He who knows does not speak; he who speaks does not know
To give immediate clarity on what this famous maxim means and why this private encounter is strictly by invitation only, I will share one simple, real story from my life that provides the context without artificial explanations. I trust it will speak for itself when approached with a clear and objective focus.
Tradition as a repetition of historical customs versus tradition as a penetration to the core of human personality
I spent years pursuing wisdom, but only later was I blessed to meet a person who could point out the instructions—not with words but with pure presence. The distinction between mere habit and true insight has a profoundly natural explanation. My teacher spent decades abroad as a monk, wandering through sacred mountains and gaining access to closed, thousand-year-old lineages where outsiders are rarely, if ever, admitted. Many years ago, as a young enthusiast of the internal arts, I asked him:
“What is the reality behind the search for the divine, enlightenment, and the uncreated mysteries in places like Arabia or Asia?”
He looked at me with compassion and replied that it is exactly the same there as it is here—it is a historical custom. Just as people here attend church out of habit, there they populate ashrams, mosques, and synagogues. They possess a deep faith in their tradition, but faith alone cannot deliver true insight.
He lived for years under a world-renowned Abbot—a man who authored countless books, managed several monasteries, and whose funeral was eventually attended by presidents. Yet, my teacher dryly observed that in all that fame and administrative power, there was no real serenity.
He finally found it with a hidden master—a true keeper of the essence whom almost no one knew. This master’s clarity, unshakable peace, and presence did not come from books, inherited rituals, or the sheer number of hours spent in mechanical meditation. It came directly from a raw, lived insight into reality. He was not hiding; he was simply invisible to those who could only see titles and external recognition.
Analogies that illuminate all that is necessary
The Rarest Leonardo da Vinci
Imagine the Louvre. Few, perhaps, realize that the most extraordinary originals are often hidden away in vaults, while the world admires perfect replicas in the museum’s halls. Other rare specimens come from private collections and are only loaned to museums so that the public may enjoy them. But if these masterpieces can be shared, what is the true reason for keeping certain collections entirely secret?
It is not greed. It is an individual’s profound inner longing to possess something that exists only between them and God — something that is a secret in the purest sense. Perhaps the person is not even aware of this inner disposition, simply viewing it as a collector’s passion.
And that is exactly where we are aiming — for a person to enter that sealed vault at least once in their lifetime and behold the rarest gemstone of their own existence.
The Happiest Person in the World
Allow me to use the example of a man who, after years of neuroscientific research, was labeled the happiest person in the world. Imagine a coin with two sides.
This gentleman represents the visible side — he is a steward of grace and joy, delivering these attributes through books, prayers, and public lectures. It is a precious and necessary service.
The other side of the coin, however — the one not commonly seen — is what you will find at our meeting. Now you understand why I do not have Instagram or TikTok, and why I do not dedicate myself to leading the masses, but instead reach out to people only privately.
Both sides of the coin draw from the same insight into reality, yet their functions differ. You can imagine the first as a gentle rain of grace falling upon everyone. The second is an immovable axis, destabilizing all peripheral illusions and penetrating to the very core of identity.