The truth about God that you will only understand in old age - Stanisław Penksyk

The speaker frames this routine as the cornerstone of how he recovered and stayed healthy after multiple cancers. He emphasizes that people don't know how to take care of their own tongue hygiene, let alone do a proper morning practice. When people call him for help, he asks only one thing: Can you dedicate two hours to yourself every morning for a month? Most say no, even those on sick leave from cancer. This, he says, reveals the real problem: people lack time and will to connect with themselves. He had a severe sciatica, prostate issues, and diabetes-like symptoms (without official diagnosis), yet he does not visit doctors except for a check-up every two years. He contrasts his approach with the tendency of people to demand exact instructions – where to put hands, which direction to face – and argues that real health comes from listening to your own body, not from following external rules rigidly. However, for those who need structure, he explicitly gives these components: Wim Hof breathing, ice-cold shower, and Nishi exercises.

The speaker tells how he used to meditate as prescribed: silently, locked room, straight spine, hands in a specific position. Over time, this formal sitting dissolved into a continuous awareness. He says he is now always in a meditative state, observing the world like an anthill without reactive emotions. This shift mirrors his broader philosophy: people are born with a connection to their inner divinity but forget it through life's baggage. Meditation is the path back, but the ultimate goal is not a session on a cushion but a permanent presence. He contrasts his own evolution with a woman who called him daily asking about exact hand placement, demonstrating that the ego seeks instruction rather than listening to the inner voice. He uses this to argue that true self-knowledge cannot be taught by an external authority; you must learn to hear yourself. The meditative state becomes the vehicle for that listening.

The speaker recounts that while sitting in his garden, neighbors started an intense, loud argument. He and his wife looked at each other and decided to 'throw the blue' – i.e., mentally place a blue energy cloak over the arguing people. Within five minutes, absolute silence fell, as if cut with a knife. He asserts it really works, but only because he and his wife have tested it and trust it. The golden cloak is a personal barrier to prevent energy loss in difficult company. He does these imaginings as easily as putting on a real coat, because he has internalized the conviction that thought and energy are real and direct. This practice instantiates his broader teaching that we are gods creating our experience, and that reality obeys our directed belief.

He outlines this in response to the interviewer's observation about personal responsibility. The method synthesizes his entire philosophy: we are consciousness (the thinker) that fuels a vision with the energy of genuine desire, backed by the fixed knowing that it must come, and then we act in the world. He contrasts this with simply repeating 'I want to be a millionaire' – that's wasted time. He implicitly acknowledges that suffering (like his own cancers) arises when the first three parts are misaligned: the soul tries to get your attention, and if you ignore it, life sends bigger and bigger signals until you realign. This method is the proactive way to create consciously, rather than letting circumstances create you.

The speaker argues that most people lose the 'spark' they were born with not because of age but because they stop being curious. He describes how as a small boy he questioned the Catholic dogma that looking at the Eucharist during elevation would cause blindness – by literally looking and discovering nothing happened. That childhood curiosity stayed with him, and now at nearly 80 he still finds every person and every moment worthy of investigation. When a homeless person asks for money, he doesn't just hand it over; he first asks his name and tries to understand who he is, because people 'no longer ask themselves who they are'. He sees this curiosity as a kind of spiritual antenna that keeps him connected to the flow of life. He says that his curiosity about the world and people will remain his driving force 'forever' and is what keeps him going rather than just staying home watching Netflix. The opposite state – becoming a grumpy 'old man' – is simply the result of abandoning curiosity and identifying with roles and past glories.

The speaker details that he had prostate cancer, then kidney cancer, and finally brain cancer. After reaching a state of surrender, he moved to a village and lived on home-distilled alcohol, sausage and bacon – things he had never eaten before – abandoning any medical intervention. When he returned to Warsaw for a scan, the technician emerged from the CT room and said, 'Mr Stanisław, there's nothing here.' The tumors were gone. He did not attribute this to the diet or alcohol; instead, he interpreted it as proof that there is a 'creative force' that was trying to show him another path. This was the final, inescapable demonstration that his materialistic understanding of reality was incomplete. The experience fundamentally reoriented his life and set him on a path of writing seven books and helping others, though he insists he does not treat or diagnose anyone – only shares his own lived story.

He recounts the story of his cat Bronek, a lovable 17-year-old cat adored by the entire neighborhood. One evening a drunk couple walked by, and the man kicked the cat so brutally that its mouth was crushed, requiring emergency surgery; the cat lost its vision. The speaker uses this extreme situation to illustrate that if you can learn to love even such a person, you are no longer affected by the evils of the world. This isn't about condoning the act; it's about maintaining an internal state of love that is independent of external events. He says that once you are in a state of unconditional love, life really is beautiful and problem-free. He can now watch the news calmly, seeing it as the workings of a collective consciousness where people get the leaders they deserve – without internal anger. He calls this state a kind of 'egoism' (because the ego does not exist, referencing Jung's concept was just a label).

A wirotwór is presented as something that gives when you are aligned with its spin – a party gives you position and money, a church gives community and absolution – but if you start spinning in a contrary direction, it expels or hurts you. He says the Church is a huge wirotwór, and it is terribly difficult to leave, though he managed to mentally depart already after communion. Even those who stay don't truly listen to the priest; they go for social reasons (like meeting girls). He also criticizes nationalism as a toxic wirotwór: love for one's landscape and language is natural, but the patriotism that says 'we must defend, fight' has brought only destruction. He gives the example of Warsaw being razed while Prague and Paris remained intact because their inhabitants didn't resist invasion. Patriotic posturing, he argues, has never benefited Poland. Summer holidays like Christmas and Easter are also part of church vortices where family members who otherwise never meet suddenly perform love.

First story: He told the woman he had made a special ointment from herbs gathered at midnight, and that it would certainly cure her. He gave her a tincture – actually a random herbal liqueur he had on his shelf – and instructed her to apply it. Two weeks later the doctor called, furious that Stasiek had not shared his 'secret ointment' because the tumor was completely gone. He admitted it was just a tincture he drank. He calls this 'ugly' but it proved that conviction is all-important. Second story: a spiritual friend gave him a woolen talisman ('kutasik' from the Dalai Lama) and said if he hung it behind the sun visor, he would never get a speeding ticket. Skeptical, he hung it, and indeed for 2-3 years he was either not stopped or the interactions ended with jokes and no fines. When they sold the car, he forgot to move the talisman; immediately in the new car he got a ticket again. His wife said she had moved it to the new car. He hadn't known, so his belief was already broken – yet the reappearance of the talisman restored the effect. He uses this to illustrate that whether the object has power or not, the conviction that it protects creates that reality.

He describes visiting long-dead friends and family, especially his mother. During one visit to a deceased cousin, the cousin said a 'window' had opened and he needed to born again into the same family. The speaker protested it wasn't possible because all women in the family were past childbearing age. But at the end of the year, his nephew's wife unexpectedly became pregnant and gave birth to a boy who 'has the same charm as my dead Janusz'. The speaker affectionately calls him 'Januszek', and as a baby he seemed to know what that meant. Eventually his mother told him sternly: 'You are here for something else. Take care of your affairs on Earth. Our task here is different, not to educate or help you.' He took this seriously and stopped traveling to the other side entirely. He frames this as a phase of his spiritual development, not a permanent practice.