“Don’t give in to your fears,” said the alchemist, in a strangely gentle voice. “If you do, you won’t be able to talk to your heart.”
“But I have no idea how to turn myself into the wind.”
“If a person is living out his Personal Legend, he knows everything he needs to know. There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure.”
“I’m not afraid of failing. It’s just that I don’t know how to turn myself into the wind.”
“Well, you’ll have to learn; your life depends on it.”
“But what if I can’t?”
“Then you’ll die in the midst of trying to realize your Personal Legend. That’s a lot better than dying like millions of other people, who never even knew what their Personal Legends were.
“But don’t worry,” the alchemist continued. “Usually the threat of death makes people a lot more aware of their lives.”
THE FIRST DAY PASSED. THERE WAS A MAJOR BATTLE nearby, and a number of wounded were brought back to the camp. The dead soldiers were replaced by others, and life went on. Death doesn’t change anything, the boy thought.
“You could have died later on,” a soldier said to the body of one of his companions. “You could have died after peace had been declared. But, in any case, you were going to die.”
At the end of the day, the boy went looking for the alchemist, who had taken his falcon out into the desert.
“I still have no idea how to turn myself into the wind,” the boy repeated.
“Remember what I told you: the world is only the visible aspect of God. And that what alchemy does is to bring spiritual perfection into contact with the material plane.”
“What are you doing?”
“Feeding my falcon.”
“If I’m not able to turn myself into the wind, we’re going to die,”
the boy said. “Why feed your falcon?”
“You’re the one who may die,” the alchemist said. “I already know how to turn myself into the wind.”
ON THE SECOND DAY, THE BOY CLIMBED TO THE TOP OF A cliff near the camp. The sentinels allowed him to go; they had already heard about the sorcerer who could turn himself into the wind, and they didn’t want to go near him. In any case, the desert was impassable.
He spent the entire afternoon of the second day looking out over the desert, and listening to his heart. The boy knew the desert sensed his fear.
They both spoke the same language.
ON THE THIRD DAY, THE CHIEF MET WITH HIS OFFICERS. He called the alchemist to the meeting and said, “Let’s go see the boy who turns himself into the wind.”
“Let’s,” the alchemist answered.
The boy took them to the cliff where he had been on the previous day. He told them all to be seated.
“It’s going to take awhile,” the boy said.
“We’re in no hurry,” the chief answered. “We are men of the desert.”
The boy looked out at the horizon. There were mountains in the distance. And there were dunes, rocks, and plants that insisted on living where survival seemed impossible. There was the desert that he had wandered for so many months; despite all that time, he knew only a small part of it. Within that small part, he had found an Englishman, caravans, tribal wars, and an oasis with fifty thousand palm trees and three hundred wells.
“What do you want here today?” the desert asked him. “Didn’t you spend enough time looking at me yesterday?”
“Somewhere you are holding the person I love,” the boy said.
“So, when I look out over your sands, I am also looking at her. I want to return to her, and I need your help so that I can turn myself into the wind.”
“What is love?” the desert asked.
“Love is the falcon’s flight over your sands. Because for him, you are a green field, from which he always returns with game. He knows your rocks, your dunes, and your mountains, and you are generous to him.”
“The falcon’s beak carries bits of me, myself,” the desert said.
“For years, I care for his game, feeding it with the little water that I have, and then I show him where the game is. And, one day, as I enjoy the fact that his game thrives on my surface, the falcon dives out of the sky, and takes away what I’ve created.”
“But that’s why you created the game in the first place,” the boy answered. “To nourish the falcon. And the falcon then nourishes
man. And, eventually, man will nourish your sands, where the game will once again flourish. That’s how the world goes.”
“So is that what love is?”
“Yes, that’s what love is. It’s what makes the game become the falcon, the falcon become man, and man, in his turn, the desert. It’s what turns lead into gold, and makes the gold return to the earth.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” the desert said.
“But you can at least understand that somewhere in your sands there is a woman waiting for me. And that’s why I have to turn myself into the wind.”
