Hindu Vedic Philosophy (The Paramardha Tattwam): Jiddu Krishnamurti - Exploration into Insight

Jiddu Krishnamurti - Exploration into Insight - 2

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Exploration into Insight

J Krishnamurti

EXPLORATION INTO INSIGHT 'SILENCE AND

DISORDER'

P: Can we discuss what is silence? Does silence have many facets

or forms? How is it reached? Does it imply only the absence of

thought? Or is the silence which arises through various experiences

and situations, different in nature, dimension and direction?

K: Where shall we start? Are you saying: Is there a right

approach to silence and if there is, what is it? And are there

different varieties of silence, which means different methods by

which to arrive at silence? What is the nature of silence? Shall we

go into it in that order? First, is there a right approach to silence

and what do we mean by `right'?

P: Is there only one approach? If all the silences are of the same

nature, then there may be many approaches.

K: I am just asking: What do we mean by the right approach?

P: The only one as against the many.

K: Therefore, what is the one? What is the approach which is

true, natural, reasonable, logical and beyond logic? Is that the

question?

P: I would not put it that way. I would say that silence is when

consciousness is not operating, when thought is not operating.

Silence is generally defined as the absence of thought.

K: I can go blank without any thought,just repeat something and

go blank. Is that silence?

S: How do you know what is true silence?

K: Let us begin by asking: Is there a right approach to silence

and what is that right approach? Are there many varieties of

silences and is silence the absence of thought? In that a great many

things are implied such as: I can go blank suddenly; I am thinking

and I just stop and look at something and then go blank - daydreaming.

I would like to approach this question by asking: Is there

a true approach to silence? You started with that question. I think

we ought to take that first and go into other things afterwards.

S: You seem to be giving emphasis to the true approach rather

than to the true nature of silence.

K: I think so, because there are people who have practised

silence by controlling thought, mesmerizing themselves into

silence, controlling their chattering mind to such an extent that the

mind becomes absolutely dull, stupid and silent. So I want to start

with the enquiry from the point of right approach; otherwise we

will wander off: Is there a natural, healthy, logical, objective,

balanced approach to silence? Could we proceed from that? What

is the necessity for silence?

P: The need for silence is easy to understand. Even in ordinary

living when a constantly chattering, constantly irritated mind

comes to rest, there is a feeling of being refreshed. The mind is

refreshed quite apart from anything else, so silence in itself is

important.

B: And also, even in the ordinary sense there is no seeing of

colour, there is no seeing of things unless there is a certain quality

of silence.

S: Then there is the whole tradition that maintains that silence is

important, is necessary and the various systems of pranayama,

breath control, exist to ensure it. So there are many states of silence

and you cannot distinguish between an unhealthy state and a

healthy one.

K: Supposing you don't know anything of what other people

have said and why you should be silent, would you ask the

question?

P: Even at the level of the tranquillizer, we would ask the

question.

K: So you ask the question in order to tranquillize the mind.

P: Yes. K: Because the mind is chattering and that is wearisome

and exhausting. So do you ask whether there is a way of

tranquillizing the mind without drugs? We know the way of

tranquillizing the mind with drugs, but is there another way which

will naturally, healthily, sanely, logically bring about tranquillity in

the mind? How would you approach this? Being weary, exhausted

by the chattering of the mind, I ask myself, `Can I, without the use

of drugs, quieten the mind?'

S: There are many ways of doing it.

K: I don't know of any. You all say there are many ways. I say,

how can the mind do this without effort? Because effort implies

disturbance of the mind, it does not bring about tranquillity, it

brings about exhaustion. And exhaustion is not tranquillity.

Conflict will not bring about tranquillity, it will bring about

exhaustion and that may be translated as silence by those who are

completely tired out at the end of the day. I can go into my

meditation room and be quiet. But is it possible to bring about

tranquillity in the mind without conflict, without discipline,

without distortion - all those are exhausting processes.

S: When pranayama is done there is no conflict, it does not

exhaust you but there is silence. What is its nature?

K: There you are breathing, getting more oxygen into your

system and the oxygen naturally helps you to be relaxed.

S: That is also a state of silence.

K: We will discuss the states of silence afterwards; I want to

find out whether the mind can become tranquil without any kind of

effort, breathing, enforcement, control, direction.

Par: The mind only asks the question whether it is possible to

have tranquillity without conflict because it is agitated, disturbed.

K: I asked: Can there be silence without conflict, without

direction, without enforcement of any kind? I can take a drug, a

tranquillizer and make the mind very quiet. It is on the same level

as pranayama; I control the mind and silence can be brought about.

It is on the same level as breathing, or drugs. I want to start from a

point where the mind is agitated, chattering, exhausting itself by

incessant friction of thought, and ask whether it is possible to be

really quiet without any artificial means? To me that is a central

issue. I would approach it that way if I went into this. I would

discard artificial controls - drugs, watching the breath, watching

light, mantras, bhajans - all these are artificial means and induce a

particular kind of silence.

S: Are they external, motivated?

K: It is all part of it. I would consider all these means as

artificial enforcements in order to induce silence. What happens

when you look at a mountain? The greatness, the beauty, the

grandeur of the mountains absorb you. That makes you silent. But

that is still artificial. I would consider any form of inducement to

bring about silence artificial.

S: Looking at a mountain is a non-dualistic experience. How

can you then say that it is still not silence?

K: I would not call it silence because the thing is so great that

for the time being its greatness knocks you out.

S: The absence of the `me' is not at the conscious level, but it is

there.

K: You see a marvellous picture, a marvellous sunset, an

enormous chain of mountains and it is like a child being absorbed

with a toy; that greatness knocks out the `me' for the moment and

the mind becomes silent. You can experiment with it.

S: But you say that is not silence.

K: I would not call that silence because the mountain, the

beauty of something, takes over for the moment. The `me' is

pushed aside; and the moment that is gone, I am back to my

chattering. At least I want to be clear that any artificial act with a

motive, with a direction, seems to K a distortion which will not

bring about the depth of silence. In this are included practices,

discipline, control, identification with the greater and there by

making oneself quiet, and so on. Then I ask myself: What is the

necessity of silence? If there was no motive, would I ask that

question?

Par: Are you describing your mind?

K: No, sir, I am not describing my mind. I said: Any

inducement in any form, subtle or obvious, would not bring about

the depth of great silence. I would consider it superficial; I may be

wrong, we are enquiring.

Par: The state of your mind is already a silent mind.

K: May be, I don't know. So what is the natural, healthy

approach to tranquillity?

R: But an approach is a motivation.

K: I would not use that word. What is the state of natural

tranquillity? How does one come upon it naturally? If I want to

listen to what you are saying, my mind must be quiet - that is a

natural thing. If I want to see something clearly, the mind must not

be chattering.

P: In that state lies all poise, all harmony.

K: I would say the basis for the depth of silence is poise,

harmony between the mind, the body and the heart, great harmony,

and the putting aside of any artificial methods, including control. I

would say the real basis is harmony.

P: You have used another word: `harmony'. How does this solve

the problem? The only thing I know is conflict. I don't know

silence.

K: Therefore, don't talk about silence. Deal with conflict, not

with silence. If there is disharmony between the mind, the body,

the heart, etc. deal with that, not with silence. If you deal with

silence, being disharmonious, then it is artificial. This is so.

P: An agitated mind naturally seeks a state of non-agitation.

Be concerned with the agitated mind, not with silence. Deal

with `what is' and not with what might be. R: Are you asking

whether the agitated mind can deal with its own agitation?

K: That is a different question.

B: She is saying that the agitated mind naturally asks the

question.

K: Yes, so be concerned, not with silence, but with why the

mind is agitated.

P: It seeks the opposite state.

K: Then it is in conflict. The concept has its roots in its own

opposite.

R: The concept itself is part of agitation.

K: I would say complete harmony is the foundation for the

purity of silence.

S: How does one know of this complete harmony?

K: Let us go into that. We will later on come to the question of

varieties of silences. So, what is harmony?

P: Does harmony arise when conflict ends?

K: I want to find out what is harmony between the mind, the

body and the heart, a total sense of being whole without

fragmentation, without the over development of the intellect, but

with the intellect operating clearly, objectively, sanely; and the

heart not operating with sentiment, emotionalism, outbreaks of

hysteria, but with a quality of affection, care, love, compassion,

vitality; and the body with its own intelligence, not interfered with

by the intellect. The feeling that everything is operating,

functioning beautifully like a marvellous machine is important. Is

this possible?

Q: In that harmony is there a centre?

K: I don't know, we can find out. Can the mind, the brain

function efficiently, without any friction, any distraction? Can the

mind have the intelligence, the capacity to reason, to perceive, to

be clear? When there is a centre it is obviously not possible,

because the centre is translating everything according to its

limitations. Am I reducing everybody to silence?

R: Why does this division arise between the mind and the body?

K: It arises through our education, where emphasis is laid on the

cultivation of the intellect as memory and reason, as a function

apart from living.

R: That is the over-emphasis on the mind. Even without

education, there can be an over-emphasis on emotions.

K: Of course. Man worships the intellect much more than the

emotions. Does he not? An emotion is translated into devotion, into

sentimentality, into all kinds of extravagance.

Par: How does one differentiate between the accumulation of

memory for technical or day-to-day purposes, and the

accumulation of emotional memory?

K: That is very simple, sir. Why does the brain as the repository

of memory, give such importance to knowledge - technological,

psychological, and in relationship? Why have human beings given

such extraordinary importance to knowledge? I have an office. I

become an important bureaucrat, which means I have knowledge

about performing certain functions and I become pompous, stupid,

dull.

Par: Is it an innate desire?

K: It gives security - obviously. It gives you status. Human

beings have worshipped knowledge - knowledge as identified with

the intellect. The erudite person, the scholar, the philosopher, the

inventor, the scientist, are all concerned with knowledge and they

have created marvellous things in the world, like going to the

moon, making new kinds of submarines and so on. They have

invented the most extraordinary things and the admiration, the

marvel at that knowledge is overwhelming and we accept it. So we

have developed an inordinate admiration, almost verging on

worship, of the intellect. This applies to all the sacred books and

their interpretations. Correct me, if I am wrong. In contrast to that,

there is a reaction to be emotional, to have feeling, to love, to have

devotion, sentimentality, extravagance in expression, and the body

gets neglected. You see this and therefore you practise yoga. This

division between the body, the mind and the heart takes place

unnaturally. Now we have to bring about a natural harmony where

the intellect functions like a marvellous watch, where the emotions

and affections, care, love and compassion are healthily functioning

and the body, which has been so despoilt, which has been so

misused, comes into its own. Now how do you do that?

GM: I adore knowledge because I need it.

K: Of course, I need it. It is very clear, sir, I need knowledge to

talk to you in English. To ride a bicycle, to drive an engine, needs

knowledge.

Q: I have to solve the problem of disease. I need knowledge to

deal with it. That is still within the field of knowledge.

K: Knowledge is misused by the centre as the `me' which has

got knowledge. Therefore I feel superior to the man who has less

knowledge. I use knowledge to provide a status for myself, I am

more important than the man who has no knowledge.

S: If I may say so, we started the discussion with silence and the

various ways in which we arrive at silence. You pointed out that

unless there is harmony, we cannot have a basis for questioning or

for asking what silence is.

D: Do we not make a distinction between knowledge and the

discovery of the new?

K: Of course, sir. When knowledge interferes there is no

discovery of the new. There must be an interval between

knowledge and the new; otherwise you are just carrying on the new

like the old. R asked: `Why is there division between the mind, the

heart and the body.' We see that. How is this division to come to an

end naturally? How do you do it - through enforcement, through

the ideals we have of harmony? Sir, one is aware of this division -

isn't one - between the intellect, the emotions and the body. There

is this gap between all of them. How is the mind to remove this gap

and be whole? What do the traditionalists say?

M: Effort, clench your teeth.

P: We are getting bogged down. We started with silence. We

don't touch silence; then you used the word `harmony' and we can't

touch harmony.

K: Then what will you do? We will return to silence.

P: We come back to only one thing, which is, we know only

disharmony.

K: Therefore let us deal with disharmony and not with silence

and when there is the understanding of disharmony, from that may

flow silence.

S: Also there is the question: How does one know that one has

ended disharmony totally?

M: There is a Latin saying, `I know what is right, but I don't

follow it.'

K: Don't bring in anything from the Latin. Face the thing as it is.

Pupul says we started out with silence and we said it is no good

discussing silence until you find out if there is a natural way of

coming to it. The artificial way is not the way. The natural way is

to find out if there is harmony, but we don't know anything about

harmony because we are in a state of disorder. So let us deal with

disorder, not with harmony, not with silence.

M: I observe my disorder and the disorder goes on looking at

me.

K: Therefore there is a duality, a division, a contradiction in

your observation, as the observer and the observed. We can play

with this endlessly. Please follow what we have so far discussed.

We started out with asking: What is the nature of silence, are there

different varieties of silence, are there different approaches to

silence? Pupul also asked: `What is the right way to silence?, We

said perhaps there may be a `right' way but that any artificial means

to bring about silence is not silence; we made that very clear. Don't

let us go back. If there is no artificial way, is it possible to come

upon silence naturally without effort, without inducement, without

direction, without artificial means? In examining this we came to

harmony. To that Pupul says: `We don't know what harmony is,

but what we do know is disorder.' So let us put aside everything

else and consider disorder, not what silence is. A mind that is in

disorder enquires after silence. Silence then becomes a means of

bringing about order or escape from disorder. Silence then is

imposed on disorder. So we stop all that and ask: Why is there

disorder? Is it possible to end disorder?

P: There is disorder when thought arises and I want silence.

K: No, you are looking for a cause, you want to find out what is

the cause of disorder.

P: I don't.

K: Then?

P: I observe the nature of disorder. I don't look for the cause. I

don't know.

K: One observes disorder in oneself.

P: I see that it is manifested as thought.

K: I don't know. I would like to go into it very carefully because

it is rather interesting. Why do I call what I observe disorder?

S: Disturbance is disorder.

K: I just want to find out. Why do I call it disorder? Which

means I already have an inkling of what order is. So I am

comparing what I have experienced or known as order and thereby

ask what is disorder. I don't do that. I say, don't compare, just see

what disorder is. Can the mind know disorder without comparing it

with order? So, can my mind cease comparing? Comparison may

be disorder. Comparison itself may be the cause of disorder.

Measurement may be disorder, and as long as I am comparing,

there must be disorder. I am comparing my disorder at present with

a whiff of order which I have smelt and I call it disorder. So I see it

is comparison which is really important, not disorder. As long as

my mind is comparing, measuring, there must be disorder.

R: Without comparing I look at myself and I see there is

disorder because every part of me is pulling in a different direction.

K: I have never felt that I am in disorder, except rarely,

occasionally. I say to myself: Why are all these people talking

about disorder?

D: Do they really know disorder or do they only know it

through comparison?

P: You bring in words which I find very difficult to understand.

There is no conscious comparison by the mind which says, `This is

disorder and I want to end it.' I know disorder.

A: A sense of uneasiness.

P: I see a sense of confusion, one thought against another

thought. You will say the word `confusion' is again comparison. I

know confusion.

K: You only know contradiction, which is confusion. Stick to

that. You say your mind is in a state of confusion because it is

contradicting itself all the time. Proceed from that.

B: There is a real difficulty here. You talked about silence, then

about harmony, then about disorder. Why do we speak of disorder?

We function partly in order also.

P: I am sorry, I don't know either harmony or silence. I say I

observe my mind, I see disorder.

K: Then what? From there move.

P: Then I am bound to ask: Is it the nature of the mind?

K: Ask.

P: I ask, and there must be a way out of this. K: Then what?

P: Then I observe myself asking that question.

K: Yes.

P: For the time being the activity of the mind comes to an end.

M: What is the fallacy in this?

K: There is no fallacy in this. I am coming to that.

P: Look, sir, we need not have gone through this. But I thought

it was better to go step by step. There is an ending here. May be to

someone else there may not be an ending, but for me there is. What

is the nature of this? I now come back to my first question: Is the

undercurrent in that ending still operating? When we talk of

different qualities and natures and dimensions of silence it means

just this. The traditional outlook is that the gap between two

thoughts is silence.

K: That is not silence. Silence between two notes is not silence.

Listen to that noise outside. Absence of noise is not silence. It is

only an absence of noise.

P: There is an ending of the perception of oneself in a state of

disturbance.

K: Pupul, you have not been clear. When you say `disorder' I

am not at all sure that you know what disorder is. You call it

disorder. I overeat, that is disorder. I overindulge in emotional

nonsense, that is disorder.

P: I catch myself talking very loudly and that is disorder.

K: So what is disorder? How do you know it is disorder? Listen,

I overeat; I have tummyache. I don't call it disorder. I say, `I overate,

I must not eat so much.'

P: We moved from silence to harmony and we found that it is

impossible to go into the nature of harmony without going into

disorder.

K: That is all. Keep to those three points. P: Why do you call it

disorder?

R: It is not necessarily a recognition of disorder, because when

there is a conflict between the body, the mind...

K: You associate conflict with disorder.

R: No, the conflict makes one weary, as you say, and one

instinctively feels that there is something wrong with it.

K: So what you are saying is, if I understand it rightly, conflict

indicates disorder.

R: Even when you don't name it.

K: Conflict is disorder. You translate it as disorder. Don't move

around in circles.

P: I say you must be free of conflict.

M: Of disorder.

K: Which is the same thing. Silence, harmony, conflict. That is

all - not disorder.

P: Forgive me for saying it but you can take the word `conflict'

and go through the same gymnastics with it as you did with the

word `disorder'. But what do I do about conflict?

K: That is all we are concerned with: silence, harmony, conflict.

How am I to deal with conflict non-artificially? You know nothing.

You are listening for the first time. You have to go into it with me.

Don't say `How do I look at it for the first time?' Somebody comes

and says: `Look at this marvellous machinery'. You look.

S: This much I can see clearly. I cannot think of silence or

harmony when I am in conflict.

K: Is the mind capable of freeing itself from every kind of

conflict? That is the only thing you can ask. What is wrong with

that question?

R: It is the mind again which is asking the question.

S: It is a legitimate question. P: Can the mind be free of

disharmony? I don't see the difference between the two.

K: We have reduced it to conflict. Now stick to it and see if the

mind can be free of it. How can the mind, knowing what conflict is

and what it does, end conflict? That is surely a legitimate question.

M: Because you assume that the mind can do it.

K: I don't know.

Q: If we look into this question of conflict, look into various

aspects of it, we see there is no conflict without comparison.

K: Conflict is contradiction, comparison, imitation, conformity,

suppression. Put all that into one word and accept the meaning of

the word as we defined it, and ask whether the mind can be free of

conflict.

S: Of course it can be free of conflict, but the question arises:

What is the nature of that freedom from conflict?

K: How do you know before you can be free?

S: There is a knowing of the state of conflict for the time being.

K: Is there a complete ending of conflict?

That's why I asked the question: Is there a total ending of

conflict?

M: I say there is no ending of conflict in the universe as we live

in it from day to day.

K: Don't include the universe. In the universe everything is

moving in order. Let us stick to our minds which seem to be

endlessly in conflict. Now, how is the mind to end conflict

naturally, because every other system is a compulsive, a directional

method, a method of control and all that is out. How can the mind

free itself from conflict? I ask: Where are you at the end of it? I

say, the mind can be completely, utterly without conflict.

S: For ever? K: Don't use the words `for ever' because you are

then introducing a word of time and time is a matter of conflict.

P: I want to ask you a question. Can the mind be totally in

conflict?

K: What are you trying to say? I don't quite understand.

P: You see, I feel myself totally helpless in this situation. The

fact is there is conflict and the operation of the self on it leads to

further conflict. Seeing the nature of that, can the mind see that it is

totally in conflict?

K: Can the mind be aware of a state in which there is no

conflict? Is that what you are trying to say? Or can the mind only

know conflict? Right? Is your mind totally aware of conflict, or is

it just a word? Or is there a part of the mind which says `I am

aware that I am totally in conflict and there is a part of me

watching conflict.' Or is there a part of the mind wishing to be free

of conflict, which means, is there a fragment which says `I am not

in conflict' and which separates itself from the totality of conflict?

If there is a separate fragment, then that fragment says: `I must do,

I must suppress, I must go beyond.' So this is a legitimate question.

Is your mind totally aware that there is nothing but conflict or is

there a fragment which skips away and says, `I am aware that I am

in conflict but I am not in total conflict.' So, is conflict a fragment

or is it total? I will keep to the same word, not to be substituted by

a different word, for the time being. Is there total darkness or a

slight light somewhere?

R: If that light were not there, could there be awareness?

K: I don't know anything about it. Don't ask me that question.

When there is a fragmentation of the mind, that very fragmentation

is conflict. Is the mind ever aware that it is in total conflict? Pupul

says `yes'.

P: You have moved away.

K: I have not.

P: I don't know anything about total conflict. K: Therefore you

know only partial conflict.

P: No, sir, whether partial or not, we know the fact that there is

conflict and I ask: Can there be a refusal to move away?

K: I have not moved away from silence, harmony or conflict.

P: Where is totality in this?

K: I think this is an important question.

R: Sir, the very awareness of the mind indicates that there is a

fragment.

K: That is all. Therefore you say: Partially I am in conflict.

Therefore you are never with conflict.

P: No, sir.

SWS: Total conflict cannot know itself unless there is

something else.

K: We are going to go into that.

P: I am not making myself clear. The state of conflict does not

have a wide, broad spectrum. When you say `total', it fills the

mind.

K: When the whole room is full of furniture - I am just taking

that as an example - there is no space to move. I would consider

that to be utter confusion. Is my mind so totally full of confusion

that it has no movement away from this? Is it so completely full of

confusion, of conflict, as full as this room is of furniture? Then

what takes place? That is what I want to get at. We are not

discussing the partial this and the partial that. When the steam is at

full pressure it must explode, it must do something. I don't think we

look at conflict totally. Could I use the word `sorrow'? There is no

moving away from sorrow. When you move away from sorrow,

then it is just an escape. Is there such a thing as being full of

sorrow? Is there such a thing as being completely happy? When

you are aware that you are completely happy, you are no longer

happy. In the same way, when you are completely full of this thing

called confusion, sorrow, conflict, it is no longer there. It is only

there when there is division. That is all.

R: No, sir, then it seems to be a hopeless problem.

K: That is why one has to remain with the truth of the thing, not

with the confusion of it. There is the truth of the thing when the

mind is complete with something; then it cannot create conflict. If I

love you and there is attachment in it, that is a contradiction,

therefore there is no love. So I say, remain with the fact of that

thing. Is the mind totally full of this sorrow, this confusion, this

conflict? I won't move away till that is so.

M: There is one peculiarity about your approach. When you

draw a picture there is always a clear black outline. The colours

don't merge. In reality there are no outlines, there are only colours

merging with each other.

K: This to me is very clear. If the heart is full of love and there

is no part of envy in it, the problem is finished. It is only when

there is a part that is jealous, then the whole problem arises.

P: But when it is full of envy?

K: Then remain with that envy fully - be envious, feel it!

P: Then I know its total nature.

K: It is a tremendous thing. But you say, `I am envious and I

must not be envious.' Somewhere in a dark corner there lies the

educational restraint; then something goes wrong. But can I be

envious and not move from that? Moving away is rationalizing,

suppressing, all that. Just remain with that feeling. When there is

sorrow, be completely with it. This is merciless. All the rest is

playing tricks. When you are with something, action has taken

place. You don't have to do anything.

EXPLORATION INTO INSIGHT 'HOW DEEP

CAN ONE TRAVEL'

P: Sir, how deep can one travel?

K: Could we put the question this way? Most of our lives are

very superficial and is it possible to live at great depth and also

function superficially? Is it possible for the mind to dwell or live at

great depth? I am not sure that we are all asking the same thing.

We lead superficial lives and most of us are satisfied with that.

P: We are not satisfied. But we don't know how to go deep.

K: Most of us put up with it. Now, how is the mind to penetrate

into great depth? Are we discussing depth in terms of

measurement? Depth involves measurement. I want to be clear that

we are not using the word in the sense of measurement or in the

sense of time, but as something profound. These words have time

significance, but we will wash away all the significance of time

and measurement. We are asking whether the mind which

generally lives superficially can penetrate to great depth? That is

the question. I say it needs a build-up of energy, drive, and ask how

is this energy to build up?

P: I know no other dimension. It needs a build-up of energy

which drives through. How is the energy to be built up, or is it a

wrong question?

K: Let us forget the word `energy' for the time being. I lead a

very superficial life and I see the beauty, intellectually or verbally,

of a life, of a mind that has gone into itself very very deeply. Now,

I say to myself I see the beauty of it, I see the quality of it, how is

this to be done? Let us stick to that, instead of bringing in energy

and all that. How is this to be done? Can thought penetrate it? Can

thought become profound? Please, sirs, do listen to this. I live a

superficial life. I want to live a different kind of life, at great depth.

I understand depth to mean not measurement or time to go down

but depth as the bottomless; that which you cannot fathom, and I

want to find it and live with it. Now, tell me what am I to do? I

don't know. I am asking whether thought which is time, which is

the past, whether thought can penetrate into this profundity?

Just listen to what I am saying. I see very clearly any

measurable depth is still within a small measurement. I see the

going down as involved in time, it may take years, and so I see

intellectually, reasoning it out, I see depth means a timeless,

measureless quality, an infinite without ever reaching the bottom.

It is not a concept. It is not verbal to me. I have only verbalized it

to you. Therefore, it becomes a concept to you.

M: Do you put the question to me or am I putting the question

to myself?

K: I am putting the question to myself and therefore asking you

to put the question to yourself. I see my life is a superficial life.

That's obvious. So, I say to myself: Can thought penetrate this

depth as thought is the only instrument I have?

Q: In that case, we cannot use the instrument.

R: How does one come upon this depth without using the

instrument?

K: I live a very, very superficial life and I want to find out for

myself if there is any depth which is not measurable and I see

thought cannot reach it because thought is a measure, thought is

time, thought is the response of the past; therefore thought cannot

possibly touch it, Then, what will bring this about? If thought

cannot touch it and that is the only instrument man has, then, what

is he to do? Thought in its movement, in its function, has created

this world which is superficial in which I live, of which I am. That

is obvious. Now, is it possible for the mind, without the usage of

thought, to touch something which is fathomless? Not just some

moments in my sleep or when I am walking by myself, but to live

there. My mind says the depth must be discovered, to let the mind

be of the quality of that - I must be aware of that strange

fathomless depth of something which is unnamed.

P: Into what does one penetrate, delve?

K: I won't use those words.

P: No, sir. Thought is the instrument of measurement. There has

to be freedom from the measurement-making machinery.

K: No, no. Be simple about this.

P: Can you delve into what is thought?

K: We have been into that. Thought is time, thought is measure,

thought is the response of memory, thought is knowledge,

experience, past, therefore the past is time. That thought must

function always superficially. That is simple.

P: What you have said just now ends up in a big abstraction.

K: No.

P: It does, sir.

K: It is not an abstraction. It is a reality. But what is thought?

P: You said thought is time. You have abstracted that out of

thought.

K: Thought cannot penetrate it. That is all. Leave it like that.

P: As it is the instrument that measures, can you penetrate this

instrument?

K: No, I am concerned with depth, not with the machinery of

measurement. The machinery of measurement is fairly obvious, I

don't have to delve into all that.

P: If you say that, then I say into what dimension does one

penetrate? If you won't have that and thought being the only

instrument we know, into what dimension does one penetrate

without thought?

K: There is no question of penetration. P: Then what is it?

Q: We are still bound by the available machinery of

construction we have, which is not in a position to reveal that

fathomless state which we want to live in, because language is

delicate. That instrument is too frail. We must have the language to

deal with that dimension. We must have the tool to communicate.

P: What is the tool? Language is too frail. I cannot tell you

about `how' when I am that state.

K: Are we concerned with verbal communication or are we

concerned with the touching of that depth?

Q: I know that sometimes I do touch. How can I tell you about

that state?

P: You said that you don't use the existing instrument which you

have, which is thought.

R: But I think Krishnaji has pointed out the difference: that it is

not a question of occasionally feeling that, but how to be in it, to

live in it.

K: As you eat, appetite comes. Leading a superficial life, as

human beings do, I say to myself I would like to find that depth,

where there is great width and beauty, something immense. Now,

what am I to do? What is the other operation or the other

movement that must take place when thought is not functioning?

Can the mind remain without measure?

P: The question then is: Can that state come into being where

there is no measure?

K: That is all. All your life you have known measure. Now, I

am asking you: Can the mind be without measure?

P: If I were to ask you `how', you would say `no'. The only

thing left then is to observe your mind measuring because there is

no other way.

K: Have you done that? Have you observed, has the mind

observed its movement and measurement? P: Yes.

K: Comparing, measuring and ending. Then what?

P: Then there is stillness.

K: You say the movement of measurement has come to an end.

Would that be right? Can you honestly, really say the movement

with measurement has come to an end?

P: Just now it has come to an end.

K: That is not good enough. Good enough means that right

through my life measurement has to come to an end.

P: How can I know it?

K: I am going to find out. I want to find out if my mind which

has been conditioned in the movement of measurement -

measurement equals comparison, imitation, conformity, an ideal, a

resistance which safeguards it from non-measurement - can the

mind say: `Now I have understood the whole movement of

measurement and I see where its legitimate place is and where it

has no place at all,?

P: How is that understood by the mind in which there is no

thought?

K: It perceives. I will show it to you. Thought has investigated

and analysed it for the moment, thought has enquired, pushed,

investigated, and it says it has seen the whole movement of

measurement and that very perception of that movement is the

ending of that movement. The very perception of it, that is, the

seeing is the acting and ending. Seeing that this movement is time,

is measure, seeing the whole map of it, the nature of it, the

structure of it, that very perception acts in ending it. So, the seeing

is the ending. There is no effort involved in it all. You say, `I have

seen this.' Have you?

EXPLORATION INTO INSIGHT 'LISTENING

WITH THE HEART'

P: I feel the central point missing in all of us is the factor of

compassion. In Benaras, you once used a phrase, `Is it possible to

listen with the heart?' What does it imply to listen with the heart?

K: Shall we discuss that?

FW: Could we enquire into the nature of matter?

K: You see, sir, what I said was that thought is a material

process and whatever thought has built - technological,

psychological beliefs, the gods, the whole structure of religion

based on thought, is a material process. Thought in that sense is

matter. Thought is experience, knowledge stored up in the cells and

functioning in a particular groove set by knowledge. All that to me

is a material process. What matter is, I do not know. I won't even

discuss that because I don't know.

FW: I am not enquiring into it from the point of view of a

scientist. Let me say matter is something unknown. So I feel when

we explore into the unknown...

K: You can't explore into the unknown. Be careful, you can

explore into the known, go to the limit of it and when you come to

the limit of it you have moved out of it. You can only enquire into

the known.

P: Which is, into thought?

K: Of course. But when he says examine, explore, investigate

into the unknown, we can't. So Pupul puts a question which is:

What is it, what does it mean to listen with compassion?

P: This is a crucial thing. If we have compassion, everything is.

K: Agreed, but we have not got it, unfortunately. So how should

we approach this matter? What does it mean to listen, and what is

the nature and the structure of compassion?

P: And what is this listening with the heart? It is a very

important thing. Is there a listening which is much deeper than the

ear listening?

K: Can we take the two: listening and listening with the heart,

with compassion. First, what does it mean to listen, what is the art

of listening?

FW: Perhaps we could approach the subject the other way

round. What does it mean not to listen?

K: What do you mean, sir?

FW: When we ask what does it mean to listen, it seems very

difficult and I think that perhaps if I am very clear about what it

means not to listen...

K: It is the same thing. That is, through negation come to the

positive. If you could find out what is listening and in the

investigation of what is listening you negate what is not listening,

then you are listening. That is all.

P: Can we go on? So there are two problems involved, which

are, what is listening - in which is implied what is not listening -

and what is compassion? What is the nature and the structure of the

feeling and the depth of it, and the action that springs from it?

K: Go on, discuss it.

FW: I feel that in this question of compassion we have the same

problem, because I feel that compassion has nothing to do with the

field of the known.

K: She meant something else, sir. What does it mean to listen

with your heart? That was what she meant. I introduced the word

`compassion'. Perhaps we can leave that out for the moment.

P: Krishnaji spoke of a listening with the heart, and I am

interested in going into that. K: So let us keep to those two:

listening, and listening with one's heart, what does it mean?

R: We have said that the response with thought is fragmentary.

Whether we call that response observation or listening or whatever

it is, it is the same thing. Isn't it? So is the heart the nonfragmentary?

Is that what we mean?

K: Now wait a minute. To listen with the total flowering of all

senses is one thing; listening partially with a particular sense is

fragmentary.

R: Yes.

K: That is, if I listen with all my senses, then there is no

problem of negation of what is listening or not listening. But we do

not listen.

S: Sir, when you talk of listening with the heart, my response is

I do not know it. But there is a movement, a feeling, a listening in

which consciousness is not thought. I see that there is a movement

of feeling when I listen to Radhaji or someone; there is a certain

feeling with which one listens to another. There is a different kind

of communication when that feeling is there.

K: Is feeling different from thought?

S: That is what I am coming to.

P: It is different from thought.

S: If feeling is not different from thought, we do not know any

movement apart from that of thought. To accept that statement is

very difficult because we have also experienced tenderness,

affection. If everything is put in the category of thought, if it is the

totality of consciousness then...

K: We must be clear. Do not categorize it. Let us go slowly. Do

I listen with thought or do I not listen with thought? That is the

problem.

S: Both are... K: Go slowly Sunanda. Do you listen with the

movement of thought or do you listen without the movement of

thought? I am asking you.

P: Can we listen without thought?

K: Yes.

P: Sometimes, once in a lifetime may be, one gets the total

feeling of the heart and the mind and consciousness being one.

K: I understand that.

P: When we ask if there is a listening without thought, we can

say, `Yes, it is so; but if I may say so, there is something still

lacking.

K: We will come to that. Let us go slowly into this.

A: At a lower voltage of sensitivity there may be no articulated

thought, but there is listening. That listening is lacking in

sensitivity. So it is not alive.

K: I think we have to begin with what it means to communicate.

I want to tell you something which I am deeply concerned with.

You must be prepared to enter into the problem, or into the

question, or into the statement which one is proposing; which

means you must have the same interest as the speaker or the same

intensity, and also meet him at the same level. All this is implied in

communication. Otherwise there is no communication.

S: Interest one can understand, but level is very difficult to

know.

P: May I say something? In introducing the word

`communication', you are introducing the two. In listening from the

heart there may not be the two.

K: Yes. We will come to that. What is listening with one's

heart? I want to tell you something which I feel profoundly. How

do you listen to it? I want you to share it with me, I want you to

feel it with me, I want you to be involved with me. Otherwise how

can there be communication?

S: How does one know the level? K: The moment it is not

intellectual, verbal, but an intense problem, a burning problem, a

deep, human problem that I want to convey to you, to share with

you. Then we must be on the same level, otherwise you cannot

listen.

S: If there is deep seriousness, will the right level be there?

K: You are not listening now. That is my problem. I want to tell

you something which is profoundly important. I want you to listen

to it because you are a human being and it is your problem. It may

be you have not really delved into it. So, in sharing it with me you

are exposing your own intensity to it. Therefore listening implies a

sharing, a non-verbal communication. There must be a listening,

there must be a sharing, which implies an absence of verbal

distortion.

P: Obviously you can only communicate if there is a certain

level.

K: That is what I am saying. Now Sunanda how will you listen

to me? Will you listen like that?

S: It seems that one does not listen like that to everyone.

K: I am talking now, I am asking you, will you listen to me in

that manner?

P: To you we listen.

K: Because you have built an image about me and that image

you give importance to, and therefore you listen.

S: Not to the image alone.

K: You are missing my point. Can you not only listen to this

man who is speaking at the moment, but also listen to Radha when

she talks about it, or when Parchure or you or somebody says

something? Can you listen? He may convey something to you

which he may not be capable of putting into words? So will you, in

the same manner, listen to all of us?

S: We listen to some and we do not listen to all.

K: Why? P: Because of prejudice.

K: Of course. There, there is no communication.

P: You mean to say, sir, listening to the voice which is

established in truth and which speaks out of silence, the receiving

of that, can it be the same as listening to the voice which speaks

out of thought? Please answer that question.

K: You are too definite.

P: No, it is not too definite. When you speak, your voice is

different.

R: I think the point is whether there is a receiving at all,

listening at all. If one is receiving, then the question of whether it is

the voice of truth or something else does not arise.

P: It does not happen with us.

Raj: We listen with motive. The motive may be very subtle or

very obvious. When we listen to another we think we will not get

anything out of it. That is why, when we listen to K there is much

more attention.

K: So how do we alter all that and listen to each other?

FW: Is it that we interpret?

K: No, don't interpret what I am saying, for God's sake, listen. I

go to Kata and tell him I know nothing about Karate. I watch it on

the films but I don't know Karate. So I go to him now, not

knowing. Therefore I am listening. But we know - and that is your

difficulty. You say this should be this way, this should be that way

- all conjectures, opinions. The moment I use a word, you are fully

alive. But the first thing is the art of listening. Art means to put

everything in its right place. You may have your prejudices, you

may have your conclusions, but when you are listening put them

away - the interpreting, comparing, judging, evaluating, put all that

away. Then communication takes place. When somebody says `I

love you,' you don't say, `Let me think about it' R: That is, putting

away everything is the same as having the same intensity and being

at the same level.

K: Otherwise what is the point of it?

R: I have seen this but I am not doing it.

K: Do it now.

S: It seems to me, you are saying the act of listening wipes

away, swallows up the whole thing for the time being.

K: When I say, `I love you,' what happens?

S: But no one says that to us.

K: But I am saying it to you.

S: No, sir, in normal life it does not often happen like that.

K: So what is the art of listening, what does it mean to listen

with one's heart? If you do not listen with the heart, there is no

meaning to it. If you listen with a sense of care, attention, affection,

a deep sense of communion with each other, it means, you listen

with all your senses, does it not?

P: With fullness.

K: Will you listen that way? Can we listen to somebody whom

we don`t like, who we think is stupid? Can you listen with your

heart to that man or to that woman? I don't think when you have

that feeling, words don't matter any more.

Let us proceed. Then what? Suppose I listen and I have done it

often in my life. I listen very carefully, I have no prejudices, I have

no pictures, I have no conclusions, I am not a politician, I am a

human being listening to somebody. I just listen, because he wants

to tell me something about himself. Because he has got an image, a

picture of me, he generally comes to see me with a mask. If he

wants to talk seriously with me, I say `Remove the mask, let us

look at it together.' I don't want to look behind the mask unless he

invites me. If he says `All right, sir, let us talk about it,' I listen; and

in listening he tells me something which is so utterly, completely

common to all human beings. He may put it wrongly, he may put it

foolishly, but it is something which every man or woman suffers,

and he is telling me about it and I listen. Therefore he is telling me

the history of mankind. So I am listening not only to the words, the

superficial feeling of his, but also to the profound depth of what he

is saying. If it is superficial, then we discuss superficially and push

it till he feels this thing profoundly. You follow? It may be that he

is expressing a feeling which is very superficial and if it is

superficial, I say let us go a little deeper. So in going deeper and

deeper, he is expressing something which is totally common to all

of us. He is expressing something which so completely belongs to

all human beings. You understand? So there is no division between

him and me.

P: What is the source of that listening?

K: Compassion. So, what is compassion? As Fritz says, it is

unknown to us. So how am I to have that extraordinary intelligence

which is compassion? I would like to have that flower in my heart.

Now what is one to do?

FW: Compassion is not in the field of thought. Therefore I can

never have the feeling that I have it.

K: No, you won't find it - it is like a drill, like a screwdriver,

you have to push, push.

P: There must be a perfume to it.

K: Of course. You cannot talk about compassion without

perfume, without honey.

P: It is either there or not there. Why is it then, sir, that when we

are in communication with you we have this feeling, why is it that

you have this tremendous impact which knocks away all

prejudices, all obstacles and this immediately makes the mind

silent?

K: It is like going to the well with a small bucket or with an

enormous bucket which one can hardly carry. Most of us go with a

small bucket and pull out of the well insufficient water. It is like

having a fountain in your yard, flowing, flowing. I would like to

watch it, see it out there and inside. So what am I to do?

FW: I will find out what prevents me from having that.

K: That is analysis. I won't analyse, because it is a waste of

time. I have understood that, not because I have said it and you

have accepted it, but I see the reason, the logic, the significance

and therefore the truth of it. Therefore analysis is out.

S: Not only that, sir, I also see that sitting in meditation

regularly, being in silence, none of these things have any

relationship to that. Duality and every kind of experience that one

has gone through, has also nothing to do with it.

K: Listen Sunanda, Radha and Pupul have got this thing in their

backyard. They don't talk about it because it is there, flowering,

flowing, murmuring, all kinds of things happen. And I say, Why is

it not in my backyard? I want to find out. Not that I want to imitate.

But it must happen. I won't analyse what prevents me, what blocks

me, I won't ask, should I be silent, should I not be silent? That is

the analytical process. I don't know if you understand this?

S: That is clear, sir.

K: Do you really understand what it means?

S: What does it mean, `to really understand'?

K: Look, they have got it, I haven't got it. I would like to have

it. I would like to look at it like at a precious jewel. How is it to

happen to me? That is my enquiry. He suggested that I look at what

is blocking me. He said that is an analytical process and analysis is

a waste of time. I don't know if you see that actually. Analysis and

the analyser are both the same. Don't take time over it, don't

meditate about it, sit cross-legged and all that. You have no time.

Now, can you stop analysis? Totally? Can you do it? You do it

when there is a tremendous crisis. You have no time then to

analyse, you are in it. Are you in this? Do you understand my

question? That is, she has got that extraordinary perfume which is

so natural to her. She doesn't say, `How did I get it, what am I to do

with it?' She has got it somehow, and I would like to have it. I am a

human being and without it nothing matters. So it must be there.

And I see the truth about analysis, therefore I will never analyse.

Because I am in the middle of this question, I am soaked, burning

with the question. The house is on fire and I am caught in that fire.

R: Sir, the moment the beauty of the thing exists somewhere,

the question does not arise, How am I to have it?

K: I want it, how am I to have it? I do not care,I am hungry.

You do not analyse hunger.

R: I am not saying that.

K: Sorry, what were you saying?

R: I am saying that when at a certain moment one is filled with

this, `I want it' does not arise. I do not know to what extent one is

filled with the perfume, but this feeling, `I want it' does not exist

there.

K: You may be filled by my words, by my intensity, and then

say you have got it.

R: I do not say I have got it, but...

K: Be simple, Radha. You have something in your backyard, a

fountain which very few people have, very very few. They may

talk about the water, they may talk about the beauty of the

fountain, the song and the water, but that is not it. But you have got

it. And as a human being, I see how marvellous that is and I go

towards it, not that I want it; I go towards it, I don't have it. What

am I do to?

FW: Is there anything I can do?

K: May be or may be not. May be the demand is so great I put

everything aside. The demand itself puts everything aside. You

understand? The house is burning. There is no argument, there is

no weighing which bucket to use, which pump to use.

P: Is it not very closely linked up with the volume of energy? K:

All right. She says it is linked up with the flame of energy. No,

Pupul, when you want something you burn like hell. Doesn't one?

When you want that girl or that man, you are at it.

FW: That makes the difference.

K: I want to create a crisis. Then there is action. Do you

understand what I am saying? Either you avoid the crisis or you

act. Pupul, is the crisis taking place? Because it is a very important

question. I come to you and talk about all this. You listen as far as

you can listen, as far as you can go, but nothing happens. You hear

it year after year, you take a little step each time,and by the end

you are dead. What he wants to do is to bring about an action

which is born out of tremendous crisis. He wants to break it up

because then there is no argument, there is no analysis. He has

created a crisis. Is that crisis the result of his influence, his words,

his feeling, his urgency or is it a crisis which you have got to break

through? That is his intention. He says that is the only thing that

matters.

A: The crisis is an external challenge to which I am unable to

find an adequate internal response, and because I cannot find an

adequate internal response, there is this crisis. The other crisis

which I understood you to speak of is not at all triggered by any

external fact but it is a projection from within.

K: His intention is to create a crisis, not superficial, not external

but inside.

A: Are not these two channels distinct? When the mind is

seeking an external crisis and seeking an adequate response from

within, that is one type of crisis; and the other type of crisis is that

within you there is the deep sense of inadequacy which says that

this cannot be put away because it is a heavy responsibility.

K: He has created that crisis in you, he is talking of truth. Is

there a crisis when you talk to him? His demand is that there

should be a crisis in you, not a superficial crisis. I think that is

listening with the heart. He has turned you inwards so deeply, or he

has taken away all anchorage. I think that is listening with the

heart. The monsoon says to you: `Please collect all the water you

can, next year there will be no monsoon.' You understand? That

makes you build every kind of hold to collect water. So where are

we at the end of it?

P: In a strange way it also implies lifting your hands off

everything.

K: It may not. It may mean that an action which you have not

premeditated may take place. If there is crisis, then it will happen.

EXPLORATION INTO INSIGHT

'REGISTRATION, THE MOVEMENT OF

MILLENNIA'

P: Krishnaji, you have spoken about holding the quality of anger,

fear or any strong emotion, without the word, in consciousness.

Could we probe into that? The wiping away, whether it is a hurt,

fear, anger or any one of the darknesses within one, is only

possible if what you are talking about takes place. Can we come to

that passion of feeling, which goes behind all these words of fear,

anger, etc? Can that be held in consciousness?

K: What does it mean to hold the feeling of anger, whatever `is',

without the word? Is this possible?

P: And is there anything without the word?

K: Go on.

FW: Is there fear when there is not the word `fear'? And what is

the nature of the energy in the body or in the whole being if there is

no naming?

A: Clarity for us means naming. When we want to probe into a

strong feeling, a disturbance, we want to know precisely what it is,

we don't want any self-deception. Invariably, before we have been

able to grasp it completely, we have named it. So, naming is both

our instrument of clarity and the cause of confusion.

K: Is the word different from the fact, from `what is'? Is the

word `door' different from the door? The word `door' is not the

actuality. So, the word is not the thing.

S: The question arises, then, can one ever indicate the actuality?

K: We are going to find out. We are going into it slowly.

R: Is there a difference between the statements, `the word

"door" is not the door' and ` "Fear" is not fear'? The two things

seem to be different.

K: The word `door' is not the actuality. The name `K' is not the

actuality; the form is not the actuality. So, the word is not the thing.

The `door', the word, is different from the actuality. We are trying

to find out if the word `fear' is different from the actuality. Does

the actuality represent the word and without the word is there the

actuality?

S: What is the feeling of fear without the word?

K: Let us go very very slowly. I want to make this perfectly

clear to myself. There is the word `fear', now is the word `fear'

different from the actuality, the emotion, the feeling of fear and

without the word is there that feeling?

R: Word is thought.

K: So, the word is the medium through which thought expresses

itself. Without the word, can thought express itself? Of course it

can; a gesture, a look, a nod of the head, and so on. Without the

word, thought can express itself to a very very limited extent.

When you want to express something very complicated in thought,

the word is necessary. But the word is not the actual thought, the

actual state.

A: I raise one difficulty: we perceive with the senses. That

process ends when there is naming. That starts the tertiary process.

With the naming, a number of complicated things begin in my

brain. Now, I see this and wipe out the word, the name. When I

have wiped out the name, I have not wiped out the feeling.

K: I am not quite sure, Achyutji. Pupulji is asking, what is the

quality of the mind that without the word can hold that feeling

without any movement, right?

R: But we are questioning whether the feeling arises without the

word?

K: That is all. P: If I may say so, there are many things in

consciousness which arise prior to the word.

Rad: Primordial fear; but can it be sustained without the word?

P: I am not talking about sustaining. But there are various

things, tenderness, joy for instance.

K: Can you observe something without the word? Can you

observe me, the form, for the moment without the word?

P: Yes.

K: You can. Now, you are already observing the form, you have

removed the word `K' and you are observing the form.

P: We are observing. I don't say we are observing the form.

K: Then, what are you observing?

P: You see, sir, the moment you say 'I am observing the form',

there has to be naming.

K: There has to be a name.

P: There has to be naming.

K: No.

P: Please listen, sir, when I say there is just observing, then the

form is part of the whole observing field. I am observing, not only

you, I am observing.

K: I said, remove the word `K', and observe the form. That is

all. Of course, you are observing. I am limiting it to just the form.

Are you observing the form?

P: Yes. I am observing the form.

K: What are you trying to get at?

P: I am trying to see whether the word is prior to that.

K: Pupul, let us keep simple. There is fear. I want to find out

whether the word has created that fear. The word is the recognition

of that thing which I have called fear, because that fear has

gone on for many years, and I have recognized it through the word.

Ten years ago I was afraid, that fear is registered in my brain with

the word. With the word is associated fear. It occurs again today

and immediately the recognizing process sets in, which is the word,

and so on. So, the word gives me a feeling that I have had before.

The word encourages the feeling, has stabilized the feeling.

R: Yes. Sustains it.

K: It holds it. The word holds the thing by recognizing it, by

remembering it and so on. Now, I am asking whether without the

word there can be fear. The word is a process of recognition. Fritz,

look at it. You are afraid. How do you know you are afraid?

FW: By naming it.

K: Now, how do you know it?

FW: I have been afraid before, so I know that feeling. So, as it

comes again, I recognize it.

K: If you recognize it, it is a verbal process; if you don't

recognize it, what is the state?

FW: There is no fear. There is energy in the body.

K: No, sir. Don't use the word `energy' because we will go into

something else. There is fear. I have recognized it by naming it. In

naming it, I have put it into a category and the brain remembers it,

registers it, holds it. If there is no recognition, no verbal movement,

would there be fear? P: There is disturbance.

K: I am using the word `fear'. Stick to fear.

P: If I may say so, fear is not such a simple thing that you can

say, if there is no naming of it, fear is not...

K: I don't say that, yet. Of course, there is a lot of complexity

involved in it. P: It is a tremendous thing.

S: Psychologically something happens even before naming

takes place.

P: There are profoundly deep fears.

S: If we accept only this position that the word creates fear, that

means there is no content to fear at all.

K: I don't say that. There is a process of recognition. If that

process of recognition didn't exist, if that is at all possible, then,

what is fear? I am not saying it doesn't exist. I am asking a

question. If there is no process of registration, recording, which is

memory in operation, what is the thing called fear?

P: Remove the word `fear', and see what remains. Any word I

use is going to apply exactly as much as the word `fear'.

K: I am attacking it quite differently. You insult me because I

have an image. There is an immediate registration taking place. I

am asking: Can that registration come to an end when you insult

me and so there is no recording at all?

S: I don't understand this. That is a totally different process.

K: It is exactly the same thing. Fear arises because I am afraid

of the past. The past is registered and that incident in the past

awakens the sense of fear. That fear has been registered. Is it

possible to observe the new feeling, whatever it is, without

bringing the past into action? Have you got it?

Rad: There is a feeling of recognition before you actually call it

fear.

K: No, look. Let us go calmly. You insult me. I insult you.

What takes place? You register it, don't you?

Rad: I register it when I recognize it initially. That itself creates

a momentum.

K: Therefore, stop that momentum. Can that momentum be

stopped? Look Radhika, let us put it much more simply. You are

hurt. Aren't you? You are hurt from childhood for various reasons

and it has been deeply registered in the mind, in the brain. The

instinctive reaction is not to be hurt any more. So, you build a wall,

withdraw. Now, without building the wall, can you know that you

are hurt, can you be aware of it and the next time a process of hurt

begins, not register it?

FW: What do you mean by registering?

K: Our brain is a tape recorder. It is registering all the time,

there is like and dislike, pleasure and pain. It is moving, moving. I

say something ugly to you and the brain immediately takes charge,

registers it. Now, I say: `Can you stop that registration, though it

has registered? And next time if there is any insult, do not register

it at all.' You understand what I am talking about? First, see the

question. Is the question clear?

FW: That means not to form any image of it right away.

K: No, no. Just don't introduce the image for the moment. That

becomes yet more complex. Can you recognize the word but not

brain is registering all the time. You call me a fool, that is

registered for various reasons. That is a fact. The next question is:

Can that registration stop? Otherwise the mind, the brain, has no

sense of freedom.

P: The brain is a live thing. It has to register. Registration is one

thing, but the cutting of the momentum is the movement away

from registration.

K: That is what I am talking about.

S: Aren't you speaking of two things: one is the stopping of the

momentum and the other stopping registration altogether.

K: First, get what I am talking about. Then you can question.

Then you can make it clear.

P: When you say do not register, does that mean the brain cells

come to a stop? K: Look, Pupulji, it is very important because if

there is no possibility of stopping registration, then the brain

becomes mechanical.

A: I want to question this, because you are oversimplifying the

matter. Actually, our state of receiving anything is without our

knowing that there is either a preference or an aversion, and fear is

in that cycle. It arises from the past, and is not directly related to

what I perceive. But it is that which perceives.

K: As long as the brain is registering all the time, it is moving

from knowledge to knowledge. Now, I am challenging the word. I

see knowledge is limited, fragmented and so on and I am asking

myself whether registration can stop.

GM: Can the brain answer that question?

K: I think it can, in the sense the brain can become aware of its

own registering process.

P: There are certain fears which you can deal with in that way.

But fear has been the cry of man for millennia. And you are that

cry.

K: I know. Stop. That cry of millennia is fear. The brain has

been registering for millennia. Therefore, registering has become

part of it. The brain has become mechanical. I say: Can that

mechanical process stop? That is all. If it cannot be stopped it

becomes merely a machine, which it is. This is all part of tradition,

part of repetition, part of the constant registration through

millennia. I am asking a simple question which has great depth to

it, which is: Can it stop? If it cannot stop, man is never free.

Par: May I ask you a question? Why do we register at all?

K: For safety, security, protection, certainty. The registration is

to give the brain a certain sense of security.

P: Isn't the brain itself involved? It has evolved through

registration.

K: It has evolved through knowledge, which is registration. P:

What is it from within itself which says `stop'?

K: Somebody challenges me.

P: What is the factor which makes you say `stop'?

K: Someone comes along and says: Look, through millennia

man has evolved through knowledge and at present you are

certainly different from the great apes. And he says: Look, as long

as you are registering, you are living a fragmentary life because

knowledge is fragmentary and whatever you do from that

fragmentary state of brain is incomplete. Therefore, there is pain,

suffering. So, we are asking at the end of that explanation, can that

registration, can that movement of the past, end? Listen. I am

making it simple. Can this movement of millennia stop?

P: I am asking you this question: Is there something in the very

quality of listening?

K: Yes, there is. That's it.

P: And that listening ends, silences this registration.

K: That is it. That is my point. You have come into my life by

chance. You have come into my life and you have pointed out to

me that my brain has evolved through knowledge, through

registration, through experience; and that knowledge, that

experience is fundamentally limited. And whatever action takes

place from that limited state will be fragmentary and therefore

there will be conflict, pain. Find out if that momentum which has

tremendous volume, depth, can end. You know it is a tremendous

flow of energy which is knowledge. Stop that knowledge. That is

all.

FW: May I ask you a question? Much reference has been made

to the tape-recorder which just goes on registering, and it can't stop

itself. It has to be stopped. But then, can the brain stop itself?

K: We are going to find out. First, face the question, that is my

point. First, listen to the question.

S: Is the whole of my consciousness only registration? In the

whole of my consciousness, is there only registration going on? K:

Of course.

S: Then, what is it that can observe that registering?

K: What is it that can observe this registering or can prevent

registering? I also know silence, - the silence that is between two

noises...

S: Is the silence which I experience also registered?

K: Obviously.

S: You can't use the word `registering' for silence.

K: As long as there is this registration process going on, it is

mechanical. Is there silence which is non-mechanistic? A silence

which has not been thought about, induced, brought about or

invented. Otherwise, the silence is merely mechanistic.

S: But one knows the non-mechanistic silence sometimes.

K: Not sometimes.

Raj: Sir, is it possible for a non-mechanistic silence to come?

K: No, no. I am not interested in that. I am asking something

entirely different: this momentum, this conditioning, the whole o

consciousness is the past. It is moving. There is no future

consciousness. The whole consciousness is the past, registered,

remembered, stored up as experience, knowledge, fear, pleasure.

That is the whole momentum of the past. And somebody comes

along and says: Listen to what I have to say, can you end that

momentum? Otherwise this momentum, with its fragmentary

activity, will go on endlessly.

Raj: I think this movement can be stopped only if you don't

hang on to it.

K: No, the momentum is you. You are not different from the

momentum. You don't recognize that you are this vast momentum,

this river of tradition, of racial prejudices, the collective drive, the

so-called individual assertions. If there is no stopping that, there is

no future. So, there is no future if this current is going on You may

call it a future, but it is only the same thing modified. There is no

future. I wonder if you see this.

P: An action takes place and darkness arises in me. The

question arises: Can consciousness with its own content, which is

darkness -

K: End. Hold it.

P: What do you mean exactly?

K: Can you hold, can the brain hold this momentum, or is it an

idea that it is momentum? You follow what I mean? Listen to it

carefully. Is the momentum actual or is it an idea? If it is an idea,

then you can hold the idea about the momentum. But, if it is not an

idea, a conclusion, then the brain is directly in contact with the

momentum. I wonder if you follow. And therefore, it can say: `All

right, I will watch.' It is watching, it is not allowing it to move.

Now, is it the word you are holding on to, or are you observing this

vast movement? Look, you are the vast movement. When you say

you are that vast movement, is it an idea?

Raj: No.

K: Therefore, you are that. Find out if that thing can end - the

past coming, meeting the present, a challenge, a question and

ending there. Otherwise, there is no end to suffering. Man has put

up with suffering for thousands upon thousands of years. That

momentum is going on and on. I can give ten explanations -

reincarnation, karma - but I still suffer. This suffering is the vast

momentum of man. Can that momentum come to an end without

control? The controller is the controlled. Can that momentum stop?

If it does not stop, then there is no freedom, then action will always

be incomplete. Can you see the whole of that, see it actually?

P: Can we ever see that? When we see feeling in the present,

what is it we are seeing?

K: I call you a fool. Must you register it?

P: I can't just answer why should I register. K: Don't register.

P: It is a question of whether these eyes and ears of mine are

flowing out to the word; if they are still and listen, there is no

registration. There is listening but no registration.

K: So, what are you seeing?

P: There is no seeing of this movement. I have been observing

while this discussion has been going on and I say: What does it

mean to register the fact? I am listening, you are listening.

Obviously, if my listening is directed to the word, which is coming

out of me, I register, and this very movement outward throws it

back. But if the eyes and the ears are seeing and listening, but still,

then they take in without any registration.

K: So, you are saying that there is a quietness in listening. There

is no registration, but most of us are not quiet.

P: We can't answer that question of yours: Why should one

K: No. I am asking quite a different question. Someone calls

you a fool. Don't register it at all.

P: It is not a process in which I can register or I can't register.

The way you put it, you are suggesting two alternatives: it is either

to register or not to register.

K: No. You are registering all the time.

P: There is a registration all the time. So long as my senses are

moving outward, there is registration.

K: No; when you say `as long as', that means you are not now.

P: No. I am giving an explanation.

K: I want to find out whether this vast stream of the past can

come to an end. That is all my question.

P: You won't accept anything. You won't accept any final

statement on it. Therefore, there has to be a way to end. K: I am

asking: How can it end?

P: So, we have to move from that to the brain cells - to the

actual registration.

K: So, the brain cells are registering. Those brain cells which

are so heavily conditioned, have realized that momentum is the

only safety. So, in that momentum, the brain has found tremendous

security. Right? P: Please listen to me. There is only one

movement which is the movement of the past, touching the present

and moving on.

K: The past meeting the present, moving on, modifying - we

have gone into that. The brain is conditioned to that. It sees as long

as that stream exists, it is perfectly safe. Now, how are those cells

to be shown that the momentum of the past in which the brain cells

have found enormous security and well-being is the most

dangerous movement? Now, to point out to that brain the danger of

this momentum is all that matters. The moment it sees the actual

danger, it will end it. Do you see the danger of this movement? Not

the theoretical danger, but the actual physical danger?

P: Are your brain cells saying that this movement is dangerous?

K: My brain is using the words to inform you of the danger, but

it has no danger in it. It has seen it and dropped it. Do you see the

danger of a cobra? When you see the danger, you avoid it. You

avoid it because you have been conditioned through millennia to

the danger of a snake. So, your responses are according to the

conditioning, which is instant action.

The brain has been conditioned to carry on because in that there

is complete safety, in meeting the present, learning from it,

modifying it and moving on. To the brain, that is the only safe

movement it knows, so it is going to remain there. But the moment

the brain realizes that it is the most dangerous thing, it drops it

because it wants security.

Raj: I don't see the danger of the momentum as actually as you

see it. K: Why, sir?

Raj: Partly because I have never observed the vast momentum

to see its danger.

K: Are you living with the description of the momentum or

living with the momentum itself which is you? You understand my

question, sir? Is the momentum different from you?

Raj: No, sir.

K: So, you are the momentum? So, you are watching yourself?

Raj: Yes. But this does not happen often.

K: Often? The words `often' and `continuous' are awful words.

Are you aware without any choice that you are the momentum, not

sometimes? You can say: I only see the precipice occasionally. If

the word is not the thing, then the word is not fear. Now, has the

word created fear?

R: No.

K: Don't quickly answer it. Find out. Go slowly, Radhaji. The

word is not the thing. That is very clear. Fear is not the word, but

has the word created the fear? Without the word, would that thing

called `fear' exist? The word is the registration process. Then,

something totally new arises. That new, the brain refuses because it

is a new thing; so, it immediately says it is fear. For the brain to

hold the momentum of that, wait, watch. Give a gap between the

movement of thought, without interfering with the actual

movement of feeling. The gap can only happen when you go very

deeply into the question that the word is not the thing, the word is

not fear. Immediately, you have stopped the momentum. I wonder

if you see this.

P: I still want to get the thing clear. Is it possible to hold a

quality of feeling without the word, whether it is hatred, anger or

fear.

K: Of course, you can hold the feeling of anger, fear, without

the word; just remain with that feeling. Do it. P: But what do you

do exactly?

K: When fear arises from whatever cause, remain with it,

without any momentum, without any movement of thought.

P: What is it then?

K: It is no longer the thing which I have associated with the past

as fear. I would say it is energy held without any movement. When

energy is held without any movement, there is an explosion. That

then gets transformed.

EXPLORATION INTO INSIGHT 'THE NATURE

OF DESPAIR'

P: Can we examine the roots of despair? It is a very real problem in

our life. In a sense, the root of sorrow is the root of despair; it must

be of the same nature.

K: I wonder what is despair. I have never felt it. Therefore,

please convey it to me. What do you mean by `despair'?

P: A sense of utter futility.

K: Is that it - a sense of utter futility? I doubt that. It is not quite

that. Not knowing what to do, would you call that despair?

R: The total absence of meaning and significance: is that what

you mean?

FW: I would like to suggest `a state of paralysed hope'.

P: Despair, in a sense, has really nothing to do with hope.

K: Is it related to sorrow? Is it self-pity? I am questioning, I am

not suggesting.

P: It is not self-pity. Self-pity is narrow in its dimension.

K: We are investigating. Is it related to sorrow? Is sorrow

related to despair and the sense of deep self-pity that can't find a

way out?

P: I feel all these descriptions are narrow.

K: They are narrow, but we will make them wider. Would you

say it is the end of the road, reaching the end of the tether? If there

is no way around something, you look somewhere else, but that

doesn't mean despair.

FW: I could imagine that the mother whose child dies is

desperate. K: Not quite. I won't call that desperate. I should think

this is related to sorrow. P: Have we not all known despair?

K: I don't know. I am asking; tell me.

P: There is an utter and total sense of futility.

K: No, Pupul. Instead of `futility' use a more significant word -

futility is so futile - put it another way.

R: I think it is the end of the tether.

K: End of hope, end of search, end of relationship. Does

somebody else know despair?

FW: I think it is a blank wall.

K: Blank wall is not despair.

A: Something dies even before your body has died.

K: Is that despair?

Par: Utter helplessness.

B: Is there any relationship to sorrow? I think it is the bottom of

sorrow, the pit of sorrow.

K: Balasundaram, you mean to say you have never known

despair?

Par: It is the opposite of hope.

K: No, Doctor. Do you know what despair is? Could you tell

me what it is?

Par: A state resulting from failures.

K: Failure? You are making it much too small. I think despair

has rather a large canvas. I have talked to people who were in

despair. Apparently, none of you know despair. Do you?

R: I don't think I know despair. I know what suffering is. K: I

want to question. When we talk about despair, is it something

profound or is it merely the end of one's tether?

P: You know despair. Now, tell us a little about it.

Par: Is it darkness?

K: No, sir. Do you know what despair is? A man who is

suffering knows exactly what it means. He doesn't beat about the

bush. He says I have suffered, I know my son is dead, and there is

an appalling sense of isolation, loss, a sense of self-pity, a

tremendous storm; it is a crisis. Would you say despair is a crisis?

JC: Yes, sir.

K: Don't please agree with me yet. Apparently, except for one

or two, nobody seems to be in despair.

R: Is it a form of escape from suffering?

K: In despair, is jealousy involved, a sense of loss? I possess

you and you suddenly drop me, build a wall against me, - is that

part of despair? I am sorry this is something quite out of my depth.

I am not saying it is valid or not valid; but I am just asking what is

`despair'? What is the dictionary meaning?

FW: The root of the word comes from hope.

K: Have you been in despair, sir? Using the common word,

which you and I use, do you know what it means - despair? Is it a

deep sense of fear?

P: When you get to the depths of yourself, to the very root of

yourself, do you think it is possible to distinguish between fear and

despair?

K: No, then why do you use the word `despair'?

A: Sir, I think the word despair is distinct from the sense of fear.

P: When you hit the bottom, then it is very difficult to

differentiate between fear, sorrow, despair. K: May I ask - not you

personally - have you really reached the lowest depths of yourself?

And when you do, is it despair?

P: Sir, when you ask that question, there can be no possible

answer. How does one know the depths?

K: Is it a sense of helplessness or is it much more than that?

P: It is much more than that. Because in helplessness you have

hope.

K: Therefore, it is something much more significant than hope.

What is that feeling or what is that state where one feels

completely, utterly in despair? Is it that no movement of any kind

takes place, and since there is no movement, would you call that

despair?

P: How do you differentiate?

K: Look, I love my son and he has gone to the dogs and I can't

do anything. I can't even talk to him, I can't even approach him, I

can't go near him, touch him. Would that state be despair? The

word `desperate: desperate and despair. Would you consider to be

desperate a state of despair?

FW: We sometimes say: `I desperately want something.' There

is a projection in it that I want something.

P: There is an urgency towards a direction in that. There is no

urgency towards anything in this.

FW: Then despair is not the proper word.

P: Despair is a very important word in living.

B: It is also lack of energy. To be in despair is not to be

desperate for something - but to touch the nadir of energy they are

all one.

P: When you plunge into depths, you cannot separate sorrow

from despair. I do not think that the distinction is fundamentally

valid.

S: Pupulji, when you started, you wanted to make a distinction

between despair and sorrow. P: I am finding that when you go

down, delve, the distinction between despair and sorrow does not

exist.

K: Are you asking what is the root of sorrow?

P: No, sir. I find that it is not possible for me to divide sorrow

from despair.

JC: Despair is a feeling of nothingness.

FW: But the root of the word must have some significance.

P: It may have no significance. A word may not cover its

meaning. Sir, some people must have come to you in despair.

There is the sorrow of nothingness, of despair.

K: Pupulji, are we saying despair is related to sorrow, related to

that sense of total abnegation of all relationship?

P: Yes, a total anguish.

K: A total anguish, the total feeling of complete isolation which

means having no access or no relationship to anything. Is despair

related to sorrow, related to isolation, withholding?

JC: There is a finality to it, the end of all your hope or your

expectation.

K: Have you, or anyone reached that point? The darkness of the

soul, the Christians call it, the dark night of the soul? Would you

call it that? Is that despair? That is much more potent than despair.

P: You can't tell me that I am at this level or that level.

K: May we begin this way, Pupul? Let us use the word and the

depth of that word, the meaning of that word `sorrow' first. Begin

with that.

P: In varying degrees, we all know sorrow.

K: Grief, a sense of helplessness, a sense of no way out. Does

that bring about despair?

P: That is despair. Why do you object? K: I would not call it

despair. Let us go slowly. Let us feel our way. My son is dead, and

that is what I call sorrow. I have lost him. I will never see him

again. I lived with him, we had played together, everything is gone

and suddenly overnight I realize how utterly lonely I am. Would

you call that feeling, that deep sense of loneliness, not having a

companion, despair? Or, is it that sense of deep awareness, of a

total lack of any kind of relationship with anybody, which is

loneliness? Would you say that loneliness is despair?

P: You use a word to describe a situation, to fit a situation.

K: I will describe the situation.

P: You can use the word `sorrow' or you can use `despair' but

the situation remains the same.

K: What is it, how to get out of it, what to do with it?

P: No, you have said `remain totally with sorrow'. Is sorrow the

summation of all energy?

K: I don't follow.

P: You have said that in the depth of sorrow is the summation of

all energy. This must be of the same nature.

K: I understand what you are saying. Last night K said sorrow is

the essence of all energy, the quintessence of all energy. All energy

is focused there; I think that's right. Now, is that a fact? Is that an

actuality?

P: This morning, I certainly had a feeling of the other which I

call despair. I certainly had it, total, absolute. Whatever statement I

make now, will move me away.

K: Look, Pupul, I think I am getting it. My son is dead and I

realize what is involved in that. That is a fact which can never be

altered. Is the refusal to accept the actual fact despair? I totally,

completely, accept that my son is dead. I can't do anything about it.

He is gone. I remain with the fact. I don't call that despair, sorrow,

I don't give it a name. I remain with the actual fact that he is

finished. What do you say? Can you remain with that fact without

any movement away from it?

P: Is the sorrow or despair also not an unalterable fact?

K: No... Let us look at it slowly, carefully. I loved my son and

suddenly he is gone. The result of that is, there is a tremendous

sense of energy which is translated as sorrow. Right? The word

`sorrow' indicates this fact; only that fact remains. That is not

despair.

Let us move away from that. I want to see what actually takes

place when there is this enormous crisis and the mind realizes that

any form of escape is a projection into the future, and remains with

that fact without any movement. The fact is immovable. Can I

remain, can the mind remain with that immovable fact and not

move away from it? Let us make it very very simple. I am angry,

furious because I have given my life to something and I find

somebody has betrayed that, and I feel furious. That fury is all

energy. You follow? I haven't acted upon that energy. It is a

gathering of all your energy which is expressed in a fury of anger.

Can I remain with that fury of anger? Not translate, not hit out, not

rationalize, just hold it. Is it possible? What happens? I won't even

call it despair.

A: Would you say it is a state of depression?

K: No, no. That is reaction. This I remain with. It is going to tell

me. I am not going to call it depression. That means I am acting

upon it.

A: I am saying that the patient is there, there is an infection and

a fever. Now the fever is the symptom of that infection. In that way

I have watched myself with anger without trying to do anything to

it.

K: No, Achyutji, I don't mean that you watch it. You are that

anger, you are that total fury and that total energy of that fury.

A: There is no energy. What goes with it is a feeling of total

helplessness. K: No, sir. I think I understand what Pupulji is talking

about, which is, I have come to realize that I am caught in a net of

my own making, and I can't move, I am paralysed. Would that be

despair?

JC: If a woman who can't swim sees her son drowning in the

sea, then I think there is absolute despair, because she knows that

he could be saved, but she is unable to do it. You follow?

K: Very well, sir. But I think we are getting away from

something. We are now describing in different ways the meaning

of despair, the meaning of sorrow, the meaning of all that.

A: The condition that you have described just now and what

Pupulji was describing is different from anger. Anger is the

reaction to somebody's else's behaviour. This is a reaction to your

own situation.

K: It is not a reaction, but an awareness of one's own

insufficiency and that insufficiency at its depth, not superficially, is

despair, is that it?

FW: Isn't there much more than this? I question this awareness

of insufficiency, because there is already the element of not

wanting to accept that insufficiency.

P: How do you know?

FW: I have tried to gather from what you said.

K: Look, Fritz, either you feel it or it is not a fact. Would you

say, if I may ask, have you ever felt totally insufficient?

FW: I can't remember. I don't know.

K: But I come to you and I say I have felt this total

insufficiency and I want to understand it, it is boiling in me, I am in

a desperate state about it. How would you tackle it? How would

you help me go beyond it?

FW: I know something quite similar to that, for example most

of the things in life I am unable to understand and I also see that

my brain is completely inadequate to understand. So, if you mean

that insufficiency, I am aware of that insufficiency.

K: Sir, I realize I am insufficient. I am aware of it. Then I try to

fill it with various things. I know I am filling it and I see as I fill it,

it is still empty, still insufficient. I have come to the point when I

see that whatever I do, that insufficiency can never be wiped out;

filled. That is real sorrow or despair. Is that it, Pupulji? Look, I

want to get at something here. May I proceed? My son is dead. I

am not only desperate, but I am in profound shock, profound sense

of loss which I call sorrow. My instinctual response is to run away,

is to explain, is to act upon it. Now, I realize the futility of that and

I don't act. I won't call it sorrow, I won't call it despair, I won't call

it anger, but I see the fact is the only thing; nothing else.

Everything else is non-fact. Now, what takes place there? That's

what I want to get at. If that is despair, if you remain with it

without naming it, without recognizing it, if you remain with it

totally without any movement of thought, what takes place? That's

what we are going to discuss.

R: It is very difficult because thought says remain with it, and

that is still thought.

K: No, that's an intellectual game. That is totally invalid. I meet

an immovable fact and come to it with a desperate desire to move

it, for whatever reason - love, affection, whatever motive, and so I

battle against it, but the fact cannot be changed. Can I face the fact

without any sense of hope, despair, all that verbal structure and just

say, `Yes, I am what I am'? I think then some kind of explosive

action takes place if I can remain there.

A: Sir, there is some purgation called for, before this happens.

Some purgation of the heart is called for, as I see it.

K: I won`t call it purgation. See, Achyutji, you know what

sorrow is, don't you? Can you remain with it without any

movement? What takes place when there is no movement? I am

getting it now - when my son is dead, that is an immovable

irrevocable fact; and when I remain with it, which is also an

immovable, irreconcilable fact, the two facts meet. P: In the

profundity of sorrow without any known cause, there is nothing to

react to, there is no incident to react to.

K: No analytical process is possible, I understand.

P: In a sense thought is paralysed there.

K: Yes, that's it. There is the immovable fact that my son is

dead and also that I have no escape is another fact. So, when these

two facts meet, what takes place?

P: As I said, the past is still there not because of any volition.

K: I understand.

P: Now, what is possible after that?

JC: Our lack of awareness will not allow two facts.

K: That's what I want to find out. Something must happen. I am

questioning whether there are two facts or only one fact. The fact

that my son is dead and the fact that I must not move away from it.

The latter is not a fact. That is an idea, and therefore it is not a fact.

There is only one fact. My son is dead. That is an absolute,

immovable fact. It is an actuality. And I say to myself, I must not

escape, I must meet it completely. And I say that is fact. I question

if it is a fact. It is an idea. It is not a fact as is the fact that my son is

dead. He is gone. There is only one fact. When you separate the

fact from yourself and say, `I must meet it with all my attention,'

that's non-fact. The fact is the other.

S: But my movement is a fact. Isn't it?

K: Is it a fact or is it an idea?

S: Not wanting to stay there, but moving away from that energy

of anger or moving away from the energy of hurt, isn't it a fact?

K: Yes, of course. You remember, we discussed the other day -

an abstraction can be a fact. I believe I am Jesus. That is a fact, as

is the fact that I believe `I am a good man'. Both are facts; both are

brought about by thought. That's all. Sorrow is not brought about

by thought, but by an actuality which has been translated as

sorrow.

S: Sorrow is not brought about by thought?

K: Wait, wait, go into it slowly. I am not sure. As I said, this is a

dialogue, discussion. I say something. You must tear it up.

S: There are different types of sorrow.

K: No, no. My son is dead, that is a fact.

R: And the question is of meeting the fact that he is not there.

JC: Sorrow is not a fact?

K: My son is dead. That is a fact. And that fact reveals the

nature of my relationship to him, my commitment to him, my

attachment to him, etc. which are all non-facts.

P: Sir, that comes later. When my son dies, there is only one

thing.

K: That's all I am saying.

P: Actually if your son is dead, in that moment can the mind

move away?

K: For the moment it is paralysed, totally paralysed.

P: That is the moment.

K: No, look, my son is dead, and I am paralysed by it; both

psychologically and physiologically I am in a state of shock. That

shock wears off:

P: In a sense, the intensity of that state has already dissipated

itself.

K: No. Shock is not a realization of the fact. It is a physical

shock. Somebody has hit me on the head.

P: There is shock.

K: That's all. Paralysis has taken place, for a few days, for a few

hours, few minutes. When a shock takes place, my consciousness

is not functioning. P: Something is functioning.

K: No, just tears. It is paralysed. That is one state. But it is not a

permanent state. It is a transient state out of which I am going to

emerge.

P: But the moment I start coming out...

K: No, the shock I got, there I face reality.

P: How do you face reality?

K: Let us see. My brother or sister dies, and at the moment, that

moment may last a few days or a few hours, it is a tremendous

psychosomatic shock. There is no activity of the mind, no activity

of consciousness. This is like being paralysed. That is not a state.

P: It is sorrow, that is the energy of sorrow. 4

K: That energy has been much too strong.

P: Any movement away dissipates that energy?

K: No, but the body cannot remain psychosomatically in a state

of shock.

P: Then, how does it face sorrow?

K: I am coming to that. It is like a man who is paralysed and

wanting to speak. He can't.

P: What takes place when shock goes?

K: You are waking up to the fact, the fact that your son is dead.

Thought then begins, the whole movement of thought begins.

There are tears. I say, `I wish I had behaved properly, I wish I had

not said those last cruel words at the last minute.' Then, you begin

to escape from that - `I would like to meet my brother in my next

life, in the astral place.' I escape. I am saying if you don't escape

and don't observe the fact as though different from yourself, then

the observer is the observed.

P: The whole of that thing is that initial state of shock. K: I

question that, Pupul. Go into it a bit more. It is a shock which the

body and the psyche cannot tolerate, there is paralysis which has

taken place.

P: But if there is energy?

K: It is too strong. It is much too strong. This is a fact.

P: Let us go slowly, sir.

K: Then, we are not talking about the same thing.

P: It is at the instant of death that there is a total realization of

this. It then gets dissipated.

K: No, would you put it this way, Pupul? Leave aside death for

the moment.

P: But that is also a total thing.

K: Wait, I am coming to that. When there is death, the

tremendous shock has driven out everything. It is not the same as

the mountain, that marvellous scenery. These two are entirely

different.

P: It depends, sir, on the state of the mind.

K: It depends on the state of relationship.

P: And the state of mind when death actually takes place.

K: Yes. So what are we discussing? What are we having a

dialogue about?

P: We are trying to discover how in this maximum energyquotient

which arises out of despair, death, sorrow; what is the

chemical alchemy which transforms the energy which is seemingly

destructive and hurtful into what you call passion. If one allows

sorrow or despair to corrode one, which is a natural process, then

you have brought in another element.

K: When energy is not dissipated through words, when the

energy of the shock of some great event is not dissipated, that

energy without a motive has quite a different significance. P: If I

may ask, this holding it in consciousness...

K: It is not in consciousness.

P: Is it not in consciousness?

K: It is not in consciousness. If you hold it in your

consciousness, it is part of thought. Your consciousness is put

together by thought.

S: It has arisen in consciousness.

K: No.

S: Then, what is it?

K: The holding of it, not running away from it, remaining with

it.

P: What is the entity that does not move?

K: There is no entity.

P: Then what is it?

K: The entity is when there is movement away from the fact.

P: How does the entity end itself?

K: Look, Pupul, let us make it very simple, clear.

P: It is very important.

K: I agree, it is very interesting. There is a shock. The

realization is gone out of the shock, there is sorrow. The very word

`sorrow, is a distraction. The escape is a distraction away from the

fact. To remain totally with that fact means no interference of the

movement of thought; therefore, you are now not consciously

holding it. I will repeat it. Consciousness is put together by

thought. Content makes thought. The event of my son's death is not

thought, but when I bring it into thought, it is within my

consciousness. That is very important. I have discovered

something.

P: Is the very force of that energy that which totally silences

thought?

K: Put it that way if you like. Thought cannot touch it. But our

conditioning, our tradition, our education is to touch it, change,

modify, rationalize, run away from it, which is the activity of

consciousness.

R: The crux of it seems to be giving a name to the form that it

takes and that is the seed from which the rest of the distraction

grows.

K: It is very interesting. I can't remember when my brother died.

But from what Shiva Rao and others have told me, it seems that

there was a shock period, and when K came out of it, he remained

with that thing; he did not go to Dr. Besant and ask for help. So,

now I can see how it happens. The shock; when the shock is over,

you come to the fact that a tremendous event has taken place -

death; not mine or yours, my brother's or your brother's, but death

has taken place, which is an extraordinary event as is birth. Now,

can one look at it, observe it without consciousness as thought

entering into it?

P: Let us go back to sorrow. You have said: 'Sorrow is not born

of thought.'

K: Yes. Sorrow is not born of thought. What do you say about

it?

P: When the death of sorrow is, thought is not.

K: Wait, wait, Pupul. Sorrow is not the child of thought. That's

what K said. Why? The word `sorrow' is thought. The word is not

the thing, therefore that feeling of sorrow is not the word. When

the word is used, it becomes thought.

JC: We are talking about a situation where there has been a

shock. The access of that energy, the return to consciousness is

sorrow.

K: I have named it as sorrow.

JC: That is the return to the state of sorrow.

K: No. There is shock. Then, there is the moving away from

that shock.

P: If sorrow is stripped of the word...

K: Of course. That's why I want to be very clear. The word is

not the thing, therefore that feeling of sorrow is not the word. If the

word is not, thought is not.

P: Sorrow is one thing; even if you remove the word, the

content is.

K: Of course. So, is it possible not to name it? The moment you

name it, you bring it into consciousness.

S: Prior to naming, is the existing condition not part of

consciousness? The word is `sorrow: the moment you name it as

`sorrow', that is a different thing. The `what is' which is not named,

is it part of consciousness?

K: We said consciousness is its content. Its content is put

together by thought. An incident takes place where the energy

shock drives out consciousness for a second or for days or months

or whatever it is. Then, as the shock wears off, you begin to name

the state. Then, you bring that into consciousness. But it is not in

consciousness when it takes place.

(Continued ...)

(My humble salutations to the lotus feet of Sri Jiddu Krishnamurti and

gratitude to the great philosophers and followers of him.)

Category: Jiddu Krishnamurti - Exploration into Insight - 2

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Hindu Vedic Philosophy (The Paramardha Tattwam)

Jiddu Krishnamurti - Exploration into Insight - 2

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