One day my teacher invited me to his house. It was a holiday prayer. Come, he said. Let’s pray and meditate

 I accepted his invitation, even though I was not a religious and prayer-loving person. I liked the idea of meditation, envisioning an opportunity for me to just be in silence, which was something I was missing at that time.

My teacher had already published his first book by then, in which he described the positive results that he gained from meditation. When I went to his house, there were many people there praying and strictly following the sequence and rules of prayer. It lasted over three hours. I was looking forward to finally starting the meditation. But the prayer went on and on, and people chatted, but there was still no complete silence. In all confusion I decided to ask my teacher when meditation would eventually occur.

His answer stunned me: I was already meditating, he said. “How? “I asked. I meditate between the letters, he replied. Awareness of the space between the components of the words, shook my perception. For me, meditation has always amounted to something long, having a beginning and an end.

And in that moment, an awareness of the space between even the smallest particles of our being unfolded for me. Learning to descend into those spaces was what my teacher called meditation. For me, it turned out to be something I was not quite ready to accept.

I was moving from side to side. I thought about everything but prayer. The truth resided within the ability to focus on the task and all of its components. To merge with it, to become part of it.