The Secret Letters of the Monk Who Sold His Ferrari. Робин Шарма

I told him that I heard he’d had a change of heart and left his practice. I wasn’t clear about the details.

      “It’s true,” said Julian. “At one point, I was more successful than I had ever dreamed I could be—as far as fame and money go. But I was destroying my life. When I wasn’t consumed by work, I was smoking cigars and drinking expensive cognac, having a wild time with young models and new friends. It ruined my marriage, and my lifestyle began to take a toll on my career. I was in a downward spiral, but I didn’t know how to stop. One day, in the middle of arguing a big case, I crashed to the floor of the courtroom. A heart attack.”

      That rang a bell. Mom had probably told me something about this, but I obviously hadn’t been paying too much attention.

      Julian shook the hood from his head and then reached up to a shelf above the sink to pull down two mugs.

      “I spent months recovering my health. During that time, I made a decision.”

      I sighed. This is where that lovely Ferrari got tossed.

      “I sold my mansion, my car, all my possessions. And I headed to India, hoping to learn what I could of the wisdom of the world. You see, building my net worth had become less interesting to me than discovering my self-worth. And chasing beautiful women had given way to pursuing enduring happiness.”

      I stifled a sigh. It sounded as if this was the beginning of a long story. I was impatient to hear what any of it had to do with me.

      “During my travels deep in the Himalayas, I had the great good fortune of coming upon an exceptional man. He was a monk, one of the Sages of Sivana. He took me high into the mountains, to the village where the sages lived, studied and worked. The sages taught me many remarkable lessons that I would love to share with you.”

      Julian paused and looked down toward my feet. I realized with embarrassment that I had been tapping my foot like some impatient customer in a shop line.

      Julian smiled. “But I sense that now is not the time.”

      “Sorry,” I said. “I guess I’m just a little anxious to get back home.”

      “Not to worry,” Julian said gently. “A story should be told only when a listener is ready to hear it.”

      “You want to know why I asked you here today?” Julian said.

      I nodded.

      The coffee was ready. Julian poured two mugs. “Milk? Sugar?” I shook my head. Julian handed me a mug and then headed into the living room. Once we had both settled in chairs, he continued his story.

      “One of the things that the monks taught me was the power of the talismans.”

      “Talismans?” I said.

      “Small statues or amulets. There are nine of them. Each holds a piece of essential wisdom for happiness and a life beautifully lived. Individually, they are just symbolic tokens, but together they hold extraordinary transformative powers. They can, in effect, be lifesaving.”

      “You need to save a life?” I asked. It sounded a little melodramatic. Or a little crazy.

      “Yes. There is someone I know who is in desperate trouble. Others have tried to help, but with no success. This is our last resort.”

      “Does this have something to do with my mother?” I asked. She had been very upset on the phone.

      “It does,” said Julian. “But I am not at liberty to explain how.”

      “Listen, if my mother is sick or something, I have a right to know.” I felt my chest get tight, my breathing shallow.

      “Your mother is in no danger,” said Julian. “That’s all I can say.”

      I was about to press him, to ask more questions, but Julian had drawn his lips together, put his coffee cup down on the table in front of me. It looked as if he was ready to end the conversation. I sighed and looked down at the floor for a minute.

      “Okay,” I said, “but where do I fit in? What do you need me for?”

      Julian had left his chair and moved over to the window. He looked out toward the street below, but his eyes seemed to be focused much farther in the distance.

      “When I left the village,” Julian said, “the monks gave me the talismans in a leather pouch and asked me to be their new keeper.

      “But after I left the Himalayas, I traveled for a while. One night a fire broke out in the small hotel I was staying in. I was out at the time, but my room was destroyed. I was carrying the talismans on me, so the only thing I lost was a pair of sandals. At another inn, I heard a fellow traveler talk of being mugged on a side street in Rome. It occurred to me that while the talismans were being held by the monks in the village, they had been safe. I was the only visitor who had reached that remote place in a very long time. But now that I had these treasures, they were at risk. At any time, they could be stolen, lost or destroyed.”

      Julian went on to explain that he had decided it would be safer if he sent each talisman to a different trusted safekeeper who would turn it over when Julian had need of it. With each object, he had sent a letter with some descriptions about what he understood the talisman to mean. Now it was clear that he needed these talismans back. He said he wanted me to go and get them.

      “What?” I sputtered. “I mean, isn’t that what FedEx is for?”

      Julian smiled. “I don’t think you understand the importance of these talismans. I can’t entrust them to a courier or to the mail. They are scattered all over the world, and I need someone I know to pick them up in person.”

      “And you can’t go?” I asked. I knew I was being a little rude, but the image of Julian tangoing across the floor downstairs was still in my mind.

      Julian chuckled. “I know that I may not appear to be terribly busy,” he said, his tone getting more serious now. “But it is really not possible for me to do this.”

      I was silent for a few seconds. How could I put this?

      “Cousin Julian,” I said. “No offense, but you said you need someone you know to pick these things up. You don’t really know me. I met you once—when I was ten.”

      “I know you better than you think,” said Julian. His pleasant smile had vanished. His eyes were dark, and there was a gravity in his expression that was disconcerting.

      “Listen to me, Jonathan,” he said quietly. “I can’t tell you how I know this, but I do. The only person who can collect those talismans is you.”

      He paused and then added, “I know that my answers aren’t very satisfying. But trust me, Jonathan, when I say that this is a matter of life and death.”

      We sat for a long while in silence. I was thinking about the sound of my mother crying on the phone. The feel of the empty space on Annisha’s side of the bed. The look in Adam’s eyes when I disappointed him. It isn’t very often when you are the “only” one—the only son, the only husband, the only father.

      Finally I broke the silence.

      “How long will this take?” I asked.

      “I’ve written to all the safekeepers,” Julian said. “I haven’t heard back from everyone. But I’ve got a place for you to start—a friend of mine in Istanbul. As far as time goes, well, getting all the talismans will take a few weeks. Maybe a month.”

      Good lord. That was all my vacation time and then some. I took a deep breath. Julian looked at me and cocked his head.

      “Jonathan?” he said.

      I looked back at Julian. There was such kindness in his eyes. For a moment, he reminded me of my father, and I realized how much I missed my dad. I also realized that I had made a decision. Words caught in my throat, so I only nodded.

      Julian