Human all too human
"I was telling them this morning - for seventy years that super-energy - no - that immense energy, immense intelligence, has been using this body. I don't think that people realize what tremendous energy and intelligence went through this body - there's twelve cylinder engine. And for seventy years - was a pretty long time - and now the body can't stand any more. Nobody, unless the body has been prepared, very carefully protected, and so on - nobody can understand what went through this body. Nobody. Don't know what went on. I know they don't. And now after seventy years it has come to an end. Not that that intelligence and energy - it's somewhat here, every day, and especially at night. And after seventy years the body can't stand it - can't stand any more. It can't. The Indians have a lot of damned superstitions about this - that you will and the body goes - and all that kind of nonsense. You won't find another body like this, or that supreme intelligence, operating in a body for many hundred years. You won't see it again. When he goes, it goes. There is no consciousness left behind of that consciousness, of that state. They'll all pretend or try to imagine they can get into touch with that. Perhaps they will somewhat if they live the teachings. But nobody has done it. Nobody. And so that's that." (Lutyens, Mary. The Life and Death of Krishnamurti. London: Rider. 1990. page 206)
The above exchange took place between a group of people and Krishnamurti shortly before his death. It was recorded verbatim and later included in the biography by Mary Lutyens. Though the statements are not altogether coherent, one is left with the impression is that Krishnamurti is suggesting here that, after all, man cannot be free.
A frequent response to this passage is one of fear: Does this mean there's no hope for transformation? Does this mean I am doomed to live in pain and suffering? Does this mean that I have understood nothing? Is Krishnamurti's message flawed or does its delivery have some serious shortcomings?
However, perhaps a more important question has to do with authority and the solidity of one's own understanding of the teachings. Do I see something clearly or do I just agree with Krishnamurti that the teachings are valid? If I really see something clearly, that passage makes no difference. Does my understanding of division, relationship, the nature of time and self change because Krishnamurti said these words?
If by exposure to the teachings, there should result a real and acute awareness of the disorder in the human mind then the theoretical question of whether transformation is possible or not falls away. There is no choice but to respond to this essential discontent by continuing the inquiry - the urgency of the situation demands it.
Then, if my interest in "living the teachings" is not invalidated because Krishnamurti spoke those words, how can I look at the reality that apparently "no one has changed" from the point of view of the teachings themselves? Minds of varying abilities and dispositions, ranging from the extremely intelligent to the highly sensitive, have invested a great deal of time and effort in the teachings without effecting a radical transformation.
"Change implies a movement from what is to something different. Is this something different merely an opposite, or does it belong to a different order altogether?"
It would appear that something extraordinary is required, though not in a linear sense. It is not a matter of trying harder or trying better but of doing something entirely different, unrelated to anything attempted previously. Indeed, Krishnamurti corroborates this himself when he speaks of the need for "change that is total, completely radical and revolutionary".
Krishnamurti sometimes uses the metaphor of starting "on the other side of the river", to suggest that we turn towards what we don't know rather than putting more effort into modifying our understanding. He also refers to this as the "ending of time" or "freedom from the known" - quite enigmatic statements when taken in isolation. What does Krishnamurti mean by "the known"? Rather than just an inanimate reservoir of knowledge, he is using the term "known" to mean human perception, our very experience of living, the totality of our consciousness.
"I am asking what is consciousness. Consciousness is made up of content. Without the content, is there consciousness at all? The content of consciousness is consciousness. "
To Krishnamurti consciousness as it functions in most of us is inherently "corrupt". This basic corruption manifests as human conflict, both individually and collectively.
The teachings view conflict as an ever-present factor in the mind and not something that intermittently overshadows our daily life. As Krishnamurti puts it, there is "no interval" in pain and confusion and "our living is always on the border of sorrow". Unlike Krishnamurti, most of us take the possibility of human happiness for granted and as such have a more differentiated view of conflict. It is our feeling that conflict can be negotiated, mitigated and in certain instances overcome.
To Krishnamurti, the core misapprehension lies in this assumption that conflict is something separate from us, something that can be worked on. "Where there is division, there is conflict. That is a law." He maintains that as long as a division exists between us and our experience, conflict must continue. Conflict can beget many things; not, however, its own resolution.
Externally, in society we can see that conflict as it manifests as war, for example, is born of division as nationality, religious identification, etc. In this realm, conflict and division are perceptively linked. As it gets more and more personal, this clear connection becomes blurred and eventually disappears altogether. The base division between "me" and my experience is not seen to be a factor in creating conflict. On the contrary, we feel that it is this very separation that makes for the possibility of remedy. However, the unfortunate fact is that, despite our best efforts, conflict persists within and without.
Krishnamurti points out that dealing with conflict in this personal, piecemeal manner, although possibly bringing short-term relief, does not address the root cause of conflict. Given the limited success of this direct attack on the particular, he suggests that the only thing to do is to step back and gain a better understanding of how the mind works. To this end it would be helpful to consider what occurs as we meet a particular problem. First of all the problem is identified, for example as fear, jealousy, grief, confusion, etc. This is followed by the various internal responses - resistance, justification, resolution and so on. All along, the problem itself appears to float in a watertight compartment isolating it from our ideas of how best to deal with it. Unconsciously, we relegate the problem to a place outside of ourselves which then allows us to tackle it. Thus, what is missed is that the problem is itself also part of the mind. As Krishnamurti puts it, they are "all in the same field and on the same ground" - the problem, the understanding of the problem and the reactions to that understanding.
The significance of this realization is tremendous. It brings into serious question my very sense of reality, namely, that the "I" is at the center of my being, my ideas are in my head and that the facts are somewhere outside.
"The fact is not outside the field of the mind. It is still within the field of the mind, as interference is still within the field of the mind."
Seen in this light, human consciousness can be described as an animated wonderland, a dynamic interplay of alliances and oppositions between groups of images that are constantly shifting affiliations. Suffering results from the continual assault on the central hub of imagery which we call "I".
Krishnamurti uses the term transformation to mean the ending of conflict and not changing from one state to another in order to gain wider experience. This may explain why no amount of effort to execute what Krishnamurti is saying seems to "work". For transformation to be, experience has to end. It is because we are not finished with experience that we keep moving, analyzing, talking, struggling to effect experiential change. From the point of view of the teachings, what is not seen is that the motivating factors of desire and fear are ever present alongside the subtle expectations of what should happen when "it works".
Krishnamurti maintains that radical change cannot be the result of first understanding and then acting from that understanding. In the field of experience, even the most lucid understanding is bound to create further division by separating itself from that which it understands. It follows then that the ending of experience cannot be brought about through reaction, through compulsion, through newer and more innovative permutations of thought. In other words, transformation can have no cause. The question of transformation becomes then an impossible one, one that has no answer.
The teachings maintain that if one were to remain totally with the impossibility of transformation through the known and not budge from this crisis that there would be the birth of a unified awareness - an innate human quality wholly devoid of personal agenda - that can "see" the spurious divisions in the mind.
Any question directed at finding a way or a method to end experience is an escape that strengthens experience further. This is certainly not meant to be taken as a directive to simply wait for transformation to happen spontaneously. Waiting, a state of expectation, continues the thread of time and causality which is the very fabric of experience. "When I say, 'What shall I do in the meantime till the explosion takes place,' the interval between that moment and now, waiting for that explosion, is a deterioration." Doing nothing is not the same as waiting.
In fact, to Krishnamurti the main and perhaps the only issue is to see the necessity of doing nothing, of actually retreating from what we know, of having leisure. The beauty of leisure derives from the impossibility to cultivate it. It comes into being unobtrusively when all seeking has ended.
Question: "It seems to be a paradox. Unless you see it, you are not able to perceive it totally; you see it verbally."
Krishnamurti: "Seeing verbally, seeing emotionally, seeing partially, you do not see it. Then what? Do pursue it, go to the very end of it."
Question: "It comes to the end, there is nothing there. I do not know what to do."
Krishnamurti: "Then, do not do anything. You laugh! I am saying something very seriously: do not do anything except the mechanical things. But you are doing, all the time, something else. Do not do anything psychologically, inwardly; do nothing except what you have to do ordinarily in daily existence. Have you ever done it, and not go off into a mental hospital? I do not mean that way; but actually do nothing, inwardly."
Kinfonet Newsletter - July/August 2006
www.kinfonet.org
The above exchange took place between a group of people and Krishnamurti shortly before his death. It was recorded verbatim and later included in the biography by Mary Lutyens. Though the statements are not altogether coherent, one is left with the impression is that Krishnamurti is suggesting here that, after all, man cannot be free.
A frequent response to this passage is one of fear: Does this mean there's no hope for transformation? Does this mean I am doomed to live in pain and suffering? Does this mean that I have understood nothing? Is Krishnamurti's message flawed or does its delivery have some serious shortcomings?
However, perhaps a more important question has to do with authority and the solidity of one's own understanding of the teachings. Do I see something clearly or do I just agree with Krishnamurti that the teachings are valid? If I really see something clearly, that passage makes no difference. Does my understanding of division, relationship, the nature of time and self change because Krishnamurti said these words?
If by exposure to the teachings, there should result a real and acute awareness of the disorder in the human mind then the theoretical question of whether transformation is possible or not falls away. There is no choice but to respond to this essential discontent by continuing the inquiry - the urgency of the situation demands it.
Then, if my interest in "living the teachings" is not invalidated because Krishnamurti spoke those words, how can I look at the reality that apparently "no one has changed" from the point of view of the teachings themselves? Minds of varying abilities and dispositions, ranging from the extremely intelligent to the highly sensitive, have invested a great deal of time and effort in the teachings without effecting a radical transformation.
"Change implies a movement from what is to something different. Is this something different merely an opposite, or does it belong to a different order altogether?"
It would appear that something extraordinary is required, though not in a linear sense. It is not a matter of trying harder or trying better but of doing something entirely different, unrelated to anything attempted previously. Indeed, Krishnamurti corroborates this himself when he speaks of the need for "change that is total, completely radical and revolutionary".
Krishnamurti sometimes uses the metaphor of starting "on the other side of the river", to suggest that we turn towards what we don't know rather than putting more effort into modifying our understanding. He also refers to this as the "ending of time" or "freedom from the known" - quite enigmatic statements when taken in isolation. What does Krishnamurti mean by "the known"? Rather than just an inanimate reservoir of knowledge, he is using the term "known" to mean human perception, our very experience of living, the totality of our consciousness.
"I am asking what is consciousness. Consciousness is made up of content. Without the content, is there consciousness at all? The content of consciousness is consciousness. "
To Krishnamurti consciousness as it functions in most of us is inherently "corrupt". This basic corruption manifests as human conflict, both individually and collectively.
The teachings view conflict as an ever-present factor in the mind and not something that intermittently overshadows our daily life. As Krishnamurti puts it, there is "no interval" in pain and confusion and "our living is always on the border of sorrow". Unlike Krishnamurti, most of us take the possibility of human happiness for granted and as such have a more differentiated view of conflict. It is our feeling that conflict can be negotiated, mitigated and in certain instances overcome.
To Krishnamurti, the core misapprehension lies in this assumption that conflict is something separate from us, something that can be worked on. "Where there is division, there is conflict. That is a law." He maintains that as long as a division exists between us and our experience, conflict must continue. Conflict can beget many things; not, however, its own resolution.
Externally, in society we can see that conflict as it manifests as war, for example, is born of division as nationality, religious identification, etc. In this realm, conflict and division are perceptively linked. As it gets more and more personal, this clear connection becomes blurred and eventually disappears altogether. The base division between "me" and my experience is not seen to be a factor in creating conflict. On the contrary, we feel that it is this very separation that makes for the possibility of remedy. However, the unfortunate fact is that, despite our best efforts, conflict persists within and without.
Krishnamurti points out that dealing with conflict in this personal, piecemeal manner, although possibly bringing short-term relief, does not address the root cause of conflict. Given the limited success of this direct attack on the particular, he suggests that the only thing to do is to step back and gain a better understanding of how the mind works. To this end it would be helpful to consider what occurs as we meet a particular problem. First of all the problem is identified, for example as fear, jealousy, grief, confusion, etc. This is followed by the various internal responses - resistance, justification, resolution and so on. All along, the problem itself appears to float in a watertight compartment isolating it from our ideas of how best to deal with it. Unconsciously, we relegate the problem to a place outside of ourselves which then allows us to tackle it. Thus, what is missed is that the problem is itself also part of the mind. As Krishnamurti puts it, they are "all in the same field and on the same ground" - the problem, the understanding of the problem and the reactions to that understanding.
The significance of this realization is tremendous. It brings into serious question my very sense of reality, namely, that the "I" is at the center of my being, my ideas are in my head and that the facts are somewhere outside.
"The fact is not outside the field of the mind. It is still within the field of the mind, as interference is still within the field of the mind."
Seen in this light, human consciousness can be described as an animated wonderland, a dynamic interplay of alliances and oppositions between groups of images that are constantly shifting affiliations. Suffering results from the continual assault on the central hub of imagery which we call "I".
Krishnamurti uses the term transformation to mean the ending of conflict and not changing from one state to another in order to gain wider experience. This may explain why no amount of effort to execute what Krishnamurti is saying seems to "work". For transformation to be, experience has to end. It is because we are not finished with experience that we keep moving, analyzing, talking, struggling to effect experiential change. From the point of view of the teachings, what is not seen is that the motivating factors of desire and fear are ever present alongside the subtle expectations of what should happen when "it works".
Krishnamurti maintains that radical change cannot be the result of first understanding and then acting from that understanding. In the field of experience, even the most lucid understanding is bound to create further division by separating itself from that which it understands. It follows then that the ending of experience cannot be brought about through reaction, through compulsion, through newer and more innovative permutations of thought. In other words, transformation can have no cause. The question of transformation becomes then an impossible one, one that has no answer.
The teachings maintain that if one were to remain totally with the impossibility of transformation through the known and not budge from this crisis that there would be the birth of a unified awareness - an innate human quality wholly devoid of personal agenda - that can "see" the spurious divisions in the mind.
Any question directed at finding a way or a method to end experience is an escape that strengthens experience further. This is certainly not meant to be taken as a directive to simply wait for transformation to happen spontaneously. Waiting, a state of expectation, continues the thread of time and causality which is the very fabric of experience. "When I say, 'What shall I do in the meantime till the explosion takes place,' the interval between that moment and now, waiting for that explosion, is a deterioration." Doing nothing is not the same as waiting.
In fact, to Krishnamurti the main and perhaps the only issue is to see the necessity of doing nothing, of actually retreating from what we know, of having leisure. The beauty of leisure derives from the impossibility to cultivate it. It comes into being unobtrusively when all seeking has ended.
Question: "It seems to be a paradox. Unless you see it, you are not able to perceive it totally; you see it verbally."
Krishnamurti: "Seeing verbally, seeing emotionally, seeing partially, you do not see it. Then what? Do pursue it, go to the very end of it."
Question: "It comes to the end, there is nothing there. I do not know what to do."
Krishnamurti: "Then, do not do anything. You laugh! I am saying something very seriously: do not do anything except the mechanical things. But you are doing, all the time, something else. Do not do anything psychologically, inwardly; do nothing except what you have to do ordinarily in daily existence. Have you ever done it, and not go off into a mental hospital? I do not mean that way; but actually do nothing, inwardly."
Kinfonet Newsletter - July/August 2006
www.kinfonet.org
