hough I speak with the tongues of men and of angels ... and though I have the gift of prophecy ... and have all faith so that I could remove mountains ... and have not love, I am nothing.

Petrus was once again quoting from Saint Paul. My guide felt that the apostle Paul was the major occult interpreter of Christs message. We were fishing that afternoon after having walked for the whole morning. No fish had yet perished on the hook, but Petrus didnt care about that at all. According to him, fishing was basically a symbol of the human beings relationship with the world: we know why we are fishing, and we will catch something if we stay with it, but whether we do or not depends on Gods help.

Its a good idea always to do something relaxing prior to making an important decision in your life, he said. The Zen monks listen to the rocks growing. I prefer fishing.

But at that time of day, because of the heat, even the fat, lazy fish on the bottom ignored the hook. Whether the bait was up or down, the result was the same. I decided to give it up and take a walk through the nearby

woods. I went as far as an old, abandoned cemetery close to the river it had a gate that was totally dispro- portionate to the size of the burial ground and then came back to where Petrus was fishing. I asked about the cemetery.

The gate was part of an ancient hospital for pil- grims, he said. But the hospital was abandoned, and later, someone had the idea of using the facade and building the cemetery.

Which has also been abandoned. Thats right. The things of this life dont last very long. I said that he had been nasty the night before in his

judgments of the people at the party, and he was sur- prised at me. He said that what we had talked about was no more or less than we had ourselves experienced in our personal lives. All of us seek eros, and then when eros wants to turn itself into philos, we think that love is worthless. We dont see that it is philos that leads us to the highest form of love, agape.

Tell me more about agape, I said.

Petrus answered that agape cannot really be dis- cussed; it has to be lived. That afternoon, if possible, he wanted to show me one of the faces of agape. But in order for this to happen, the universe, as in the business of fishing, would have to collaborate so that everything went well.

The messenger helps you, but there is one thing that is beyond the messengers control, beyond his desires, and beyond you, as well.

What is that? The divine spark. What we call luck. When the sun had begun to set, we resumed our

walking. The Jacobean route passed through some vine- yards and fields that were completely deserted at that time of day. We crossed the main road also deserted and started again through the woods. In the distance, I could see the Saint Lorenzo peak, the highest point in the kingdom of Castile. I had changed a great deal since I had met Petrus for the first time near Saint-Jean-Pied- de-Port. Brazil and the business deals that I had been worried about had practically vanished from my mind. The only important thing for me now was my objective. I discussed it every night with Astrain, who was becom- ing clearer and clearer for me. I was able to see him, seated at my side, any time I tried. I learned that he had a nervous tic in his right eye and that he had the habit of smiling disdainfully every time I repeated something as evidence that I had understood what he was saying. A few weeks earlier during the first days of the pilgrim- age I had been afraid that I would never complete it. When we had passed through Roncesvalles, I had been very disillusioned about everything to do with the jour- ney. I had wanted to get to Santiago immediately, recover my sword, and get back to fighting what Petrus called the good fight.* But right now, with my connection to

* I found out later that the term had actually been created by Saint Paul.

civilization severed, what was most important was the sun on my head and the possibility that I might experi- ence agape.

We went down the bank of an arroyo, crossed the dry bed, and had to struggle to climb up the other side. An impressive river must have flowed there once, wash- ing away the bottom in its search for the depths and secrets of the earth. Now the riverbed was so dry that it could be crossed on foot. But the rivers major accom- plishment, the valley it had created, was still there, and it took a major effort to climb out of it. Nothing in this life endures, Petrus had said a few hours before.

Petrus, have you ever been in love?

The question was a spontaneous one, and I was sur- prised at my courage. Up until then, I had known only the bare outline of my guides private life.

I have known a lot of women, if that is what you mean. And I have really loved each of them. But I expe- rienced agape only with two.

I told him that I had been in love many times but had been worried about whether I could ever become serious with anyone. If I had continued that way, it would have led to a solitary old age, and I had been very fearful of this.

I dont think you look to love as a means to a com- fortable retirement.

It was almost nine oclock before it began to get dark. The vineyards were behind us, and we were walking through an arid landscape. I looked around and could

see in the distance a small hermitage in the rocks, similar to many others we had passed on our pilgrimage. We walked on for a while, and then, detouring from the yellow markers, we approached the small building.

When we were close enough, Petrus called out a name that I didnt understand, and he stopped to listen for an answer. We heard nothing. Petrus called again, but no one answered.

Lets go, anyway, he said. And we moved forward.

The hermitage consisted of just four whitewashed walls. The door was open or rather, there really was no door, just a small entry panel, half a meter high, which hung precariously by one hinge. Within, there was a stone fireplace and some basins stacked on the floor. Two of them were filled with wheat and potatoes.

We sat down in the silence. Petrus lit a cigarette and said we should wait. My legs were hurting, but some- thing in that hermitage, rather than calming me, made me feel excited. It would also have frightened me a little if Petrus had not been there.

Where does whoever lives here sleep? I asked, just to break the uneasy silence.

There, where you are sitting, Petrus said, pointing to the bare earth. I said something about moving to another spot, but he told me to stay exactly where I was. The temperature must have been dropping, because I began to feel cold.

We waited for almost an hour. Petrus called out the strange name several more times and then gave up. Just

when I expected us to get up and leave, he began to speak.

Present here is one of the two manifestations of agape, he said, as he stubbed out his third cigarette. It is not the only one, but it is the purest. Agape is total love. It is the love that consumes the person who experiences it. Whoever knows and experiences agape learns that nothing else in the world is important just love. This was the kind of love that Jesus felt for humanity, and it was so great that it shook the stars and changed the course of history. His solitary life enabled him to accomplish things that kings, armies, and empires could not.

During the millennia of Christian civilization, many individuals have been seized by this love that consumes. They had so much to give and their world demanded so little that they went out into the deserts and to isolated places, because the love they felt was so great that it transformed them. They became the hermit saints that we know today.

For you and for me, who experience a different form of agape, this life may seem terrible. But the love that consumes makes everything else absolutely everything lose its importance. Those men lived just to be con- sumed by their love.

Petrus told me that a monk named Alfonso lived there. Petrus had met him on his first pilgrimage to Compostela, as he was picking fruit to eat. His guide, a much more enlightened man than he, was a friend of

Alfonsos, and the three of them had together per- formed the Ritual of Agape, the Blue Sphere Exercise. Petrus said that it had been one of the most important experiences of his life and that even today when he per- formed the exercise, he remembered the hermitage and Alfonso. There was more emotion in his voice than I had ever heard from him.

Agape is the love that consumes, he repeated, as if that were the phrase that best defined this strange kind of love. Martin Luther King once said that when Christ spoke of loving ones enemies, he was referring to agape. Because according to him, it was impossible to like our enemies, those who were cruel to us, those who tried to make our day-to-day suffering even worse. But agape is much more than liking. It is a feeling that suf- fuses, that fills every space in us, and turns our aggres- sion to dust.

You have learned how to be reborn, how to stop being cruel to yourself, and how to communicate with your messenger. But everything you do from now on and every good result that you take with you from the Road to Santiago will make sense only when you have also experienced the love that consumes.

I reminded Petrus that he had said that there were two forms of agape. And that he probably had not experi- enced this first form, since he had not become a hermit.

Youre right. You and I and most pilgrims who walk the Road to Santiago, learning the RAM practices, expe- rience agape in its other form: enthusiasm.

For the ancients, enthusiasm meant trance, or ecstasy a connection with God. Enthusiasm is agape directed at a particular idea or a specific thing. We have all experienced it. When we love and believe from the bottom of our heart, we feel ourselves to be stronger than anyone in the world, and we feel a serenity that is based on the certainty that nothing can shake our faith. This unusual strength allows us always to make the right decision at the right time, and when we achieve our goal, we are amazed at our own capabilities. Because when we are involved in the good fight, nothing else is important; enthusiasm carries us toward our goal.

Enthusiasm normally manifests itself with all of its force during the first years of our lives. At that time, we still have strong links with the divinity, and we throw ourselves into our play with our toys with such a will that dolls take on life and our tin soldiers actually march. When Jesus said that the kingdom of heaven belonged to the children, he was referring to agape in the form of enthusiasm. Children were attracted to him, not because they understood his miracles, his wisdom, or his Pharisees and apostles. They went to him in joy, moved by enthusiasm.

I told Petrus that on that very afternoon, I had real- ized that I was completely absorbed by the Road to Santiago. Those days and nights in Spain had almost made me forget about my sword, and they were a unique experience. Most other things had lost their importance.

This afternoon, we were trying to fish, but the fish would not bite, said Petrus. Normally, we allow enthu- siasm to elude us when we are involved in such mun- dane activities, those that have no importance at all in the overall scale of our existence. We lose our enthusi- asm because of the small and unavoidable defeats we suffer during the good fight. And since we dont realize that enthusiasm is a major strength, able to help us win the ultimate victory, we let it dribble through our fin- gers; we do this without recognizing that we are letting the true meaning of our lives escape us. We blame the world for our boredom and for our losses, and we forget that it was we ourselves who allowed this enchanting power, which justifies everything, to diminish the manifestation of agape in the form of enthusiasm.

I remembered the cemetery near the river. That strange, unusually large portal was a perfect representa- tion of what had been lost. And beyond it, only the dead.

As if he had guessed what I was thinking, Petrus began to talk about something that was similar.

A few days ago, you must have been surprised when I got so angry with that poor waiter who had spilled coffee on my shorts shorts that were already filthy with the dust and dirt of the road. Actually, I was ner- vous because I saw in the boys eyes that his enthusiasm was draining away like the blood that runs from wrists that have been slashed. I saw that boy, so strong and full of life, beginning to die because inside him, moment by

moment, agape was perishing. I have been around for a long time, and I have learned to live with these things, but that lad, with the way he behaved and with all the good things I felt that he could bring to humanity, left me shocked and sad. But I know that my anger wounded him a bit and stemmed the death of agape.

In the same vein, when you exorcised that womans dog, you felt agape in its purest form. It was a noble deed, and it made me proud to be here serving as your guide. So for the first time in our experience on the Road, I am going to participate in an exercise with you.

And Petrus taught me the Ritual of Agape, the Blue Sphere Exercise.

I am going to help you to arouse your enthusiasm, to create a power that is going to expand like a blue sphere that encloses the entire planet, he said, to show that I respect you and what you are doing.

Up until then, Petrus had never expressed an opin- ion, either favorable or unfavorable, regarding the way in which I performed the exercises. He had helped me to interpret my first contact with the messenger, and he had rescued me from the trance of the Seed Exercise, but he had never expressed any interest in the results I had achieved. More than once I had asked him why he did not want to know about my feelings, and he had answered that his only obligation as my guide was to show me the Road and to teach me the RAM practices. It was up to me whether I enjoyed the results or found them to be unpleasant.

When he said that he was going to participate with me in the exercise, I suddenly felt unworthy of his praise. I knew my faults, and many times I had doubted whether he could succeed in guiding me along the Road. I wanted to say all this to him, but he interrupted me before I could begin.

Dont be cruel with yourself, or you will not have learned the lesson I taught you before. Be kind. Accept the praise that you deserve.

Tears came to my eyes. Petrus led me outside. The night was darker than usual. I sat down next to him, and we began to sing. The melody came from within me, and he accompanied me with no effort. I began to clap my hands softly, as I rocked forward and back. My clapping increased in its intensity, and the music flowed from me, a psalm of praise to the darkness of the sky, the deserted plateau, and the lifeless stones around us. I began to see the saints that I had believed in as a child, and I could sense that life had gotten away from me because of my having killed a great deal of my agape. But now the love that consumes returned, and the saints smiled from the heavens with the same look and inten- sity that I had seen in them when I was small.

I spread my arms so that agape could flow, and a mysterious current of bright blue light began to wash through me, cleansing my soul and pardoning my sins. The light spread first to our surroundings and then enveloped the world, and I started to weep. I wept because I was re-experiencing the enthusiasm of my