the conversation would not turn into a quarrel. When he perceived that the arguments had become repetitive, either because there was no need to continue or so as not to wear out an already strained relationship, he ended the debate. He kept them in silence with the clear intention of granting time for indispensable reflections. Each one needed to weigh the arguments presented by the other in order to understand whether they were useful and applicable to his own way of thinking, feeling, and seeing. And thus, to step out from where he was inside himself.
After a few moments, he remarked: “Everyone has the right to conduct their lives in the way they see fit. However, for each action there is a reaction according to the movement performed. Inside and outside ourselves. Inexorably. Well-being, joy, encounters, and progress, or conflicts, ruptures, suffering, and delay. When there is a group of people around a common purpose, there must be order, discipline, and respect. This holds true for businesses and families, institutions and brotherhoods, friendships and marriages, here on the planet or in the Highlands”. He paused briefly so that we could connect with the philosophical arc proposed and continued: “Order is a determination of higher origin, with the greater purpose of establishing a harmonious and prosperous relationship among the members of a specific group. In some cases, such as friendships and marriages, unilateral rules have no place; they must honour the plurality of opinions in the search for a common, possible, and healthy point, with the prior agreement of those involved. In others, the hierarchical relationship must be obeyed, in the understanding that positions and roles are distributed according to the competence, ability, and commitment of their members. When this happens, they generate solutions and build bridges; otherwise, they become sources of problems and erect walls. Differences in viewpoints are not antagonistic, but complementary, valid, and welcome, provided they are expressed with respect, clarity, and serenity. In the same tone, decisions must be respected. Those who hold leadership positions must never allow themselves the temptations of pride, vanity, greed, vindictiveness, among other shadows. On the other hand, they must not be guided only by respect, but also by humility, simplicity, compassion, sincerity, gentleness, firmness, justice, purity, among other virtues”. He took a sip of coffee and went on: “Discipline is the care and attention to the precepts indispensable to good order, whether from the one who directs or the one who is directed, so that the objectives outlined for the sake of a common good are not lost but remain directed toward the intended goal. Respect, in turn, is the fundamental rule of putting yourself in the other person’s place, never doing to them what you would not like to suffer yourself. And, on a higher level of dignity, in giving in the same measure that you would like to receive”.
And he said no more. The intention was that the ideas expressed would find a place in the minds and hearts of the monks. Thoughts transmute feelings. Depending on their content or weight, emotions drive or imprison thought. Therefore, this symbiotic movement is the forge of genuine freedom. Everything else is walls erected with the mortar of delusions and misunderstandings in the construction of old and recurring prisons full of agony and pain.
Ibrahim’s and Alex’s expressions were very different. While Ibrahim’s eyes were brimming with tears, Alex kept a closed expression. In a low voice, with emotion clearly at the surface, Ibrahim confessed his regret. Although he had reasons to think that more experienced monks should not receive the same treatment as newcomers regarding the choice and allocation of courses, the way he had expressed his discontent was wrong and worsened the situation. He lost himself when he allowed himself to be irritated. He was sincerely saddened for having led the monastery into such a conflict, close to an institutional fracture. He asked Alex for forgiveness and said he would repeat the gesture before the monks at breakfast. Since his dissatisfaction and lack of control had been public, the request for forgiveness should also take place before everyone.
Overcome with deep joy, the Elder rose, exchanged a tight embrace with Ibrahim, and commented: “The nobility of your spirit does not surprise me”. Then he whispered as if speaking to himself: “You cannot imagine the intensity of the light generated through the recognition of error and the sincere request for forgiveness. A fundamental movement toward self-forgiveness and, consequently, the liberation from suffering”.
All eyes turned to Alex. The young and cultured monk, in a dry tone and with few words, said that he forgave Ibrahim. A deafening silence arose, filled with other meanings, contents, and explanations. As an addition, Alex merely reminded them that adaptability is an indispensable virtue to the inherent movements of change. As for the offenses uttered in the discussion with Ibrahim, he justified that he had used the language appropriate to the situation. He had responded in the same tone as the accusation. Without allowing the ill feeling to take root, the Elder immediately countered: “The attitude of others is not our business. Reacting in the best way is the responsibility that falls to us. It reveals light or shadows. It speaks of who we are and what we still need to learn. Everything else is misunderstanding reverberated in twisted reasoning in an attempt to deny the loss of yet another evolutionary opportunity”. The good monk continued: “Indispensable resilience is a necessary virtue both for those who receive new orders and rules, and also for those who command and guide. Delivering to each according to their differences demonstrates fairness, a virtue that requires keen perception and sharp sensitivity. In a hospital emergency room, a patient at risk of death must go before another in a less serious condition, even if the latter arrived earlier. One who knows trigonometry does not need to return to the classroom alongside someone learning the four basic operations of arithmetic. By logic and common sense, he already knows them. In front of a high wall, offering identical crates to two boys of different heights means equality, the same treatment for both. Standing on the crates, depending on their height, one will be able to see what is on the other side of the wall, while the other will remain unable to discover. Giving a taller crate to the shorter boy, allowing both to see beyond the wall, will grant the same opportunity to both. As you see, fairness is at times a more refined virtue than equality”.
We were interrupted by the monks arriving for breakfast. Without delay, Ibrahim fulfilled his promise to admit his mistake and ask everyone’s forgiveness for the confusion he had caused. He was applauded at length. It was not difficult to recognize the greatness of that man. Alex remained silent. In a logic devoid of value, he thought: if he is wrong, I am right. The expression of victory was clear in his eyes.
That same morning, I was called to the director’s office. I arrived together with Alex. The Elder, Heitor, and Valentina, a nun admired by many, a poet of rare talent and an aerospace engineer by profession, were waiting for us. We were invited to sit at the meeting table. The Elder announced that Valentina would assume the role of general coordinator of the courses from that moment on. Alex’s features showed astonishment and disappointment. Irritated, he demanded to know the basis of the decision. It was the psychoanalyst who explained: “You were before a great master, but you were unable to recognize him. This shows that, despite the courses you have taken and the books you have read, you are still not qualified for leadership roles, for you are unaware of the basic mechanisms of self-knowledge. At another time, you will have a new opportunity”. The young monk asked who this master was. The Elder? Ibrahim? Heitor himself? He wanted to know. It was the good monk who clarified: “Mistake, when well used, is the greatest of masters. Mistake always teaches us something we did not know when we are willing to review the route to adjust the course. It teaches us to distinguish right from wrong in the burning forge of events, to make careful reflections to avoid repeating coarse or negligent attitudes. However, humility and commitment to the truth are necessary. Otherwise, the mistake will be an eternal executioner preventing us from leaving where we are”. The Elder concluded: “The way of dealing with mistakes reveals nobility of character and the capacity for learning. Attachment to mistakes reveals pride, vanity, and inability to move. To use mistakes in favour of learning fosters self-forgiveness, drives maturation, the undoing of evil, restores balance, and encourages well-being”. Then he finished: “The cessation of suffering requires willingness, courage, and self-love to go to the origin of pain and then undo it completely. No one can achieve this without educating the mind, calming the heart, and changing habits with the aim of refining wills, adding virtues, and redirecting choices. There is no other method of definitive healing; everything else is palliative therapy. If you had paid attention to the light in Ibrahim’s eyes this morning in the cafeteria, you would better understand what we are talking about”.
Unconvinced, Alex said he wanted to think. He needed to be alone. With his tone of voice altered, he requested permission to leave that period of studies immediately. Permission granted, he left the office in a troubled manner. Then, the Elder commented: “He will return. And he will arrive greatly changed. He is a young man, intelligent and good-hearted. He only needs to tear away the armour of pride and vanity to find the beauty of love and the power of truth. Mistakes are perfect for that”.
Before we could make any comments, the good monk said he needed to prepare for that afternoon’s lecture. He rose to head toward the monastery’s library. Enchanted, I stood watching his walk of slow yet steady steps.
Translated by Cazmilian Zórdic.
