For many years, I had been a member of the EOMM—Esoteric Order of the Mountain Monks—a philosophical brotherhood whose central axis is the teachings of the small yet significant text known as the Sermon on the Mount, found in the Gospel of Matthew. Mahatma Gandhi is said to have claimed that this valuable content synthesizes all the steps humanity must take to achieve enlightenment. However, like all sacred writings, the guidance contained within has multiple layers of interpretation. It is one of those texts that expands and deepens our understanding each time we read it. Many other books, by providing elements that help us broaden our perception and sensitivity through lived experiences, allow us to refine the way we process them, ultimately changing how we walk through life. At the monastery, we study all philosophical traditions, from East to West, as long as their path is love. There is no light outside of love. By definition, wisdom is any knowledge applied in practice; therefore, all reasoning becomes harmful when it is not enveloped and driven by love.
Since my arrival, the monastery had been led by the Elder, as we affectionately called the eldest monk of the Order. With countless virtues, qualities that unite love and wisdom as a single tool for action, he was a rare case of unanimity due to his immeasurable power to bring people together. Because of him, the monastery had become a true common-unity. Everyone moved toward a shared purpose: to abolish ignorance, the seed of misunderstandings, the root of fear and suffering. At that time, the good monk had travelled for some medical exams. He would also take the opportunity to visit Li Tzu, the Taoist master from a small Chinese village on the way up to the Himalayas, who had been his friend since their university days in England. His return date to the monastery was uncertain. Rumours insisted he would not come back; that he had chosen to withdraw from the scene without fanfare or farewells. At first, I didn’t believe it. Contrary to appearances, such an act would be an ostentatious display of humility and simplicity that did not align with the Elder. It would be like throwing a party with the opposite of a celebration. The ritual of farewell, when done in the right measure, highlights the importance of gratitude and the desire to maintain bonds of affection, ties that are indestructible over time.
Giovanni, an Italian monk who had joined the Order around the same time as I had, took over the monastery’s administration. Polished, persuasive, and studious, he maintained a reasonable relationship with most of the brotherhood. He had encountered some minor conflicts for attempting to interfere in the activities of other monks. Despite his good intentions, he did not always understand the fine line between suggestion and interference. A suggestion is merely an idea exchanged with the person responsible for the task; interference occurs when someone tries to influence others to enforce a suggested change.
The annual study periods last about a month. These are days of intense joy and enthusiasm, whether due to new learning experiences or the pleasant coexistence with people we like and admire. This time, however, after just a week, I felt uncomfortable at the monastery, something that had never happened before. I even considered requesting to leave. After so many years, I felt out of place, as if the monastery no longer embraced me. Life consists of numerous smaller cycles of learning that form a larger evolutionary circle. I suspected that my cycle in the Order had ended. It is essential to recognize when a story concludes so that we do not remain trapped in it after the final chapter. Perhaps it was time to seek new learning experiences elsewhere, nothing extraordinary. Transformation is vital for evolution; it changes our tastes and perspectives. When that happens, it is time to move on.
I discussed this with Heitor, an Argentine monk, psychoanalyst, and author of dozens of marvellous books. He was a great friend and confidant. I confessed my discomfort and admitted that I was considering leaving the Order. I pondered that the monastery had become a place where I no longer fit. The joy and enthusiasm had vanished. I was no longer the same person; it was time to leave. With ears trained by his profession, Heitor listened carefully and then argued, “Without a doubt, knowledge is one of the primary pillars of the intrinsic changes we express in the world. Although they can happen, changes are not always the reason we feel discomfort with places or people. I have lived in Buenos Aires since I was a boy. The city has changed many times since then. Sometimes because of its own transformations, other times, because my perception of everything shifted, and so the city became something different for me. I never thought about leaving, even though I was no longer the same. Institutions, businesses, and places are living entities that, as such, either continuously evolve or decay due to stagnation. However, not all change is evolutionary. The same is true for people. When personal movements fall out of sync with external changes, misalignment occurs”. He winked, as if revealing a secret, and said, “Misalignment can be the music of evolutionary trumpets or the noise of the most terrible misunderstandings, depending on how we decode the message”. I asked him to elaborate. Heitor shook his head and remarked, “No one finds the right answer without first asking the right question. Now is the time to determine whether you have changed, the monastery has changed, or both, and which of these changes have been beneficial. Not every transformation is for the better; not every movement leads forward”.
I argued that cycles come to an end, and it is essential to recognize when it is time to leave. Prolonging a story beyond its conclusion stretches it too thin. The Argentine monk agreed, with some reservations: “Understanding the meaning of each departure defines the difference between advancing and escaping”. I asked him to explain the difference. Heitor smiled and said, “Ready-made answers do not help anyone grow. Learn how to ask the right questions; then seek your own answers. Otherwise, you will travel in someone else’s cart, without the right to choose your own destination”.
I pressed him for more. The Argentine monk said our conversation had reached its natural limit. To continue, I would need to bring new elements into the equation. Otherwise, I would learn nothing about the solution. He was right; there are no shortcuts on the Path. Steps must be taken slowly to ensure they are firm. I thanked him and set out in search of the unknown questions so I could access the answers I needed. Otherwise, I would not be in a position to make the best decision. I observed and observed some more. I worked hard to remove any emotional or biased factors from my conclusions, anything that might serve as an excuse or be used to discredit the changes that had occurred. That very day, when I arrived at the cafeteria for lunch, I was informed that meal times would now be staggered. We would no longer eat all together; an old and cherished monastery tradition had come to an end. Now, Giovanni and the coordinators would eat first, using the time to discuss administrative matters. Afterward, the rest of the monks would take their turn. The discomfort grew.
The previous day, Giovanni had gathered all the monks in the auditorium. Very kind and friendly, he spoke about the restructuring of the Order. New positions would be created to improve administration, leading to increased efficiency in studies; new courses would be offered; more knowledge would mean a greater number of tools provided for everyone’s well-being. Several coordination offices were established. I noticed that all of them were filled by monks close to Giovanni. One in particular caught my attention, the newly created Coordination of Practices, which in the new organizational chart was placed above the Coordination of Studies and only below the General Direction, which was under Giovanni’s responsibility. The argument was that knowledge needs to be applied to everyday situations in order to be useful and become wisdom. However, I realized that, despite the explanation being based on a correct premise, the purpose was inapplicable in this case. Philosophy does not depend on any therapy to find its applicability in daily life. In reality, Giovanni was finally introducing holistic therapies into the monastery, a rather controversial topic within the Order. Not that anyone dismissed these therapies, on the contrary, they were viewed favourably. I myself used Reiki to harmonize chakras and magnetic passes in other situations. However, they were not the primary purpose of the Order, which focused on philosophical knowledge as a means of providing spiritual, mental, and emotional tools for its members. Giovanni, the owner of a holistic school in Rome, had previously attempted to introduce the study of therapies into the Order. The idea had not taken root at the time, and I had been one of its main opponents. Some monks had gone to study with him in Italy, and now, they were the coordinators responsible for reshaping the monastery.
As if that weren’t enough, the number of hours dedicated to philosophical studies was drastically reduced to make room for more time devoted to therapeutic courses. My role had diminished to the point of becoming almost irrelevant. I went to talk to Giovanni, who received me warmly and, with kind and polite manners, explained the important transformation the Order was undergoing. He said the changes were irreversible and assured me of the valuable legacy they would bring to the monks. Everyone would grow, he guaranteed, as long as they did not resist evolution.
These were the underlying causes of the discomfort I was feeling. Life demands movement. The Order had taken a path opposite to mine. The new coordinators possessed knowledge I had not been interested in acquiring at the time. I had fallen behind by letting an opportunity for growth slip away. After so many years of study and dedication to the monastery, I would have to start over from scratch. Pride and vanity roared within me, creating a deep internal unease. It was up to me to understand the opportunity I had missed and have the humility to retrace my steps. Either I would start anew and adapt, or I would leave the Order. Staying in a place where I no longer felt comfortable was not an option. It was time to decide.
After dinner, I grabbed a mug of tea and went to the veranda. I like to look at the stars when I’m in crisis. The vastness of the universe puts me into perspective, I understand my place and find the perfect starting point for constructing a new idea that will free me from destructive emotions and thoughts. Peace is restored, and I become able to make the best choice. When I arrived, I found Heitor lost in his reflections. He smiled and gestured for me to sit in the chair beside him. I shared my observations, conclusions, and the dilemma I was facing. Should I restart my journey by dedicating myself to courses on various holistic therapies, or should I leave the Order since I no longer fit in a place I had loved until recently? Without taking his eyes off the stars, the Argentine monk asked, “From what you’ve said, it doesn’t seem like a difficult decision. What’s stopping you from restarting within the framework Giovanni has proposed?” I admitted that I was struggling to illuminate my personal shadows. Pride and vanity still prevented me from making a peaceful choice. An internal storm clouded the clarity I needed to bring calm to my soul. These past days had been revealing how immature my ego still was. Heitor turned to me and declared, “Life cannot be understood through a single equation. Even love has shades, nuances, and layers. Not all dissatisfaction comes from an immature ego trapped in its shadows; some stem from a detachment from truth. These are different situations. One originates from the inability to be; the other, from a failure to see.” He paused before asking, “How many times have you had to start a journey over?”. I answered, “Many, every time I have fallen.” Moments when I was forced to reclaim my unity through humility, simplicity, and compassion. Heitor continued, “Have mistakes come to an end?” I replied, “Not at all. I’ve learned the importance of mistakes in personal reconstruction, using different and better foundations.” The psychoanalyst asked, “In those moments, did virtues illuminate the shadows of pride and vanity?” I said yes, that those experiences had been valuable because they helped me grow beyond who I was. The Argentine monk left me in check: “Even though pride and vanity were still present, they never prevented you from starting over. Why can’t you do it this time?” I didn’t know how to answer, but I realized I was trapped in an incomprehension whose reasons were unknown to me.
I asked him for help. Heitor was like a cosmic brother: “No one needs to submit to a situation they find unpleasant. That does not mean humility. It is essential to understand the difference between the luminous and shadowy sides of resignation. When something is inevitable, such as the passing of a loved one, job loss, divorce, an irreversible illness, or even a transformative planetary shift, adaptability is an evolutionary movement because it leads us to more subtle and elevated understandings. These are cases where we must move inwardly to adjust to life. However, there are situations that require external movements so that we remain free, dignified, happy, and at peace, when, for example, I establish boundaries in a relationship to prevent it from becoming abusive, when I change jobs or careers to find fulfilment, when I choose to dedicate myself to what I truly prioritize, letting go of distractions and illusions that pull me away from my essence, among countless other situations. Understanding the reasons for staying or the need to leave is just as important. Without grasping the moment, we won’t be able to make the best choice”. He paused briefly so I could process his words and then continued, “We must be careful not to blame pride and vanity for mistakes they never played a part in. Everything that unsettles us because it does not flatter or exalt us, yes, that can be attributed to these shadows. However, not all discomfort stems from pride and vanity. Sometimes, it reveals differences in perspective.” He furrowed his brows and asked, “How can you walk alongside someone who wants to take a direction opposite to the one you wish to follow?” I replied that no one could live well under such circumstances. This time, Heitor put me in checkmate: “You and I both admire and use some holistic therapies, so we are not against them in any way. But the issue is something else. Even if you started over at the monastery and completed every single therapeutic course, would this still be the Order you want to be a part of? Would this path align with your purpose?”. The answer was no. At that moment, I understood the difference between fleeing and advancing. Fleeing is when we create excuses to avoid the discomfort of facing our inner struggles. Advancing is any movement, free of self-deception, that keeps us on the path of evolutionary transformation.
The Argentine monk brought me another question: “Would you feel comfortable staying in the monastery under Giovanni’s leadership?” I said that I disagreed with him, but it was necessary to live with differences. Heitor followed up with another question: “Yes, we must respect differences, as long as rights are not affected. However, any coexistence requires limits to ensure respect; within reason, no relationship should be unpleasant for either party. So, despite respecting differences, it is necessary to understand the exact distance we should maintain in each relationship. Some should be close, others kept at a distance. This speaks to the respect an individual has for themselves. Respect is a fundamental nuance of love.” Without a doubt, by maintaining a routine in the monastery that was outside my purposes, there would be no chance of me feeling happy, free, dignified, and at peace’’.
I mentioned that I had sought out Giovanni for a conversation. Although he opposed my arguments, he had been polite in his treatment of me. Heitor disagreed: “I also sought him out. His stance was the same. However, at no time was there delicacy, a virtue common to those who strive not to cause harm to anyone. The current director was merely polite. Politeness is the virtue of good social manners, but it does not necessarily contain any true virtue. Giovanni was polite, but he was never delicate. In a courteous manner, he ignored the objectives of the Order and the purpose that had brought so many monks together over the decades. Gently, he was selfish in steering the monastery toward his own interests, whether professional or personal, those, indeed, tainted by pride, vanity, and perhaps greed for power or money. In short, delicacy has love in its essence; politeness is a varnish to display an appearance that does not always correspond to reality.” Heitor offered me a different elaboration on the experiences I was living at that moment, allowing me to deepen my conclusions and expand my choices. Then he asked: “Even if you took all the therapeutic courses he proposes, even if you were granted a coordinator position, would you feel comfortable traveling in this carriage?” The answer was obvious.
I was overcome by a pleasant sensation of lightness and gentleness. Lightness is the ability not to let our sorrow and irritation settle in the soul; gentleness is the power to move forward without getting involved in conflicts, which are always unnecessary. There was no need for me to be upset with Giovanni, even though I disagreed with his stance; the mistakes were his. If the direction he imposed on the monastery was inevitable, I only needed to take another road to stay on my path. Without resentment or fights. Heitor smiled in agreement with my reasoning.
I said it would be a difficult decision for me, but in the morning, I would request my departure from the Order. I had a well-defined course; it was up to me alone to stay on track. The Argentine monk agreed with my reasoning, but this time only partially: “The ability to be self-determined grants the power to live under one’s own rules. However, no difficulty should fit into a decision; choices are only difficult while they are still immature in consciousness; once matured, the same decisions become easy. A green fruit must be plucked from the branch, while a ripe one falls into the hands without any force.” Then he concluded that night’s conversation: “This is a time for stillness and silence; comments will only worsen the unease that dominates the monastery. Many monks are dissatisfied with the current leadership. Observe and wait a little longer before deciding; time helps to process experiences by providing new elements and allowing proper refinement.”
As the days passed, I watched in astonishment as the Order became more hierarchical. Numerous positions were created, giving the impression that there were various classes or categories of monks. Not that order, discipline, and respect should be disregarded; no organization thrives without these fundamental attributes. However, it was impossible not to recall how the purity of early Christianity had been lost over the centuries with the creation of religions and sects that made some individuals supposedly more important than others in their access to the sacred. Love, driven by the most genuine fraternity, had been forgotten in some corner of the world. The same process was happening at that moment in the monastery. It was time to leave in order to remain true to my purpose.
It was very early in the morning when I finished writing the letter requesting my departure. Just as I was about to sign it, there was a knock on my door. It was Heitor, who, to my surprise, was accompanied by the Elder. They entered and sat down. They had been in contact the entire time through messages. I confirmed the Argentine monk’s words. The monastery, at least the one I loved, was on the brink of destruction, I stated. The Elder smiled and said: “Nothing we cannot rebuild. Fortunately, you, like the vast majority of the monks, have not given up. It will be easier to undo the damage with everyone’s cooperation. Or almost everyone’s. Giovanni wasted a great opportunity. It will take him some time to understand the fall.” By dawn, the Elder was reinstated as the head of the Order. In a single act, he overturned all the measures taken during his absence. Discontented and uncomfortable, Giovanni and his followers left the Order. Within hours, joy had returned to reign within the walls of that house of light.
Two weeks passed. I woke up very early, as usual, and went to the canteen. I found the Elder sitting at the table by the window with a view of the mountains. I filled a mug with coffee and sat beside him. I commented on how my conversations with Heitor had been fundamental in keeping me aligned with my path of light while dense thoughts and emotions consumed me. I admitted the difficulty of dealing with it every time it happened. The Elder said: “If something bothers me, I am enveloped by a bad feeling. This means that an imperfect or incomplete thought is guiding me, like a navigator relying on an inaccurate or broken compass. It is necessary to replace these harmful ideas and emotions with others that reconnect me to the joy of living. Although not easy, it is always possible.” He showed me the leather sandals he was wearing and explained: “I remove my sandals with my hands; there is no difficulty in that act. But as for bitter thoughts and acidic feelings, how do I free myself from them so as not to succumb to sadness or revolt?” I said that no matter how skilled I was with my hands, they would be of no use for that movement. The good monk continued: “Only a clear gaze allows us to see what the fog of misunderstandings hides from us. It is no coincidence that the Sermon on the Mount teaches us that when our eyes are good, the whole universe is light. Sour ideas and emotions dissolve to make way for thoughts and feelings sweetened by virtues, the thousand ways to love with wisdom.”
I argued that I had sought virtues to illuminate a moment of extreme darkness, but at that moment, they had served me little. The Elder clarified: “Virtues apply to truth, which, at that instant, had been narrowed by the limitations of excessive guilt. Since almost all of your past mistakes were caused by pride and vanity, upon feeling discomfort, you believed it to be a similar situation. This time was different; you had difficulty understanding the truth. Thus, the virtues were left without their best application. The complexity of a decision lies either in the absence of virtues or in the distancing from truth. That is why Heitor was so important in helping you stay aligned with your axis of light while you were far from the truth”. He paused to remind me: “In your country, there is a beautiful song that says, ‘Do as the old sailor who, during the fog, steers the boat slowly.’¹ Avoid any impulsiveness during the storms of the soul when clear vision is unavailable. Wait and observe; silence and stillness are the best elixirs.”
He took a sip of coffee and added: “Humility does not necessarily mean submitting to changes imposed by external situations, but rather having the patience and purity to guide yourself in harmony until you find the passage that allows you to move forward. Steering the boat slowly through the fog is also an act of humility. One must understand the wind before setting the sails and the rudder.”
Then, he once again pointed to the leather sandals and concluded: “I remove my sandals to enter a sacred temple. Walking barefoot symbolizes humility, the virtue of the sincere learner, and purity, the virtue of one who has chosen not to use malice, even when it is within reach. There is a sacred temple within me where I regenerate, am reborn, and rebuild; within it dwells the truth that guides me and serves as the ballast for the vessel I am on this journey across the ocean of time toward the shores of light. I move through virtues, but navigating is useless without knowing where I want to go”. Then, he finished: “On dark nights, remove your sandals to walk barefoot on the sacred ground of your soul. Accepting one’s own ignorance begins the journey toward truth. With each expansion of truth, a new door appears; virtues move us through them. There will be countless moments like this. Do not be frightened; instead, be grateful. It is when we have the opportunity to turn the wheel of evolution. Its movement is silent; those who make noise neither see nor hear it.”
Dawn was breaking. The monks began arriving for breakfast. Heitor came to sit with us. I commented on how everyone’s joy was contagious. The Argentine monk reminded me: “The joy of reclaiming what once seemed lost, and whose importance we often forget, is no less than the joy of new conquests”. The Elder smiled in agreement, excused himself, and stood up. He was going to prepare for that morning’s lecture. We watched him walk away with slow yet steady steps.
Translated by Cazmilian Zórdic.
