Pelevin's "The hermit and Six-Toes"

The most precise book about awakening was written about chickens.

Two chicks live on a poultry farm. One figured out long ago where they are; the other is just starting to catch on. They try to learn to fly and escape before the “decisive stage” arrives – when everyone goes under the knife.

A couple hours’ read. An instruction manual for liberation disguised as a fairy tale. The chickens have a society, a hierarchy, feeding troughs, traditions. They have their own calendar. They have philosophers, poets, leaders. They have the Wall of the World, beyond which – by definition – there is nothing. The very name says it all: no reason to go there.

Our life is the same kind of broiler factory. Work, mortgage, status, plans. Calendar packed. Social media explains how to live right. There are leaders, philosophers, poets. And there’s the Wall of the World – the boundary that normal people don’t cross. Quit your job and live how you want. Drop your career for something uncertain. Stop doing what brings no joy. There’s nothing beyond the Wall, after all. It’s right there in the name…

The chicks don’t know they’re chicks. That the factory is a factory. That the decisive stage is the end. They think everything’s fine. That this is how it should be. That the feeding trough is life. And so do we.

The Hermit is the character who’s already figured a lot out. He’s seen about five “decisive stages,” knows the world is ruled by numbers. Knows there’s something beyond the Wall of the World, even though everyone around is sure there isn’t. He doesn’t argue with society. Doesn’t try to convince anyone. Just prepares to leave.

Six-Toes asks the Hermit what he loves most in this world. He answers:

The main thing is that I always recognize it, whatever form it takes, and I meet it with the best that’s in me. – With what? – With the fact that I become calm.

I reread that passage about ten times. Didn’t understand – why calm? Not love, at least? It clicked only when I started diving, meditating, working with people myself.

Calm is not the absence of emotion. It’s the state from which you can act precisely. When you don’t react to every thought the spacesuit throws at you. When you don’t jump on every passing train. When anything can be happening outside, but you’re inside. The eye of the storm.

The Hermit and Six-Toes don’t know what flight is. They’re chicks – they’ve never flown. They try to meditate, they invent exercises. And then, by accident, they understand a simple thing: to fly, you need to flap your wings often.

“If you find yourself in the dark and see even the faintest ray of light, you must go toward it, instead of sitting around debating whether it makes sense. Maybe it really doesn’t make sense. But just sitting in the dark doesn’t make sense in any case.”

You don’t need complex philosophy. You don’t need to read a thousand books. You need to do. Flap your wings. Every day. Meditate – every day. Notice your automatisms – every day. Do what you want – every day.

Love gives meaning to what we do, even though in reality there is no meaning.

There is no meaning. The factory remains a factory. The decisive stage arrives on schedule. But if inside this meaningless world you’ve found something you love – that is flight. That is what it was worth learning to flap your wings for.

– Freedom? What’s that? When you’re running around the factory in confusion and loneliness, having dodged the knife? – That’s only the search for freedom.

Freedom is not escape. Not quitting. Not moving to Bali. Freedom is what remains when you stop running. When you meet what’s happening with calm.

Want to start? Read The Hermit. Two hours. Then decide what world you live in.