The Pilgrimage (Plus) by Paulo Coelho

Author:Paulo Coelho [Coelho, Paulo]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2009-10-12T16:00:00+00:00

The Buried Alive Exercise

Lie down on the floor and relax. Cross your arms over your chest in the posture of death.

Imagine all of the details of your burial, as if it were to be carried out tomorrow, the only difference being that you are being buried alive. As the situation develops in your mind—the chapel, the procession to the cemetery, the lowering of the casket, the worms in the grave—you begin tensing all of your muscles more and more in a desperate attempt to escape. But you cannot do so. Keep trying until you cannot stand it any longer, and then, using a movement that involves your entire body, throw aside the confines of the coffin, breathe deeply, and find yourself free. This movement will have a greater effect if you scream at the same time; it should be a scream that emanates from the depths of your body.

“When we both experienced the love that consumes, we shared in the Absolute. The Absolute shows each of us who we really are; it is an enormous web of cause and effect, where every small gesture made by one person affects the life of someone else. This morning, that slice of the Absolute was still very much alive in my soul. I was seeing not only you but everything there is in the world, unlimited by space or time. Now, the effect is much weaker and will only return in its full strength the next time that I do the exercise of the love that consumes.”

I remembered Petrus’s bad mood of that morning. If what he said was true, the world was going through a very bad phase.

“I will be waiting for you there at the Parador,” he said, as he prepared to leave. “I will leave your name at the desk.”

I watched him walk away until I could no longer see him. In the fields to my left, the peasants had finished their day’s labors and gone home. I decided that I would do the exercise as soon as darkness had fallen.

I was content. It was the first time I had been completely alone since I had started along the Strange Road to Santiago. I stood up and explored my immediate surroundings, but night was falling fast, and I decided to go back to the tree before I got lost. Before it became completely dark, I made a mental estimate of the distance between the tree and the road. Even in darkness, I would be able to see the way perfectly well and make my way to Santo Domingo with just the help of the frail new moon that had risen in the sky.

Up until that point, I had not been at all frightened; I felt that it would take a lot of imagination to make me fearful of any kind of horrible death. But no matter how long we have lived, when night falls it arouses the hidden fears that have been there in our souls since we were children. The darker it grew, the less comfortable I became.

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