Krishnamurti
K: Many among you have beliefs in something or other, and they come here year after year, I do not know why. Let them keep to their temples, Masters, play with them, have a good time with them, but don't waste your time and mine here. You know what I think of all that. I am completely out of all that, as they all lead to power, prestige, position, security. But that is what you want; so have it then, chase, go after it.
Questioner: How to be free from all these things?
K: How? You don't want to be free from all this; if you wanted, you would step out of it. So, please don't ask me "how"; I am asking you something entirely different. How little you pay attention! I am talking of the new mind, not the mind which says, "How am I to get somewhere?" The new mind does not come from a mind that is seeking achievement, wanting to be free. The new mind does not come through
discipline. The new mind does not say, "How am I to be free?; it bursts into that state, it explodes. I am showing you, I am pointing out to you how to explode with your whole being - not gradually, not when it suits you occasionally, not when you are thinking of something else, not when you have a little time for this, not when you have spent all your life in going to your work and earning your livelihood. I am suggesting that a mind that is aware requires that the mind must enquire into your
ambition, your desire for power, prestige, position, the way you treat people; how you crawl on your knees when you meet a big man, your desire for security, a job, position. See the structure of all this, be aware of it. And when you are totally aware of it, you are out of it in a flash, it has dropped out.
The Krishnamurti Text Collection
www.pathless.com/generalsearch_result.asp?product_id=KTXT-0001
Bombay, India - 1st Public Talk, 19th February 1961
© Krishnamurti Foundation of America, © Krishnamurti Foundation Trust
It is futile to fight one habit by another habit
The questioner has not understood what I mean by awareness.
If you have a habit, the habit of snobbishness for instance, it is no
good merely to overcome this habit by another, its opposite. It is futile
to fight one habit by another habit. What rids the mind of habit is intelligence.
Awareness is the process of awakening intelligence, not creating new habits
to fight the old ones. So, you must become conscious of your habits of
thought, but do not try to develop opposite qualities or habits. If you
are fully aware, if you are in that state of choiceless observation, then
you will perceive the whole process of creating a habit and also the opposite
process of overcoming it. This discernment awakens intelligence, which
does away with all habits of thought. We are eager to get rid of those
habits which give us pain or which we have found to be worthless, by creating
other habits of thought and assertions. This process of substitution is
wholly unintelligent. If you will observe you will find that mind is nothing
but a mass of habits of thought and memories. By merely overcoming these
habits by others, the mind still remains in prison, confused and suffering.
It is only when we deeply comprehend the process of self-protective reactions,
which become habits of thought, limiting all action, that there is a possibility
of awakening intelligence, which alone can dissolve the conflict of opposites.
Collected Works, Vol. III - 73
Do
it, and you will see
Questioner: Sir, if there is no effort, if there is
no method, then any transition into the state of awareness, any shift
into a new dimension, must be a completely random accident, and therefore
unaffected by anything you might say on the subject.
K: Ah, no, sir! I didn’t say that.
[Laughter] I said one has to be aware. By being aware, one discovers how
one is conditioned. By being aware, I know I am conditioned—as a
Hindu, as a Buddhist, as a Christian; I am conditioned as a nationalist:
British, German, Russian, Indian, American, Chinese—I am conditioned.
We never tackle that. That’s the garbage we are, and we hope something
marvelous will grow out of it, but I am afraid it is not possible. Being
aware doesn’t mean a chance happening, something irresponsible and
vague. If one understands the implications of awareness, one’s body
not only becomes highly sensitive, but the whole entity is activated;
there is a new energy given to it. Do it, and you will see. Don’t
sit on the bank and speculate about the river; jump in and follow the
current of this awareness, and you will find out for yourself how extraordinarily
limited our thoughts, our feelings, and our ideas are. Our projections
of gods, saviors, and Masters—all that becomes so obvious, so infantile.
Collected Works, Vol. XV - 138
Love
Is a Dangerous Thing
Be supple mentally.
Strength does not lie in being firm and strong but in being pliable. The
pliable tree stands in a gale. Gather the strength of a swift mind.
Life is strange,
so many things happen unexpectedly, mere resistance will not solve any
problem. One needs infinite pliability and a single heart.
Life is a razor’s
edge and one has to walk on that path with exquisite care and with pliable
wisdom.
Life is so rich,
has so many treasures, we go to it with empty hearts; we do not know how
to fill our hearts with the abundance of life. We are poor inwardly and
when the riches are offered to us, we refuse. Love is a dangerous thing,
it brings the only revolution that gives complete happiness. So few of
us are capable of love, so few want love. We love on our own terms, making
of love a marketable thing. We have the market mentality and love is not
marketable, a give-and-take affair. It is a state of being in which all
man’s problems are resolved. We go to the well with a thimble and
so life becomes a tawdry affair, puny and small.
What a lovely place
the earth could be, for there is so much beauty, so much glory, such imperishable
loveliness. We are caught in pain and don’t care to get out of it,
even when someone points a way out.
I don’t know,
but one’s aflame with love. There is an unquenchable flame. One
has so much of it that one wants to give it to everyone and one does.
It is like a strong flowing river, it nourishes and waters every town
and village; it is polluted, the filth of man goes into it but the waters
soon purify themselves and swiftly move on. Nothing can spoil love, for
all things are dissolved in it – the good and the bad, the ugly
and the beautiful. It is the only thing that is its own eternity.
Letters to a Young Friend,
pp. 7–8
© 2004 by Krishnamurti Foundation of America
On
Marriage
Marriage is not an easy thing –
just as living is not an easy thing. In fact marriage is a very complex
affair. You see, there are several urges, several desires, in all of us.
And an individual whose urges, desires, are not fulfilled goes through
a great many difficulties.
There is the desire for companionship
– that is the desire to be with somebody to whom we can talk about
ourselves and who will listen to us. It is the desire to be with someone
whom we love and who loves us and who will help us to think clearly. We
also want to be with others – we want companionship – because
we are lonely. You see, to live alone is one of the most difficult things
to do. It requires enormous intelligence to live alone.
... Another thing is the urge to have
children to whom you give your name. You are proud of your children and,
through them, you feel immortal. Through them your name goes down and,
through them, you feel a certain power. And as you grow older you need
somebody – your son or daughter – to look after you. In other
countries – America and England, for example – the children
or child does not live with the parents. Here in India it is a different
matter. Here in India they do live with their parents and, perhaps, it
is a nicer thing...
Not long ago we were in a restaurant
in Geneva with some friends. A man and a woman – a husband and wife
– came along and sat at a table next to us. The man never said a
word – not a single word – to his wife, but she talked to
him; she helped him to talk, but he held his head down and never said
a word throughout the whole hour. Do you know how sad it is to be married
to somebody like that?
You know, divorce is increasing in the
world. You marry – you think it is love, but it is only physical
attraction. Soon you find that you have married the wrong kind of person
– a person with whom you are not completely at home. There is no
companionship. You get attracted to another person, and there is trouble
between you and your spouse. The husband, being stronger, is demanding
and dominates his wife who nags and so on. You see how silly all these
things are, but this is what generally happens – you get brutalized
by each other, you get hurt by each other and, eventually, you become
hard with each other.
Marriage, like
everything else in life – in fact like living itself – is
an infinitely difficult thing, and needs extraordinary attention. Marriage
needs extreme understanding.
Rishi Valley, 13th February
1961, from the KFI Bulletin, 2000/1
© 2000 by Krishnamurti Foundation of America
Questioner:
"Is it possible for the human mind to comprehend truth?"
Can a human mind comprehend truth? I do not think it can. What is the
human mind at present? Is there a human mind, or is merely the instinctive
response of the animal still continuing in us? It is not a sarcastic remark.
First of all, to
comprehend anything in life, let alone truth - to comprehend my wife,
my neighbor, my child - , there must be a certain quietness of the mind,
not a disciplined quietness - then it is not quiet, it is a dead mind.
So, a mind in conflict prevents observing anything, observing myself.
So, I am perpetually in conflict, perpetually in motion, moving, moving,
talking, endlessly questioning, explaining; there is no observation possible
here at all. That is what most of us are doing, when we are face to face
with 'what is'.
So, one sees that
there can be observation only when there is no conflict. To have no conflict
one can take a tranquillizer, a pill, to become tranquil, but it is not
going to give you perception, it will put you to sleep; and that is probably
what most of us want. So, to observe, there must be a certain tranquility
of mind; and whether you see what is true depends on the quality of the
mind.
Truth is not something
that is static. Truth is not something that is fixed - which has no power.
It is something which must be alive, must be tremendously sensitive, alive,
dynamic, vital. And how can a putrid, puny mind which is in turmoil, everlastingly
bitten with ambition - how can it understand that? It can say there is
truth and keep on repeating it and putting itself to sleep.
So, the question
is, really, not whether the human mind can perceive truth, but whether
it is possible to break down the petty walls that man has built round
himself which he calls the mind - that is really the issue.
One of the walls
which we all like so much, is authority.
I
Am That Man
by Donald Ingram Smith
The following is
an extract from Donald Ingram Smith’s book "The Transparent
Mind – a Journey with Krishnamurti", where he describes a public
discussion that K had with a communist leader in Sri Lanka, during the
meetings K held there in 1949 and 1950.
During these Colombo
talks and discussions, a pattern of operation was developing that would
continue in the ensuing years: talks on the weekends and discussions during
the week, talks for the general public and discussions for those who wanted
to examine certain topics further.
While thousands
attended the Sunday talks at the town hall in Cinnamon Gardens, the discussions
attracted only a modest, three or four hundred dedicated persons. Most
squatted on the floor; a few Europeans and some of the elderly sat on
chairs at the back and along the sides of the hall.
At one Thursday
evening discussion there was a change. The front row of chairs was reserved.
Gordon Pearce told me that arrangements had been made for a leading member
of the opposition in the Sri Lanka Parliament – Dr. N. M. Perera,
a barrister and a communist recently returned from a booster course in
Moscow – to occupy this vantage position. The other seats were for
members of the shadow cabinet.
What had happened
was that the barrister had seen in Monday morning’s paper, The Daily
News, the full-page report of Krishnamurti’s Sunday evening meeting.
He had been profoundly impressed by the fact that the town hall had been
packed, and that amplifiers had been placed outside so that those hundreds
who couldn’t get into the auditorium could sit on the lawns and
hear the talk. No recent political meeting had been able to generate such
numbers or such extensive newspaper coverage. He had decided that he and
his political colleagues should attend a meeting to see what was so special
about the man and to discover what message he had that evoked such a magnificent
turnout and so much acclaim. Therefore, he rang Gordon Pearce, asked when
and where the next meeting was, and the special arrangements about seating
were made. Just before five-thirty, eleven parliamentarians arrived and
took their seats. All eyes were on them.
Soon Krishnamurti
came in quietly, took up his position on a low dais, and slwoly viewed
the audience. “What would you like to discuss?” he asked.
Everyone waited. Then Dr. Perera stood up. He said he would like to discuss
the structure of society and social cohesion, and that such a debate must
include an understanding of the basic principles of communism.
He talked for some
minutes on the logic of state control as the supreme authority, and the
proposition that those who do the work must directly receive the profits
of their labors. When no one else proposed a subject or question for discussion,
it was clear that this man was important. Not only did he know it, but
every Ceylonese citizen in the hall recognized him and the importance
of his challenge. Krishnamurti asked if we wanted to discuss this.
No one spoke, no
other subject was proposed. It was obvious that everyone was interested
in hearing what Krishnamurti’s reply would be. He smiled. “Well,
let’s begin.” The barrister, who had continued to stand, took
up his political theme. He spoke at length about the basic tenets of communism,
of communal use and ownership of goods and property, and the role of labor.
It was a clear exposition of the communist philosophy and dialectic. When
he had finished and sat down, I wondered how Krishnamurti would deal with
the proposition that the State was all, and the individual subservient
to the allpowerful central authority.
He did not oppose
what had been said. When he spoke, it was as though Krishnamurti had left
his place on the dais facing the barrister and crossed over to the other’s
side to view the human condition from the communist’s position and
through his eyes. There was no sense of confrontation whatsoever, only
a mutual probing into the reality behind the rhetoric. As the dialogue
developed, it became a penetrating search into how the human mind, conditioned
as it is, was to be reconditioned to accept the totalitarian doctrine,
and whether reeducating the race would solve the problems that beset human
beings, no matter where they live or under what social system.
There was mutual
investigation into the ways in which the communist philosophy actually
operated, and the means by which conflicts were handled. And basically,
whether in fact reshaping, repatterning human thinking and behavior freed
the individual or the collective from ego, from competition, from conflict.
After half an hour or so, Dr. Perera was still claiming the necessity
of totalitarian rule, asserting that everyone must go along with the decided
policy, and be made to conform.
At this point,
Krishnaji drew back. ”What happens,” he asked, “when
I, as an individual, feel I cannot go along with the supreme command’s
decision? What if I won’t conform?”
“We would try to convince you that individual dissent, perhaps valid
before a decision is taken, cannot be tolerated after. All have to participate.”
“You mean obey?”
“Yes.”
“And if I still couldn’t or wouldn’t agree?”
“We would have to show you the error of your ways.”
“And how would you do that?”
“Persuade you that in practice the philosophy of the state and the
law must be upheld at all times and at any cost.” “And if
someone still maintains that some law or regulation is false, what then?”
“We would probably incarcerate him so that he was no longer a disruptive
influence.”
With utter simplicity and directness, Krishnaji said: “I am
that man.” Consternation! Suddenly, total confrontation. An
electric charge had entered the room – the atmosphere was charged.
The lawyer spoke carefully, quietly: “We would jail you and keep
you there as long as was necessary to change your mind. You would be treated
as a political prisoner.”
Krishnaji responded: “There could be others who feel and think
as I do. When they discover what has happened to me, their antithesis
to your authority may harden. This is what happens, and a reactionary
movement has begun.” Neither Dr. Perera nor his colleagues
wanted to pursue this dangerously explicit dialogue. Some were now showing
nervousness.
Krishnaji continued: “I am this man. I refuse to be silenced.
I will talk to anyone who will listen. What do you do with me?”
There was no escaping the question.“Put you away.” “Liquidate
me?”
“Probably. You would not be permitted to contaminate others.”
“Probably?”
“You would be eliminated.”
After a long pause, Krishnamurti said: “And then, sir, you would
have made a martyr of me!” There was no way of dodging the implications.
“And what then?”
Krishnamurti waited,
and then quietly went back through the course of the dialogue. He talked
of interrelationship, of the destruction of life for a belief, for some
blueprint for the future, for some five-year plan, the destructiveness
of ideals, and the imposition of formulae on living beings. The need,
not for environmental change, important as that is, but for inward transformation.
When he finished, the meeting was over. There was really nothing more
to be said. We sat in a musing communion. Then Dr. Perera rose and slowly,
deliberately, wove his way through the packed crowd facing Krishnaji.
Everyone moved a little to make way for him. He walked right up to Krishnaji,
who had now risen and was standing, watching, waiting.
Stepping onto the
low dais, the barrister opened his arms and enfolded Krishnaji. They stood
there for a few moments, in each other’s arms. Then, without a word,
he returned to his colleagues and the audience began to move. The meeting
was over.
The Transparent Mind –
a Journey with Krishnamurti, pp.21–25
© 1999 by Donald Ingram Smith