The Bell of the Temple

In a small village surrounded by mountains, there was an ancient temple known for its sacred bell. The bell was not particularly large or adorned, but its sound was legendary. It was said that a single toll could calm the most troubled soul, bringing clarity and peace. However, the bell could not be rung by just anyone: only one who was in a true state of concentration and harmony could make it ring.

The temple was visited by people from all around, but most returned disappointed for not being able to hear the sound. Some blamed the bell, saying it was merely a myth, while others admitted that their minds were too restless to even attempt it.

One day, a young man named Anselmo arrived at the temple. He had spent the past few years running from his own life. He was a restless soul, always searching for something he could never find. When he heard about the bell, he thought it might be the answer to his emptiness.

Upon arriving, he found the temple’s master sitting under a tree with golden leaves. The elderly monk had a serene smile and eyes that seemed to contain centuries of wisdom.

—Master, I want to ring the bell — Anselmo said firmly.

The master looked at him silently for a moment before responding:

—Why do you want to do it?

—Because I need peace. My mind doesn’t stop, my thoughts chase me. If the sound of the bell can calm my soul, I am willing to do whatever is necessary.

The master nodded slowly.

—Come with me.

The elderly monk led him to a pavilion behind the temple, where a bowl of clear water rested on a stone table.

—Look at the water — the master instructed.

Anselmo leaned over the bowl. At first, he saw his reflection, but soon his mind began to wander: he thought about the mistakes he had made, the words he had never said, the uncertain future that awaited him. His gaze became restless, and without realizing it, he began to stir the water with his hand.

The master, watching him, took a stone and dropped it into the bowl. The water stirred, creating ripples that distorted the reflection.

—This is your mind now — said the master calmly. — Full of movements and distractions. As long as you cannot calm it, the bell will not respond to your touch.

Anselmo frowned.

—How can I calm it?

—With concentration — replied the master. — It’s not about forcing silence, but learning to listen.

And so Anselmo’s training began.

Each day, the young man sat in front of the water bowl, observing its surface. At first, only a few seconds passed before his mind started to wander. He thought about the sounds of the forest, the murmurs of the monks, his own desire for success. But little by little, he began to notice the details he had once ignored: the sound of the wind among the leaves, the soft song of the birds, the beating of his own heart.

Days turned into weeks. Anselmo learned to sit in silence, to breathe deeply, to let thoughts pass without clinging to them. It was not easy; there were moments when he wanted to give up, when impatience consumed him. But every time he faltered, the master reminded him:

—Concentration is not an act of force, but of surrender.

Finally, one morning, the master took him back to the bell.

—You are ready — he said.

Anselmo took the mallet with trembling hands. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. For an instant, everything disappeared: his worries, his expectations, even his desire for success. There was only him and the bell.

When he struck, the sound that emerged was not just noise. It was a deep, vibrant echo that filled the air and seemed to stretch beyond the mountains. Anselmo felt the sound resonating inside him, as if his own soul were responding to the call.

He opened his eyes and saw the master smiling.

—Do you hear it now? — asked the elder.

Anselmo nodded.

—It’s not the bell that has changed — said the master. — It’s your ability to hear it.

From that day on, Anselmo remained in the temple, teaching others what he had learned. He discovered that true peace was not in the sound of the bell, but in the attention one was able to give to the present moment. Over time, he helped many people find their own state of concentration, transforming lives with the simple but powerful lesson of listening with the heart.

And so, the temple bell continued to ring, not because it was magical, but because it taught those who sought it to be magical themselves.

In the first chapter of The Art of Loving, Erich Fromm emphasizes that concentration is an essential quality for truly loving, as it involves being fully present and attentive, both to oneself and to the other. In this story, Anselmo’s quest to ring the bell reflects this idea: it is not enough to have desire or superficial intent; it is necessary to develop the capacity to be in the present moment, letting go of internal distractions. As Fromm points out, concentration requires discipline, patience, and surrender, and it is only through this state that Anselmo manages to hear the pure sound of the bell, just as authentic love arises when one achieves a deep and conscious connection with the loved one.