17/11/2025
You don't need parental approval, Paolo is the living proof. ✅
His parents locked him in a psychiatric hospital and gave him electroshock therapy because he refused to become a lawyer—so he walked 500 miles across Spain, wrote a book in two weeks, and it became one of the bestselling books in human history.
This is Paulo Coelho. And "The Alchemist" is his proof that the universe rewards those who refuse to surrender their dreams.
Paulo was born in 1947 in Rio de Janeiro to middle-class parents who had perfectly reasonable expectations: become a lawyer or engineer, get a respectable job, live a conventional life.
Paulo had other plans.
By his teens, he'd fallen in love with Brazil's counterculture—hippie philosophy, rock music, mysticism, poetry, rebellion against everything his parents' generation valued. He didn't want stability. He wanted meaning. He didn't want convention. He wanted freedom.
His parents were horrified. And in 1960s Brazil, they had a solution they believed was for his own good:
They had him institutionalized in a psychiatric hospital.
Between 1965 and 1967, Paulo's parents committed him three separate times. They believed his rebelliousness was mental illness that could be "cured" with treatment. He underwent electroshock therapy. Medication. Confinement. All because he refused to be who they wanted him to be.
The experience was traumatic, dehumanizing, devastating.
But when Paulo finally emerged from those institutions, he wasn't broken. He was more determined than ever to live life on his own terms.
Through the 1970s, Paulo pursued the bohemian existence his parents had tried to erase. He became a successful lyricist, writing songs for some of Brazil's biggest rock musicians. He worked as a journalist. He explored alternative spirituality, magic, mysticism—everything conventional society dismissed as foolish.
He tried writing fiction. His early novels went nowhere.
By his late thirties, Paulo had achieved a kind of success—but something was missing. He felt disconnected from purpose, from meaning, from whatever it was he was supposed to be doing with his life.
Then in 1986, at age 38, Paulo made a decision that would change everything:
He walked the Camino de Santiago.
The Camino is a 500-mile pilgrimage route across northern Spain to the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. For over a thousand years, people have walked it seeking transformation, penance, clarity, answers.
Paulo walked it seeking... something. He wasn't sure what.
The journey was brutal. Long days through heat and rain. Blisters. Exhaustion. Sleeping in pilgrim hostels. Carrying everything on his back. Physical pain testing his mental resolve.
But somewhere along those 500 miles, something shifted.
Paulo began experiencing moments of profound insight. Synchronicities. Signs that felt like the universe was speaking directly to him. He felt himself reconnecting with a spiritual dimension of life he'd lost.
By the time he reached Santiago de Compostela, Paulo felt transformed. He'd found what he'd been seeking: a sense of purpose, a spiritual awakening, a conviction that life had meaning beyond what could be touched or measured.
He wrote about the experience in "The Pilgrimage," published in 1987. It became a cult hit among spiritual seekers.
But the Camino had given him something even more valuable: an idea.
Paulo became obsessed with certain concepts that had crystallized during his walk: that everyone has a "Personal Legend"—a unique destiny they're meant to fulfill. That the universe sends signs to guide those who pursue their purpose. That the journey toward your dream is as important as achieving it.
Then he encountered a short story by Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges—a retelling of an ancient folk tale:
A man dreams of treasure buried in a distant land. He journeys far to find it. When he arrives, he meets another man who's dreamed of treasure buried back where the first man came from. They realize: the treasure was always at home, but they had to take the journey to understand its value.
This story electrified Paulo. It was everything he'd experienced on the Camino, distilled into pure narrative.
He sat down to write.
It was 1987. In approximately two weeks of intensive work, Paulo Coelho wrote "The Alchemist."
He later said the book was "already written in his soul"—he was just transcribing it. The story poured out: Santiago, the shepherd boy who dreams of treasure at the Egyptian pyramids. His journey across North Africa. The alchemist who teaches him to listen to his heart. The discovery that his treasure was home all along—but he had to complete the journey to find it.
The book was simple. A fable. A parable that read like ancient wisdom but was completely original.
Paulo gave the manuscript to his Brazilian publisher. They published it in 1988.
It flopped.
The first print run was small. Sales were disappointing. Critics were indifferent. The publisher, seeing no commercial potential, dropped "The Alchemist" entirely.
Paulo was devastated. He'd poured his spiritual awakening, his deepest beliefs about destiny and purpose, his soul into this book.
And it had failed.
But Paulo believed in "The Alchemist" with absolute, unshakeable conviction. He found another publisher willing to take a chance.
And then something magical happened.
One person read the book and told a friend. That friend told another. Slowly, organically, without marketing campaigns or publicity budgets, "The Alchemist" began spreading through pure word-of-mouth.
By the early 1990s, it was a phenomenon in Brazil. Then Portuguese-speaking countries. Then it was translated into Spanish and exploded across Latin America.
In 1993, HarperCollins published the English translation. It became an international bestseller.
By the late 1990s, "The Alchemist" was selling millions of copies annually, translated into dozens of languages, appearing on bestseller lists worldwide.
Today, over 150 million copies have been sold. It's been translated into 80+ languages. It's one of the most-translated, continuously-in-print books in publishing history.
Presidents quote it. Celebrities recommend it. Teachers assign it. People give it to graduates, friends going through transitions, anyone searching for meaning.
The message is deceptively simple: Follow your dreams. Listen to your heart. When you want something with your whole being, the entire universe conspires to help you achieve it.
Critics sometimes dismiss it as simplistic, as new-age platitudes. But millions of readers have found something profound in its pages—because Paulo Coelho wrote from lived experience.
He'd been institutionalized for refusing to conform.
He'd walked 500 miles seeking spiritual truth.
He'd experienced the synchronicities and signs he wrote about.
And he'd persisted with "The Alchemist" even after it was rejected—because he believed in it absolutely.
The story of "The Alchemist" mirrors its own message: Paulo had a dream (write a book that changes lives), faced seemingly impossible obstacles (institutionalization, rejection, failure), persisted anyway, and eventually the universe conspired to make his book a global phenomenon.
Whether you believe in Personal Legends or consider it metaphor doesn't matter.
The fact remains: Paulo Coelho was a failed novelist whose book was dropped by its first publisher.
Through persistence and belief, that book became one of history's bestsellers.
He was institutionalized for being different. He walked across Spain seeking answers. He wrote a book in two weeks about following your dreams. The first publisher dropped it.
Now, 150 million people have read it.
That's not just a publishing success story.
That's proof that sometimes—just sometimes—when you refuse to surrender what you believe in, when you keep walking even when the path seems impossible, when you trust that your Personal Legend is real—
Impossible things happen.
Paulo Coelho walked 500 miles across Spain seeking purpose.
He found it. Then he wrote it down.
And millions of people, walking their own journeys, have found his words waiting for them like signs along the path.
