The Hand of Destiny in Books Coelho - Essay Example

The Hand of Destiny All people are guided on a journey toward their destiny or meaningful treasures in their lives. In my life, there have been many pathways that have promised to take me to several directions. Yet, I have not taken all of them – only the relevant ones. The hand of destiny in this regard is one that has helped me realise and accomplish my inner most desires. This is my story. Since the time I was a little boy, I knew I wanted to be something in life. But what was that something? “You will be a doctor,” was my father’s comment. “She will be a fashion designer – a very famous one.” And so on and so forth my accomplishments were fixed in the individual imaginations of my large family. Yet, like Santiago, the boy in the story of Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho, I dreamt of the pyramids of Egypt and at the same time I was scared, and like the boy I asked my invisible fortune teller, “well, how am I going to get to Egypt?” (Coelho, 1999; Pp 15). I never really figured out what my ‘Egypt’ really was, and yet I was determined to get there despite all the questions in my mind. I used to play hockey as a child. Hockey was my ‘happy time’ and I started getting involved in the game as a seven year old. I was ‘discovered’ by the coach at the skating class where my parents signed me up. I was told that I would do very well in hockey and the scouting began to make me a celebrity of sorts. I had been looking at my Egypt, yet I did not know it until the coach had said so. I played hockey as a senior in high school and won many matches. It was published in the local newspapers and I became a mini celebrity of sorts. Not bad for a ten year. Which is when it struck people around me, “he is going to be a hockey player.” I had found my calling – my Egypt. But again, similar to the case of Santiago, the next question beckoned, “And what if I never get to Egypt?” (Coelho, 1999; Pp 15). As has been depicted in Paulo Coelho’s story of the Alchemist, the world around us is a gloomy place which has no respect for dreams. The unforgiving nature of this attitude is ingrained in our subconscious mind. Therefore, even before I realised what it means to have a dream to pursue, I was already having doubts. But I was yet to learn an important lesson that has been taught through the story of the Alchemist: “to realise one’s destiny is a person’s only obligation.” (Coelho, 1999) Having doubts and reacting on the basis of baseless fears is simply an unnecessary reaction to excess baggage as I was about to learn. I was in my senior year in high school when the accident happened. It was during a hockey match and it changed my life. Two surgeries later I was rendered not fit for playing hockey professionally. They even had a name for it – compartmental syndrome. That is what my condition was called. Having come face to face with the possibility of losing my leg, I knew the scars on my limbs were less painful than those in my mind. I felt like I could not look at a hockey stick for the rest of my life. I was in a deep dark abyss from where I did not the way out. Yet hockey was my life; my destiny. The call of destiny was too strong to ignore. One morning, on my way to school, I got my first omen. I was walking down the street, having finished my bagel at the sidewalk café where I used to have breakfast every morning. As I was about to cross the road, I stopped. Sitting there on the lamppost before me was a beggar with his palm open towards me. Instinctively I walked towards him and laid a coin in his palm. As I was retreating with my palm facing him, he murmured, “you need to go back.” I looked at him startled. What did he mean ‘go back’? I wasn’t particularly superstitious. I looked at him closely, about to turn on my heel and walk away. Beggars like him were dime to a dozen in the town where I lived. He repeated his line again, “it is the right time to go back.” This time I smiled and walked away only to bump into a person with a cup of coffee. Needless to say, it spilt down my crisp white shirt. I almost swore but the wrong doer apologised profusely. I didn’t know what to do. I would have to rush and did I have the time…I looked at my watch frantically. I would be late. The person who had spilt coffee on me suddenly spoke, “hey, I know you!” I looked at him, trying to place him. He continues, “Hi, I am George Harris. I had read about you in the local newspapers. Hockey player, right?” I nodded and tried to walk away. I am a twenty year old, but I still carry the wound of not being able to play hockey. “Look,” he said, “I am starting a hockey team.” He was pulling out some papers from his bag and showing me. I was not interested and my eyes had already begun to well up. I turned and walked away. I do not know why it moved me so much. It never struck me that it was such an important part of me. I always tried to ignore hockey after my injury because I felt like it wasn’t worth it – it had caused me too much pain. Like any ordinary human being, I had tried to shut the pain out by shutting my passion out. It never occurred to me that my life’s treasure lay in embracing my passion and making it work beyond my injury. So I walked away from what the George Harris was saying. I walked quietly towards my apartment. I had reached my apartment in record time. By the time I let myself in, I was already tearing the shirt off, ready to rummage through my closet to find another one. The phone was ringing off the hook and I was in no mood to pay attention. Yet, I picked it up and said a distracted “hello.” “Where are you,” my mother sounded frantic. I stopped buttoning my shirt and caught hold of the receiver with my hand before asking, “what’s wrong?” “I need you to come by as soon as your classes are over for the day…” she sounded almost breathless, “they’ve been waiting for the past one hour…where have you been?” My head began to reel. I sat down by the kitchen counter. Then slowly I asked, “what are you talking about?” “Did you not get my message last night? There are children from an orphanage in Mexico, waiting to see you.” Me and my family take annual trips to Mexico. We are a very close knit family and we take these trips for some time together. We go on excursions and really connect. This was one time of the year I would never miss out on. A few months ago, I had been to an orphanage in a nearby village. There, I had met some handicapped children. I had been moved by their strength to live as I connected with them on some level. Having extracted a promise from them to visit me when possible, I had come back from the home. Here they were, suddenly that day, eager to meet me. Why, I wondered. When I entered the house, I was told by the help that the children and my parents where in the back yard. I could hear the happy voices and I wondered what was going on. Making my way towards the backyard through the poolside, I was greeted by a spectacle that would change my life. I saw the boys holding hockey sticks and balancing themselves on their crutches. They were trying to play hockey! I took one look at them and I realised where my treasure lay. These were my pyramids and they were glowing in the message they were giving me. I went towards them and reciprocated their happy squeals for greetings. Picking up a hockey stick, I spent the rest of the evening coaching them. They were pretty good I have to admit! I had never had that much fun in a long, long time. I went in for a drink of water. My parents were waiting for me. They looked at me and my mother was the first to speak, “we have decided to sponsor one child a year from the orphanage for a surgery.” I smiled. I knew my destiny. It was a week later when I made the call that was to change my life. Having realised that if a handicapped child could muster the courage to pick up a hockey stick, what was there that I could not do. George Harris came on the phone as soon as his secretary told him who was on the line. “Hey, I though I’d never hear from you again,” he almost gushed. “Well,” I grinned, “you just have.” “I need a coach – please tell me you can do it.” “I will.” I smiled. Destiny had won. Santiago had shown me how. Reference: Coelho, Paulo (1999). The Alchemist. Harper San Francisco. Harper Collins Publications. Read More