Report to Greco by Nikos Kazantzakis
It was almost nightfall. The whole day: rain, torrents of rain. Drenched to the bone, I arrived in a little Calabrian village. I had to find a hearth where I could dry out, a corner where I could sleep. The streets were deserted, the doors bolted. The dogs were the only ones to scent the stranger's breath; they began to bark from within the courtyards. The peasants in this region are wild and misanthropic, suspicious of strangers. I hesitated at every door, extended my hand, but did not dare to knock.
O for my late grandfather in Crete who took his lantern each evening and made the rounds of the village to see if any stranger had come. He would take him home, feed him, give him a bed for the night, and then in the morning see him off with a cup of wine and a slice of bread. Here in the Calabrian villages there were no such grandfathers.
Suddenly I saw an open door at the edge of the village. Inclining my head, I looked in: a murky corridor with a lighted fire at the far end and an old lady bent over it. She seemed to be cooking. Not a sound, nothing but the burning wood. It was fragrant; it must have been fine. I crossed the threshold and entered, bumping against a long table which stood in the middle of the room. Finally, I reached the fire and sat down on a stool which I found in front of the hearth. The old lady was squatting on another stool, stirring the meal with a wooden spoon. I felt that she eyed me rapidly, without turning. But she said nothing. Taking off my jacket, I began to dry it. I sensed happiness rising in me like warmth, from my feet to my shins, my thighs, my breast. Hungrily, avidly, I inhaled the fragrance of the steam rising from the pot. The meal must have been baked beans; the aroma was overwhelming. Once more I realized to what an extent earthly happiness is made to the measure of man. It is not a rare bird which we must pursue at one moment in heaven, at the next in our minds. Happiness is a domestic bird in our own courtyards.
As soon as we finished, she prepared a bed for me on a bench to the right of the table. I lay down, and she lay down on the other bench opposite me. Outside the rain was falling by the bucketful. For a considerable time I heard the water cackle on the roof, mixed with the old lady's calm, quiet breathing. She must have been tired, for she fell asleep the moment she inclined her head. Little by little, with the rain and the old lady's respiration, I too slipped into sleep. When I awoke, I saw daylight peering through the cracks in the door.
The old lady had already risen and placed a saucepan on the fire to prepare the morning milk. I looked at her now in the sparse daylight. Shriveled and hump, she could fit into the palm of your hand. Her legs were so swollen that she had to stop at every step and catch her breath. But her eyes, only her large, pitch-black eyes, gleamed with youthful, unaging brilliance. How beautiful she must have been in her youth, I thought to myself, cursing man's fate, his inevitable deterioration. Sitting down opposite each other again, we drank the milk. Then I rose and slung my carpetbag over my shoulder. I took out my wallet, but the old lady colored deeply.
"No, no," she murmured, extending her hand.
As I looked at her in astonishment, the whole of her bewrinkled face suddenly gleamed.
"Goodbye, and God bless you," she said. "May the Lord repay you for the good you've done me. Since my husband died I've never slept so well."
The Atheist and the Lion - Paulo Coelho
An atheist is going through a forest in Africa, filled with admiration for everything created by that “accident of evolution”.
“But what majestic trees! What powerful rivers! What beautiful animals! And all this happened by chance, without anyone interfering! Only the weak and ignorant, afraid they cannot explain their own lives and the universe, feel the need to attribute all these marvels to a superior entity!”
There is a noise in the bushes behind him; a lion is about to pounce on him. He tries to flee, but the animal knocks him over.
With nothing else to lose, he shouts out: “My God!”
And a miracle happens: time stops, the atmosphere is drenched in a strange light, and a voice is heard:
“What do you want? You have denied my existence for all these years, you have taught others that I do not exist, and you reduced Creation to a “cosmic accident”.
Quite confused, the man exclaims:
“It would be hypocritical of me to change my mind just because I am about to die. All my life I have preached that You do not exist.”
“So, what do you expect me to do?”
The atheist reflected for a moment, knowing that the discussion could not last forever. Finally he says:
“I can’t change, but the lion can. So, I ask the Lord to change this wild, murderous beast into a Christian animal!”
Right there and then, the light disappears, the birds in the forest renew their singing, and the river begins to flow again.
The lion climbs off the man, pauses, lowers its head, and says very earnestly:
“Lord, I am ever so grateful for Your generosity, for this food that I am about to eat…”
The laudry is not very clean - Paulo Coelho
A young couple moves into a new neighborhood. The next morning while they are eating breakfast, the young woman sees her neighbor hanging the wash outside.
“That laundry is not very clean; she doesn’t know how to wash correctly. Perhaps she needs better laundry soap.”
Her husband looks on, remaining silent. Every time her neighbor hangs her wash to dry, the young woman makes the same comments.
A month later, the woman is surprised to see a nice clean wash on the line and says to her husband:
“Look, she’s finally learned how to wash correctly. I wonder who taught her this? ”
The husband replies, “I got up early this morning and cleaned our windows.”
And so it is with life… What we see when watching others depends on the clarity of the window through which we look
It was almost nightfall. The whole day: rain, torrents of rain. Drenched to the bone, I arrived in a little Calabrian village. I had to find a hearth where I could dry out, a corner where I could sleep. The streets were deserted, the doors bolted. The dogs were the only ones to scent the stranger's breath; they began to bark from within the courtyards. The peasants in this region are wild and misanthropic, suspicious of strangers. I hesitated at every door, extended my hand, but did not dare to knock.
O for my late grandfather in Crete who took his lantern each evening and made the rounds of the village to see if any stranger had come. He would take him home, feed him, give him a bed for the night, and then in the morning see him off with a cup of wine and a slice of bread. Here in the Calabrian villages there were no such grandfathers.
Suddenly I saw an open door at the edge of the village. Inclining my head, I looked in: a murky corridor with a lighted fire at the far end and an old lady bent over it. She seemed to be cooking. Not a sound, nothing but the burning wood. It was fragrant; it must have been fine. I crossed the threshold and entered, bumping against a long table which stood in the middle of the room. Finally, I reached the fire and sat down on a stool which I found in front of the hearth. The old lady was squatting on another stool, stirring the meal with a wooden spoon. I felt that she eyed me rapidly, without turning. But she said nothing. Taking off my jacket, I began to dry it. I sensed happiness rising in me like warmth, from my feet to my shins, my thighs, my breast. Hungrily, avidly, I inhaled the fragrance of the steam rising from the pot. The meal must have been baked beans; the aroma was overwhelming. Once more I realized to what an extent earthly happiness is made to the measure of man. It is not a rare bird which we must pursue at one moment in heaven, at the next in our minds. Happiness is a domestic bird in our own courtyards.
As soon as we finished, she prepared a bed for me on a bench to the right of the table. I lay down, and she lay down on the other bench opposite me. Outside the rain was falling by the bucketful. For a considerable time I heard the water cackle on the roof, mixed with the old lady's calm, quiet breathing. She must have been tired, for she fell asleep the moment she inclined her head. Little by little, with the rain and the old lady's respiration, I too slipped into sleep. When I awoke, I saw daylight peering through the cracks in the door.
The old lady had already risen and placed a saucepan on the fire to prepare the morning milk. I looked at her now in the sparse daylight. Shriveled and hump, she could fit into the palm of your hand. Her legs were so swollen that she had to stop at every step and catch her breath. But her eyes, only her large, pitch-black eyes, gleamed with youthful, unaging brilliance. How beautiful she must have been in her youth, I thought to myself, cursing man's fate, his inevitable deterioration. Sitting down opposite each other again, we drank the milk. Then I rose and slung my carpetbag over my shoulder. I took out my wallet, but the old lady colored deeply.
"No, no," she murmured, extending her hand.
As I looked at her in astonishment, the whole of her bewrinkled face suddenly gleamed.
"Goodbye, and God bless you," she said. "May the Lord repay you for the good you've done me. Since my husband died I've never slept so well."
The Atheist and the Lion - Paulo Coelho
An atheist is going through a forest in Africa, filled with admiration for everything created by that “accident of evolution”.
“But what majestic trees! What powerful rivers! What beautiful animals! And all this happened by chance, without anyone interfering! Only the weak and ignorant, afraid they cannot explain their own lives and the universe, feel the need to attribute all these marvels to a superior entity!”
There is a noise in the bushes behind him; a lion is about to pounce on him. He tries to flee, but the animal knocks him over.
With nothing else to lose, he shouts out: “My God!”
And a miracle happens: time stops, the atmosphere is drenched in a strange light, and a voice is heard:
“What do you want? You have denied my existence for all these years, you have taught others that I do not exist, and you reduced Creation to a “cosmic accident”.
Quite confused, the man exclaims:
“It would be hypocritical of me to change my mind just because I am about to die. All my life I have preached that You do not exist.”
“So, what do you expect me to do?”
The atheist reflected for a moment, knowing that the discussion could not last forever. Finally he says:
“I can’t change, but the lion can. So, I ask the Lord to change this wild, murderous beast into a Christian animal!”
Right there and then, the light disappears, the birds in the forest renew their singing, and the river begins to flow again.
The lion climbs off the man, pauses, lowers its head, and says very earnestly:
“Lord, I am ever so grateful for Your generosity, for this food that I am about to eat…”
The laudry is not very clean - Paulo Coelho
A young couple moves into a new neighborhood. The next morning while they are eating breakfast, the young woman sees her neighbor hanging the wash outside.
“That laundry is not very clean; she doesn’t know how to wash correctly. Perhaps she needs better laundry soap.”
Her husband looks on, remaining silent. Every time her neighbor hangs her wash to dry, the young woman makes the same comments.
A month later, the woman is surprised to see a nice clean wash on the line and says to her husband:
“Look, she’s finally learned how to wash correctly. I wonder who taught her this? ”
The husband replies, “I got up early this morning and cleaned our windows.”
And so it is with life… What we see when watching others depends on the clarity of the window through which we look
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