Sakto, February-style!
I usually read one page a night from Paulo Coelho's Warrior Of The Light before going to bed, to serve as something to meditate upon for the day ahead. Last night (January 31, 2008), I was amused by the particular passage which I was reading. And it goes thus:
-BEGIN-
For the Warrior there is no such thing as an impossible love.
He is not intimidated by silence, indifference or rejection. He knows that, behind the mask of ice that people wear, there beats a heart of fire.
This is why the Warrior takes more risks than other people. He is constantly seeking the love of someone, even if that means often having to hear the word "no," returning home defeated and feeling rejected in body and soul.
A Warrior never gives in to fear when he is searching for what he needs. Without love, he is nothing.
-END-
Amusing, is it not? And on the eve of February the First at that! Such a coincidence.
The logical side of me eschews such a notion of coincidence.
Indeed, underneath my cynical shell, I am at heart a sentimentalist. No. Perhaps my sentimentalist heart has found a way to overpower the absurd version of cynicism I believed I put up. Or perhaps, I didn't have a cynical shell in the first place, just a sleeping sentimentalist heart. Don't we all?
-BEGIN-
For the Warrior there is no such thing as an impossible love.
He is not intimidated by silence, indifference or rejection. He knows that, behind the mask of ice that people wear, there beats a heart of fire.
This is why the Warrior takes more risks than other people. He is constantly seeking the love of someone, even if that means often having to hear the word "no," returning home defeated and feeling rejected in body and soul.
A Warrior never gives in to fear when he is searching for what he needs. Without love, he is nothing.
-END-
Amusing, is it not? And on the eve of February the First at that! Such a coincidence.
The logical side of me eschews such a notion of coincidence.
Indeed, underneath my cynical shell, I am at heart a sentimentalist. No. Perhaps my sentimentalist heart has found a way to overpower the absurd version of cynicism I believed I put up. Or perhaps, I didn't have a cynical shell in the first place, just a sleeping sentimentalist heart. Don't we all?