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1998

Abstract

ttps://readmedium.com/in-gods-hands-a381caf6c7ad"> <div> <div> <h2>In God’s Hands</h2> <div><h3>Everybody, in fact the entire universe, is in God’s hands; so don’t worry so much I reminded my friend even though</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*DFd1cUoryVeRdVBltQJfmg.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="4180">Inspirational by <a href="undefined">Ilana Lydia</a>:</p><div id="a7da" class="link-block"> <a href="https://ilanalydia11.medium.com/6-underrated-quotes-that-help-me-focus-d7c73ee17960"> <div> <div> <h2>6 Underrated Quotes that Help Me Focus</h2> <div><h3>For when you have a furry brain</h3></div> <div><p>ilanalydia11.medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*7y8FirjSOQQ-FciY)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="1b6b">Article by <a href="undefined">Shanna Loga</a>:</p><div id="a63f" class="link-block"> <a href="https://shannaloga.medium.com/what-am-i-worth-as-a-stay-at-home-mom-ec93803afb54"> <div> <div> <h2>What Am I Worth as a Stay-at-Home Mom?</h2> <div><h3>And is what I do considered work?</h3></div> <div><p>shannaloga.medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*0niE-C__dn_qY_tCFmVFrg.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="1e80">Humor by <a href="undefined">Lotta Eirado</a>:</p><div id="beb5" clas

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s="link-block"> <a href="https://lottaeirado.medium.com/4-handy-life-lessons-i-learned-from-the-very-hungry-caterpillar-bc50aab404ab"> <div> <div> <h2>4 Handy Life Lessons I Learned From The Very Hungry Caterpillar</h2> <div><h3>This classic children’s book by the late Eric Carle may be an oldie, but its lessons are still goodies.</h3></div> <div><p>lottaeirado.medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*8tLH0G_PGrYYWKWhK1JzPg.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="e98e">Of course, after a few weeks here, my reading list has over 300 stories and poems. I do the same thing on Medium as I do in real life with collecting books — my shelves are full of novels in my “to be read” list that I’ll eventually get around to. While I do own a Kindle, reading a physical book has no comparison: that slightly musty old-book smell or the fresh aroma of newly printed ink — the heavy weight of the physical book in my hands — the shushing sound as I turn the pages — the satisfaction of flipping to the last chapter and being able to close the book with a satisfied sigh on a story well read.</p><p id="b804">The only problem is that my reading list here (and piles of novels at home) keeps on growing. Surrounding myself with books is like wearing clothes — I feel naked if I don’t have them around. I’m not a collector of anything else, except now I’ve added Medium articles to the equation. So the question is…</p><p id="88d3">Does anyone else have a Medium addiction? Is there a cure?</p><figure id="0861"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*RTZev5XCvdc76HxnN7nP9g.jpeg"><figcaption>Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/mohamed_hassan-5229782/">Mohamed Hassan, Pixabay</a></figcaption></figure></article></body>

A scary true life lesson from Paolo Coelho and Alchemist

It was in Germany a few years ago. I landed with the last plane in the night and waited for my train. When I arrived at the station, I noticed that except for a young blonde lady, nobody was there.

picture source: https://pixabay.com/tr/photos/son-tren-platformu-gece-tren-4508281/

Deathly silence, so quiet that I could even hear the tick-tack of my wristwatch..

At first I sat down two rows away from the lady because I did not want to make her feel uncomfortable.

After a few minutes in the deathly silence, I became bored and without noticing my eyes slipped back onto the woman again. She was fully concentrated in a book.

From a distance, I could see the name of the book, “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho,

picture source: https://www.adakitap.com.tr/the-alchemist

which I read with great enthusiasm years ago. Honestly, Paulo and Orhan Pamuk are the greatest in the storytelling of the last hundred years, I thought.

So that she does not think wrong, I then turned around and quietly looked in front of me.

“Orhan is good, too,” a voice suddenly spoke to me.

I was shocked and looked around. Yes, the voice came from her..

Me: “what?” She: “I mean Orhan Pamuk”

How could she read my thoughts? I said to myself..

She gestured for me to sit down with her, but without looking at me for a second and taking her head off the book.

I do not know what was inside of me, but even though I was terrified, I sat down with her.

It was very quiet again. For a few minutes we did not exchange anything. I secretly watched her with one of my eyes. She was pretty, so pretty that even picture books can not describe it.

I have thought of the book again to get into conversation..

At that moment this line came in my mind from the book: “It’s the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting”

before I said it, she spoke again and answered with another line:

“There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure”

This strange lady read almost everything in me. That exactly was the last thought in the plane when I half-asleep on the plane thought about my love drama years ago, how I have lost her, what she’s doing right now in heaven and if I should fulfill her last wish to travel to India.. And the most important part was, the fear, fear of failure..

..If I’ll ever be able to love again..

‘’How can I love someone again after so much grief and years?’’ said my mind..

She: “The secret of life, though, is to fall seven times and to get up eight times.” (from The Alchemist again)

My whole body had turned to frost and my breath was getting heavier. Just at the moment the train finally arrived and we both got up at the same time and came to the same door to get in.

I still could not look at her, only her perfume smelled in my nose, that’s it.

When the door opened she looked for the first time in my face and said: ‘’ Olive eyes are waiting for you in the far distance. ‘’

That was a poem of mine that I have not shared with anyone in life so far.. (It was written for an unknown love in the future)

I answered: ‘’How is that supposed to become reality?’’

With a smile, she replied one last time, in the words of Paulo Coelho,

“And when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”

I put my foot on the train and turned to her to answer ..

..She was not there anymore..

And after years, when I told a true story of mine in India on a page, where my new love with the olive eyes was in it too, a reader left me a comment that hit me straight in the heart:

picture source: https://www.quora.com/Visiting-and-Travel-in-India-What-are-some-good-experiences-foreigners-have-had-in-India?q=visiting%20india%20foreigner

If only I could find this lady to say that this story ended with a tragedy and to ask what’s her advice now?

Who knows where and in which station of this world..

Thanks for reading..

Author: -Harun Reşit Aydin-

PS:

A small detail to complete the story. When I traveled to India for the first time after this incident, I had some gifts for the people I met there, including a perfume. After I met my biggest love with the olive black eyes I thought that she is the right one and gave it to her. One day, then, I have seen this perfume back in a perfume shop .. Just out of curiosity (because I did not smell it then) I wanted to smell it on the tester. You remember the smell of the blonde woman? Yes, it was the same perfume!

picture source: google image