Every time I walk through the narrow and winding streets of the small town at the foot of the mountain that houses the monastery, I have the clear sensation that I am on my way to meet an unknown part of myself. The train drops me off at the station at dawn. Depending on the time of year, the sky is either sprinkled with stars or tinged with pinkish hues announcing the arrival of morning. The irregular pavement, made of ancient stones, allows the night’s dew to form puddles that reflect the iron streetlamps. It is an inspiring setting for what comes next. Loureiro, the shoemaker who loves philosophy books and red wine, is a precious interlocutor who teaches me how to dialogue with myself. These conversations are not always pleasant, as they bring delicate, and sometimes even uncomfortable, truths that reveal who I have yet to become.
As I approached, I noticed that the craftsman’s classic bicycle was not leaning against the post in front of the workshop as usual. I found it strange. I wondered if the shop was closed. Its unusual and unpredictable operating hours were well known in the region. To my delight, it was open. Loureiro greeted me with a sincere smile and a tight hug. While he prepared a pot of fresh coffee, I sat at the heavy wooden counter. I asked about the bicycle. The shoemaker commented, “Someone took it without my permission.” I said he must be very upset, as he had owned it since his youth. Returning with two steaming mugs of coffee, he smiled and said, “Someone needed it more than I did.”
I told him that wasn’t fair, nor was it the right way to think about it. I suggested he report it to the police and ask for an investigation, not because of its material value, but because of the emotional loss. It was a small town; it wouldn’t be difficult. If I were in his place, I wouldn’t let it go so easily. He said that course of action didn’t interest him and said: “As long as I remain inconsolable, I will hold on to the pain of the loss. Healing must always be the priority.” I argued that the pain would subside if the bicycle was found. The shoemaker explained, “Yes, that would be a form of healing. However, it would depend on circumstances beyond my control. When I live in expectation of events outside my reach, I stretch my suffering by prolonging the pain indefinitely.” He took a sip of coffee and said, “I prefer the therapy of self-healing, where there is no dependency on external actions. I remove painful emotions from within me through illuminating thoughts. A new and healthy feeling takes their place, healing the wound.” He paused before concluding, “Healing is removing from within everything that no longer serves us. For that, there is no good reason to wait for something or someone.”
I couldn’t accept that way of thinking. Taking something that doesn’t belong to you is a serious moral failing, I pointed out. Loureiro agreed: “Without a doubt. That doesn’t mean I condone or support such behaviour. It simply means I choose who will accompany me. Wherever I go, my thoughts and emotions will follow me at all times; when they are heavy, they imprison me in sadness, indignation, and anger. Life becomes small when I diminish myself in suffering. It’s as if I were living inside a box that limits and constricts me. I don’t want that for myself.” He paused briefly before continuing, “By expanding my thinking, freedom spreads its wings; peace lays its foundations in a serene heart. By cultivating love and wisdom in my thoughts and emotions in the face of adversity, I regain balance and strength. The wrongdoing stays behind; the one who committed it is the one who must deal with and live with it, not me. This is the exact movement of healing. Making myself a pleasant place to live is part of the art of life.”
Nearly indignant, I told him it was absurd to let the thief go unpunished. The craftsman explained: “The losses he will suffer will be far greater than mine. I lost a bicycle; he extinguished his own light. One must have compassion for someone who has lost their greatest treasure and, even worse, still lives without realizing it, believing they have come out ahead.” Though I understood the nobility of the idea, I disagreed that it could serve as consolation. That bicycle had been his means of transportation between home and work for nearly half a century. It was still in perfect condition due to his careful maintenance and preservation. I insisted that it wasn’t fair; he needed to fight for his rights. Once again, the shoemaker did not allow me to misuse a good idea: “Yes, standing up for our rights speaks to the struggle of shaping who we are, the art of life. Understanding the difference between necessary pursuits and pointless conflicts allows us to discern which battles are essential and which are wasteful. Some are fundamental; others, unnecessary. Otherwise, we will exhaust our days in countless small wars and those victories add nothing to our journey. Even when we win, we lose; if I triumph, I will still be defeated.”
I asked how one could tell whether a battle was essential or unnecessary. Loureiro explained, “Those that help build who we are, are indispensable. They speak to the dignity that must never be lacking, the peace that dissolves fear, the joy of becoming a different and better person every day, the freedom to move forward, and the love that gives meaning to life. Everything else requires careful evaluation to determine if it is worth the penance.” I commented that in that last sentence, the word ‘penance’ could carry a connotation of punishment. The shoemaker clarified, “Yes, that is precisely it. Not every battle is liberating. On the contrary, most battles we are trapped in due to ancestral habits become self-punishing. The duration of the conflict determines the extent of the pain. The fleeting joy of a possible victory will never compensate for the depth of the wound it aggravates, or the days wasted waiting for decisions beyond our control. We will never have autonomy over our own lives until we understand the power of self-determination. The best healing therapy will always be the one that depends solely on oneself.” He took a sip of coffee and said, “Believe me, there will always be one available to you. If you can’t find it, wipe the lenses clouded by outdated ways of thinking, cleanse the filters of obsolete ways of feeling. You will discover it through unexpected paths, never before considered, even though wise men have spoken of them since time immemorial. Lost in concepts and emotions of supremacy, domination, and imposition over others, unaware of the true meaning of victory, we let happiness exist only in the imagination of poets and in the sacred books. As long as I believe I can only be happy if I get my bicycle back, I allow suffering to establish an empire with no foreseeable end. By accepting that the bicycle is not a priority in my life, as it will not fit in my baggage when I transition to another dimension, I reclaim peace and happiness. I understand the true measure of the value of all things. I free myself from suffering.”
He then added, “Consider, for example, legal cases that drag on for years in an attempt to seek reparation for pain or loss. Even if, depending on the case, a ruling may bring some financial relief or punishment to the wrongdoer, it will be ineffective in returning the lost time, just like the days wasted in suffering. It is an exhausting, prolonged, and, most seriously, futile therapy. Those who claim to feel healed by these means are deeply mistaken. They speak of justice when, in truth, they desire revenge or are driven by mere financial interests, hidden behind deceptive arguments of beautiful rhetoric but devoid of love and wisdom. They lie to themselves.”
He added, “It is no different in the case of an offense, which can manifest in countless ways, from a mere criticism aimed at demeaning someone who does not fit the tastes and preferences that critics have deemed correct, to more subtle forms of aggression, such as contempt, a dark expression of pride and arrogance rooted in a supposed superiority. There are even more aggressive ways, particularly when they are collective, such as the so-called cancel culture, a terrible and contemporary way of using social media to ostracize those who refuse to conform to a singular way of thinking, coercing individuality and free thought. These are heinous machines of repression widely used today and, worse, celebrated by crowds still addicted to feeding on malice under the false pretense of defending what is good. In all these cases, the intent is to confine everyone within the narrow limits of their misunderstandings, as if a person needed another’s permission to be who they are.”
He took a sip of coffee and explained, “Feeling offended interrupts the flight, like a bird refusing the sky for fear of slingshot attacks. I cannot prevent the stones, but I can avoid being struck by them.” I asked how to do that. Loureiro explained, “Fly high. The stones will never reach you.” He gestured with his hand as if stating the obvious and clarified, “I will suffer from an offense only as long as I believe that my dignity can be stolen, like a bicycle. No, nothing and no one can take my dignity away from me, as long as I remain aligned with truth and virtue. In such cases, as long as I am free of pride and vanity, it is not difficult to understand that the aggressor is not speaking about me; they are merely spilling over the turmoil in their own heart. I dignify myself through the best within me, by acting at the utmost boundary of my attained truth and at the highest level of my acquired virtues. I free myself from offense and move forward in peace.”
He furrowed his brows and said, “I act recklessly when I allow my happiness to depend on someone else’s lack of understanding. How can I entrust something so precious, intimate, and essential to others? If I know the truth that guides me and the virtues that drive me, the contradictions, outbursts, and errors of another person will never find a home in my soul. It matters little what others think of me. Only the immature need validation or permission from others to be happy or to believe in who they are.”
Then he offered a warning: “What must not be lacking is humility, simplicity, and compassion. If there is any truth in the other person’s words, take the good part and disregard the bad; acknowledge your mistakes, apologize, make amends, commit to correcting your course, and move on. As we often say in this workshop, when well used, mistakes shape the noblest shoes.”
The shoemaker’s unusual way of thinking unsettled me. I decided to talk about a situation that had been bothering me. I was quite upset with a friend who had borrowed money from me to invest in his business. I had explained that I would need the amount back within a year at most, as I was preparing to set up a printing shop within the publishing house I managed. He had personally assured me that he would repay the original amount by the agreed-upon deadline, even if his business did not succeed as he hoped; if necessary, he would take out a bank loan or sell his beautiful country house to honour his commitment to me. I agreed to lend him the money. When the deadline arrived, he did not pay me back. He gave me excuses that disregarded his responsibility, whether it was the high interest rates at banks or the difficulty of parting with the place where his grandchildren spent their vacations. In short, he said he would pay me back when he could but refused to set a date. I told the shoemaker that I felt like a fool for having been deceived by empty promises on such a serious commitment. Loureiro pointed out the mistake that was imprisoning me in suffering: “Why condemn yourself with such harsh words? Why wound yourself with lies? Why punish yourself for a situation in which you did nothing wrong?” He remained silent for a few moments, allowing me to understand the mistaken thoughts that were creating an unnecessary wound. Then he continued, “You trusted a friend; there is nothing wrong with that. How many times have you helped others, or been helped yourself?” I admitted it had happened many times. He continued building his unexpected reasoning: “Did you feel good when all involved kept their word?” I nodded. “Do you know why trust and credibility are among life’s greatest wonders?” I shook my head. Loureiro then taught me, “Because they are pillars of dignity. No one can be happy or live in peace without dignity. Those who try, even if they deny it, will be eternally haunted by the ghosts of their deceptions and mistakes until they bring light to the darkness they created.” Then he asked the ultimate question: “You lost money; he lost his light. Who is the real fool?” The answer was obvious and needed no words. The shoemaker concluded, “Be grateful to life that in this situation, you are where you have managed to reach, and not on the other side, playing the role of the buffoon who deceives the audience while starring in a dark and distasteful spectacle.”
Loureiro clarified further, “Live as if he owes you nothing; if one day he decides to honour his commitment, accept it. In the meantime, see it as a high-risk investment with an unlikely return due to the moral inconsistency of the other party, much like the stock market when losses are caused by misleading news that hides the structural collapse of a company. I repeat, the one who acted in good faith is not in the wrong, but rather the one who failed to uphold the truth by denying the commitment they made”. He then offered another dose of illuminating ideas, powerful elixirs to restore emotional balance and stop the soul’s pain: “Self-punishment for the mistakes, excesses, and misjudgements of others is an irrational cause of many wounds we inflict upon ourselves. We suffer for the terrible and absurd actions of others when, in reality, the consequences of all actions belong solely and exclusively to those who commit them. There is no good reason for me to condemn myself for the misuse of the good I have offered. We have a habit of punishing ourselves for mistakes we did not make. In the immaturity of our consciousness, we believe that the deceived is a fool, while the deceiver is clever. By thinking this way, we uproot the flowers from the beautiful garden of the soul, born from the practice of goodness, only to walk barefoot on the sharp stones of misunderstanding; our feet will bleed unnecessarily. Never do this to yourself”. He took another sip of coffee and concluded, “I am the master of myself when, regardless of the movements of the world, I remain aligned with my inner light. With it, I have everything I need to move forward, unaffected by the erratic steps that were not taken by me.”
I emptied my coffee mug without saying a word. I needed to absorb this new perspective to heal all the wounds still bleeding within me, and more than that, to ensure that reckless pain would not take permanent residence in my heart. No suffering is necessary; all of it dissolves through the refinement of our perception. Then Loureiro added, “If each person resides within themselves, there is not a single good reason to allow the mess of others to disorganize our own house. With your thoughts and feelings as your inseparable companions, never allow suffering to settle in as a guest, not even for a single day. Becoming accustomed to living with negativity leads to stagnation and exhaustion; the soul rots from so much pain. Healing means removing the darkness from within us. And for that, there is no need to wait for anything or anyone. Healing lies in changing the way we see.”
It was time to leave. I would be hitching a ride on the truck that delivered supplies to the monastery. I thanked the shoemaker for our conversation. The weight had been lifted with the end of misunderstandings, the seeds of all suffering. He had led me to discover a hidden power, always available, that I had never known before.
At that moment, we were surprised by Rene’s arrival at the workshop. A bookseller by both passion and profession, Rene was an old and loyal friend of Loureiro. Upon hearing about the stolen bicycle, he set out to find a replacement and came across an even rarer one. It was a Schwinn, a bicycle manufactured in the early decades of the past century, in perfect condition, on both preservation and use. He had decided to gift it to the man who had helped him in several crucial moments of his life. The Schwinn was one of Loureiro’s secret passions.
That morning, the city awoke to the shoemaker’s smile. Life never leaves stranded those who walk in the light.
Translated by Cazmilian Zórdic.
