THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI: A Fable About Fulfilling Your Dreams
and Reaching Your Destiny. Copyright © 1997 by Robin S. Sharma.
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of
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FIRST HARPERCOLLINS PAPERBACK EDITION PUBLISHED IN 1999
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Sharma, Robin S. (Robin Shilp), 1964-
The monk who sold his Ferrari: a fable about fulfilling your dreams and
reaching your destiny/Robin S. Sharma. — lst ed.
p. cm.
Originally published: Toronto: Haunsla Corp., 1996.
ISBN 0-06-251560-S (cloth)
ISBN 0-06-251567-5 (pbk.)
I. Title
PR9199.3.S497M6 1998
813'.54—dc21 98-13247
CIP
03 •RRD 20 19
To my son, Colby,
who is my daily reminder of all that is
good in this world. Bless You.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari has been a very special project, brought to
fruition through the efforts of some very special people. I am deeply grateful
to my superb production team and to all those whose enthusiasm and energy
transformed my vision of this book into reality, especially my family at Sharma
Leadership International. Your commitment and sense of mission moves me.
I express special thanks:
• To the thousands of readers of my first book, MegaLiving!, who
graciously took the time to write to me and share how it changed their lives.
I also thank all those who have attended my public seminars across North
America as well as Sharma Leadership International's many corporate
clients, who have been such wonderful sponsors of my speaking programs
for their employees.
• To my editor, John Loudon, for your belief in this book and for your
faith in me. Thanks as well to Margery Buchanan, Karen Levine, and the
rest of the superb team at HarperSanFranciseo for investing your energies
in this project
• To Brian Tracy, Mark Victor Hansen, and my other colleagues in the
self-leadership field for your kindness.
• To Kathi Dunn for your brilliant cover design. I thought nothing could
top the Timeless Wisdom for Self-Mastery cover you did for us. I was wrong.
• To Satya Paul, Krishna, and Sandeep Sharma for your constant
encouragement.
• And most of all, to my wonderful parents, Shiv and Shashi Sharma,
who have guided and helped me from day one; to my loyal and wise brother
Sanjay Sharma, M.D., and his good wife, Susan; to my daughter, Bianca, for
your presence; to my son, Colby, for your spirit, and to my wife and best
friend, Alka. You are all the light that shows me the way.
Life is no brief candle for me. It is a sort of splendid
torch which I have got hold of for the moment, and I want
to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it
on to future generations.
George Bernard Shaw
CONTENTS
1 THE WAKE-UP CALL
2 THE MYSTERIOUS VISITOR
3 THE MIRACULOUS TRANSFORMATION OF JULIAN MANTLE
4 A MAGICAL MEETING WITH THE SAGES OF SIVANA
5 A SPIRITUAL STUDENT OF THE SAGES
6 THE WISDOM OF PERSONAL CHANGE
7 A MOST EXTRAORDINARY GARDEN
8 KINDLING YOUR INNER FIRE
9 THE ANCIENT ART OF SELF-LEADERSHIP
10 THE POWER OF DISCIPLINE
11 YOUR MOST PRECIOUS COMMODITY
12 THE ULTIMATE PURPOSE OF LIFE
13 THE TIMELESS SECRET OF LIFELONG HAPPINESS
The Wake-Up Call
He collapsed right in the middle of a packed courtroom. He was
one of this country's most distinguished trial lawyers. He was also
a man who was as well known for the three-thousand-dollar Italian
suits which draped his well-fed frame as for his remarkable string
of legal victories. I simply stood there, paralyzed by the shock of
what I had just witnessed. The great Julian Mantle had been
reduced to a victim and was now squirming on the ground like a
helpless infant, shaking and shivering and sweating like a maniac.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion from that point on.
"My God, Julian's in trouble!" his paralegal screamed, emotionally
offering us a blinding glimpse of the obvious. The judge looked
panic-stricken and quickly muttered something into the private
phone she had had installed in the event of an emergency. As for
me, I could only stand there, dazed and confused. Please don't die,
you old fool. Its too early for you to check out. You don't deserve
to die like this.
The bailiff, who earlier had looked as if he had been embalmed
in his standing position, leapt into action and started to perform
CPR on the fallen legal hero. The paralegal was at his side, her
long blond curls dangling over Julian's ruby-red face, offering him
soft words of comfort, words which he obviously could not hear.
I had known Julian for seventeen years. We had first met when
I was a young law student hired by one of his partners as a summer
research intern. Back then, he'd had it all. He was a brilliant, handsome
and fearless trial attorney with dreams of greatness. Julian
was the firm's young star, the rain-maker in waiting. I can still
remember walking by his regal corner office while I was working
late one night and stealing a glimpse of the framed quotation
perched on his massive oak desk. It was by Winston Churchill and
it spoke volumes about the man that Julian was:
Sure I am that this day we are masters of our fate, that the
task which has been set before us is not above our strength;
that its pangs and toils are not beyond my endurance. As
long as we have faith in our own cause and an unconquerable
will to win, victory will not be denied us.
Julian also walked his talk. He was tough, hard-driving and
willing to work eighteen-hour days for the success he believed was
his destiny. I heard through the grapevine that his grandfather
had been a prominent senator and his father a highly respected
judge of the Federal Court. It was obvious that he came from
money and that there were enormous expectations weighing on his
Armani-clad shoulders. I'll admit one thing though: he ran his own
race. He was determined to do things his own way — and he loved
to put on a show.
Julian's outrageous courtroom theatrics regularly made the front
pages of the newspapers. The rich and famous flocked to his side
whenever they needed a superb legal tactician with an aggressive
edge. His extra-curricular activities were probably as well known.
Late-night visits to the city's finest restaurants with sexy young fashion
models, or reckless drinking escapades with the rowdy band of
brokers he called his "demolition team" became the stuff of legend at
the firm.
I still can't figure out why he picked me to work with him on
that sensational murder case he was to argue that first summer.
Though I had graduated from Harvard Law School, his alma
mater, I certainly wasn't the brightest intern at the firm, and my
family pedigree reflected no blue blood. My father spent his whole
life as a security guard with a local bank after a stint in the
Marines. My mother grew up unceremoniously in the Bronx.
Yet he did pick me over all the others who had been quietly
lobbying him for the privilege of being his legal gofer on what
became known as "the Mother of All Murder Trials": he said he
liked my "hunger." We won, of course, and the business executive
who had been charged with brutally killing his wife was now a free
man — or as free as his cluttered conscience would let him be.
My own education that summer was a rich one. It was far
more than a lesson on how to raise a reasonable doubt where none
existed — any lawyer worth his salt could do that. This was a
lesson in the psychology of winning and a rare opportunity to
watch a master in action. I soaked it up like a sponge.
At Julian's invitation, I stayed on at the firm as an associate,
and a lasting friendship quickly developed between us. I will
admit that; he wasn't the easiest lawyer to work with. Serving as
his junior was often an exercise in frustration, leading to more
than a few late-night shouting matches. It was truly his way or the
highway. This man could never be wrong. However, beneath his
crusty exterior was a person who clearly cared about people.
No matter how busy he was, he would always ask about Jenny,
the woman I still call "my bride" even though we were married
before I went to law school. On finding out from another summer
intern that I was in a financial squeeze, Julian arranged for me to
receive a generous scholarship. Sure, he could play hardball with
the best of them, and sure, he loved to have a wild time, but he
never neglected his friends. The real problem was that Julian was
obsessed with work.
For the first few years he justified his long hours by saying that
he was "doing it for the good of the firm", and that he planned to
take a month off and go to the Caymans "next winter for sure." As
time passed, however, Julian's reputation for brilliance spread and
his workload continued to increase. The cases just kept on getting
bigger and better, and Julian, never one to back down from a good
challenge, continued to push himself harder and harder. In his rare
moments of quiet, he confided that he could no longer sleep for
more than a couple of hours without waking up feeling guilty that
he was not working on a file. It soon became clear to me that he was
being consumed by the hunger for more: more prestige, more glory
and more money.
As expected, Julian became enormously successful. He
achieved everything most people could ever want: a stellar professional
reputation with an income in seven figures, a spectacular
mansion in a neighborhood favored by celebrities, a private jet, a
summer home on a tropical island and his prized possession — a
shiny red Ferrari parked in the center of his driveway.
Yet I knew that things were not as idyllic as they appeared on
the surface. I observed the signs of impending doom not because I
was so much more perceptive than the others at the firm, but
simply because I spent the most time with the man. We were
always together because we were always at work. Things never
seemed to slow down. There was always another blockbuster case
on the horizon that was bigger than the last. No amount of preparation
was ever enough for Julian. What would happen if the
judge brought up this question or that question, God forbid? What
would happen if our research was less than perfect? What would
happen if he was surprised in the middle of a packed courtroom,
looking like a deer caught in the glare of an intruding pair of headlights?
So we pushed ourselves to the limit and I got sucked into
his little work-centered world as well. There we were, two slaves
to the clock, toiling away on the sixty-fourth floor of some steel and
glass monolith while most sane people were at home with their
families, thinking we had the world by the tail, blinded by an illusory
version of success.
The more time I spent with Julian, the more I could see that
he was driving himself deeper into the ground. It was as if he had
some kind of a death wish. Nothing ever satisfied him. Eventually,
his marriage failed, he no longer spoke with his father, and though
he had every material possession anyone could want, he still had
not found whatever it was that he was looking for. It
showed, emotionally, physically — and spiritually.
At fifty-three years of age, Julian looked as if he was in his
late seventies. His face was a mass of wrinkles, a less than glorious
tribute to his "take no prisoners" approach to life in general
and the tremendous stress of his out-of-balance lifestyle in particular.
The late-night dinners in expensive French restaurants,
smoking thick Cuban cigars and drinking cognac after cognac,
had left him embarrassingly overweight. He constantly
complained that he was sick and tired of being sick and tired. He
had lost his sense of humor and never seemed to laugh anymore.
Julian's once enthusiastic nature had been replaced by a deathly
somberness. Personally, I think that his life had lost all sense of
purpose.
Perhaps the saddest thing was that he had also lost his focus in
the courtroom. Where he would once dazzle all those present with
an eloquent and airtight closing argument, he now droned on for
hours, rambling about obscure cases that had little or no bearing
on the matter before the Court. Where once he would react gracefully
to the objections of opposing counsel, he now displayed a
biting sarcasm that severely tested the patience of judges who had
earlier viewed him as a legal genius. Simply put, Julian's spark of
life had begun to flicker.
It wasn't just the strain of his frenetic pace that was marking
him for an early grave. I sensed it went far deeper. It seemed to
be a spiritual thing. Almost every day he would tell me that he felt
no passion for what he was doing and was enveloped by emptiness.
Julian said that as a young lawyer, he really loved the Law, even
though he was initially pushed into it by the social agenda of his
family. The Law's complexities and intellectual challenges had
kept him spellbound and full of energy. Its power to effect social
change had inspired and motivated him. Back then, he was more
than just some rich kid from Connecticut. He really saw himself
as a force for good, an instrument for social improvement who
could use his obvious gifts to help others. That vision gave his life
meaning. It gave him a purpose and it fuelled his hopes.
There was even more to Julian's undoing than a rusty
connection to what he did for a living. He had suffered some
great tragedy before I had joined the firm. Something truly
unspeakable had happened to him, according to one of the senior
partners, but I couldn't get anyone to open up about it. Even old
man Harding, the notoriously loose-lipped managing partner
who spent more time in the bar of the Ritz-Carlton than in his
embarrassingly large office, said that he was sworn to secrecy.
Whatever this deep, dark secret was, I had a suspicion that it, in
some way, was contributing to Julian's downward spiral. Sure I
was curious, but most of all, I wanted to help him. He was not
only my mentor; he was my best friend.
And then it happened. This massive heart attack that brought
the brilliant Julian Mantle back down to earth and reconnected
him to his mortality. Right in the middle of courtroom number
seven on a Monday morning, the same courtroom where we had
won the Mother of All Murder Trials.
The Mysterious Visitor
It was an emergency meeting of all of the firm's members. As we
squeezed into the main boardroom, I could tell that there was a
serious problem. Old man Harding was the first to speak to the
assembled mass.
"I'm afraid I have some very bad news. Julian Mantle suffered
a severe heart attack in court yesterday while he was arguing the
Air Atlantic case. He is currently in the intensive care unit, but his
physicians have informed me that his condition has now stabilized
and he will recover. However, Julian has made a decision, one that
I think you all must know. He has decided to leave our family and
to give up his law practice. He will not be returning to the firm."
I was shocked. I knew he was having his share of troubles, but
I never thought he would quit As well, after all that we had been
through, I thought he should have had the courtesy to tell me this
personally. He wouldn't even let me see him at the hospital. Every
time I dropped by, the nurses had been instructed to tell me that
he was sleeping and could not be disturbed. He even refused to take
my telephone calls. Maybe I reminded him of the life he wanted to
forget Who knows? I'll tell you one thing though. It hurt.
That whole episode was just over three years ago. Last I
heard, Julian had headed off to India on some kind of an expedition.
He told one of the partners that he wanted to simplify his
life and that he "needed some answers", and hoped he would find
them in that mystical land. He had sold his mansion, his plane
and his private island. He had even sold his Ferrari. "Julian
Mantle as an Indian yogi," I thought. "The Law works in the
most mysterious of ways."
As those three years passed, I changed from an overworked
young lawyer to a jaded, somewhat cynical older lawyer. My wife
Jenny and I had a family. Eventually, I began my own search for
meaning. I think it was having kids that did it. They fundamentally
changed the way I saw the world and my role in it. My dad said it
best when he said, "John, on your deathbed you will never wish
you spent more time at the office." So I started spending a little
more time at home. I settled into a pretty good, if ordinary, existence.
I joined the Rotary Club and played golf on Saturdays to
keep my partners and clients happy. But I must tell you, in my
quiet moments I often thought of Julian and wondered what had
become of him in the years since we had unexpectedly parted
company.
Perhaps he had settled down in India, a place so diverse that
even a restless soul like his could have made it his home. Or maybe
he was trekking through Nepal? Scuba diving off the Caymans?
One thing was certain: he had not returned to the legal profession.
No one had received even a postcard from him since he left for his
self-imposed exile from the Law.
A knock on my door about two months ago offered the first
answers to some of my questions. I had just met with my last
client of a gruelling day when Genevieve, my brainy legal
assistant, popped her head into my small, elegantly furnished
office.
"There's someone here to see you, John. He says it's urgent
and that he will not leave until he speaks with you."
"I'm on my way out the door, Genevieve," I replied impatiently.
"I'm going to grab a bite to eat before finishing off the Hamilton
brief. I don't have time to see anyone right now. Tell him to make
an appointment like everyone else, and call security if he gives you
any more trouble."
"But he says he really needs to see you. He refuses to take no
for an answer!"
For an instant I considered calling security myself, but,
realizing that this might be someone in need, I assumed a more
forgiving posture.
"Okay, send him in" I retreated. "I probably could use the business
anyway."
The door to my office opened slowly. At last it swung fully
open, revealing a smiling man in his mid-thirties. He was tall, lean
and muscular, radiating an abundance of vitality and energy. He
reminded me of those perfect kids I went to law school with, from
perfect families, with perfect houses, perfect cars and perfect skin.
But there was more to my visitor than his youthful good looks. An
underlying peacefulness gave him an almost divine presence. And
his eyes. Piercing blue eyes that sliced clear through me like a
razor meeting the supple flesh of a fresh-faced adolescent anxious
about his first shave.
'Another hotshot lawyer gunning for my job,' I thought to myself.
'Good grief, why is he just standing there looking at me? I hope that
wasn't his wife I represented on that big divorce case I won last week.
Maybe calling security wasn't such a silly idea after all.'
The young man continued to look at me, much as the smiling
Buddha might have looked upon a favored pupil. After a long
moment of uncomfortable silence he spoke in a surprisingly
commanding tone.
"Is this how you treat all of your visitors, John, even those who
taught you everything you know about the science of success in a
courtroom? I should have kept my trade secrets to myself," he
said, his full lips curving into a mighty grin.
A strange sensation tickled the pit of my stomach. I immediately
recognized that raspy, honey-smooth voice. My heart started
to pound.
"Julian? Is that you? I can't believe it! Is that really you?"
The loud laugh of the visitor confirmed my suspicions. The
young man standing before me was none other than that long-lost
yogi of India: Julian Mantle. I was dazzled by his incredible transformation.
Gone was the ghost-like complexion, the sickly cough
and the lifeless eyes of my former colleague. Gone was the elderly
appearance and the morbid expression that had become his
personal trademark. Instead, the man in front of me appeared to
be in peak health, his lineless face glowing radiantly. His eyes were
bright, offering a window into his extraordinary vitality. Perhaps
even more astounding was the serenity that Julian exuded. I felt
entirely peaceful just sitting there, staring at him. He was no
longer an anxious, "type-A" senior partner of a leading law firm.
Instead, the man before me was a youthful, vital — and smiling—
model of change.
The Miraculous
Transformation of Julian Mantle
I was astonished by the new and improved Julian Mantle.
'How could someone who looked like a tired old man only a
few short years ago now look so vibrant and alive?' I wondered in
silent disbelief. 'Was it some magical drug that had allowed him to
drink from the fountain of youth? What was the cause of this
extraordinary reversal?'
Julian was the first to speak. He told me that the hypercompetitive
legal world had taken its toll on him, not only physically
and emotionally but spiritually. The fast pace and endless
demands had worn him out and run him down. He admitted that
his body had fallen apart and that his mind had lost its lustre. His
heart attack was only one symptom of a deeper problem. The
constant pressure and exhausting schedule of a world-class trial
lawyer had also broken his most important—and perhaps most
human—endowment: his spirit. When given the ultimatum by his
doctor either to give up the Law or give up his life, he said he saw
a golden opportunity to rekindle the inner fire he had known
when he was younger, a fire that had been extinguished as the
Law became less a pleasure and more a business.
Julian grew visibly excited as he recounted how he sold all his
material possessions and headed for India, a land whose ancient
culture and mystical traditions had always fascinated him. He
travelled from tiny village to tiny village, sometimes by foot, sometimes
by train, learning new customs, seeing the timeless sights
and growing to love the Indian people who radiated warmth, kindness
and a refreshing perspective on the true meaning of life.
Even those who had very little opened their homes — and their
hearts — to this weary visitor from the West. As the days melted
into weeks within this enchanting environment, Julian slowly
began to feel alive and whole again, perhaps for the first time since
he was a child. His natural curiosity and creative spark steadily
returned, along with his enthusiasm and his energy for living. He
started to feel more joyful and peaceful. And he began to laugh
again.
Although he embraced every moment of his time in this exotic
land, Julian told me that his journey to India was more than a
simple vacation to ease an overworked mind. He described his
time in this far-away land as a "personal odyssey of the self". He
confided that he was determined to find out who he really was and
what his life was all about before it was too late. To do this, his first
priority was to connect to that culture's vast pool of ancient
wisdom on living a more rewarding, fulfilling and enlightened life.
"I don't mean to sound too off-the-wall, John, but it was like I
had received a command from within, an inner instruction telling
me that I was to begin a spiritual voyage to rekindle the spark that
I had lost," said Julian. "It was a tremendously liberating time for
me."
The more he explored, the more he heard of Indian monks
who had lived beyond the age of a hundred, monks who despite
their advanced years maintained youthful, energetic and vital
lives. The more he travelled, the more he learned of ageless yogis
who had mastered the art of mind-control and spiritual awakening.
And the more he saw, the more he longed to understand the
dynamics behind these miracles of human nature, hoping to apply
their philosophies to his own life.
During the early stages of his journey, Julian sought out
many well-known and highly respected teachers. He told me that
each one of them welcomed him with open arms and open hearts,
sharing whatever gems of knowledge they had absorbed over
lifetimes spent in quiet contemplation on the loftier issues
surrounding their existence. Julian also attempted to describe
the beauty of the ancient temples which were strewn across the
mystical landscape of India, edifices which stood as loyal gatekeepers
to the wisdom of the ages. He said he was moved by the
sacredness of these surroundings.
"It was a very magical time of my life, John. Here I was, a tired
old litigator who had sold everything from my racehorse to my
Rolex, and had packed all that remained into a large rucksack that
would be my constant companion as I ventured into the timeless
traditions of the East."
"Was it hard to leave?" I wondered aloud, unable to contain my
curiosity.
"Actually, it was the easiest thing I have ever done. The decision
to give up my practice and all my worldly possessions felt natural.
Albert Camus once said that 'Real generosity toward the future
consists in giving all to what is present.' Well, that's exactly what I
did. I knew I had to change—so I decided to listen to my heart and
do it in a very dramatic way. My life became so much simpler and
meaningful when I left the baggage of my past behind. The
moment I stopped spending so much time chasing the big pleasures
of life, I began to enjoy the little ones, like watching the stars dancing
in a moonlit sky or soaking in the the sunbeams of a glorious
summer morning. And India is such an intellectually stimulating
place that I rarely thought of all I had left."
Those initial meetings with the learned and the scholarly of
that exotic culture, though intriguing, did not yield the knowledge
for which Julian hungered. The wisdom that he desired and the
practical techniques that he hoped would change the quality of his
life continued to elude him in those early days of his odyssey. It
was not until Julian had been in India for about seven months that
he had his first real break.
It was while he was in Kashmir, an ancient and mystical state
that sits sleepily at the foot of the Himalayas, that he had the good
fortune to meet a gentleman named Yogi Krishnan. This slight
man with a clean-shaven head had also been a lawyer in his "previous
incarnation," as he often joked with a toothy grin. Fed up with
with the hectic pace that personifies modern New Delhi, he too
gave up his material possessions and retreated to a world of
greater simplicity. Becoming a caretaker of the village temple,
Krishnan said he had come to know himself and his purpose in the
larger scheme of life.
"I was tired of living my life like one long air raid drill. I
realized that my mission is to serve others and somehow to
contribute to making this world a better place. Now I live to
give," he told Julian. "I spend my days and nights at this temple,
living an austere but fulfilling life. I share my realizations with
all those who come here to pray. I serve those in need. I am not
a priest. I am simply a man who has found his soul."
Julian informed this lawyer turned yogi of his own story. He
spoke of his former life of prominence and privilege. He told Yogi
Krishnan of his hunger for wealth and his obsession with work. He
revealed, with great emotion, his inner turmoil and the crisis of
spirit he had experienced when the once bright light of his life
began to flicker in the winds of an out-of-balance lifestyle.
"I too have walked this path, my friend. I too have felt the pain
you have felt. Yet I have learned that everything happens for a
reason," offered Yogi Krishnan sympathetically. "Every event has
a purpose and every setback its lesson. I have realized that failure,
whether of the personal, professional or even spiritual kind, is
essential to personal expansion. It brings inner growth and a
whole host of psychic rewards. Never regret your past. Rather,
embrace it as the teacher that it is."
After hearing these words, Julian told me that he felt great
exultation. Perhaps, in Yogi Krishnan, he had found the mentor he
was searching for. Who better than another former hotshot
lawyer who, through his own spiritual odyssey, had found a better
way of living to teach him the secrets of creating a life of more
balance, enchantment and delight?
"I need your help, Krishnan. I need to learn how to build a
richer, fuller life."
"I would be honored to assist you in any way that I can,"
offered the yogi. "But may I give you one suggestion?"
"Sure."
"For as long as I have been caring for this temple in this little
village, I have heard whisperings of a mystical band of sages
living high in the Himalayas. Legend has it that they have discovered
some sort of system that will profoundly improve the quality
of anyone's life — and I don't just mean physically. It is supposed
to be a holistic, integrated set of ageless principles and timeless
techniques to liberate the potential of the mind, body and soul."
Julian was fascinated. This seemed perfect.
"Just exactly where do these monks live?"
"No one knows, and I regret that I'm too old to start searching.
But I will tell you one thing, my friend; many have tried to find
them and many have failed — with tragic consequences. The
higher reaches of the Himalayas are treacherous beyond compare.
Even the most skilled climber is rendered helpless against their
natural ravages. But if it is the golden keys to radiant health, lasting
happiness and inner fulfillment that you are searching for, I do
not have the wisdom you seek — they do."
Julian, never one to give up easily, pressed Yogi Krishnan
again. "Are you certain that you have no idea where they live?"
"All I can tell you is that the locals in this village know them as
the Great Sages of Sivana. In their mythology, Sivana means 'oasis
of enlightenment'. These monks are revered as if they are divine
in their constitution and influence. If I knew where they could be
found, I would be duty-bound to tell you. But honestly, I do not
know — no one does, for that matter."
The next morning, as the first rays of the Indian sun danced
along the colorful horizon, Julian set out on his trek to the lost
land of Sivana. At first he thought about hiring a Sherpa guide to
aid him in his climb through the mountains, but, for some
strange reason, his instincts told him that this was one journey
he would have to make alone. So instead, for perhaps the first
time in his life, he shed the shackles of reason and placed his
trust in his intuition. He felt he would be safe. He somehow knew
he would find what he was looking for. So, with missionary zeal,
he started to climb.
The first few days were easy. Sometimes he would catch up to
one of the cheerful citizens of the village below who happened to be
walking on one of the footpaths, perhaps searching for just the
right piece of wood for a carving or seeking the sanctuary that this
surreal place offered to all those who dared to venture this high
into the Heavens. At other times he hiked alone, using this time to
silently reflect on where he had been in his life — and where he
was now headed.
It didn't take long before the village below was nothing more
than a tiny speck on this marvellous canvas of natural splendor.
The majesty of the snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas made his
heart beat faster and, for one long moment, took his breath away.
He felt a oneness with his surroundings, a kind of kinship that two
old friends might enjoy after many years spent listening to each
other's innermost thoughts and laughing at each other's jokes.
The fresh mountain air cleared his mind and energized his spirit.
Having travelled the world many times over, Julian had thought he
had seen it all. But he had never seen beauty like this. The
wonders of which he drank at that magical time were an exquisite
tribute to the symphony of nature. At once he felt joyous, exhilarated
and carefree. It was here, high above the humanity below,
that Julian slowly ventured out of the cocoon of the ordinary and
began to explore the realm of the extraordinary.
"I still remember the words that were going through my mind
up there," said Julian. "I thought that, ultimately, life is all about
choices. One's destiny unfolds according to the choices one makes,
and I felt certain that the choice I had made was the right one. I
knew my life would never be the same and that something marvellous,
maybe even miraculous, was about to happen to me. It was an
amazing awakening."
As Julian climbed into the rarified regions of the Himalayas,
he told me that he grew anxious. "But it was those good kind of
jitters, like the ones I had on prom night or right before an exciting
case began and the media was chasing me up the courtroom
steps. And even though I didn't have the benefit of a guide or a
map, the way was clear and a thin, lightly travelled path led me
higher into the deepest reaches of those mountains. It was like I
had some sort of inner compass, nudging me gently towards my
destination. I don't think I could have stopped climbing even if I
had wanted to," Julian was excited, his words spilling out like a
gushing mountain stream after the rains.
As he travelled for two more days along the route that he
prayed would take him to Sivana, Julian's thoughts wandered
back to his former life. Though he felt entirely liberated from the
stress and strain that personified his former world, he did wonder
whether he could really spend the rest of his days without the
intellectual challenge that the legal profession had offered him
since he left Harvard Law School. His thoughts then wandered
back to his oak-paneled office in a glittering downtown skyscraper
and the idyllic summer home he had sold for a pittance. He
thought about his old friends with whom he would frequent the
finest of restaurants in the most glamorous locales. He also
thought about his prized Ferrari and how his heart would soar
when he gunned the engine and all its ferocity sprang to life with
a roar.
As he ventured deeper into the depths of this mystical place,
his reflections of the past were quickly interrupted by the stunning
marvels of the moment. It was while he was soaking in the
gifts of nature's intelligence that something startling happened.
From the corner of his eye he saw another figure, dressed
strangely in a long, flowing red robe topped by a dark blue hood,
slightly ahead of him on the path. Julian was astonished to see
anyone at this isolated spot that had taken him seven treacherous
days to reach. As he was many miles away from any real civilization
and still uncertain as to where his ultimate destination of
Sivana could be found, he yelled out to his fellow traveller.
The figure refused to respond and accelerated his pace along
the path they were both climbing, not even giving Julian the courtesy
of a backward glance of acknowledgement. Soon the mysterious
traveller was running, his red robe dancing gracefully behind
him like crisp cotton sheets hanging from a clothesline on a windy
autumn day.
"Please friend, I need your help to find Sivana," yelled Julian,
"I've been travelling for seven days with little food and water. I
think I'm lost!"
The figure came to an abrupt stop. Julian approached
cautiously while the traveller stood remarkably still and silent. His
head did not move, his hands did not move and his feet kept their
place. Julian could see nothing of the face beneath the hood but
was struck by the contents of the small basket in the hands of the
traveller. Within the basket was a collection of the most delicate
and beautiful flowers Julian had ever seen. The figure clutched the
basket tighter as Julian drew nearer, as if to display both a love of
these prized possessions and a distrust of this tall Westerner,
about as common to these parts as dew in the desert.
Julian gazed at the traveller with an intense curiosity. A quick
burst of a sunbeam revealed that it was a man's face under the
loosely-fitting hood. But Julian had never seen a man quite like
this one. Though he was at least his own age, there were very striking
features of this person which left Julian mesmerized and caused
him to simply stop and stare for what seemed like an eternity. His
eyes were catlike and so penetrating that Julian was forced to look
away. His olive-complexioned skin was supple and smooth. His
body looked strong and powerful. And though the man's hands
gave away the fact that he was not young, he radiated such an
abundance of youthfulness and vitality that Julian felt hypnotized
by what appeared before him, much like a child watching the
magician at his first magic show.
'This must be one of the Great Sages of Sivana,' Julian thought
to himself, scarcely able to contain his delight at his discovery.
"I am Julian Mantle. I've come to learn from the Sages of
Sivana. Do you know where I might find them?" he asked.
The man looked thoughtfully at this weary visitor from the
West. His serenity and peace made him appear angelic in nature,
enlightened in substance.
The man spoke softly, almost in a whisper, "Why is it that you
seek these sages, friend?"
Sensing that he had indeed found one of the mystical monks
who had eluded so many before him, Julian opened his heart and
poured out his odyssey to the traveller. He spoke of his former life
and of the crisis of spirit he had struggled with, how he had traded
his health and his energy for the fleeting rewards that his law
practice brought him. He spoke of how he had traded the riches of
his soul for a fat bank account and the illusory gratification of his
'live fast, die young' lifestyle. And he told him of his travels in
mystical India and of his meeting with Yogi Krishnan, the former
trial lawyer from New Delhi who had also given up his former life
in the hope of finding inner harmony and lasting peace.
The traveller remained silent and still. It was not until Julian
spoke of his burning, almost obsessive desire to acquire the
ancient principles of enlightened living that the man spoke again.
Placing an arm on Julian's shoulder, the man said gently: "if you
truly have a heartfelt desire to learn the wisdom of a better way,
then it is my duty to help you. I am indeed one of those sages that
you have come so far in search of. You are the first person to find
us in many years. Congratulations. I admire your tenacity. You
must have been quite a lawyer," he offered.
He paused, as if he was a little uncertain of what to do next,
and then went on. "If you like, you may come with me, as my guest,
to our temple. It rests in a hidden part of this mountain region, still
many hours away from here. My brothers and sisters will welcome
you with open arms. We will work together to teach you the
ancient principles and strategies that our ancestors have passed
down through the ages.
"Before I take you into our private world and share our
collected knowledge for filling your life with more joy, strength and
purpose, I must request one promise from you," requested the
sage. "Upon learning these timeless truths you must return to
your homeland in the West and share this wisdom with all those
who need to hear it. Though we are isolated here in these magical
mountains, we are aware of the turmoil your world is in. Good
people are losing their way. You must give them the hope that they
deserve. More importantly, you must give them the tools to fulfill
their dreams. This is all I ask."
Julian instantly accepted the sage's terms and promised that
he would carry their precious message to the West. As the two men
moved still higher up the mountain path to the lost village of Sivana,
the Indian sun started to set, a fiery red circle slipping into a soft,
magical slumber after a long and weary day. Julian told me he has
never forgotten the majesty of that moment, walking with an
ageless Indian monk for whom he somehow felt a brotherly love,
travelling to a place he had longed to find, with all its wonders and
many mysteries.
"This was definitely the most memorable moment of my life,"
he confided in me. Julian had always believed that life came down
to a few key moments. This was one of them. Deep inside his soul,
he somehow sensed that this was the first moment of the rest of
his life, a life soon to be much more than it had ever been.
A Magical Meeting with
The Sages of Sivana
After walking for many hours along an intricate series of paths
and grassy trails, the two travellers came upon a lusty green
valley. On one side of the valley, the snow-capped Himalayas
offered their protection, like weather-beaten soldiers guarding
the place where their generals rested. On the other, a thick forest
of pine trees sprouted, a perfectly natural tribute to this
enchanting fantasyland.
The sage looked at Julian and smiled gently, "Welcome to the
Nirvana of Sivana."
The two then descended along another less-travelled way and
into the thick forest which formed the floor of the valley. The smell
of pine and sandalwood wafted through the cool, crisp mountain
air. Julian, now barefoot to ease his aching feet, felt the damp moss
under his toes. He was surprised to see richly colored orchids and
a host of other lovely flowers dancing among the trees, as if
rejoicing in the beauty and splendor of this tiny slice of Heaven.
In the distance, Julian could hear gentle voices, soft and
soothing to the ear. He continued to follow the sage without
making a sound. After walking for about fifteen more minutes, the
two men reached a clearing. Before him was a sight that even the
worldly wise and rarely surprised Julian Mantle could never have
imagined—a small village made solely out of what appeared to be
roses. At the center of the village was a tiny temple, the kind
Julian had seen on his trips to Thailand and Nepal, but this temple
was made of red, white and pink flowers, held together with long
strands of multi-colored string and twigs. The little huts which
dotted the remaining space appeared to be the austere homes of
the sages. These were also made of roses. Julian was speechless.
As for the monks who inhabited the village, those he could see
looked like Julian's travelling companion, who now revealed that
his name was Yogi Raman. He explained that he was the eldest
sage of Sivana and the leader of this group. The citizens of this
dreamlike colony looked astonishingly youthful and moved with
poise and purpose. None of them spoke, choosing instead to
respect the tranquility of this place by performing their tasks in
silence.
The men, who appeared to number only about ten, wore the
same red-robed uniform as Yogi Raman and smiled serenely at
Julian as he entered their village. Each of them looked calm,
healthy and deeply contented. It was as if the tensions which
plague so many of us in our modern world had sensed that they
were not welcome at this summit of serenity and moved on to
more inviting prospects. Though it had been many years since
there had been a new face amongst them, these men were
controlled in their reception, offering a simple bow as their
greeting to this visitor who had travelled so far to find them.
The women were equally impressive. In their flowing pink silk
saris and with white lotuses adorning their jet black hair, they
moved busily through the village with exceptional agility.
However, this was not the frantic busyness that pervades the lives
of people in our society. Instead, theirs was of the easy, graceful
kind. With Zen-like focus, some worked inside the temple,
preparing for what appeared to be a festival. Others carried
firewood and richly embroidered tapestries. All were engaged in
productive activity. All appeared to be happy.
Ultimately, the faces of the Sages of Sivana revealed the power
of their way of life. Even though they were clearly mature adults,
each one of them radiated a child-like quality, their eyes twinkling
with the vitality of youth. None of them had wrinkles. None of
them had gray hair. None of them looked old.
Julian, who could scarcely believe what he was experiencing,
was offered a feast of fresh fruits and exotic vegetables, a diet that
he would later learn was one of the keys to the treasure trove of
ideal health enjoyed by the sages. After the meal, Yogi Raman
escorted Julian to his living quarters: a flower-filled hut containing
a small bed with an empty journal pad on it. This would be his
home for the foreseeable future.
Though Julian had never seen anything like this magical world
of Sivana, he somehow felt that this had been a homecoming of
sorts, a return to a paradise that he had known long ago. Somehow
this village of roses was not so foreign to him. His intuition told him
that he belonged here, if only for a short period. This would be the
place where he would rekindle the fire for living that he had known
before the legal profession stole his soul, a sanctuary where his
broken spirit would slowly start to heal. And so began Julian's life
among the Sages of Sivana, a life of simplicity, serenity and
harmony. The best was soon to come.
