I remember the first time I saw you.
We were at a spiritual event, and from the moment I saw you, I already knew you. There was something magical about you. You were so simple, so natural, yet you shone like a star in the dark tea room.You didn't talk much. You didn't try to convince anyone of anything. You simply watched.Only much later did I understand that you were seeing. I was like a little kindergartener beside you, overwhelming you with my questions. “Where do I know you from? I know you. I know I know you. But from where? From a newspaper? From a lecture?”And then I said, almost as if it were the most obvious thing in the world:“I know you. I probably know you from a previous life.”You laughed. But you still didn't say much. You simply watched my curiosity with interest. And when you were getting ready to leave, you said only: “We will meet again.”There was no Facebook or Instagram back then for us to follow each other. We didn't exchange phone numbers either. There was no need. You already knew.You saw it clearly.
They say masters don't choose their students. The student chooses the master and decides from whom they are ready to learn.
That evening, somewhere in downtown Budapest, a decision was born inside me—one I was completely unaware of at the time. Perhaps it was a decision that had already been written, arranged, and waiting for me long before I ever understood it. That was the night I met my master.
And that meeting changed my life.
It changed the way I thought. It changed the way I looked at life and at people. Most importantly, it changed the way I looked at myself. He gave me a kind of fundamental knowledge—or, as he used to say, he awakened something within me—that has remained a part of my entire being ever since. It carried me through some of the most difficult periods of my life.
Shanti was the most extraordinary and, at the same time, the simplest person I have ever known.
His presence touched and brightened the lives of many. Wherever he went, peace seemed to follow him, because he himself was peace. His selfless love was real. His life was an example. He was part of my life for seven years—seven extraordinary years that completely transformed the way I thought about life, about other people, and above all, about myself. Those seven years touched me so deeply that even fifteen years later, I still draw from the knowledge he gave me. And whenever I lose my way, I find myself returning to those teachings.
His teachings were simple. But simple does not mean easy. It took me years to truly understand them and even longer to bring them fully into my life. There were years of suffering, struggle, disappointment—and, along the way, moments when I lost myself completely.
Perhaps that is why I understand his teachings differently today than I did back then. The things I once heard with my mind, I eventually had to learn through my own life.
My blog is, in many ways, a continuation of that journey. It is about the knowledge Shanti gave me, but it is also about my own spiritual discoveries, my struggles, the times I lost my way, and the times I found my way back.
Because some teachings don't reveal their true meaning when you first hear them.
Sometimes, life has to break you open before you finally understand what your teacher was trying to show you.
