7. Finally. The glory of a child

Reciprocity, insight, and the return to peace

There is a beautiful life story, a lesson, from Japanese antiquity.
It tells of a samurai—fierce and proud—who demanded that a Zen master explain the principles of doom and glory.

But the monk, unmoved, replied with disdain:

“You are nothing. Why should I waste time with people like you?”

The samurai, mortified to the depths of his honor, burst into rage.
He drew his sword and shouted:

“I will not hesitate! For your insolence, I shall take your life!”

Calmly, the old monk said,

“That... is doom.”

Struck by the truth of the master’s words—by the mirror they held to his wrath—the samurai suddenly grew still.
He sheathed his sword, bowed deeply, and thanked the monk for the insight.

The master looked at him and said,

“And that... is glory.”

This story of the monk and the samurai can be interpreted in many ways.
For me—as I have tried to show throughout this inner journey—self-coaching presupposes reciprocity: an openness between people about their emotional world.

Self-coaching does not mean that all insight into our feelings must come from within.
On the contrary—it thrives on encounter, reflection, and dialogue.

“And that,” said the monk, “is glory.”

In the story, it is the samurai who takes the first step toward the master.
Taking such steps is vital.

I often tell people who come to me for advice:

“My dear friend, today I invite you to take one step forward.
One step can be enough to set a great deal in motion.”

In moments of crisis, that step might mean recognizing that guidance or therapy is needed.
Just as in the samurai’s case, where the master called him a man of no level—we might interpret that as a sign of inner turmoil, a mental imbalance clouding his judgment.

His impulsive rage—the will to kill—was no small matter.
Yet in that moment of clarity, when he sheathed his sword and bowed, the samurai found his glory.

That glory symbolizes the visionary insight that sets us free—the transformation of self-coaching into dialogue and dialogue into co-coaching.

For what we must never forget is that the master, too, learns—through every encounter, through every exchange. Wisdom flows both ways.

Once we are free, we enter our garden of peace—the place where we discover that we are all emotional beings, capable of living fully through our feelings, of turning dreams into reality, of sharing joy, and of inviting others into the richness of our inner worlds.

To become free is to become a child again—as to return to wonder, to learn anew from life itself.
It is an ode to the child within each of us.

An inner child open to wonder brings beautiful days.

Every day becomes beautiful.

My dear child,

at the setting of the sun,
at night before you sleep,
can we linger a little longer?

Our heart is happy—it is free.

Close your eyes, my dear child,
and think of all that is beautiful.
Forget everything else—just do that.

Freedom is a smile
on your face.
It comes from your heart.
Because deep inside you know
you are not alone.

Freedom is an angel,
a friend,
your mommy, your daddy,
your brother or sister,
the people next door,
students at school,
teachers, the baker.

Close your eyes, my dear child—
you too are part of that chain.
You too set other people free.

You are an angel,
a flower,
a sun,
a butterfly.
You are all that is beautiful.

The sun is always there.
We sometimes say,
“Now the sun is shining.”
But that’s not it.
It’s only the clouds
that prevent us
from fully enjoying the sun.

The sun is always there.
And so, we are always free.

Alone, our lives are often covered
with clouds—gray clouds,
dark-gray,
jet-black thunderclouds sometimes.

Can we learn to see the clouds,
to master our lives?
This art of mastery
is the key to freedom.

My dear child,
your freedom is the key
that opens the door
to the heart of another.

“To live in freedom is to live as a child again—curious, tender, and full of light.”

Go and seek.
Never let go.

Life is worth living.