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The Yes and the No

The bicycle leaned against the lamppost in front of Loureiro’s workshop, the cobbler who stitched leather with the same mastery he used to weave ideas. The light autumn rain intensified the chill of the breeze descending from the mountains surrounding the small and charming town. A steaming mug of fresh coffee awakened the mind and the urge to talk. While the artisan finished a beautiful custom-made handbag, I remarked that understanding when to say yes and when to say no was one of the roots of many existential dissatisfactions. Loureiro agreed: “The reason is simple, yet serious. It’s a matter that involves many others, beyond the consequences of each decision.”

Before we could continue, we were interrupted by the arrival of Fred, a longtime friend, highly esteemed by the cobbler. We had been introduced on a previous occasion. Fred was a retired tailor who had specialized in wedding dresses. For decades, he had been in great demand. Young women came from the capital to be dressed by him. He had an uncommon talent for creating unconventional designs. The prices he charged matched the immense demand—they were high. However, his clients’ satisfaction was equally high, and no one complained. Amaury, his son, had inherited both the talent and the business, continuing the brand’s legacy and meeting the growing demand. That week, however, Fred’s peace had been unexpectedly shaken. In a casual meeting with the bank manager, he had learned that the prestigious House of Fèvre, which bore the family name as a symbol of respect and renown in the field, was on the verge of bankruptcy.

Incredulous, Fred went to speak with the manager of the tailor shop. He was told that demand was still increasing; brides were waiting months to be served. Meeting with the accountant, Fred discovered that while money continued to flow into the business, Amaury’s withdrawals were much larger. The bank loans taken out to meet the payments, secured by the credibility Fred had built during his years at the helm, had reached their limit. Although the clientele’s trust remained unshaken, the financial market was certain that ruin was looming.

It took days for Fred to get hold of his son. Fred quickly understood that despite the significant profits, Amaury’s lavish lifestyle was the cause of the impending disaster. No amount of money could satisfy his desires. Amaury proposed a solution: Fred would sell the properties he owned to pay off the debts and prevent the House of Fèvre from changing hands without receiving a single penny due to the massive deficit. After swearing he had learned his lesson, Amaury assured his father that this would balance the finances and allow him to gradually repurchase the properties, thereby preserving the renowned tailor shop that had built the family’s wealth.

Fred would have to give up everything he owned—the enchanting vineyard where he spent his retirement days and the comfortable house he stayed in when in town.

Fred had little time to decide. Stunned, he asked Loureiro what the right decision would be. The cobbler was honest: “I have no idea.” The former tailor confessed that he was inclined to grant his son’s request. However, a strange feeling, whose origin he couldn’t pinpoint, made him uncomfortable with this choice. Loureiro remarked, “The yes we give to someone cannot mean a no to ourselves.”

Fred said he didn’t understand. The cobbler explained: “When responding to a plea for help or any request, the decision—though it may involve risks—must align with the deepest truth your conscience can comprehend. Truth cannot be divided to serve in parts; goodness cannot be separated from justice. Truth must remain whole to be useful to our growth. Otherwise, you will feel uneasy about the help you gave. It makes no sense to feel bad about doing good. When this happens, it means something has escaped your understanding, whether regarding the facts or your knowledge of who you are.”

Seeing a questioning expression on Fred’s face, Loureiro clarified further:
“Goodwill alone is not enough. It is necessary to pay attention so that purpose is not lost. Sometimes, the best intentions worsen the consequences of disasters.”

Fred still didn’t fully understand. The cobbler continued: “Understand the true reasons behind your yes. We may help, out of genuine compassion, a true sense of solidarity. We sincerely believe that our action will provide immediate relief until the person can recover or overcome their difficulties. This is virtuous.

Other times, we say yes out of pride or vanity, driven by the vile sensation of feeling powerful in the face of someone else’s need, as if it grants us the absurd right to place ourselves on a pedestal. There are instances where we say yes due to emotional dependence on a person, when we actually want to refuse but cannot; or out of fear of becoming ‘bad people’ and facing some imagined divine punishment for saying no. We say yes even when we don’t believe in the efficacy of the requested help or the worthiness of the one asking.

These are instances where we choose yes, despite our conscience guiding us toward no. That is giving up to darkness.”

He took a sip of coffee and concluded: “There are many variables that can lead us to errors. Often, saying no is the real help because it encourages someone to break free from inertia or repetitive cycles that drag them further down, like someone stuck in quicksand who keeps doing what’s been proven ineffective or harmful.” He paused before continuing: “On the other hand, no can also stem from sinister feelings like stinginess or suppressed resentment, wasting an opportunity to illuminate one’s own shadows. In every situation, it’s essential to understand the genuine reason behind our yes or no. Truth and virtue must always be present.”

Fred asked the cobbler to be more specific. Loureiro replied: “Consider whether it would be better to let go of the tailor shop, painful as it might be, rather than losing the vineyard that brings you joy, along with the home you built for a comfortable retirement. If you decide this way, know that you would neither be committing an injustice nor becoming a bad person. You provided your son with the means for a prosperous and secure life. Never act out of guilt or fear.”

He paused briefly to let Fred absorb the reasoning before adding: “The crux of your decision lies in the trust you place in Amaury’s transformation. People are defined by actions, not words. Credibility lies in behaviour, never in promises. Change is possible if he can fulfil his commitment. If so, selling the vineyard and the house to rescue him from his predicament might be worth the effort. That, it seems to me, is the heart of the matter and the source of the unease you feel about this choice.”

Fred confessed that he couldn’t bear to see the House of Fèvre leave his family’s hands. He had started serving clients in the living room of a small rented apartment, where he slept in the tiny back room. Nearly half a century later, it had become one of the most important brands in its field. Despite his calm tone, Loureiro was firm: “You cannot let yourself be swayed by pride or vanity. Your story in tailoring was beautifully written with competence, dedication, and talent. But it ended by your own choice when you retired and handed the business to Amaury. From that point on, the House of Fèvre is no longer your responsibility. Cling to truth, not the past.”

“On the other hand, if you feel you gave Amaury all the material resources but failed to provide emotional and moral guidance, see this as an opportunity to make amends with love and wisdom. Cling to truth, not possessions.”

He sipped his coffee and continued: “Ask yourself if giving up all your assets will truly help your son save the business or merely extend a reckless lifestyle. You need to determine whether he has learned the lesson and can handle his difficulties and fulfil his promises. Amaury undoubtedly has talent, but despite being an adult, you must assess whether he has reached the maturity he previously lacked—to deal with his desires, insecurities, and inner shadows. Change is achieved through actions; sincere intentions are not enough.”

After a pause, he added: “Any help you provide must be sincere with yourself and honest with others. It must be wrapped in humility because solidarity brings joy, balance, and strength to the soul. Quietly and gently, like authentic virtues, while noise and spectacle belong to shadows. Assistance, no matter how much effort it requires, must keep us upright, never bring us down. There’s always a risk that help may not achieve its intended outcome. That’s not a problem as long as the choice aligns with truth. This brings comfort and light, even in the face of failure.”

He finished his coffee and added: “Understand one more crucial point: We can illuminate the path for those lost in darkness, but we cannot light their flame for them. We can guide and help someone stand, but we cannot carry or drag them if they refuse to walk. Learning and transformation are personal achievements, part of every evolutionary cycle.”

Pouring another round of coffee, he concluded: “If you believe the chances of sinking alongside a doomed ship outweigh the possibilities of saving it—especially if the crew has proven incapable of taking essential actions—then there’s a clear flaw in the equation. Another solution must be considered.”

Fred asked how to know the right answer. Loureiro replied, “The answer lies in the truth.” The former tailor wanted to understand how to find it. The cobbler explained:

“Being the farthest frontier reached by consciousness at the moment, truth is a personal and necessary construction. The closer you get to the truth, the more intense becomes the inner light that guides your steps, propels you, and protects you along the Path. Truth intensifies as perception and sensitivity improve. For that, seek a moment of stillness and silence. Listen to all the voices within you. We are many in one. Some are old acquaintances; others we still reject—achievements and failures, joys and sorrows, doubts and certainties, goals and dreams, shadows and virtues, ego and soul. Initially, do not interfere; let them all speak. Observe as an impartial spectator. Then, separate the voices that speak from fears and those filled with guilt; they are not good advisors, as they still view life through the lens of darkness. Life demands courage and renewal; but be cautious and attentive—desires are treacherous and reckless. Avoid the temptations of privilege and stagnation; life requires simplicity and movement. Distance yourself from deceptions, no matter how sweet they seem. Never abandon yourself; we must remain strong and balanced to keep our light burning. Never evade commitments; they teach us about love and establish the beauty of life. Always be humble, simple, and compassionate; these are secure foundations for serene and joyful days.”

He took a sip of coffee and concluded: “When you reach the point of convergence where all these characteristics and meanings are present, you will have found your truth for that particular matter.” Fred asked how he could be sure he had encountered the truth. Loureiro smiled faintly and replied: “Peace—you will be enveloped by an unforgettable feeling of clarity and tranquillity. Freedom—all fears and doubts will crumble like the prison building whose foundations have been removed. The choice will be ripe, and the solution will present itself with incredible transparency. Nothing will prevent you from doing the right thing. Then comes dignity. Judgments, criticisms, or derogatory comments won’t matter. No one’s certainty will have the power to shake your truth.”

Fred remained thoughtful for a few moments, as if needing to file away new ideas in the drawers of his mind, and then said, “In a way, it resembles a war. It won’t be easy.” Loureiro nodded and commented: “That is the origin of the term ‘the good fight.’ It is an intrinsic battle in which we illuminate every dark corner that prevents us from going beyond who we are. No war is easy. We will have to face the ghosts of unhappy experiences that insist on scaring us, the executioners of guilt that we have never dared to discipline, the trenches of fears that prevent us from moving forward, and heal the sufferings that stop us from finding life’s beauty. Transforming our shadows into virtues is the synthesis of the Great Art. We are both the creator and the creature; We are the work and the artist. Every problem signals an unknown truth or an unused virtue.”

The former tailor remained silent for a while longer. We drank coffee quietly until Fred thanked the conversation, gave the cobbler a tight hug, said goodbye to me, and left. I climbed the mountain toward the monastery for another period of study.

Two weeks later, Loureiro was invited by the Elder, the oldest monk of the Order, to deliver a lecture at the monastery. We were chatting casually in the canteen, sipping mugs of coffee and eating slices of oat cake when we were surprised by the news that Fred was at the gate. Granted entry, he politely explained that he needed to speak with the cobbler. We made a motion to rise and leave them alone, but Fred said it wasn’t necessary. Unlike our recent meeting, the former tailor exuded lightness.

He went straight to the point. He had decided to dialogue with all his inner voices. He spent several days in stillness and silence. He listened, reflected, and then understood the right course of action. His son was not yet ready to restructure the House of Fèvre. However, he needed help to free himself from the behavioural vices that trapped him in darkness and suffering. Despite living a lifestyle many envied, his days were shallow. The way he spent money didn’t make him a better person; instead, it magnified the emptiness that consumed his essence. If abandoned at that moment, even with his great talent, Fred doubted that Amaury could rebuild himself from the ruins of his profound emotional imbalance. He would answer his son’s request. He would sell the vineyard and the house.

I said nothing, but the reasoning seemed utterly incoherent to me. Then Fred began to explain his choice. He announced that he would revoke his retirement. He would take back control of the tailoring business, keeping Amaury as his right-hand man, especially in designing the exquisite pieces he created so masterfully. He would manage the old family business and ensure his son lived solely on his salary—not a penny more. Amaury would learn to adapt to reality and, more importantly, that happiness would never be proportional to the amount of money spent. Although money is a tool capable of bringing many good and pleasant experiences and is always welcome, happiness is connected to growth, the ability to become a different and better person each day. Serenity, lightness, and joy are its tones.

Fred’s love for his son was more important than the house, the vineyard, or the effort of returning to the business. When talking to his inner voices, one of them told him that love without commitment is superficial love. A father has something to teach his son—not about the profession but about life. Fred could offer something to Amaury that perhaps no one else could, at least in a way that combines sweetness and firmness, as only someone who blends love with wisdom can. This was the pivotal point for understanding the issue that had troubled him so much.

Only by reaching the core of the matter, accepting his adult son’s immaturity, and sincerely being willing to give up his peaceful retirement to offer something more to their relationship, did the solution become crystal clear. Free from internal conflict, an indescribable tranquillity enveloped him. There was no doubt or fear. Despite the significant financial losses, his “yes” to Amaury was also a “yes” to himself. Without burden or sacrifice, only an unshakable desire remained to do what needed to be done. He had reached the truth and understood its liberating power.

The main goal was not to save the House of Fèvre from bankruptcy but to rescue Amaury from darkness. Losing the vineyard would be unfortunate; having the chance to bring his son back to the light was a gift he gave himself. There was honesty in his words. Fred himself expressed surprise at the disposition, joy, and serenity with which he abandoned the peace of retirement to return to the demanding routine of tailoring. The Elder explained why:

“Those who walk with purpose do not tire.”

Fred had realised that the proper use of “yes” and “no” carries the power of the clarity and creativity inherent in truth. After that, all that remained was to use virtues as tools in crafting the Great Art. Together, truth and virtues are genuine sources of strength and balance. In the monastery canteen, without any pomp or ceremony, we prepared another round of fresh coffee and oat cake to celebrate a genuine and eternal victory.

Translated by Cazmilian Zórdic.

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