I Dreamed of Riches: The Folklore Roots of Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist
If only spiritual work always felt like this…
“A man was once walking through the park on a bright sunny day when he came across Mullah Nasruddin rooting around in the grass.
‘What are you doing?’ asked the man.
‘I lost my favourite ring when I was down in my basement,’ said Nasruddin.
‘Then why are you looking for it here?’ said the man.
’I don’t want to look for it down there where it’s dark and dusty!’ said Nasruddin.”
Throughout Europe and the Middle East, stories were once told of a man who dreams of riches and sets off seeking them. The format is simple. A man dreams that there is treasure buried in a far-off place. He travels there and sees no sign of treasure. However, he speaks with someone in that place who reveals that they once had the same dream. In their dream, the treasure was buried in the place which the first man started out from. The man returns home and finds the treasure that was hidden beneath his feet all along.
This story is the basis of Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist, one of the bestselling books of all time. An older yet also famous iteration is The Peddler of Swaffham. A peddler sets out from Swaffham, a small town in Norfolk, England, expecting to find treasure on London Bridge. He arrives there, sees no sign of treasure and wanders up and down the bridge for days in an abject state.
“‘At last it happened that a shopkeeper there, hard by, having noted his fruitless standing, seeing that he neither sold any wares nor asked any almes, went to him and most earnestly begged to know what he wanted there, or what his business was; to which the pedlar honestly answered that he had dreamed that if he came to London and stood there upon the bridge he should hear good newse; at which the shop-keeper laught heartily, asking him if he was such a fool as to take a journey on such a silly errand, adding: “I’ll tell thee, country fellow, last night I dreamed that I was at Sopham, in Norfolk, a place utterly unknown to me, where methought behind a pedlar’s house in a certain orchard, and under a great oak tree, if I dug I should find a vast treasure!
Now think you,” says he, “that I am such a fool to take such a long journey upon me upon the instigation of a silly dream? No, no, I’m wiser. Therefore, good fellow, learn wit from me, and get you home, and mind your business.’
”
The peddler returns home and digs up the treasure under the oak tree. He pays for the restoration of the local church and a statue is erected in his honour.
Very close to this tale is the Scottish tale of Donald Din. Donald leaves Argyll in the west of Scotland, travels to London Bridge and returns home to find treasure beneath his cabbage patch. He uses his wealth to build Dundonald Castle, which stands to this day.
The story was also told by Rumi in his poem In Baghdad, Dreaming of Cairo, and can be found too in One Thousand and One Nights as The Ruined Man Who Dreamed of Riches. Rumi tells it as such:
“Finally in a dream he heard a Voice, ‘Your wealth
is in Cairo. Go there to such-and-such a spot
and dig, and you’ll find what you need. ‘
So he left on the long journey,
and when he saw the towers of Cairo,
he felt his back grow warm with new courage
But Cairo is a large city,
and before he could find the spot,
he had to wander about.
He had no money, of course, so he begged
among the townspeople, but he felt ashamed doing that.
He decided, ‘I will go out at night
and call like the night-mendicants that people
throw coins into the street for.’
Shame and dignity and hunger
were pushing him forward and backward and sideways! ”
In the poem’s final lines he realises where the treasure truly lies:
“He filled with joy. He breathed continuous praise.
Finally, he said,
‘The Water of Life is here.
I’m drinking it. But I had to come
this long way to know it!’ ”
Here Rumi spells out why this story is so powerful and has spread so far; why The Alchemist, has sold over 66 million copies. Everyone has treasure buried beneath their feet. Everyone. But most of us have to leave it far behind before we can return home to it.
What comes to mind when you apply this to your own life and times? Perhaps spiritual seeking. Many of us who have grown up in Western cultures feel scant enthusiasm for the religions of our parents, and instead go looking for spiritual truth elsewhere. For me, this began when studying Siberian shamanism at university, which led me to Buddhism, meditation and a year spent wandering India and Nepal. Next I turned my focus to Amazonian shamanism and soguht treasure in the Peruvian jungle. It was only through discovering storytelling and glimpsing the riches of Celtic myth that I began to dig beneath my own feet.
I’m far from alone in having made this journey. The naive western spiritual seeker, draped in ridiculous clothes and mimicking the customs of a culture he doesn’t understand, is a well-known figure and an easy one to mock. This ancient story tells us that such mockery is inevitable. Donald Din was mocked for his search, so was the peddler and so will you be.
The laughter is understandable. It is a strange thing to leave home and face the dangers of the world, all for the sake of a dream. The man on London Bridge says ‘Am I such a fool to take such a long journey upon me upon the instigation of a silly dream? No, no. I'm wiser.’
Well, that’s his loss, right? His loss and his decision to make. Nobody has to follow their dream. Surely it’s okay to live a small life if you want to? Not according to Paulo Coelho’s alchemist:
“No matter what he does, every person on earth plays a central role in the history of the world. And normally he doesn’t know it.”
Everyone has treasure waiting for them, should they follow their dream. The treasure is not literally beneath their feet but lies within their heart, their untapped skillsets, their unique way of seeing and being in the world. It is their destiny, their unique purpose, their link in the web of wyrd which no one else can take. Not to set out seeking this treasure is understandable, yes. It is also tragic. Most of us won’t have to look far to spot someone who has refused the search.
Yet it isn’t those who have refused the search who are called madmen; it is those who are out seeking. Again, there are good reasons for this. By the time Donald or a dozen other heroes reach their own personal London Bridge, they don’t tend to look good. Donald is barefoot, his clothes are ragged, he is penniless and probably smelling ripe.
He didn’t start out this way. He probably set out with a spring in his step, a song on his lips and a shiny new yoga mat on his back. Yet any hero quest, even one as folky and humble as this, involves a descent. This is often portrayed in a series of three colours: red, black and white. We set out on a quest full of hot, spicy, passionate red energy, confident that our quest will lead us to riches. Sooner or later – probably sooner – that changes. Our companions betray us, we get lost in the forest, we accidentally marry a corpse. The ground gives way beneath our feet and we plunge into the underworld; into the black.
In the story this happens out there in the physical world, but the true descent is an internal process. As we dig for our own personal treasure we encounter our own buried issues, our stuff. At this point, most of us will take our cue from Mullah Nasruddin.
“‘I lost my favourite ring when I was down in my basement,’ said Nasruddin.
‘Then why are you looking for it here?’ said the man.
‘I don’t want to look for it down there where it’s dark and dusty!’”
We convince ourselves that all this digging is unnecessary. We head out into the spiritual sunshine, looking for our lost ring on the beach, the dance floor or wherever it is we pretend we’re doing the work. But if we’re like Donald, that all falls apart. We eventually get back to digging. We fight our way through the thorns, alight on our treasure trove and emerge to build our castle.
This ascent from the underworld and into a new, changed world is the movement into the white, a state of completion where we are ready to be of service to our communities and the wider world.
So is the story telling us that Donald should have dug beneath his own cabbage patch right beneath the start? Maybe. Perhaps a canny few of us can do it this way, but most have to take the long way round. I like to think that the story is telling me to stay strong, to hold to my course when I face mockery in the pursuit of a new and strange dream. Let them jeer at your vegan pizza and your laughter yoga certificate. They’d be less quick to laugh if they’d dared to follow a dream.
The journey outwards has to preceded the journey inwards. We have to leave in order to return. Otherwise, there’s no story. Otherwise, why bother being born at all?
Daniel Allison
Daniel Allison is a USA Today bestselling author, oral storyteller and creative coach from Scotland. He is the author of Scottish Myths & Legends, Finn & The Fianna, The Shattering Sea and the forthcoming Irish Mythology and Scottish Myths & Legends II. Daniel’s House of Legends podcast has been downloaded over 100,000 times, while his Myth Singers Celtic Storytelling Apprenticeship provides intensive storytelling training for emerging storytellers throughout the world.
Daniel's live performances are an intoxicating blend of Celtic legends and indigenous tribal tales. Darkness and beauty, heartbreak and wonder; these are stories with golden feathers and sharp teeth. Daniel has performed throughout the world, from the jungles of Peru to Thai villages, Hebridean hilltops and festivals in Singapore and Dubai, and is currently based in Thailand.
Listen to Daniel tell a story on House of Legends podcast or download Daniel’s ebook Silverborn for free.
