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<p>The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari A Fable About Fulfilling Your Dreams and Reaching Your Destiny Robin S. Sharma To my son, Colby, who is my daily reminder of all that is good in this world. Bless You. 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 E-Book Extra: The Top 200 Secrets of Success and the Pillars of 202 Self-Mastery Epigraph iv 1 The Wake-Up Call 1 2 The Mysterious Visitor 8 3 The Miraculous Transformation of Julian Mantle 12 4 A Magical Meeting with The Sages of Sivana 24 5 A Spiritual Student of the Sages 27 6 The Wisdom of Personal Change 32 7 A Most Extraordinary Garden 41 8 Kindling Your Inner Fire 72 9 The Ancient Art of Self-Leadership 93 10 The Power of Discipline 144 11 Your Most Precious Commodity 159 12 The Ultimate Purpose of Life 173 13 The Timeless Secret of Lifelong Happiness 181 Acknowledgments 201 About the Author 232 By Robin S. Sharma 233 Praise for The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari 234 Credits 236 Cover Copyright 237 About the Publisher 238 C H A P T E R O N E 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. It’s 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 1 2 / ROBIN S. SHARMA 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, hand- some and fearless trial attorney with dreams of greatness. Julian was the firm’s young star, the rain-maker in waiting. I can still re- member 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 THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 3 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 cer- tainly 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 lob- bying 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 exis- ted—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. 4 / ROBIN S. SHARMA No matter how busy he was, he would always ask about Jenny, the woman I still call “my bride” even though we were married be- fore 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 neg- lected 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 THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 5 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 prepara- tion 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, emotion- ally, 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 tremend- ous 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. 6 / ROBIN S. SHARMA 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 ob- vious 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 be- fore 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 THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 7 man Harding, the notoriously loose-lipped managing partner who spent more time in the bar of the Ritz-Carlton than in his embarrass- ingly 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. C H A P T E R T W O 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 as- sembled 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. 8 THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 9 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 an- swers to some of my questions. I had just met with my last client of a gruelling day when Genevieve, my brainy legal 10 / ROBIN S. SHARMA 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 re- minded 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 MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 11 The young man continued to look at me, much as the smiling Buddha might have looked upon a favored pupil. After a long mo- ment of uncomfortable silence he spoke in a surprisingly command- ing 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. In- stead, 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. C H A P T E R T H R E E 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 hyper-competitive legal world had taken its toll on him, not only physically and emo- tionally 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 ex- hausting 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. 12 THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 13 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, some- times 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 14 / ROBIN S. SHARMA 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 exist- ence. 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 THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 15 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 contin- ued 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 incarna- tion,” 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 16 / ROBIN S. SHARMA 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 essen- tial 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 exulta- tion. Perhaps, in Yogi Krishnan, he had found the mentor he was searching for. Who better than another former hot-shot 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, enchant- ment 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 vil- lage, 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 THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 17 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 18 / ROBIN S. SHARMA 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, THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 19 he told me that he grew anxious. “But it was those good kind of jit- ters, 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 chal- lenge 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, 20 / ROBIN S. SHARMA slightly ahead of him on the path. Julian was astonished to see any- one 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 au- tumn 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 THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 21 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 magi- cian 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, en- lightened 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 prin- ciples of enlightened living that the man spoke again. 22 / ROBIN S. SHARMA 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 import- antly, 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, THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 23 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. C H A P T E R F O U R 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 lush, 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 24 THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 25 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 tran- quility 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. 26 / ROBIN S. SHARMA 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. C H A P T E R F I V E A Spiritual Student of the Sages Great dreamers’ dreams are never fulfilled, they are always transcended. Alfred Lord Whitehead It was now 8:00 p.m. and I still had to prepare for my court appear- ance the next day. Yet I was fascinated by the experience of this former legal warrior who had dramatically transformed his life after meeting and studying under these marvellous sages from India. How amazing, I thought, and what an extraordinary transformation! I secretly wondered whether the secrets Julian had learned in that far off mountain hideaway could also elevate the quality of my life and replenish my own sense of wonder for the world we live in. The longer I listened to Julian, the more I came to realize that my own spirit had become rusty. What had happened to the uncommon passion I brought to everything I did when I was younger? Back then, even the simplest of things filled me with a sense of joy. Maybe it was time for me to reinvent my destiny. 27 28 / ROBIN S. SHARMA Sensing my fascination with his odyssey and my eagerness to learn the system of enlightened living that the sages had passed on to him, Julian quickened the pace as he continued with his tale. He told me how his desire for knowledge, coupled with his sharp intel- lect—refined through many years of battles in the courtroom had made him a well-loved member of the Sivana community. As a mark of their affection for Julian, the monks eventually made him an honorary member of their band and treated him like an integral part of their extended family. Eager to expand his knowledge of the workings of the mind, body and soul, and to attain self-mastery, Julian spent literally every waking moment under the tutelage of Yogi Raman. The sage became more like a father to Julian than a teacher, though they were separ- ated in age by only a few years. It was clear that this man had the accumulated wisdom of many lifetimes and, most happily, he was willing to share it with Julian. Beginning before dawn, Yogi Raman would sit with his enthusi- astic student and fill his mind with insights on the meaning of life and little-known techniques that he had mastered for living with greater vitality, creativity and fulfillment. He taught Julian ancient principles which he said anyone could use to live longer, stay younger and grow far happier. Julian also learned how the twin disciplines of personal mastery and self-responsibility would keep him from returning to the chaos of crisis that had characterized his life in the West. As the weeks slipped into months, he came to un- derstand the treasure-trove of potential sleeping within his own mind, waiting to be awakened and used for higher purposes. Sometimes the teacher and his student would simply sit and watch the blazing Indian sun rising from the deep green meadows far be- low. Sometimes they would rest in quiet THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 29 meditation, savoring the gifts that silence brings. Sometimes they would walk through the pine forest, discussing points of philosophy and enjoying the pleasures of each other’s company. Julian said that the first indications of his personal expansion came after only three weeks in Sivana. He started noticing the beauty in the most ordinary of things. Whether it was the marvel of a starry night or the enchantment of a spider’s web after it had rained, Julian absorbed it all. He also said that his new lifestyle and the new habits associated with it started to have a profound effect on his inner world. Within a month of applying the principles and techniques of the sages, he told me that he had begun to cultivate the deep sense of peace and inner serenity that had eluded him in all the years he had lived in the West. He became more joyful and spontaneous, growing more energetic and creative with each passing day. Physical vitality and spiritual strength followed the changes in Julian’s attitude. His once overweight frame grew strong and lean while the sickly pallor which had characterized his face was replaced by a splendid shimmer of health. He actually felt as if he could do anything, be anything and unlock the infinite potential that he learned was inside every one of us. He started to cherish life and to see the divinity in every aspect of it. The ancient system of this mystical band of monks had started to work its miracles. After pausing as if to express disbelief at his own tale, Julian grew philosophical. “I’ve realized something very important, John. The world, and that includes my inner world, is a very special place. I’ve also come to see that success on the outside means nothing unless you also have success within. There is a huge difference between well-being and being well-off. When I was a hotshot lawyer, I used to snicker at all those people who worked at 30 / ROBIN S. SHARMA improving their inner and outer lives. ‘Get a life!’ I thought. But I have learned that self-mastery and the consistent care of one’s mind, body and soul are essential to finding one’s highest self and living the life of one’s dreams. How can you care for others if you cannot even care for yourself? How can you do good if you don’t even feel good? I can’t love you if I cannot love myself,” he offered. Suddenly Julian grew flustered and slightly uneasy. “I’ve never opened my heart to anyone like this before. I apologize for this, John. It is just that I experienced such a catharsis up in those mountains, such a spiritual awakening to the powers of the universe, that I feel others need to know what I know.” Noticing that it was getting late, Julian quickly told me he would take his leave and bid me adieu. “You can’t leave now, Julian. I’m really pumped to hear the wis- dom you learned in the Himalayas and the message you promised your teachers you would bring back to the West. You can’t leave me in suspense—you know I can’t stand it.” “I’ll be back, rest assured, my friend. You know me, once I start telling a good story I just can’t stop. But you have your work to do, and I have some private matters that need to be taken care of.” “Just tell me one thing then. Will the methods you learned in Sivana work for me?” “When the student is ready, the teacher appears,” came the swift reply. “You, along with so many others in our society, are ready for the wisdom I now have the privilege of holding. Every one of us should know the philosophy of the sages. Every one of us can benefit by it. Every one of us must know of the perfection that is their nat- ural state. I promise I will share their ancient knowledge with you. Have patience. I will meet you again THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 31 tomorrow night, this time at your house. Then I’ll tell you all that you need to know to put far more living into your life. Is that fair?” “Yeah, I guess if I’ve done without it all these years, waiting an- other twenty-four hours won’t kill me,” I responded with disappoint- ment. And with that, the master litigator turned enlightened yogi of the East was gone, leaving me with a mind full of unanswered questions and unfinished thoughts. As I sat in my office quietly, I realized how small our world really was. I thought about the vast pool of knowledge that I had not even begun to dip my fingers into. I thought about how it might feel to regain my own zest for living, and about the curiosity I had had when I was younger. I would love to feel more alive and to bring unbridled energy to my days. Maybe I too would leave the legal profession. Maybe there was a higher calling for me as well? With these weighty considerations on my mind, I turned out the lights, locked the door to my office and walked out into the thick heat of another summer’s night. C H A P T E R S I X The Wisdom of Personal Change I am an artist at living—my work of art is my life. Suzuki True to his word, Julian showed up at my home the next evening. At about 7:15 p.m., I heard four quick knocks on the front door of my house, a Cape Cod design with awful pink shutters that my wife believed made our house look like something out of Architectural Digest. Julian himself looked strikingly different than he had the day before. He still embodied radiant health and exuded a wonderful sense of calm. It was what he was wearing that made me a little uncomfortable. Adorning his obviously supple body was a long red robe topped by an ornately embroidered blue hood. And though it was another sticky night in July, the hood covered his head. “Greetings my friend,” Julian offered enthusiastically. “Greetings.” “Don’t look so alarmed, what did you expect me to wear—Ar- mani?” 32 THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 33 We both started to laugh, softly at first. Soon our giggles had turned to guffaws. Julian certainly had not lost that wicked sense of humor that had kept me entertained so long ago. As we relaxed in my cluttered but comfortable living room, I couldn’t help but notice the ornate necklace of wooden prayer beads dangling from his neck. “What are those? They’re really beautiful.” “More about these later,” he said, rubbing some of the beads with his thumb and index finger. “We have much to talk about tonight.” “Let’s get started. I could hardly get anything done at work today I was so excited about our meeting.” Hearing his cue, Julian immediately started to reveal more about his personal transformation and the ease with which it was effected. He told me of the ancient techniques he had learned for mind control and for erasing the habit of worry that was consuming so many in our complex society. He spoke of the wisdom that Yogi Raman and the other monks had shared for living a more purposeful and reward- ing life. And he spoke of a series of methods to unleash the well- spring of youthfulness and energy he said every one of us has slumbering deep inside of us. Though the conviction with which he spoke was clear, I began to grow skeptical. Was I the victim of some prank? After all, this Har- vard-trained lawyer was once widely known within the firm for his practical jokes. As well, his story was nothing less than fantastic. Think about it: one of this country’s best known trial lawyers throws in the towel, sells all his worldly goods and treks off to India on a spiritual odyssey, only to return as a wise prophet from the Himalay- as. This could not be real. 34 / ROBIN S. SHARMA “C’mon Julian. Stop pulling my leg. This whole story is starting to smack of one of your gags. I’ll bet you rented that robe from the costume shop across the street from my office,” I suggested, breaking into my best fear grin. Julian was quick to respond, as if my disbelief was something he had expected. “In court, how do you prove your case?” “I offer persuasive evidence.” “Right. Look at the evidence that I have offered you. Look at my smooth, lineless face. Look at my physique. Can’t you sense the abundance of energy I have? Look at my peacefulness. Surely you can see that I have changed?” He had a point. This was a man who, only a few years ago, had looked decades older. “You didn’t go to a plastic surgeon did you?” “No,” he smiled. “They only focus on the outer person. I needed to be healed from within. My unbalanced, chaotic lifestyle left me in great distress. It was much more than a heart attack that I suffered. It was a rupture of my inner core.” “But your story, it’s so…mysterious and unusual.” Julian remained calm and patient in the face of my persistence. Spotting the pot of tea I had left on the table next to him, he started to pour into my waiting cup. He poured until the cup was full—but then he kept on pouring! Tea started to trickle down the sides of the cup and into the saucer, then onto my wife’s prized Persian rug. At first I watched silently. Then I couldn’t take it any more. “Julian, what are you doing? My cup is overflowing. No matter how hard you try, no more will go in!” I yelled impatiently. He looked at me for a long moment. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. I really respect you, John. I always have. However, THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 35 just like this cup, you seem to be full of your own ideas. And how can any more go in…until you first empty your cup?” I was struck by the truth of his words. He was right. My many years in the conservative legal world, doing the same things every day with the same people who thought the same thoughts every day had filled my cup to the brim. My wife Jenny was always telling me that we should be meeting new people and exploring new things. “I wish you were just a little more adventurous, John,” she would say. I couldn’t remember the last time I had read a book that didn’t deal with law. The profession was my life. I began to realize that the sterile world I had grown accustomed to had dulled my creativity and limited my vision. “Okay. I see your point,” I admitted. “Perhaps all my years as a trial lawyer have made me a hardened skeptic. From the minute I saw you in my office yesterday, something deep inside me told me that your transformation was genuine, and that there was some sort of lesson in it for me. Maybe I just didn’t want to believe it.” “John, tonight is the first night of your new life. I simply ask that you think deeply about the wisdom and strategies that I will share with you and apply them with conviction for a period of one month. Embrace the methods with a deep trust in their effectiveness. There is a reason why they have survived for thousands of years—they work.” “One month seems like a long time.” “Six hundred and seventy-two hours of inner work to profoundly improve every waking moment of the rest of your life is quite a bargain, don’t you think? Investing in yourself is the best investment you will ever make. It will not only improve your life, it will improve the lives of all those around you.” 36 / ROBIN S. SHARMA “How’s that?” “It is only when you have mastered the art of loving yourself that you can truly love others. It’s only when you have opened your own heart that you can touch the hearts of others. When you feel centered and alive, you are in a much better position to be a better person.” “What can I expect to happen in those six hundred and seventy- two hours that comprise one month?” I asked earnestly. “You will experience changes within the workings of your mind, body and even your soul that will astonish you. You will have more energy, enthusiasm and inner harmony than you have had in, per- haps, your entire life. People will actually begin telling you that you look younger and happier. A lasting sense of well-being and balance will swiftly return to your life. These are just some of the benefits of the Sivanan System.” “Wow.” “All of what you will hear tonight is designed to improve your life, not just personally and professionally but spiritually as well. The advice of the sages is just as current today as it was five thousand years ago. It will not only enrich your inner world, it will enhance your outer world and make you far more effective in all that you do. This wisdom is truly the most potent force I have ever en- countered. It is straightforward, practical and has been tested in the laboratory of life for centuries. Most importantly, it will work for anyone. But before I share this knowledge with you, I must ask you for a promise.” I knew there would be strings attached. “There are no free lunches,” my loving mother used to say. “Once you see the power of the strategies and skills shown to me by the Sages of Sivana and observe the dramatic results they THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 37 will bring to your life, you must make it your mission to pass this wisdom on to others who will benefit from this knowledge. This is all that I ask of you. By agreeing to this, you will help me fulfill my own pact with Yogi Raman.” I agreed without reservation, Julian began to teach me the system he had come to consider as sacred. While the techniques that Julian had mastered during his stay were varied, at the heart of the Sivanan System were seven basic virtues, seven fundamental principles which embodied the keys to self-leadership, personal responsibility and spiritual enlightenment. Julian told me that Yogi Raman was the first to share the seven virtues with him after a few months in Sivana. On a clear night, when all the others had drifted off into deep slumber, Raman knocked softly on the door of Julian’s hut. In the voice of a gentle guide, he spoke his mind: “I have observed you closely for many days now Julian. I believe that you are a decent man who deeply desires to fill his life with all that is good. Since you have arrived you have opened yourself up to our traditions and embraced them as your own. You have learned a number of our daily habits, and have seen their many salutary effects. You have been respectful of our ways. Our people have lived this simple, peaceful life through countless ages and our methods are known to but a few. The world needs to hear our philosophy on enlightened living. Tonight, on the eve of your third month in Sivana, I will begin to share the inner workings of our system with you, not only for your benefit but for the benefit of all those in your part of the world. I will sit with you daily as I sat with my son when he was a child. Sadly, he passed on a few years ago. His time had come and I do not question his exit. I enjoyed our time together and cherish the memories. I now see you as my son and I feel grateful that all I have learned 38 / ROBIN S. SHARMA over many years of silent contemplation will live on within you.” I looked at Julian and noticed that his eyes were now shut, as if he were transporting himself back to this fairy-tale land that had showered the blessing of knowledge on him. “Yogi Raman told me that the seven virtues for a life overflowing with inner peace, joy and a wealth of spiritual gifts were contained within a mystical fable. This fable was the essence of it all. He asked me to shut my eyes as I have now done, here on the floor of your living room. He then told me to picture the following scene in my mind’s eye: You are sitting in the middle of a magnificent, lush, green garden. This garden is filled with the most spectacular flowers you have ever seen. The environment is supremely tranquil and silent. Savor the sensual delights of this garden and feel as if you have all the time in the world to enjoy this natural oasis. As you look around you see that in the center of this magical garden stands a towering, red lighthouse, six stories high. Suddenly, the silence of the garden is disturbed by a loud creaking as the door at the base of the lighthouse opens. Out stumbles a nine-foot-tall, nine-hundred-pound Japanese sumo wrestler who casually wanders into the center of the garden. “It gets better,” chuckled Julian. “The Japanese sumo wrestler is naked! Well, actually he is not totally naked. He has a pink wire cable covering his private parts.” As this sumo wrestler starts to move around the garden, he finds a shiny gold stopwatch which someone had left THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI / 39 behind many years earlier. He slips it on, and falls to the ground with an enormous thud. The sumo wrestler is rendered unconscious and lies there, silent and still. Just when you think he has taken his last breath, the wrestler awakens, perhaps stirred by the fragrance of some fresh yellow roses blooming nearby. Energized, the wrestler jumps swiftly to his fe</p>
