The Alchemist

'To realize one’s destiny is a person's only obligation.'

The first time I read those words was on the back cover of Paolo Coehlo’s The Alchemist, not long after stumbling into a spiral of curiosity about the meanings of life and such. It seemed to me, as an eighteen-year-old girl amidst a world-wide pandemic, that reflection was exactly what the doctor ordered, even if covid-era terms prescribed it as quarantine. The whole world was hanging on by a thread, barely sane enough to keep tragedy out of the headlines for more than a day. But all I could think about was that line, and what it meant for me in my life.

My muscles and bones used to ache with the strain of my selflessness. For years I roamed aimless and alone, nearly losing my soul in the process. I shed tears each night for what I had left behind, and what I had up ahead. I didn’t know who I was, what I wanted, what was coming. I used to apologize for anything and everything, and forgetting never allowed me any remorse. But I had to forget my selflessness to heal. I had to leave the sleepless nights behind. No longer could I toss and turn at the thought of how much I’d done, how little I deserved what happened to me. Self-pity was taking me nowhere, memory lane was an open wound, and the years weren’t slowing down. Every ounce of worthlessness I’d felt had to fuel a greater fire rather than burn me out.

Sometimes I wonder if I’d still be here had I had a warning. I can still picture my naivety, too. Like I’m stuck there, the breeze blowing my thick curly strands all around, or at least the ones that weren’t stuck to my lips. I can feel the pure happiness and hope inside my belly, and the relief of someone plucking hairs from my lipgloss, though I can’t quite make out who. And that’s what no one understands.

Sometimes, you have to let go of who you used to be, who you thought you were. You have to make room for all the better things to come. The trickiest part is the better things aren’t always what you want, and you can never forget how amazing or awful something made you feel. The details, however, are always a little bit easier.

I knew the only way out was in. There was discipline and flow somewhere deep inside my mind, and it was only a matter of finding the balance in reality. My expectations had to go. My confidence had to shine. With time, the wounds would become scars I’d be proud of, I was sure. But moments often feel much longer while experiencing them than when looking back. Now, I reflect and see only the darkness and light come together in ways that lead me to my greatest awakening.

The sun shone brighter and my body felt lighter dropping all the weight of my shadow. My muscles no longer felt tense with stagnant energy as I began to move it through with yoga each morning rising. My mind no longer spun around in circular patterns of thought; I shooed them away in a peaceful meditation along with all my old earthly attachments and desires. From that scaled-back view, I could finally see each torturous second where my heart yearned for fulfillment elsewhere for what it was: a lesson that helped me grasp a better understanding of myself and my destiny.

I suppose that is my only New Year's resolution: To follow my one obligation, to look within in everything. To find love in places where I feel there is none. To reach inside me and learn the ins and outs of my mind, body, and soul, and to dive so deep into the present moment that I can only be grateful for how far I’ve come because to realize one’s destiny truly is a person's only obligation.