the Zahir

A TIME TO REND AND A TIME TO SEW

Zahir, in Arabic, means visible, present, incapable of going unnoticed. It is someone or something which, once we have come into contact with them or it, gradually occupies our ever thought, until we can think of nothing else. This can be considered either a state of holiness or of madness.


This I have taken from a book I have read about an year ago, "The Zahir" by Paulo Coelho, pages 250 - 254.
Read it, and give it a thought.



"I hear the applause, the theater is packed. I'm about to do the one thing that always gives me sleepless nights, I'm about to give a lecture.

The master of ceremonies begins by saying that there's no need to introduce me, which is a bit much really, since that's what he's there for and he isn't taking into account the possibility that there might be lots of people in the audience who have simply been invited along by friends. Despite what he says, however, he ends up giving a few biographical details and talking about my qualities as a writer, the prizes I've won, and the millions of books I've sold. He thanks the sponsors, turns to me and the floor is mine.

I thank him too. I tell the audience that the most important things i have to say are in my books, but that I feel I have an obligation to my public to reveal the man who lies behind those words and paragraphs. I explain that our human condition makes us tend to share only the best of ourselves because we are always searching for love and approval...

...when a writer appears in public, he should attempt to show the audience his universe, not try to explain his books; and in this spirit, I begin talking about something more personal.

"Some time ago, I was in Geneva for a series of interviews. At the end of the day's work, and because a woman friend I was supposed to have supper with canceled at the last minute, I set off for a stroll around the city. It was a particularly lovely night, the streets were deserted, the bars and restaurants still full of life, and everything seemed utterly calm, orderly, pretty, and yet suddenly ... suddenly I realized that I was utterly alone.

"Needless to say, I had been alone on other occasions during the year. Needless to say my girlfriend was only two hours away by plane. Needless to say, after a long busy day, what could be better than a stroll through the narrow streets and lanes of the old city, without having to talk to anyone, simply enjoying the beauty around me. And yet the feeling that surfaced was one of oppressive, distressing loneliness - not having someone with whom I could share the city, the walk, the things I'd like to say.

"I got out my mobile phone; after all, I had a reasonable number of friends in the city, but it was too late to phone anyone. I considered going into one of the bars and odering a drink; someone was bound to recognise me and invite me to join them. But I resisted the temptation and tried to get though the moment, discovering, in the process, that there is nothing worse than the feeling that no one cares whether we exist or not, that no one is interested in what we have to say about life, and that the world can continue turning without our awkward presence.

"I began to imagine how many millions of people were, at that moment, feeling utterly useless and wretched - however rich, charming and delightful they might be - because they were alone that night, as they were yesterday, and as they might well be tomorrow. Students with no one to go out with, older people sitting in front of the TV as if it were their sole salvation, businessmen in their hotel rooms, wondering if what they were doing made any sense, women who spent the afternoon carefully applying their makeup and doing their hair in order to go to a pub only to pretend that they're not looking for company; all they want is confirmation that they are still attractive; men ogle them and chat them up, but the women reject them all disdainfully, because they feel inferior and are afraid the men will find out that they're single mothers or lowly clerks with nothing to say about what's going on in the world because they work from dawn to dusk to scrap a living and have no time to read a newspaper. People who look at themselves in the mirror and think themselves ugly, believing that being beautiful is what really matters, and spend their time reading magazines in which everyone is pretty, rich, and famous. Husbands and wives who wish they could talk over supper as they used to, but there are always other things demanding their attention, more important things, and the conversation can always wait for a tomorrow that never comes.

"That day, I had lunch with a friend who had just got divorced and she said to me: "Now I can enjoy the freedom I've always dreamed of having". But that's a lie. No one wants that kind of freedom: we all want commitment, we all want someone to be beside us to enjoy the beauties of Geneva, to discuss books, interviews, films, or even to share a sandwich with because there isn't enough money to buy one each. Better to eat half a sandwich than a whole one. Better to be interrupted by the man who wants to get straight back home because there's a big game on TV tonight or by the woman who stops outside a shop window and interrupts what we were saying about the cathedral tower, far better than to have the whole of Geneva to yourself with all the time and quiet in the world to visit it.

"Better to be hungry than to be alone. Because when you're alone - and I'm talking here about an enforced solitude not of our choosing - it's as if you were no longer part of the human race.

"A lovely hotel awaited me on the other side of the river, with its luxurious rooms, its attentive employees, its five star service. And that only made me feel worse, because I should have felt contented, satisfied with all I had achieved.

"On the way back, I passed other people in the same situation and noticed that they fell into two categories: those who looked arrogant, because they wanted to pretend they had chosen to be alone on that lovely night, and those who looked sad and ashamed of their solitary state.

"I'm telling you all this because the other day I remembered being in a hotel room in Amsterdam with a woman who was talking to me about her life. I'm telling you all this because, although in Ecclesiastes it says there is a time to rend and a time to sew, sometimes the time to rend leaves deep scars. Being with someone else and making that person feel as if they were of no importance in our life is far worse than feeling alone and miserable in the streets of Geneva.

There was a long moment of silence before the applause."