It was another period of studies at the monastery. Right at the entrance, I met the Elder, the oldest monk in the Order. He was always surrounded by the younger members, eager to deepen their understanding of the various branches of Philosophy and Metaphysics. It was no different with the older monks, who often sought him out when they needed to talk about difficult situations they were going through. He welcomed everyone with equal attention, respect, and patience. I loved being by his side. His bright aura and gentle manner always had the right words to serve as a lighthouse, showing us doors where we only saw indestructible walls. A misinterpretation of an event or a wrong reading of a person’s heart, combined with our own misunderstandings about who we are, can turn day into night in an instant. There are days like that. I was going through one of those moments.
We exchanged a tight hug. A sincere friendship, matured over time, made me feel comfortable discussing delicate matters with the Elder—things that were difficult to talk about with people who were not very close and, even more so, not always capable of understanding me. I knew no one who understood the human soul as deeply as he did, and, just as importantly, had such great availability to listen, understand, and guide. A rare person.
At the time, I was running an advertising agency. One of the partners’ sons had graduated in Communications and Advertising from one of the most prestigious universities in São Paulo. Later, he completed an MBA in New York, where he interned at one of the most renowned local agencies, working on the team responsible for the account of a prestigious film studio. Upon his return, he was hired to work with us. He brought with him undeniable experience, different from anything we had done before. Assigned to the creative department, where I was the responsible partner, his first project with us was the launch of a new car model. Among the various ideas brought by the team, Felipe—the young man’s name—was undoubtedly the most interesting. I liked it in many aspects and modified others that I felt needed adjustments. He disagreed with the changes. Polite, he defended his point of view, arguing based on the parameters used in his experience in New York. I countered that the modifications were necessary because the audience and products were different. We debated for a few minutes, as is common in such situations. In the end, my opinion prevailed—not because Felipe was convinced by my arguments, but due to hierarchy. Since I had known him since he was a teenager and liked him very much—a young man, mature for his age, full of virtues gathered by a soul that had crossed many lifetimes—I wanted to avoid any ill feelings. And since he had developed the main points of the advertisement, I left him responsible for finalizing the project during my vacation, which I would spend at the monastery. As soon as I landed at the airport, I received an email from Felipe. It contained no words, only an attachment: a digital draft, created in a sophisticated computer program, of the car advertisement as it would be aired on television after filming. It was Felipe’s original idea, without any of my adjustments. I felt outraged. Or even challenged. The young man had taken advantage of my absence, exploited the trust placed in him, and perhaps relied on the fact that his father was a partner in the agency to disobey me. I was very upset by the lack of respect. I projected serious problems upon my return. I thought about the decisions I would have to make and how they might affect not only the harmony among the partners but also the rest of the creative team under my responsibility.
That same afternoon, since the studies had not yet begun and the monks were still arriving from various places, I invited the Elder for a conversation in the cafeteria. Armed with two mugs of coffee, we settled near the windows overlooking the mountains. I narrated the facts. Then, I expressed my uncertainty about which of the several decisions I could make. From calling the agency to remove Felipe from leading the advertisement—a milder corrective measure—to even firing him, a more severe action. Any of these choices could create friction between me and Osvaldo, Felipe’s father and my business partner. However, I had no doubt that a firm stance on my part was essential; otherwise, I would lose everyone’s respect in the agency by appearing incapable of leading the team. I just needed to mature my decision.
The Elder took a sip of coffee and, in his gentle voice, asked, “Why the need to measure strength with Felipe?”. I denied it. That was not my intention. I would never try to measure strength with him; that would be a stupid and crude gesture on my part. It was a matter of respect. Relationships are either respectful or abusive. There is no middle ground. The monk continued, “Are you sure the young man is really disobeying your orders?”. I said there was no doubt. The email with the digital draft of the advertisement was a clear message. He was telling me that he would do it his way. The Elder asked, “What message accompanied the video?”. “None,” I replied. In a Socratic manner, the monk continued, “What makes you believe that he would finalize the advertisement exactly as shown in the video instead of doing it the way you instructed?”. I stated that there was no other possible conclusion. Felipe was determined to override my orders. The Elder took another sip of coffee, looked at me with his kind eyes, and asked, “Are you sure?”
I spread my arms as if to say I couldn’t believe the Elder was still struggling to understand something so obvious. I said I would call the agency immediately. I would remove Felipe from the creative team. Upon my return, I would decide whether to fire him, giving myself time to mature the decision. It didn’t matter if his father got upset. I was being fair. That was enough. The monk furrowed his brows and commented seriously, “Without a doubt, if a decision is tied to truth and virtues—justice being one of them—then there is nothing to fear.”. He paused briefly before pondering, “However, are you making the best reading of Felipe’s heart?”
I said I didn’t understand.
The Elder explained, “Expansion of consciousness, the blossoming of virtues, and the refinement of choices form the three vertices of evolution, as long as they move together and in harmony. Knowledge is fundamental because of the keys it provides. However, if we are not able to see the doors, the keys will be of no use; the passages will remain closed.”. He took another sip of coffee and clarified, “It is necessary to understand how knowledge can serve to make us different and better people, expanding our perspective and dissolving misunderstandings. Without deepening layers of perception and sensitivity to adapt knowledge to each situation, knowledge is worthless.”
I asked him to explain further.
The Elder was very attentive: “Felipe’s email may contain a subliminal message of disobedience, as you believe—a sign that he intends to do things his way. Without a doubt, that would be a disrespectful attitude, as there were instructions to follow. If that is the case, a firm response is necessary. Hierarchy, order, and respect do not mean subservience or slavery but are foundational concepts of corporate behaviour to ensure that collective work remains focused and does not create conflict among team members—a principle present even in the ethereal realms, far more subtle and elevated than ours.”. He looked at me with his gentle eyes and added, “However, there is also another possible interpretation. In a final attempt, the young man may have digitally simulated the advertisement to show how his idea would work better without your adjustments. Nothing more than that. It may not be an act of rebellion but rather a last effort to illustrate with images what he might not have been able to convey with words. If this is the case, there is nothing wrong. It is up to you, after sincerely analysing the material he sent, to decide whether to maintain or change the decisions you made before traveling.”. I fell silent. I needed to think. We finished our coffee in silence.
That night, right after dinner, I met Lucas, one of the most cultured monks in the Order, an avid reader and dedicated student, who also lived in Rio de Janeiro. He treated me coldly. I found it strange. We had carried out several tasks together at the monastery and had always had a good relationship. He had recently divorced Lúcia, his wife until then, in a process that, at least for him, was somewhat misunderstood. As sometimes happens, small disagreements can erode a relationship if they are not handled with care and attention. Lúcia was very close friends with Denise, my wife; both were also monks of the Order. The disagreements of a couple should not affect their friends. No one has the right, the authority, or the ability to judge others. There are so many facts and feelings, denials and misunderstandings, distortions and mistakes involved in any romantic relationship—especially long-term ones—that even the sharpest observer would find themselves lost, an intruder in an unfamiliar universe. Knowing this, Denise and I had always made it a point of ethics not to give opinions or get involved, no matter how small the action, in other people’s conflicts. It was no different this time. However, even though I liked Lucas very much, we lived in the same city, and we were always kind to each other, we did not spend much time together. Denise had always been closer to Lúcia. Their friendship continued after the divorce. There was nothing wrong with that. And there was certainly nothing personal between Lucas and me—at least that’s what I thought. I attributed his bitter attitude toward me to his temporary inability to handle the intense and conflicting emotions that had consumed him in recent months. At that moment, what I needed to offer was understanding and patience.
The monastery was a centre for study. Internet and cell phone access was restricted to a short period during the day and only for essential needs. The male and female wings were separate, and the rooms were individual so that the night could be used for rest and reflection. Because of this, I had no way to tell Denise about how Lucas had treated me. But I also didn’t give the matter much importance. The next morning, when I met her in the canteen for breakfast, I didn’t even remember to mention the incident.
However, Lucas and Denise were enrolled in the same course that year. Later that morning, during the debate that followed the class, Lucas mocked one of Denise’s comments. Then another. Unable to close the emotional drawers of his heart—so full of disorder, misunderstanding, and resentment—his turmoil overflowed. Unable to contain himself, he verbally attacked her. Not satisfied, he went further, saying he was certain that she had encouraged his separation. The situation quickly escalated. When I found Denise, she was in tears. She had not only been attacked but also felt deeply wronged.
The Elder called us in for a conversation. It was essential for the harmony of the monastery that this tension be resolved as soon as possible. When we arrived at his office, Lucas and Lúcia were already there. Lúcia explained that the divorce had happened because of Lucas’s behaviour—his lack of attention and interest in the shared aspects of their life together, which are fundamental for two people who decide to walk the same path. Denise, or any other friend, had no influence on the matter. She reminded Lucas of the many times she had spoken with him about the need for change, about correcting the course of their marriage. Although every person is unique, and therein lies the beauty of our individuality, a couple must look in the same direction if they truly want to walk side by side. However, Lucas had never been interested in the topic or had insisted on maintaining his usual stance. Insisting on changing another person is a foolish endeavour, Lúcia reminded him. On the other hand, respecting one’s own limits is an act of self-love. When she understood that the time had come to leave, she boarded the train of life and moved forward.
Lucas remained unconvinced. He confessed that he found it strange for a divorce to happen without fights. Lúcia explained that conflict is unnecessary. When all possibilities for dialogue are exhausted, as they had been in their case, and the other person refuses to change, the only option left is to move forward alone. No shouting, no resentment. When words no longer fit, it means it’s time to navigate through the misunderstandings of others. It’s not about judging who is right or wrong but about deciding what is best for oneself. Lucas said he still believed that, despite all the dissatisfaction she had expressed, they had been happy together. Lúcia regretted his inability to read her heart. She added that he had interpreted things according to how he understood his own feelings and through the lens with which he viewed the world. However, each heart tells a different story. No two are ever the same. That is where the art of understanding the world lies—in short, the art of love.
Lucas surrendered. In that moment, he was finally able to see the door that had always been there but that he had never noticed before. Though he possessed a wealth of knowledge, he had not known how to apply it to daily life. With genuine regret, he admitted that he had never tried to see life through his wife’s eyes, which could have added unimaginable colours to their relationship. And now, he also understood the absurd things he had said to Denise. He sincerely apologized for his lack of wisdom. Then he turned to Lúcia and asked for the opportunity to read her heart as he had never dared to before. Until then, he had been imprisoned within the walls of the castle he had built for himself. Knowledge provides the key, but only perception and sensitivity allow for the right movement—the essential movement that opens the door and lets us move forward. Lúcia said nothing. The Elder advised them to continue their conversation in the monastery gardens.
Once alone, the wise monk asked Denise how she felt. She did not hesitate to forgive Lucas. However, she admitted that she was deeply unsettled by the unfair accusation she had suffered. The Elder smiled gently and offered an unexpected perspective: “As difficult as it may seem, injustice actually makes everything easier. If we think about it, there is nothing in injustice that should steal our serenity and peace. After all, we did nothing wrong. Knowing that should be enough.”. Then he added a phrase with many layers of meaning: “Never give power to what has no power.”. Seeing her astonishment, he explained: “The real causes of agony and sadness are the fair accusations. Those, indeed, are cause for concern. May we never give reason for them.” And he concluded: “So, we will have nothing to fear.” Denise’s eyes shone with a newfound understanding. She smiled in gratitude.
After a brief pause, the Elder finished with a profound thought:
“Dignity is what keeps us on the path of light. Beyond that, nothing can shake us—only the misinterpretations that others make of our hearts.” He shrugged and concluded “Narratives do not always reflect the talent of the writer; sometimes, they reveal the blindness of the reader.”
The monastery’s harmony had been restored. With the issue resolved, the wise monk excused himself, saying he needed to return to his duties. Denise and I had to get back to class. As we walked down the corridor, I told her that I had watched the video Felipe had sent. The images had given me an understanding beyond words. Though a few small adjustments were needed, the final result would be far better than what I had initially planned before leaving for the monastery. Earlier that morning, I had contacted the agency to approve the changes. I had also spoken with Felipe. The digital draft in his email had not been an act of defiance, as I had initially believed, but rather a legitimate attempt at persuasion. I recalled how the Elder had questioned my need to measure strength against Felipe. At the time, I hadn’t understood. But in truth, I admitted, the untold stories in my own heart had prevented me from reading his correctly.
The Elder smiled and said “The difficulty of reading a heart is one of the greatest causes of conflicts and ruptures. Knowing all the letters does not always allow one to form the right words; there must be perception and sensitivity to understand the text in the precise context structured between reason and emotion.”. He furrowed his brows, as he did when adopting a serious tone, and emphasized “The inability to read one’s own heart jumbles the letters and reverses the words contained in other hearts. When the best reading does not take place, stories lose their meaning, and the original message becomes distorted. If the world seems confusing, perhaps there is nothing wrong with it; grant yourself the opportunity for a new and different reading. All shadows dissolve before the light.”
And with that, he walked away—his steps slow, but steady.
Translated by Cazmilian Zórdic.
