The two steaming mugs of coffee were placed on the heavy wooden counter of Loureiro’s small workshop, the cobbler who loved books and wine. There is much joy involved when two friends meet simply for the pleasure of being together; friendship is a powerful cosmic brotherhood. Always neatly dressed and elegant in personal demeanour, the artisan apologised for sewing a leather bag while we were talking. These were the final touches. The client was waiting for the order that day. I said that I should be the one apologising for always arriving without notice. Loureiro commented that true friendships don’t need formalities. Friends understand each other even without speaking. The conversation was lively. We laughed a lot. It was then that our attention was diverted by the pleasant fragrance accompanying a beautiful woman who had entered the workshop. In her forties, dressed in finely tailored clothes and with light makeup that seemed more to conceal than enhance her beauty, she had black, silky hair cut to shoulder length, which seemed to dance with every subtle movement of her face. A lovely face with delicate, harmonious features, her black eyes demonstrated the power of someone who knows what she wants. We had never seen her in the charming little town of narrow, winding streets, paved with ancient stones, where Loureiro’s atelier was located, at the foot of the mountain that housed the monastery. She explained that she lived in a famous metropolis about three hours away by train. She then confessed to being enchanted by the cobbler’s skill. She had learned about his work through friends who used bags and shoes made by him.
She was a businesswoman, she explained. She had worked for many years at a well-known multinational oil company, where she had held a position on the regional board. Recently, she had left the company to pursue her vocation as a consultant and new business manager. Her role was to elevate small companies, making them larger and more profitable. She provided two or three examples of some of the successes she had achieved. She then said she was there to propose something similar to Loureiro. She claimed it was a waste for all that talent to be limited to artisanal production. The cobbler’s art, combined with the beautiful woman’s business experience, would allow the Cactus brand, as the small workshop’s was called, to be present in the most cosmopolitan cities worldwide through industrial production and franchised stores in just a few years. She claimed she could easily attract investors interested in the project.
Although I was merely a passive observer of the conversation, I admit I was thrilled by the proposal. It wasn’t hard for me to imagine the Cactus brand rivalling the renowned names in bags and shoes. Talent and creativity were not lacking in the cobbler. I remembered that I had seen him refuse a tempting offer, at least financially, to become the designer for one of those famous companies. However, this time the proposal was different. The attractive woman assured that Loureiro would have full creative control over all the products. It would be his brand, under his own creative direction, expanding into franchises worldwide. The administrative and commercial aspects would be handled by the beautiful woman and her consulting team. She was honest and immediately made clear a few basic conditions. Yes, they would be partners; yes, the investors would also acquire shares in the small company to turn it into a large business; yes, there would be targets to meet; yes, some decisions would no longer be up to Loureiro. However, the earnings for the cobbler would be infinitely greater, providing access to exclusive goods for a select group of people. Moreover, living without having to worry about chasing after money to pay daily bills is always a desirable comfort. I was pleased for my friend. A perfect project and ideas. It was something someone would never refuse.
The cobbler listened to the beautiful woman’s presentation without interrupting. He also did not ask any questions. With the serenity and delicacy he was accustomed to, he thanked her for the offer but declined it without hesitation. With his usual elegance, he explained that he did not want to change the routine he had built for himself. He enjoyed the lifestyle he had created; he opened the workshop at dawn, while the stars were still high, and closed it at lunchtime, when he would meet with friends and chat for the whole afternoon. The joy in the routine he had established was fundamental to his creativity and the lightness of the discipline needed for any work. He loved his days. This was reflected in the quality of the products he crafted and, consequently, in the loyalty of a clientele that, although small, provided him with enough for a comfortable existence. There was no luxury, but the essentials were not lacking; and there was still a little left for small indulgences, like linen shirts and occasional trips. He didn’t care for cars; his classic bicycle, which when he was working, was leaned against the post in front of the workshop, was as well-known in the little town as the bags and shoes he produced. Despite its small size and simplicity, his house was sufficient for him. His children were grown and no longer lived with him. In short, he had everything he needed. The beautiful woman used other arguments to persuade the cobbler to reconsider. She imagined how interesting Loureiro’s days would be once the Cactus brand went global. His talent, known only to a handful of people, would be admired by crowds. He would have a new and exciting lifestyle; she assured him that he would not miss his current routine. It was a fair and interesting proposal. But it was for nothing, he refused again. So, she thanked him, left a card for him to contact her if he changed his mind, and left.
Her perfume lingered. Along with the pleasant aroma was also the unpleasant feeling of a missed opportunity. At that time, the advertising agency of which I was a partner was one of the largest in the market. Although I was experiencing an excellent financial moment, I disliked thinking about certain practices used to attract clients and accounts. These were ideas I tried to push away because they disturbed me. Business ethics were not the same as the ones I taught my daughters. There is no way to be a saint in a world of demons, I would tell myself, suppressing any discomfort of conscience. No, I didn’t want to harm anyone; I was just playing by the rules of the game, even if reluctantly. The rules were already established when I entered the market. I did what everyone did without anyone being upset by those practices. I had not made the world a worse place to live; on the contrary, I was a good man, albeit bound by the constraints of the environment and survival. There was no other way, I repeated to myself every time my thoughts troubled me. Watching the invitation made to Loureiro, I was unsettled. Alone with my friend, I questioned what problem he had with money. I explained that money, like all things in the world, was just a tool of neutral polarity. It was the way we used it that established its positive or negative polarity; to build or to destroy. I added that he should have no prejudice against any tool, including money, which when used well served for important constructions, whether material, like bridges and concrete buildings, or immaterial, like charity, bridges of love and mercy. Loureiro agreed with me: “Your reasoning is absolutely correct. You are right about the analysis you make of money.” However, he made a reservation: “Contrary to what you might think, I have no prejudice against money or wealth. They will always be welcome. However, there is another important issue that must coexist with the others without any friction.” He paused and added: “I am referring to priorities. There will be little beauty in me while I do not understand and live my priorities.”
I asked Loureiro why he refused to grow professionally. I wanted to know if he had any problem with becoming larger. The cobbler furrowed his brows, shook his head, and explained: “First, being small doesn’t imply any demerit; on the contrary, you need to understand being small before you can truly become great. It seems more advantageous to be small but have absolute control over my choices, than to be great but not in command of my own destiny. The bitterness and delights of the days are shaped through every movement, even those that we seem to make out of convenience or weakness. There is no wealth in living worldly things detached from the values of the soul.”
He continued, “Moreover, it depends on what you mean by being great. It’s a personal concept that will guide choices and, consequently, one’s destiny.” He took a sip of coffee and said, “I love the routine I have. Although simple, and perhaps because of it, it is the path I travel towards happiness.” It was undeniable the joy, good humour, delicacy, and serenity that Loureiro conveyed in his dealings with everyone. This validated his words. I said nothing, as the cobbler continued to explain: “I enjoy receiving clients, listening to what they need and want. Designing an idea that incorporates aspects of their personality into what they will use; then transforming it into an object of use and personal satisfaction. I make art so that it is in motion and has utility. I believe this is my gift. I manage my time and days according to my desires, interests, commitments, possibilities, and pleasures. I guide my choices through my truths. I am the master of my creative and living process; I am the master of my ‘yes’ and my ‘no’. I understand that I need to change many things, but not necessarily in my routine. Rather, in myself, where my battlefield lies. This, as a consequence, might alter the routine I have. Yes, I want to feel that I have conquered a bit more of myself with each choice I make. A perception possible when I feel a virtue, that I have not yet achieved, manifesting with increasing intensity in my decisions. For this, I must calm the hours. Every night, before sleeping, when reflecting on the day, I seek to understand if I managed to love better, if I dismantled the fears that approached, if I deconstructed the sufferings that stole my peace, if I remained dignified with everyone, if I freed myself from ideas and emotions that prevented me from living to the fullest of my capabilities. This movement is essential to understand if I have walked the path of time, where we advance through multiple intrinsic transformations. I believe that in this way, my light will become more intense, either through the strength and balance that vibrate in my thoughts and feelings, or through the lightness that will envelop me from having removed the harshness from another of my relationships. Of course, all this is very personal; everyone has their own way of making life happen, of being happy and loving; this is mine. For me, this is how I become great. Nothing more.”
I told him he was mistaken. Upon a more sincere analysis, Loureiro was lying to himself by refusing a challenge that would be pivotal in his existence. I recalled another occasion when he had also turned down an opportunity for professional growth. I said that he was afraid of growing. The cobbler arched his lips in a sweet smile and said: “I was honest with you by offering the reasons for my choice.” I insisted that he was making a mistake by avoiding life. Loureiro shook his head and, without losing the delicacy characteristic of him, said firmly: “I respect your perspective, my friend. However, no one’s certainty will ever have the power to disturb my truth. My life, my choices, my power.”
I was extremely irritated by what I perceived as a lack of flexibility and sensitivity to the inevitable changes of existence. However, I said nothing more. As it was time for my departure, I thanked him for the conversation and the coffee, said my goodbyes, and headed to the train station. I carried with me a strange bitterness.
With a few minutes left before the train’s arrival, I settled onto a bench near the boarding platform. As I watched the activity in the station, I noticed a fortune-teller, dressed in traditional attire, offering to read people’s palms. Although it had never been a decisive factor in my decisions, I had always felt an irresistible fascination for oracles of all kinds. When she approached, I immediately extended my palm for her reading. The fortune-teller surprised me: “I don’t need to look at your hand. The colour of your aura tells the main story. You are dominated by envy. That’s why you’re irritated.”
Despite my surprise, I told her she was mistaken. Envy was a shadow long overcome in me. The fortune-teller said, “Nothing pleases a shadow more than our ignorance of it.” I replied that it was absurd to claim that I was unaware of the meaning of envy; everyone knew what it was. Moreover, it was inconceivable that I would be incapable of identifying it in myself; I knew myself very well. She explained with her peculiar way of expressing herself: “Unknowing is different from ignorance. I have no knowledge about the things I know that I don’t know. Ignorance is different; it dominates me whenever I don’t know that I don’t know. As long as it remains imperceptible, I won’t feel the need to free myself from it. That’s why ignorance will always be a cruel prison.”
I admitted that I was irritated. But it was due to a folly of a friend whom I greatly admired. There was no envy towards Loureiro; I held genuine admiration for his talent. I would be envious if I wanted his life for myself. I added that I was in a very comfortable financial position, having also received recognition through several international awards that the agency had won. This granted me access to advantages and privileges that I wished he could also enjoy, as he lacked neither talent nor ability. However, he refused the opportunities life offered him through that challenge. I simply wished the best for him. For all these reasons, I did not need to be envious of my cobbler friend. The fortune-teller taught me: “Each person has their own challenges, since evolution is very personal; no one does it for anyone else. Your challenge is to remain the same man with or without money. It’s a very difficult test, and I doubt you’ll overcome it. Most people succumb in this battle, becoming slaves when they should be masters.”
I asked her to explain further. The fortune-teller said: “Your friend does not disdain the good things in the world, nor does he devalue money. However, he is a master of himself, not a slave to the rules of the world. For him, money is a tool, never the work itself. If it helps with the work, money will be welcome; if it hinders it, it will be set aside.” I inquired if she was referring to the work of self. The woman nodded. Without me asking anything further, she continued: “Although you know this, you still can’t manage it. If he made choices similar to yours, you would justify some of your own decisions that bother you so much in the depths of your soul. Your envy does not concern the fortune or fame that your friend might achieve, as you already have those, but the calmness combined with firmness with which he makes choices and follows the Path. Despite everything you know, you still can’t achieve this; that bothers you. Hence, the envy.”
I insisted that she was mistaken. I also recognized that talent in Loureiro, which is why I admired him. No, it wasn’t envy; I admired him for achieving such accomplishments. The fortune-teller taught me: “The most dangerous enemy is the one we believe does not exist. If it were admiration, you would have been pleased with his choice. The envy of not being able to make the same choice has brought about your irritation.”
The train whistle drowned out the conversation. The door of the carriage opened in front of me. The fortune-teller’s eyes watched me with a sweet compassion. I couldn’t bring myself to stand up. By coincidence, I saw the beautiful woman, the same one who had been at the workshop earlier, enter and settle into one of the seats. Another whistle blew, the doors closed, and the train moved off. The fortune-teller smiled. Without a word, she turned on her heels and left. I grabbed my bag and tried to follow her. I had many questions to ask. Quick as a flash, she slipped through the crowd in the station and disappeared. Disconcerted, I sat back down. I lost track of the trains that arrived and departed. Something inside me needed to be deconstructed. Without knowing how much time had passed, I got up to go meet Loureiro. I needed to revisit our last conversation. I knew he would be waiting for me. Friends always know.
Translated by Cazmilian Zórdic.
