The Resurrection of Damien (1)

This was inspired by the life of Paulo Coelho, whose bestselling book, The Alchemist, was translated worldwide into about 60 languages.

Damien’s life was like a roller-coaster ride — slow, grinding climbs followed by fast, dizzying dives. He was a bum, a rebel, an exconvict, and a poet who eventually became a famous novelist. He had the brains and the heart but did not use them. He became a drug addict only because he could not find his true spirit.

One day, quite by accident, he stumbled on the famous Camino de Santiago pilgrimage, a 10-day 200-kilometer trek from Ponferrada to Santiago Compostela in Spain. He made the trek as an adventurer rather than a pilgrim. On the eighth day, he was struck by a “light” that “blinded” him. The “light” was in the form of an old man, Isko, a billionaire doing the trek in a wheelchair.

DAMIEN: What’s up, Grandpa? What are you trying to prove?

ISKO: I am trying to prove to myself that my spirit is stronger than my body.

DAMIEN (Laughing teasingly): What for?

ISKO: In gratitude to a good God who has reversed my depression into elation. Look at the muscles of my arms. I challenge you to arm wrestle right now (Isko beat Damien in five seconds). You see, the spirit can make the body work for it. That’s how the blind can see. I can see that you are blind.

DAMIEN: You can? You must be psychic. You can see through me. Please help me, Grandpa

Isko.

They talked for five minutes, and

Damien saw the light.

He abandoned the trek and stayed for

10 days on a lonely hill overlooking the vast Compostela

Valley below. There, he gathered his spirit into a storm.

On that hill, he scribbled 77 poems on the meaning of life off the cuff without thinking. Then he knew that he was a writer — and a writer for the Lord who had saved him from absurdity. He submitted his poems to a small publisher, who rejected them immediately.

DAMIEN: No one wants to read my poems.

ISKO: I did, and they are fantastic. Do you know the writer’s tenet — publish or perish? You are not a writer until you are read by many. If you write for yourself or for the wind, you are not a writer. But you still don’t know if people really want to read your poems. Great writers like Ernest Hemingway were rejected many times before one magical publisher accepted him to start an explosion.

DAMEIN: Don’t compare me to Hemingway, I’m a nobody.

ISKO: You’re a nobody yet. Tell you what. I will ask a friend who has a big publishing firm if he will accept your poems on their merits, not as a favor to me.

Damien was skeptical and went back to drinking and drugs.

DAMIEN: Large publishers normally reject unknown writers with such a small manuscript. My poems will be buried in a heap of rejects.

ISKO: No guts, no glory, Damien. Always shoot for the stars. I will tell my friend you wrote the poems in 10 days on a lonely hill. That will get his attention. He is a visionary.

And so, Isko’s publisher friend agreed to publish the small thin pamphlet of poems. It became a best-seller overnight.

ISKO: Your poems were published not because the publisher is my friend. We don’t do that kind of insult to each other. He said the power of your poems was in their simplicity that touches people. You are now a real writer.

DAMIEN (Embracing Isko): I have had this dream since I was a kid to write a book about a young, uneducated peasant boy who taught the son of a tycoon how to spend his millions.

ISKO: Shoot for the stars, Damien. I’m right behind you. Next time, don’t go into drugs so easily at first failure. Wait a bit before you go suicidal.

DAMIEN: Yes. I am in deep gratitude, my mentor.

(To be continued)

“He

was a bum, a rebel, an ex-convict, and a poet who eventually became a famous novelist.

“Great writers like Ernest Hemingway were rejected many times before one magical publisher accepted him to start an explosion.