IN speaking of
the doubt that liberates, I desire first of all to make a clear distinction
between doubt and unrest, because they constitute two opposing forces which,
at this time of chaos and struggle, distress and spiritual seeking, are ruthlessly
striving for supremacy in our hearts. Doubt is like the cleansing fire that
burns whilst it purifies; but the flame of unrest is destructive, it consumes
and reduces to ashes. We widen our vision when we learn to welcome doubt and
reject unrest. Krishnaji says: “Invite doubt” [“To welcome adversity—not thrust upon you by another—you must invite doubt. If doubt unconsciously insinuates itself into your heart,
it will not purify it. You can only really purify it by deliberately inviting
doubt.” (Krishnamurti—Life in Freedom, p.121) “Invite doubt; for doubt is as a precious ointment; though it burns, it shall
heal greatly; and by inviting doubt, by putting aside those things which you
have understood, by transcending your acquirements, your understandings, you
will find the Truth.” (Life in Freedom. p.91.) but we can only invite it by conquering unrest, that subtle poison which
creeps into the smallest thought, creating disharmony and awakening in us and
around us futile discussions, fluctuating judgements, quarrels and discord.
Unrest may be
likened to the fire that destroys dense woods, leaving nothing but the charred
and arid ground, whilst true doubt is the intelligent pruning that preserves
the mighty trees and gives
life to the forest.
There are some
people who say:
“I
no longer know what to believe, what to accept or what to reject. I was happier
before when I
thought less and just lived.”
To these I would reply:
“But
you were not living. You were vegetating whilst waiting to live. Be grateful
that some one
awakens you to life in spite of yourselves.”
The awakening
may be painful, but then is not the first cry of the new-born babe one of distress?
It cries before it smiles at life. We are born to conscious life, but we must
give birth to our true selves if we are to find happiness. No one can give
happiness to another, for each carries it within himself and must discover,
through his own struggles and his own seeking, the hidden treasure, the unique
riches of his heart.
Krishnaji affirms:
Do not follow, do not obey, do not be loyal to any person except to yourself,
and then you will be
loyal to every passer-by. (Life in Freedom, p.123)
Do we understand
what this represents of obstacles to overcome, of questions to solve, of joyous
doubt? Loyalty to ourselves, complete fidelity to what we believe, to all we
love and feel and serve,
herein lies true freedom.
By focussing the
searchlight of doubt upon all we have loved, or still love, by digging deep
within ourselves in order to discover the hidden source of Light, not in
the turmoil of uncontrolled emotions, but in the intense calm of thought that
constantly
seeks to understand itself, we break down the inner barriers and consciously
free ourselves from our limitations, through our own efforts, independently
of others. Others, after all, only represent an accumulation of errors or
truths, more or less profound, which add their weight to individual errors
or truths;
no one possesses absolute truth. As long as we remain the slaves of prejudice,
incapable of forming a personal conviction, relying blindly upon the small
understanding and petty opinions and advice of others, we waver between this
interpretation and that, without freeing ourselves of our errors or developing
our intelligence. We receive an imprint, but do nothing to forge our characters.
The most skilful spiritual workman has no other power than that of forging
his own soul. He may point out the tools, or even place them in the hands of
a less experienced
artisan, but he refrains from striking blows
which would destroy another’s soul instead of stimulating it into life.
We have been left
indifferent by the reading of books dealing with the power of thought which
say: “We do not think sufficiently for ourselves; the thoughts we consider our own,
in reality rarely belong to us and are like vagabonds gathered together in
an inn.” But now that a new voice is
making itself heard—the first up to now to awaken in the mass a distinctly original thought (that
of doubt which scrutinises and desires to understand)—we are floundering in uncertainty and cry
aloud for help and guidance.
What is being
taken away from us?
The comfort of a non-thinking state which is the outcome of our blind acceptance
of the opinions
and affirmation of others.
What are we being
given in return?
The consciousness of our true selves, revealed by our own reflection.
Surely this is not a cause for suffering, but rather of rejoicing?
Doubt is a profound
searching within ourselves. A feeling of security accompanies it, arising precisely
from the will and desire to be intensely ourselves in all things. Life comes
to us through doubt, life in all its simplicity, in all its freshness and purity,
clear, free, bubbling life, so fluid that it is never still, so supple that
it modifies form whilst unceasingly flowing through it. By inviting doubt,
we open the door of our being to life and this surely should be our joyous
and sacred task. When we have this conception of doubt, it will be reflected
upon our faces, not as suffering, but as joy, as the radiant gladness of dawn
and of victory.
If you would be
free, you must widen and expand your consciousness of liberty, your feeling
of freedom in your activity and self-expression, without being limited by the
conceptions of others. Do not allow yourselves to be troubled by external judgements
or let your calm be banished by an expression or a word. Have the courage to
be entirely yourselves and act accordingly, without being held back by any
convention or outside interpretation. Do not shirk action, nor be afraid to
bear the responsibility, for to act avoids the poisoned stagnation of waiting.
Shake off every external bond and limitation by obeying only the profound urges
of your own inner self, not hurriedly or impulsively,
but in the “one-pointed” feeling of liberty before your own conscience.
So that you may
develop continuously, analyse in yourselves everything that hinders, as well
as all that furthers, the free expression of your individual truth. Do not
be content simply to recognise a weakness, only to forget it again immediately
in the activities of daily life, but pursue and conquer it, for it represents
an obstacle between you and understanding. Welcome with serenity everything
that stirs the routine of shallow feeling and causes you to suffer, and then
transmute that suffering into a flame of joy springing from the ashes of a
pain which was really only an illusion. Do not reject doubt because it changes
too completely the easy conceptions of your everyday life, but love it passionately,
as the prisoner would love the key brought to him by his liberator and which
would enable him to open all the doors
of his prison himself.
For, in reality,
the greatest liberator is he who gives us the key to our own hearts and in
so doing, the key to happiness. He cannot bring anything else. If we do not
seize the key, he passes on and offers it to others. He lovingly points out
the path of freedom, which he knows because he himself has traversed every
stage of it, but he does not force anyone to walk in it. He does not, under
any circumstances, force doors that are closed. His own great love of liberty
prevents him from
violating another’s conscience.
But we do not
understand this conception. We violate the hearts and minds of others without
scruple. We do not say: “Advance!” but “Follow!” because we ourselves are content to follow and obey blindly. If we were advancing,
our march itself would be its own appeal.
We prepare ourselves
for individual liberty—which is the only liberty—by analysing our character in order to discover what is lacking, that we may
acquire it; by examining what we already possess, that we may get rid of the
unessential, as one lets fall a cumbersome burden. What we lack is lying latent
within us; the unessential is the corruption arising from an accumulation of
past experiences which have now become useless, and a hindrance to further
progress. Acquiring and rejecting are easy in themselves, but we have not always
the courage to reject and acquire.
It is a mistake
to imagine that because we doubt, it is better to stop all activity. On the
contrary, we must persevere in our action in order to doubt more profoundly
and more efficaciously, until doubt becomes such certainty that we are no
longer undecided as to what to reject or what to affirm. But in order that
our doubt
may thus be transformed into certitude, we must be not only clearly aware
of what causes doubt and our reaction to it, but also completely indifferent
to
what others think of our doubts, because in the acute period of questioning
(the healthy analysis of everything external to ourselves) the soul has need
of silence and peace. The more deeply the soul is able to retire into itself
at this time of inner struggle, the more clearly it is able to establish
the conception of its own faith. The doubts of others arouse unrest and uncertainty
in the mind and heart of him who is seeking to understand himself, and the
unrest veils the reflection of Truth playing on the waters of the mind. By
sharing our doubts, we fall into
intellectual or emotional discussions; by doubting alone, we open up the
path to intuition, and contact the true self. Doubt must certainly be invited,
but
his loving guest asks to be received in the closest intimacy of the
soul.
As soon as doubt
is changed into certitude, a choice, that is, a decision as to what we shall
reject or retain, becomes inevitably necessary. But we shall find this choice
difficult if we allow ourselves to be swayed by outside influences, because
then we shall lose the sense of security which the soul has a right to feel
when making its own intimate and independent choice. The choice which is born
of solitude is a joyous one, because in choosing, the soul is singing its song
of liberty.
What is doubt
if not the glorious awakening of the true self that has been lying dormant
under the dead weight of external beliefs accepted without analysis. Doubt
helps the expansion of life in all
its forms. It is the soul’s torch-light; it demands the fruitful activity of original thought, freed from
the thoughts of others, even though they be of the purest. It is the creator
and genius in us, since it liberates the life imprisoned in the obscure forms
of ignorance, incomprehension and routine. It is only through our own profound
doubt that we can discover the true self which is liberation. Everything that
comes to us from without is capable of stimulating our thought, but it cannot
free
us.
Do not let us
deceive ourselves with mere words and uncontrolled enthusiasm, nor proclaim
another’s truth unless we have felt its burning reality in our own hearts. It is useless
to set out to combat human suffering unless we have first filled our own lamps
with oil. Let us beware of kindling shallow enthusiasms in our own particular
circles to delude ourselves that we are “living”. Instead of being merely passive beings, let us endeavour to free our thoughts
from all external influence, so that we can stimulate independent thought in
others. For, he who follows without doubting, that is, without seeking to understand
for himself, again sinks into the stagnation which is death, and dogmatises
about
things of which he is ignorant.
Dogma is the safe
in which we proudly lock away life. We think it hermetic and never open it
to look at the riches it contains. But he who has the courage to break open
the locks, finds that the safe alone remains, solid, heavy and ... how empty!
Life itself has vanished, for nothing can imprison it. The Life confined in
dogma sooner or later escapes into the eternal flux, leaving behind a skeleton,
an empty shell.. But all our acquired knowledge, our habits and conceptions
are tested by doubt; it passes them through the fire of personal thought and
analysis and separates that which is true, or rather that which each individual
feels to be true for himself, from that which is but the accumulation of external
experiences, blindly accepted or passed through
in a state of inertia.
Doubt allows nothing
to stagnate, it creates life from whatever we give it; it awakens or kills
every seed sown in the heart and the mind; it brings them to fruition or stifles
them; it encourages their birth or destroys them; it is the real annunciator
of the truth in us, the triumphant herald of the soul. And because the soul
has invited doubt, doubt invites the soul to live.
It cries: “Among the dust-laden ruins of tradition, where art thou?” And the soul replies: “With life!”
Sometimes, it
seems to me that the need and desire to convince others is only a sign of weakness.
We always want the crowd with us because we are afraid of solitude. But, it
is noticeable that those who do not want disciples, generally have the most.
Moreover, no matter whose voice it is, when it finds an echo in another heart,
it means that it has awakened the inner voice of the individual. We understand
the Master from the moment this Voice in us, of whose existence we were unaware,
speaks in unison with His. And this inner Voice—the only one we can
trust and obey—is the voice of silence, of intuition, which awakens with the conscience and
speaks through it.
I want to say
to those who imitate Krishnaji:
“His message is not either for monkeys or for parrots, but for men.” And
to those who obey blindly without having given themselves time to reflect:
“His
message is not for sheep, but for human beings.”
And again to those
who, afraid of choosing wrongly, hesitate and finally adopt another’s choice:
“His
message is not for hares, but for independent individuals.”
There are many
people who try to go back and take refuge in former dreams and illusions, just
as in winter we shut ourselves up in an overheated room where the body enjoys
a feeling of animal well-being but in which the mind becomes heavy and dull.
Such people close their windows and draw their curtains, so as not to see the
snow or the rain falling. And because it is dark within, they light an artificial
lamp and so forget the sun. But the courageous remain out in the open, bitten
by the frost, struggling against the bitter wind, against the squalls and the
tempest, for they feel that the winter alone, in all its nakedness, prepares
the spring. And because they desire the spring, the renewal of their whole
being, nothing seems too hard or too difficult in order to attain it.
Does this mean
that we must immediately give up our particular form of activity? Certainly
not. To give up violently and impulsively is to reject the doubt
that liberates.
If you are wise,
[says Krishnaji], you will not act in haste. Through haste you will find nothing.
By patient understanding, by careful watching that you may not be caught up
in things that are trivial, unessential, you will find that which you seek.
[ Life in Freedom. p.90.]
In whatever sphere
of activity we may be working, our task is to bring life to the world. We must
transform the “congregation of the dead” into a living congregation, because we are ourselves convinced that life is
revealed to us according to the measure of our understanding. We must widen
our understanding, go beyond our present comprehension, if we want to judge
otherwise than through external appearances which limit and enslave. Hesitant,
not knowing what to choose, tossed hither and thither by different interpretations,
fearing an opinion or adopting it incapable of freeing ourselves from the mirage
of form,
we certainly belong to the “congregation of the
dead”. Like a butterfly, we flit indecisively from one form to another. But whilst
we are living upon this earth, we cannot dispense with form. Our body is a form
continuously surrounded by other
forms. However, the “true self” inhabits the body, and so long as we obey this self, we cannot become the slaves
of our body. But if we continue to identify ourselves with our body, we shall
be either aggressive egoists, or unhappy prisoners. From the moment we realise
the existence of the spirit, our body, our emotions, our thoughts retain their
value as expressions of our divine nature, and as such we should not think of
scorning or despising them.
To live is to
experiment, and experience is infinite. Our experiences come to us through
form, but they become more subtle in the measure that we are able to detach
ourselves from the attraction merely external experience has for us. Herein,
it seems to me, lies our gradual liberation from the tyranny of form. Because
our characters and temperaments are different, we do not all pass through the
same experience at the same time, and consequently we do not use the same forms.
It is therefore absurd to quarrel about these forms and try to decide which
are to be rejected and which retained. I mean by this, that our decision must
be a personal choice, not based upon the choice of others. Doubt and choose,
in other words—live. Let us have an organisation if we feel that our presence in it is only
a passive element. The movement will be all the better for it and we also.
But we do not let us go to the other extreme and take up a negative attitude
towards things by declaring that form does not exist! There are some people
who are so afraid of becoming slaves of form, that they refrain from admiring
a flower! How the flower must smile to itself as it lives and diffuses its
perfume, not for men’s admiration, but simply as an offering to the sun and
to life.
Krishnaji purifies
every organisation worthy of enlightenment by eliminating from it those sorry
disciples of Panurge in whose minds he creates unrest and dissatisfaction.
Those who become the prey of unrest dare not doubt alone. They wait with
anguish for the Master’s irrevocable decision and the Master only smiles and gives them new problems
to solve. Perfect freedom of mind and a profound respect for the divine life
flowing through all forms, facilitates the mastery of form. We dominate it
by freeing ourselves from its power. To run away from it as if we were afraid,
only tightens the bonds that fear entangles. Life is only active in the supple
form.
The Divine Life
is continually creating new forms, and the old ones crumble away of themselves
as soon as they are no longer necessary. Does Krishnaji destroy? No, he simply
points out the way, and urges people to leave the valley of bondage and scale
the free spiritual heights. He passes by, radiant and simple in his truth;
living forms are enriched by his regenerating influence, and decaying forms
are emptied of their seeming life and are lost in the ruins of the past. To
deny the existence of form is to deny one of the manifestations of life. Krishnaji’s books are forms, and in order to fix his thoughts and ideas in them, he has
had to submit to the “form” of writing and
printing. The “Star Shops” where his books are sold are also forms. The Camp at Ommen, which brings together
thousands of people, is also a form. Even Krishnaji himself, powerful as his
spirit may be, must use a form in order to communicate with us. If he dispensed
entirely with this visible
form, the majority—and among them the blind worshippers who, because they have not really understood
the message, make themselves the destroyers of all form—would be unaware of his presence in the world, and would not hear his voice.
But he uses the form without confusing it with life, and for this reason he is
the only one to transmit his message in its integrity. Let us take care that
we do not destroy this form through lack of understanding, because he has told
us: “No one
will imprison me.” If we try to imprison him in our forms, he will escape before his mission is fulfilled, leaving behind him an
empty shell, doomed to destruction.
Life
and Form
LET
us then invite doubt into our conception of life and form, and we shall be
more certain of ourselves, and less inclined to unthinkingly adopt the conceptions
of others. Before rejecting the forms which stimulate our activities, we must
know why, how, and for whom we are abandoning them. Irrational rejection is
just as illogical as the blind clinging to things we have not made any effort
to really understand. Impulse is unpremeditated action and by giving way to
impulse we do not construct, but simply prove our instability. Doubt may give
rise to the rejection of a certain form of activity, but it may also result
in the continuation of that activity if, after analysis, it is recognised to
be good and useful. Neither the rejection nor the continuation have any value
except in so far as they represent the free choice of the individual.
To be “in
love with life,” we must commune with life in all its manifold forms. We are too much concerned
with appearances, not only in ourselves, but also in others, and this prevents
us from recognising the true self which slumbers in each one of us. We judge
by and through the outer form; we become attached to this form and lost in
it the sense of life. Our thought is confused by appearances, and we lost ourselves
in the labyrinth of conflicting interpretations. We attach so much importance
to form that we forget life. We love the outer form of those we care for, and
this gives rise to complicated emotions and the need and desire for visible
expression of affection. The fountain of life dances and sings within us, and
yet we limit and restrain it in the mould of conventions. We set up rules which
become limitations, and even whilst deploring the bonds we have created, we
continue to imprison ourselves and others in them. And we condemn, fear or
despise those who succeed in freeing themselves. We explain life in terms of
form and so lose our comprehension of life. We shut ourselves in behind the
ramparts of the past and try to forecast the
future. That is why the future always disconcerts us, because it is that part
of life which form has not yet touched. If we always succeeded in detaching
life from form, we should live eternally in an ever-present future. Form would
no longer be a hindrance, but an expression of life, and in and through every
form, we should see, feel and love the one and only life. Thus our activity,
our affection, our service, would be dedicated to life, and every form placed
upon our path would become as a reservoir of the Unique Life. Our love, unified
and rendered divine, concerned only with the imperishable life in each and
all, would be a stranger to preferences, jealousies, sentimentalities, anger,
rancour and suffering. The “chosen one” would be whoever happened to be present, the form placed momentarily in front
of us, a simple instrument through which life is flowing. For to be in love
with life, is to be in love with all that life animates, but without becoming
a slave of the particular form through which that life is manifesting. Tree,
flower, bird, insect, cloud, star, sky, the wind whistling in the branches,
sun, moss, ant, friend, enemy, all are forms inhabited by life, and the exclusive
love of life makes us love all forms without reserve. Form only veils the expression
of love when we stop at the form, but when the form becomes absorbed in life,
there
can be nothing but love.
Thus, in the presence
of the Master, we are in truth the “chosen one,” we have the right to consider ourselves as such. But this certitude cannot awaken
any feeling of pride in us, because if he raises his eyes to the heavens and
observes the rapid flight of the swallow, the “chosen one” immediately becomes the bird: the only communion is that of life with life.
Let us then seek
life, and love will dance eternally in our hearts. Do not let us try to separate
life from form, but be content to observe life pouring itself out through the
multiplicity of forms. Let us become one with this life which is the same in
all, for what we possess, another possesses also. Let us free ourselves from
the delusion of appearances, and become a vital expression of life so that
we may give our sympathy and understanding to others who are manifesting the
same life.
Instead of saying: “Where should I go and how,” let us communicate direct with the life in others by means of the life in us.
It is not even necessary to seek unity, for in simply seeking life we shall find
unity because life is one. Let us reject all interpretations which are not clearly
and definitely our own; they are but empty forms. Let us be content to interpret
all things for ourselves, and refrain from trying to impose our conceptions upon
others, for whom they will perhaps only be lifeless forms, devoid of meaning.
Because life is more powerful than form, it is constantly destroying existing
forms, and building new ones. There are no forms that we can reasonably call
stable; they are changing continuously, even if we are unaware of it; they are
never exactly the same because they are the changing receptacles of life. Form
along changes, life remains eternally the same, adapting form to its needs. Thus,
because form is the servitor of life, we must not be the slaves of a slave, but
the king of our own individual life and the friend of the life in others. Do not let us bow before the ephemeral, but worship that which is eternal
and unchanging. Let us not become attached to the form which is destined to disappear,
but exalt life which passes unceasingly from form to form. Life has no special
form because it takes all forms. Therefore let us refrain from trying to explain
life; it explains itself in every creature and in every form. If we try to explain
it in the light of our own narrow and limited understanding, we deform it and
only offer to others a distorted fragment of what life really is. Can we explain
the river by the water taken from a pitcher? How then can we explain life which
is infinite and boundless, flowing from form to form, divine, free, without first
or second, so absolutely one that it animates every form and is yet equally present
in each. We imprison life in forms which we make rigid and inflexible and then
in our worship of the form, we forget life itself; the letter takes the place
of the spirit and herein lies
our betrayal of truth. Words are forms through which thought manifests itself, and thoughts in their
turn are also forms of fragmentary truths, and every fragment is an echo of the
Absolute Truth.
Very often, we are only in love with our own words!
I drink eagerly
from a Cup of Wisdom and I hand it to you, but you say with disdain: “There is
nothing in your cup, drink rather from mine.” And I too find the one from which you have drunk empty. Shall we look upon each
other as enemies because of this, or shall we drink from our own cup whilst continuing
in the path we have chosen?
Why is it always
at another’s cup that we must quench our thirst?
We can only quench our thirst at the fountain of life . . .
Where is this fountain?
It is to be found
somewhere upon the mountain-top outside ourselves or upon the summit of our
own self-realization? Our thirst will remain unquenched until we find the
source of life which is within us; then, and then only, shall we conquer that
peace
which passes all understanding and which is composed of an intense feeling
of reverence and love. So long as we have not established it firmly in our
hearts, it remains crystalline, fragile, the slightest thing troubles its
diaphanous limpidity. It descends into the heart lovingly, tenderly; it expands
with the
profoundest respect for every manifestation of life. It refuses to be imprisoned
in the complexity of feelings, it puts conflicting passions to rout and raises
the individual to its own serene heights. Whilst we remain on the heights
of our self-realisation, we become one with it, but immediately we descend
into
the valley of personal feelings it disappears until the new ascension. A
time will come however when we shall be able to come down into the valley and
mingle with its life
without losing the serenity of the mountain-top. We only lose it when we
allow ourselves to be caught up again in the illusions of the outer self.
If I am an apple-tree,
no one will make apricots ripen on my flower-laden branches.
And what shall my task be?
To struggle fruitlessly with the ignorant in order to try and make apricots ripen
instead of apples?
God only expects apples from an apple-tree, and therefore He created the apricot-tree
to bear its
own fruit.
To me, the greatest
teaching is that received by each individual in the sanctuary of his own heart;
the message he has sincerely understood and feels he must put into practice
immediately, not in a fragment of his life only but in his whole life. Words
only have value in so far as their meaning is lived. A theory, beautiful as
it may be, demands realisation because it inspires and creates ideas, and an
unrealised idea is only half alive. The conversion of ideas into acts never
is, and never can be, routine-like nor blind. Action alone proves understanding,
or rather, the degree of understanding of the individual. It is so easy to
discuss with the intelligence, or with the emotions, and to establish rules
which are perfect on paper. But life is not made up solely of straight lines.
It cannot be imprisoned in rigid rules; we follow its curves and meanders in
ourselves by the progressive development of distinctly
original thoughts.
Krishnaji speaks
to us, and because we receive his words in the light of our own temperament,
we understand and apply them differently. Hence, if we desire to put them into
practice, we must find in his words the enlightened application of our own
activities, aspirations, needs and desires, in short, all that enlarges our
individual expression. He does not demand the same understanding from all.
He speaks to all of us and to each one individually. He comes to awaken the
lazy intelligence, and to stir the heart as yet untouched by profound emotions.
He brings an inexhaustible manna and he invites each one to take from it as
he desires and according to his needs. He stirs traditional routine and offers
new ideas, “those which are ageless and of all time”. [Someone said to me with a prophetic air: “Since Krishnamurti is with us, don’t you find that books like The Voice of the Silence or Light on the Path have aged?” Perhaps the words of Buddha and all the Great Ones have also aged. It is true
that for a certain group of people only Krishnamurti’s books are of interest. But what good are they, if we interpret them imperfectly
and make of them weapons of strife and discord?
“I do not come to destroy but to build.” (Krishnamurti—First
Message, Adyar Convention, November 1925.)] It is therefore more important
to analyse our own convictions than to try to convince others. It is futile
for everyone to try to follow the same path, and by so doing create a new rut
for old fanaticisms. What is important is that each individual should find
his own path for himself, not because Krishnaji has spoken and we follow blindly
what he says, but because his words have awakened the Unique Word, which each
one carries in his own heart.
Does Krishnaji
ask us to merely follow him blindly? No. He desires us to become free. His
affirmations in this connection are quite clear:
But if you merely
obey me or use me as an authority, as a steppingstone towards your goal, you
will fail, because it will not be your own desire that urges you. Whereas,
if you strengthen the understanding of your own desire and use all experience
to that end, no one can destroy or take away that which you have gained. [Life in Freedom. p.59.]
I would not accept
anything as Truth until I found the Truth myself. I never opposed the ideas of
others, but I would not accept their authority, their theory of life. † [Ibid., p.61. (Italics mine.)]
But if you seek
my authority you will remain in your dark valley of limitation. It is much
easier for you to follow and worship blindly than to understand and so become
truly free. ‡ [Ibid.,pp.77. 79
and 79.]
If I were to use
authority today, and you accepted my authority it would not make you free,
you would be merely following the freedom of another. In following the freedom
of another, you are binding yourself more strongly to the wheel
of limitation. ¶ [Ibid., 77, 79, and 79.]
If you would create
greatly, if you would have the creation last eternally, you must develop your
own individual uniqueness, your own perfection, with understanding of the Truth,
and not imitate the perfection of another. [Life in Freedom. p77, 79, and 97]
Krishnaji is working
through a form which, like all forms, is ephemeral, and our desire to deck
out this form and give it a name, prevents us from understanding his message,
even though that message be eternal in its truth. We want to be assured of
his identity before we accept his teaching and because this assurance is
not immediately forthcoming, we impulsively reject and deny what we formerly
worshipped.
What is the reason for these sudden changes and our new certitudes? Are they
based upon the opinion of the crowd, upon the declaration of a certain group
of people, upon the faith of others? Or are they the result of our own verification
of the facts examined in the light of our own intuition? Does the bird need
an aeroplane guided by a pilot in order to fly? No, it flies alone and unaided
because it is enraptured by its flight. So we too must try to be completely
independent because we are in love with liberty and desire to live it to
the full. Can the nightingale give its song to the chirping sparrow, or the
seagull the strength
of its wings to the finch? Can the eagle give the piercing clarity of its
vision to the barn-owl, or the swallow the rapidity of its flight to caged
birds?
We can only become the possessors of those qualities which we make a serious
effort to acquire, and they only become really ours when we master them with
patience.
When listening
to Krishnamurti we ask ourselves: “Who is he? rather than: “Do I agree with his
teaching?” We ask ourselves innumerable questions concerning his personality and forget
to analyse the essential things. We waste our time with futilities; we reject
the teaching through fear, or accept it because we have been trained to do so.
We engage in empty discussions about things which have no value, and try to become
an authority at the side of one who rejects all
authority.
After all, what
is most important, the name or the message? Are spiritual passports delivered
in the same way as a charter is given to an association or a certificate to
an individual? Does light bear a name, or is it content to be just white? Is
it more richly clothed when I call it “brilliance”? Are we waiting for a Messiah or the truth? Are we so unsure of ourselves that
it is necessary to cry aloud that the Messiah has been born before we consent
to receive his message? Are we going to receive Krishnaji in this way? Shall
we understand him better by paying so much attention to the discordant interpretations
of those who imagine they are following him?
His message is
given to the world and therefore it is for each one of us individually. But
if we are to understand it, we must take it in all its purity, straight from
the fountainhead, and not after it has passed through other brains. Do not
let us wait to have it explained to us by others, but let us be ever on the
alert, ready to listen and observe, and, by doubting all that has been, have
the courage to choose our own mode of expression in order that we may awaken
our “individual uniqueness,” that which resembles nothing and no one—ourself.
Crutches
READERS of Krishnaji’s
works have become familiar with the expression “crutches” which, shrouded as it is in doubt, troubles many minds and hearts. The cry we
hear today is: “No more
crutches,” which in other words means that we must stand alone and throw off our dependence
upon outside aids; we must no longer take refuge in ancient beliefs and outworn
dogmas, but abandon the temples and churches in which we no longer believe but
to which we cling through fear of what others will think, or through habits contracted
in childhood.
This conception
is logical. Yet, it calls forth an incomprehensible buzz of comment and argument
from a whole group of spiritual agitators, I cannot call them by any other
name. And it is those who have a crutch under each arm who shout the loudest,
and what they put forward as an article of faith is but a parody of the teaching
they are claiming to understand and to follow. Like sheep lost in a storm,
they rush wildly from one tree to another to find shelter for their own fear.
They agitatedly question each other as to what tree they shall choose as their
refuge, and when that tree falls, struck by the lightning, they try to take
shelter elsewhere, always with the same cry: “No
more crutches . . . let us be independent!” And no one has the courage to remain standing erect and alone; all, thinking
they are freeing themselves from form, are merely taking refuge in their own
forms.
During the war,
things seen and experienced were recounted. For instance, a woman escaping
from her bombarded house opened her umbrella in order to protect herself from
the bullets. Another covered her head with her apron, and both cried to the
imprudent passers-by who had
neglected to take this precaution: “Take care, they are firing!”
There are many
people today who, when put to this spiritual test, act in exactly the same
way. Their candour is touching, but their stupidity makes one despair. They
advise gravely, violently sometimes, so fervent is their desire to save
others: “They are firing, open your umbrella!”
But the most disconcerting
thing is that many actually follow this advice and walk with their umbrellas
open!
We laugh at monkeys
and parrots, but we never think to laugh at ourselves. They are animals and
we are men-monkeys and men-parrots.
Parrots and monkeys
show their intelligence by imitating us. What do we prove by
imitating them?
“No
more crutches! No more crutches!”
When I hear these
words, I seem to see a picture in my mind of the whole of humanity, composed
of a crowd so dense that it is impossible to count or define the different
types. It is trying to force its way through the tangled undergrowth. Each
individual is leaning on crutches and drags himself along through the starless
night of his ignorance. The crutches knock against each other, causing cries,
abusive language, sometimes even blows, the crutch serving as a weapon to beat
down the adversary, and the latter, full of hate, used his own crutch
in self-defence.
The crutches broken
in the conflict are more or less patched up again —we fall back into our old habits, our old routines and conventions; our mask
and our “attitude,” momentarily upset, is again
adjusted—unless we discard the broken crutch altogether and find another which is thought
to be
stronger than the first.
The Great Helpers
of humanity look down and smile at this child’s play and in their compassion they beckon the lame ones towards them, those
crippled and halting beings whose infirmity alone makes them quarrelsome.
And these Splendid Ones open wide their arms and their wings to show men
that crutches
are a hindrance to flight.
The Master himself
becomes a crutch as soon as we stop at the letter of his teaching. He is the
Inspirer, and his magnificent gift to us is the awakening of our own inspirations.
By causing us to doubt, he is opening up to us the path of life, but we ourselves
must choose whether or not we shall walk in this
path.
He
says:
I have painted my picture. I want you to create because of that picture, a new
picture for yourself. I want you to fall in love with the picture, not with
the painter, to fall in love with the Truth and not with him who brings the
Truth. [Life in Freedom, p.78.]
In fact, does
he not say to life’s paralytics:
“Rise
and walk!”
But if we neglect to make the effort, we shall remain lying on our pallet of
misery. We are dependent upon that which we accept blindly without analysis
and this alone constitutes the crutch. It is through doubt alone that we arrive
at understanding. For only the one who dares to doubt with faith, that is,
in the certitude of finding the solution in the doubt itself, awakens
to life.
In the same way,
we too shall become crutches for the weak by merely admitting our own point
of view, and in trying to impose it upon them.
Our understanding
is still so limited that it is foolish to think that it is capable of affirming
the absolute. Our comprehension is transformed from day to day as we ourselves
change. Do we read a book twice and understand it in identically the same
way each time? Do we not reject what we loved and return enlightened to that
which
we formerly denied? Do we not suddenly stop before a phrase which before
had seemed devoid of meaning and which now becomes clear to us? Do we not suddenly
and instinctively understand a landscape or a work of art which had previously
left us unmoved? We are fluid and moving because we are of the stuff of life,
and it is the life in
us which is in love with life. Does not Krishnaji’s affirmation concerning the Kingdom of Happiness remain a hypothesis for the
majority? Until we have crossed its threshold, our happiness remains uncertain,
unsteady, because circumstances not yet mastered disturb our stability. We
all pass through periods of joy, discouragement, enthusiasm and melancholy.
We do
not possess the harmony which comes of serenity, and our transitory happiness
is like April-showers.
I am afraid many
people are anxious to prove their intelligence and their moral strength to
others,
and they proudly affirm in words borrowed from others, that which the Master lives in the great simplicity of his soul. True understanding transcends pride. It
is so far beyond us that we can only
comprehend the “small” understanding, that which comes within the confines of our narrow and limited
vision.
If we are to really “understand,” we
must see big in all things, and what is more important, we must see big in
ourselves. Krishnaji’s message is so infinitely greater than our small comprehension that when we
try to make it fit in to our narrow conception of life, we only distort and
belittle it.
He gives us life.
But if we refuse it because we are not prepared to rise to its heights; we only
want life to adapt
itself to our smallness.
Life consents.
Why?
Because in coming
down to us in all its greatness, in all its force, it breaks and shatters the
narrow forms which are keeping us prisoners, so that we are obliged, even in
spite of ourselves, to mingle
and become one with it.
Let us form our
own conception of what constitutes a crutch. For me, nothing, no matter whether
it be a belief, a philosophy or a person, can become a crutch if my true self
consciously recognises
it as good. I ask myself honestly: “Will it deepen my understanding of life?” If the reply is in the affirmative, why hesitate to accept it, since it will
enable to give more complete expression to my individual life within the universal
life. But my analysis must not be concerned with the interpretations and opinions
of others, otherwise my judgment will be influenced by their judgment, and my
doubt, coloured by their doubts, will cease to be the doubt which liberates.
If, on the other hand, I decide that by adopting a certain thing, I shall be
limiting myself and becoming dependent, then I reject it without hesitation.
Why should we be afraid of making a mistake, since an error recognised is knowledge
gained? In what does the awakening to life reside if not in knowledge? It is
dangerous to let ourselves stagnate in a belief or a faith, but doubt keeps the
mind constantly alert, and will not allow it to accept or reject anything without
analysis. I energetically refuse to let others doubt for me and try to drag me
into their doubt. I have still less need of being hedged in
by their certitudes which, like my own, only as yet represent fragments of truth. I want
to be “myself” in all I do and in all I think. For I can lay no greater offering upon the alter
of life.
Besides, nothing
is in itself a crutch; it is only we who make it such by our attitude of unthinking
acceptance and blind dependence. The person we love, and who has become necessary
to our happiness, ceases to be a crutch from the moment we succeed in transforming
our feelings, in sublimating our love, our affection
or our friendship.
In reality, we
are not dependent on others, but solely upon the feelings others arouse in
us. We can only attain true freedom by sublimating and controlling these feelings
and by courageously rejecting the feeling of dependence even when we are most
conscious of our own weakness.
Take, for example,
sentimentality with its ridiculous train of petty joys and sorrows. The day
we decide to have done with this sentimentality, the one who arouses it remains
the same, but we transform our attitude to such an extent that he no longer
recognises us. He was not the crutch: our sentimentality itself was the crutch.
This being so, how many are the temples and sanctuaries we build up within
ourselves, accomplishing in them secret rites and complicated ceremonies. As
long as we remain attached to our alters, we crystallise our feelings in them,
we bind ourselves to our own limitations, and that is why
we are told:
“You
are not big enough.”
The
Christ in Your Heart
THUS, to abandon
our faith, our beliefs, our philosophy, without reflection and through suggestion
from without, is a sign of weakness, the road of ignorance posing as wisdom,
which leads to the
slough of unrest and uncertainty.
Do
not let us become the prey of those false disciples who talk more than they
act. Do not let us clumsily copy a work of art, but create our own. I have
always pitied those painters who shut themselves up in a gallery in order to
copy a picture, instead of going to nature and creating their own. Perhaps
the sole beauty of our work will be its simplicity and sincerity, but it will
at least have the inestimable value of being our own creation. “Noise kills thought.” says Nietzsche. Let us then discover ourselves in the silence and in no way
seek to imitate others.
Is it really necessary
to be actually in the presence of a saint or a sage in order to commune with
his teaching and find the truth? If I am sitting at his feet, letting my
thoughts wander, I penetrate his heart and mind less than one who, thousands
of miles
away, is acting in harmony with him. Physical proximity does not necessarily
imply a spiritual bond. I see those who are near Krishnaji and whose conceptions
are different from my own. I do not judge these conceptions; it is not for
me to judge them. I am content to remain faithful to my inner conscience,
because I am convinced that it is the only way to widen my understanding. If
their
conceptions are better than mine, I shall come to them one day through my
own seeking. If they are not better, I shall not have been troubled by examination
of their ideas or by the false lustre of an empty admiration. There are no
chosen disciples. Therefore, as long as we continue to scrutinise with intensity
the expression of our own truth, we are coming nearer to Truth and are the
disciples of
that Truth. The fact of being with Krishnaji or not is a pure question of
. . . form!
All controversial
discussion as to the value of ceremonies and ritual, which organisations to
retain and which to reject, seems to me to be pure folly in itself. The essential
is to seek life. Temples and churches become pitfalls on the roadside when
they are composed of a “congregation of the
dead,” dogmas are nets thrown by human beings to trap souls who are afraid; they forbid
doubt, the sign of courage and proof of reflection. But when those who believe,
offer themselves consciously as instruments for the diffusion of spiritual forces,
when priests and ministers become the magicians of light for the enlightenment
of the world, then temples and churches will represent the direct path for those
people who are able to find in them their free expression and development. The
magician of form makes of the outward form a supple instrument through which
life can flow. He is not its slave because he uses it with knowledge and understanding,
and he teaches its right use and significance to those who are seeking to free
themselves from the bondage of form. He is thus the conscious servitor of life,
and is spreading the message of Truth. To attack such people with hostile clamour,
scorn or sarcasm, only proves intolerance, and intolerance has never formed part
of the teaching of any Master.
It will perhaps
be asked: who shall decide who belongs to the congregation of the dead or the
congregation of the living?
The individual
himself, because when he ceases to vegetate and awakens to the full consciousness
of life, no matter what the “form” through which this awakening of consciousness takes place, there will no longer
be any “congregation of the dead”!
Krishnamurti’s
blessed presence is like a storm which stirs the ocean of contradictory thoughts
and conceptions, but those who follow his teaching dogmatically will remain
the prey of the tempest, and will become akin to those who cling superstitiously
to beliefs they do not understand, to the fanatics of every religion and every
philosophy. The will reject certain forms, not because they feel an inner necessity
to do so, but simply because “the Master says we should abandon this or that”! These people will be the first to become his enemies, and the worst enemies,
because they will make of their dogmatic love (dogmas are created from all
teachings) an instrument of discord and hate. Their love will be all the more
dangerous because they will pose as the defenders and disciples of the Master.
It is doubtless because of this that he declares now: “I do not want
disciples!” They will not say as Krishnaji does:”Invite doubt,” but rather, and alas, they are already
saying this, “because the Master does this or does not do that, do it or don’t do it.” And the more
fanatical will say: “In all things act as he does, and because we are doing as he does, follow our
example!”
What does Krishnaji
himself say?
I am now sure of myself. I am certain of what I say, even if no one agrees with
me, even if everyone is against me and does not understand what I am saying.
The more lack of understanding and divergence of opinion there is, the more
certain I am of myself. (International
Star Bulletin, 1929.)
Here at the outset
is the tragedy of solitary greatness. Are we henceforth going to witness an
Inquisition concealing itself behind the word “liberty” in order to give confidence to the blind? And will this Inquisition exploit
the present Master? Let us beware of those who imagine they understand him
too
well. He is alone because he is greater than us all.
Moreover, his
teaching is still young. It has even greater things to offer us. He is stirring
the world in order that new ideas may break down the strongest resistance,
and, in arousing the world, he troubles each individual. The small, scattered
lights seem insignificant at the side of his spiritual force, but each one
of us can become a flame in his cleansing fire, a gleaming torch at the service
of the Messengers of Light in their great work of purifying the world. The
penetrating light is spreading throughout the world, kindling every mind and
heart, but as long as we do not seek our own individual path and allow others
to seek theirs, the road ahead will remain shrouded in
darkness.
We are watching
the preparation of the ground, but do not know what is going to be built? The
Great Architect has revealed His plan to no one. The form of this edifice,
which will be so entirely different from anything seen or imagined up to now,
is still unknown. Who can tell where the walls, and towers and windows will
be placed, who can say where the Holy of Holies will be hidden? Where is the
mind that can conceive its flowers and works of art,
its music and its songs?
Can we say we have understood?
Understand! That
mighty word! How can it be expressed? To open wide the gates of our being to
Life, and to love with Christ in our hearts. Is anything else required
of us?
The Christ in
your heart is—yourself. It is the conscious recognition of the real “self,” the communion of this self with the mighty creative life, the voluntary rejection
of weaknesses, their control, the fusion of your whole being in the Light.
Thoughts coloured by emotions reflect the character, and these defective reflections
are deformed by passion. But the thought that is illuminated by divine intuition
and spiritual love is the faithful mirror, even more, the loving spokesman
of the soul.
We should never
enter into a discussion without first being sure that Christ is in our heart,
that we are not reasoning in the illusory light of our own shortcomings. For
all such discussion, no matter who is in the wrong, degenerates into conflict,
and degrades the one who allows himself to be carried away by anger. The moment
anger is felt, even though we succeed in cleverly hiding it from others, Christ
is no longer in our heart. The passion which tries to reason is a parody of
reason. Why always identify ourselves with the puppets
in our show?
My friends, let
us doubt continually, and with intensity, let us examine everything, the old
as well as the new, with doubt, so that we may create a certitude for ourselves
in all things. Doubt, but do not give way to unrest. Distinguish in yourselves
the differences between these two forces, the one awakening to life, the other
sowing destruction. Do not accept any judgment unless it is based upon your
own conscience; reject nothing without analysis; follow no one but yourselves,
so that you may consciously follow the Messengers of Light. Learn to know yourselves
by using your inner and profound thought; it is only “yours” when you have the courage to strip it of all external influence. Do not stop
at interpretations as a message, but receive the message in the inner sanctuary
of your own hearts, so that you yourselves may be the living embodiment of
spiritual unity. We reflect in our own lives as much of the truth as we have
assimilated and understood. Therefore, do not let us merely echo words which,
on our lips, are devoid of meaning so long as
we have not “lived” them.
Krishnaji asks
us to live, to act, to be loyal to our own conscience. He forbids us, in spite
of ourselves, the mirage of his physical presence. He desires us to be free
and he is only concerned
with our liberty. He says:
Because One greater than all these is with you, I hold it dear and precious that
you should understand in the fullness of your heart, and mind and so create
the light which shall be your guide, which is not the light of another, but
your own. [Life in Freedom. p.126.]