"Here is the grace of God," a voice behind my back brought me back to reality. At first I nodded in agreement, and only then turned around. The voice belonged to a short, tightly built guy, whose face, snub-nosed, freckled and large-mouthed, could be called simple, if not for his eyes - attentive and serious. As if to make me feel all the grace of this place, he inhaled the air with a noise and exhaled just as noisily, closing his eyes. And we were standing with him in the Optina Skete, near a small house. Low, neatly whitewashed, with a cozy front garden, the house seems to have descended from early Gogol's stories. But from here to Dikanka - "as to Kiev on foot". A great Russian man of prayer, the holy elder Ambrose, lived here in the last century. Thousands of people came to these walls - for blessing, help, hope, consolation. Orthodox Russia was coming, and everyone left with what they were looking for...

We started talking. It turned out that my interlocutor had arrived at the Optina Hermitage a week ago. He himself is from Altai, but for the last year he lived in St. Petersburg. I have wandered a lot in my lifetime, I have seen a lot of things, but I have never seen a better place than here. How long will he stay here? And God knows. Maybe it will remain forever. For the time being, he was assigned to guard the monastery hotel. It's in the back, pilgrims live there now, but it needs to be repaired. He saw me from the window and went out to say that if I was embarrassed to enter, then it was in vain. Everyone is allowed into the cell to see the priest. After thanking him, I was about to open the gate, but apparently he was bored and wanted to talk more.

"And how long are you coming here?"

- For one day.

"What's so soon?" Wait. It's wonderful here.

- I want to walk around Russia. On foot, as people walked in the old days. And where to start if not from Optina?

- Why do you need this? He was already looking at me with interest. - You can't run away from yourself anyway, and if you want to understand Russia, then there is no better place for this than Optina.

"No, I'm not running away from myself. "Now it's my turn to look at him curiously—rather, on the contrary, I want to come to myself." I have always believed that you can understand yourself only through God and Russia. And to understand Russia... It seems to me that it is unlikely that anyone will succeed. To be honest, I set myself a more modest goal: I want to look at her, my dear.

"And where does your path lie, if it's not a secret?"

"And where does your path lie, if it's not a secret?"

- What a secret is there. I just don't know where I'm going to go. There is a month of vacation, there is an approximate path, and what place will you have enough strength to walk to...

-Got it. And yet it is in vain for you to leave, mark my word.

"Maybe," I answered, and all we had to do was say goodbye.

It so happened that only a month ago I was lucky enough to take in my hands a book that tells in detail about the life of the holy elder. Maybe that's why, when I entered the cell, it seemed that I was already there. A lamp burns quietly. Icons. Photographs. What heavenly heights opened up to his eyes from this tiny room, which became a place of spiritual attraction for all of Russia? For some reason, the words of the elder came to mind: "We must live on earth as a wheel turns: as soon as one point touches the ground, and the rest of the points inevitably strive upwards; and as soon as we lie down on the ground, we cannot get up"... My lips seemed to whisper a prayer of their own accord. It was as if some kind of abscess had burst. I wasn't looking for words, they came by themselves. Now, as I write this, I can no longer remember those words, return that state. I only remember that it was as if I saw myself from the outside, and saw my life, sinful and stupid, in which there was so much ostentation, so fake, so much vanity and empty words, walking in the dark and self-conceit...