by paulo coelho.
this was most certainely one of the books that troubled me the most.third day,just finished it,and i can finally breathe again.
in the beginning i wondered if it was safe to publish such a book.after all so many people are on the verge of ending it all,so many fragile eyes unaware,will read it,even the title appears dangerous .".decides to die".so simple,so easy,as if it said "decides to buy an ice cream".
myself,i just decided to take it when spending time with peter in his favourite bookstore.amongst all these spiritual,astrological and mathematic writings,my eyes rested on this one.it looked so trivial in comparaison to the rest.was a coelho book ,what danger could that represent? it would definately be a pink story with the mask of seriousness.i grabbed it,petro laughed,said i ll probably never read it,like so many books i buy on the spur of the moment.no,no i will read it,i promise you,i will.
i didnt.
for a couple of weeks.it just layed there,in my bedroom table.i read the first 10 pages,than took it with me in the kitchen.it stayed there untouched for some days.even tried to hide the cover with some magazines.i didnt want anyone to fall upon its title and be frightened.
here and there,trying to be faithful to my promise,i would read two three pages in a hurry
and leave it again. by the feel of guilt,i started an other book,letters exchanged between nietzsche and cosima.i only read the introduction and left it also.
my reading season was not on yet.
than three days ago,i was bored,annoyed,apathetic .i took veronika again,and plunged in it.
i didnt like it.it was too familiar.insanity,asylums,fears,the borders were too well described.i wasnt feeling confortable.what was coelho thinking about writing about all these ?a writer has a responsability.doesnt he know this?that words kill far more than swords do.
the first night,following the reading,i had nightmares.i saw manfred,our deceased dog,shitting everywhere in the laundry basket.he was sick and suffering.i had to carry him and wash,wash wash.it didnt smell like shit,it just looked like shit.he was dying.and i felt like i was standing at the gates with him.
i woke up in a bad temper.irritated.the line is so thin.how is it that i know i can so easily step on the other side and be secluded in an asylum just like veronika.
i thought about anne,this girl i met in university here.she was french ,we bonded fast because of this.but she was different,she never felt cold,would come to class with only a tee shirt when we were all freezing.her eyes were shinning.she told me about her life,her two trips to an asylum in france.she explained to me that the danger with asylums is that you never want to leave.she stabbed me with the notion of death through food allergy.it wasnt her fault,she didnt know i was a hypocondriac.but i feared her,she had become this black angel,an authority in matters of living or dying.to anyone else she was just a bit weird .for me,she was a temple of strength ,but still a black angel.my state had gone worst in a matter of days since that talk we had about allergies.i had run home and cried hysterically.i was going to die of a food allergy.it was imminent ,it was my destiny.no one could calm me,my fate was to die prematurely and of the most stupid reason. i had stepped on the other side,in a fracture of seconds.
the only times i felt exempted of this fate,was when an exterior factor would show me that effectively,i would die,but of something else.
or when doctors would have a worried look on their faces about not life threatening matters but annoying factors.such as thyroid or cholesterol.in those moments,only than,would i feel like a warrior defying the laws of medicine.only than would i feel strong and untouchable by mortal notions.
coelho's book is about this.it s like i used to say since i was a kid,one can only live a 100% if he fears an imminent death.let it be through wars,famine or natural disasters.l epee de damocles sums this notion totally.i do not know why since very young,the first time i had heard of this sword hanging ,i thought that this sword was a blessing.the motor needed to keep the engine running.
compassion and kindness is a poison to some of us.vitriol as one of the heroes in the book ,says,can only be exterminated by fear of an imminent death.u need the dark to see the light.matter and anti matter,black and white,the opposites not only attract themselves but can not live without each other.
the second day of reading,was agigating,it spoke about panic attacks.all too familiar feelings.i wondered if in the morning i would be affraid to go out again.would i be able to control myself like i have these past months?this book was turning my guts inside out.maybe i wasnt ready to distanciate myself yet.the night was less crowded with nightmare,but still woke up irritated.
i went out under the light.nervous in my first steps.what if the panic started again?
what if i finally fainted?the other day ,the smell of panic did surround me as i was crossing the wide avenue.
all these cars waiting impatientely,all these looks,all these steps to finally reach the other side.
at the approach of the panic,i took it all in as i often did in the past,i defied it
"come and get me,i dare you to take over and make me faint infront of everyone.after all,no one will really care,i ll just be a girl that fainted on the avenue.and who are they anyway?just people struggling too,no more no less than me.so come,please,be my guest."
as usual,when i mean it,the panic immediately disappears. mind games.it s always about mind games.there was a good sentence in the book about it,"let your body control your mind,not your mind,your body".but i believe it s not only that,only when one honestly gives himself away,he can be saved.there has to be honesty in the thought.it can not be faked.courage can be faked,and it must be.but honesty,never.if with a shaking voice,you surrender to your primal fear,you are calling it with all its forces,and it will slap you merciless.if your voice is mature and severe,borderline ironic,it will back down.
i smiled again.i was still strong,this book had stirred bad memories,but i was stronger than before,i was living.
i didn't manage to read yesterday night.today i did ,i was in a hurry,i needed to move on and for this to happen i needed to finish that damn book who knew too much.as if i had to kill this witness.every page became softer,light was finally showing again.extremely well constructed sentences by their simplicity exhibited the truths.the reasons behind everyone who decides to cross the line.
it ended just as i hoped it would.i was a parallel veronika.and this is probably why coelho called her veronika and not catherine."la double vie de veronique",the movie.
he wanted all the young women to relate to her.clever move.and it had puzzled me that he called her like this from day one,having thought of the movie but not really seeing the pattern.just made sense now,when i understood that it was me veronika.
"be crazy to be sane" is one of the positive lines of the book.
it s the kind of book that one must read until the end.stopping in the middle is like missing the final exam,skipping the last treatment that will save you,ending prematurely a psychotherapy.
i feel content.coelho has earned my true esteem.he did not betray anything and gave perpesctive,a positive one.
the other day,constantine told me a shocking sentence
"the only thing you need to be happy is a change of scenery,every single day ".
"how do u know this?" i managed to articulate in my state of shock,as this simple sentence resonated so violently in me.
"'cause i know.it's just the way we are".
so to get out of such lethargic apathetic states,one needs to be shocked,by fear of death or by different levels of beauties unfolding day by day under different shades.
when none of these are possible in the practical sense,one must find beauties in casual facts,overlooked sides.
or cultivate a garden...
