Eleven Minutes
Went to Starbucks after lunch to read the book about CMMI entitled CMMI in 24 Hours. But before starting this relatively boring manual, I picked up another book, which is a paperback I just bought yesterday. It is the latest novel by Paulo Coelho, the title is Eleven Minutes.
When I was in Powerbooks (one of the largest bookstores in the Philippines) – this is one of my favorite routes and places to spend my time alone aside from Starbucks, I saw the piles of this newly released paperback that were displayed nearby the entrance. Since he is one of my favorites writers, I did not hesitate to pick it up. Also one of the phrases on the cover said, "Prose full of poetry and beautiful images... This book will make his readers dream." I agree.
When I opened the book, it had started the quotation of the Bible, Luke 7: 37-47 and the unknown prayer that contained the paradoxical phrases like "I am the prostitute and the saint; I am the wife and the virgin; I am the mother and the daughter..." There were the Bible with a prayer of paradoxical phrases that is also another sufficient reason for me to trust the author and the contents.
Of course I knew the author and his authentic fame as a novelist, aside from this; it seems that I could trust the one who was telling me that one can not experience God without being paradoxical or non-dual. If we see a clear explanation of God, then it seems that it is the farthest from experiencing God. That puts Him down on the level of mind, if not matter. God has become a mere concept, if not an artifact.
In this level of mind, we do not need soul to embrace the mystery of our lives – then we do not need novels to describe them. In this level of mind, we do not need spirit to distill the mystery of the universe – then we do not need poetries to symbolize it. In short, such levels as soul and spirit are not what to be explained clearly but only paradoxically experienced with the narrative, poetic, prayerful, or enigmatic non-dual experiences.
Despite such religious or spiritual implication (or maybe because of that) the theme of the story is somewhat shocking. Some teenagers who love reading might hesitate to pick this novel up. It is the story about the prostitute whose name is Maria. That is why, even the author is saying in the preface as follows:
"They make me dream." I have often heard these words before, and they always please me greatly. At that moment, however, I felt really frightened, because I knew that my new novel, Eleven Minutes, dealt with a subject that was harsh, difficult, shocking.
Maria was born in a small rural village that was almost 48 hours far away from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and grew up as a beautiful attractive lady with the hope that she might meet her Prince Charming someday. She went to Rio de Janeiro to find the more opportunities that could connect her to the outer real world that she had always dreamed. She met one Swiss man in Rio de Janeiro, but he was a kind of recruiter and the owner of the bar in Switzerland. While she dreamed to become an actress or performer in Europe, when she almost ended up as the mere local dancer, she was released from the bar; she got her freedom to be independent in Geneva. However, the reality was too hard for her to live alone in such distant town. With a number of hesitations, inner conflicts and moral dilemmas, then, she had started the profession that she had never imagined to commit – prostitution.
Below is her journal entry after a week of her new job:
I'm not a body with a soul, I'm a soul that has a visible part called the body. All this week, contrary to what one might expect, I have been more conscious of the presence of this soul than usual. It didn't say anything to me, didn't criticize me or feel sorry for me: it merely watched me... I need to write about love. I need to think and think and write and write about love – otherwise, my soul won't survive.
The interesting thing is that the author tried to insert Maria's journal entry in every chapter and perhaps intentionally he described her as the girl who kept her journals quite intensively, and even more exceptionally Maria was also described as a broad reader. I am not sure if such setting could be successful to make the story realistic, though I like it personally.
But because of this, probably the readers do not feel unnatural even if Maria could wrote a quite profound reflection in her diary, at the same time tried to understand the meaning of her life somewhat religiously or spiritually if not philosophically. Her only friend in Geneva was the kind female librarian whom Maria was chatting and sometimes receiving her advices. Then, finally she met someone who was one of the well-known painters, but as lonely as Maria, and then he could see what he calls "light" in her.
As I said in the beginning, I was going to read the manual book about CMMI, however, once I had picked up the novel that I bought yesterday, unfortunately (or fortunately) this was the kind of book that you can never put it down once you started reading. Thus, instead of studying the manual, I had spent the almost whole afternoon in reading the life story of Maria, until the painter, Ralf found out the "light" in her when he drew her portrait. Then, what is the next? I do not know yet.
Incidentally, the life of the Brazilians looks quite similar to that of the Filipino people. Both are in the Catholic countries that used to be colonized. Especially the situation that, to escape from the simplicity and the poverty of her live in the rural small town, Maria dreamed to move to Rio de Janeiro and to Europe, can easily remind us of a certain parallelism in the Philippines. I am sure that Filipino people can read this novel with their great empathy.
When I was in Powerbooks (one of the largest bookstores in the Philippines) – this is one of my favorite routes and places to spend my time alone aside from Starbucks, I saw the piles of this newly released paperback that were displayed nearby the entrance. Since he is one of my favorites writers, I did not hesitate to pick it up. Also one of the phrases on the cover said, "Prose full of poetry and beautiful images... This book will make his readers dream." I agree.
When I opened the book, it had started the quotation of the Bible, Luke 7: 37-47 and the unknown prayer that contained the paradoxical phrases like "I am the prostitute and the saint; I am the wife and the virgin; I am the mother and the daughter..." There were the Bible with a prayer of paradoxical phrases that is also another sufficient reason for me to trust the author and the contents.
Of course I knew the author and his authentic fame as a novelist, aside from this; it seems that I could trust the one who was telling me that one can not experience God without being paradoxical or non-dual. If we see a clear explanation of God, then it seems that it is the farthest from experiencing God. That puts Him down on the level of mind, if not matter. God has become a mere concept, if not an artifact.
In this level of mind, we do not need soul to embrace the mystery of our lives – then we do not need novels to describe them. In this level of mind, we do not need spirit to distill the mystery of the universe – then we do not need poetries to symbolize it. In short, such levels as soul and spirit are not what to be explained clearly but only paradoxically experienced with the narrative, poetic, prayerful, or enigmatic non-dual experiences.
Despite such religious or spiritual implication (or maybe because of that) the theme of the story is somewhat shocking. Some teenagers who love reading might hesitate to pick this novel up. It is the story about the prostitute whose name is Maria. That is why, even the author is saying in the preface as follows:
"They make me dream." I have often heard these words before, and they always please me greatly. At that moment, however, I felt really frightened, because I knew that my new novel, Eleven Minutes, dealt with a subject that was harsh, difficult, shocking.
Maria was born in a small rural village that was almost 48 hours far away from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and grew up as a beautiful attractive lady with the hope that she might meet her Prince Charming someday. She went to Rio de Janeiro to find the more opportunities that could connect her to the outer real world that she had always dreamed. She met one Swiss man in Rio de Janeiro, but he was a kind of recruiter and the owner of the bar in Switzerland. While she dreamed to become an actress or performer in Europe, when she almost ended up as the mere local dancer, she was released from the bar; she got her freedom to be independent in Geneva. However, the reality was too hard for her to live alone in such distant town. With a number of hesitations, inner conflicts and moral dilemmas, then, she had started the profession that she had never imagined to commit – prostitution.
Below is her journal entry after a week of her new job:
I'm not a body with a soul, I'm a soul that has a visible part called the body. All this week, contrary to what one might expect, I have been more conscious of the presence of this soul than usual. It didn't say anything to me, didn't criticize me or feel sorry for me: it merely watched me... I need to write about love. I need to think and think and write and write about love – otherwise, my soul won't survive.
The interesting thing is that the author tried to insert Maria's journal entry in every chapter and perhaps intentionally he described her as the girl who kept her journals quite intensively, and even more exceptionally Maria was also described as a broad reader. I am not sure if such setting could be successful to make the story realistic, though I like it personally.
But because of this, probably the readers do not feel unnatural even if Maria could wrote a quite profound reflection in her diary, at the same time tried to understand the meaning of her life somewhat religiously or spiritually if not philosophically. Her only friend in Geneva was the kind female librarian whom Maria was chatting and sometimes receiving her advices. Then, finally she met someone who was one of the well-known painters, but as lonely as Maria, and then he could see what he calls "light" in her.
As I said in the beginning, I was going to read the manual book about CMMI, however, once I had picked up the novel that I bought yesterday, unfortunately (or fortunately) this was the kind of book that you can never put it down once you started reading. Thus, instead of studying the manual, I had spent the almost whole afternoon in reading the life story of Maria, until the painter, Ralf found out the "light" in her when he drew her portrait. Then, what is the next? I do not know yet.
Incidentally, the life of the Brazilians looks quite similar to that of the Filipino people. Both are in the Catholic countries that used to be colonized. Especially the situation that, to escape from the simplicity and the poverty of her live in the rural small town, Maria dreamed to move to Rio de Janeiro and to Europe, can easily remind us of a certain parallelism in the Philippines. I am sure that Filipino people can read this novel with their great empathy.
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