Wednesday, September 24, 2008
The psychological accumulations prevent psychological pain as long as they are undisturbed; that is, I am a bundle of accumulations, experiences, which prevent any serious form of disturbance - and I do not want to be disturbed. Therefore, I am afraid of anyone who disturbs them. Thus my fear is of the known, I am afraid of losing the accumulations, physical or psychological, that I have gathered as a means of warding off pain or preventing sorrow.... Knowledge also helps to prevent pain. As medical knowledge helps to prevent physical pain, so beliefs help to prevent psychological pain, and
that is why I am afraid of losing my beliefs, though I have no perfect knowledge or concrete proof of the reality of such beliefs.
The psychological ‘me’ is a disorder. To see this disorder is meditation. The moment there is an attempt to operate upon disorder it becomes self feeding. The me is strengthened, vitalized enhanced when there is an effort.
Observing thought without thinker. Thinker is me. It arises out of memory. Memory is a hub which provides ‘me’ with folder of identity. Art of observation is thus state of observation, state of being in which five senses are operative but memory is not. Observation is not from or out of memory. It is direct perception without the censoring of perceiver. Therefore there is just witnessing and no evaluation. No sense of right or wrong in this art of observation. What is stays .Mathemathically f(is) =/= memory.
‘What should be’ brings in observer / thinker / analyzer. It brings in time and stems out of memory. f (should be) == memory,thoughts etc
Total end of conflict is possible when there is total freedom from self. Only in such a state there is no fear and there is permanent security. It means the observer dies every moment. Thinker dies every moment. Past memories of hurts and regrets die and there is timelessness because here and now is all that exist in that moment.
There is no regretting of past nor any flight to fancy to future as there is no fictitious entity “I”.
Why and how does the illusion of “I” arise. Why is “I’ fictitious , can we establish that I is fiction?
The brain apparatus and function of memory create a self feeding cycle of ‘me’. It is in the nature of memory and daily living. Any attempt to get rid of it throws it more vigorously in the loop. Can ‘I’ evaporate.? Is there a mechanism whereby the fiction making factory ,story & illusory ‘I’ extinguishes.
Since I pertains to memory the solution can be outside memory. Memory cannot earse itself just a knife cannot cut itself. Since mind receives inputs from 5 senses & is processed in brain it may be possible to stop the process at just input level. If there is no further processing then there is no observer, no thinker, nor any judge. That’s the only way to obtain total freedom from self.
Love, death & loving is the same thing. Love is outside the realm of thought. Love means to die to psychological me. In that awareness love exists.
Silent mind is sacred. It is the origin of all and sacred. Where thought touches mind the centre of ‘me’ emerges & sacredness is gone. Intense attention to thoughts works upon it differently. Observation of thoughts with awareness that de-energizes the ‘I’ apparatus.
The interesting part about ‘I’ apparatus is that it starts operating as a separate entity. Brain is much like a factory which produces fiction of I and then this I starts behaving as an independent entity.
Like artificial intelligence. Artificial ‘I’ is born. It gets strengthened & enhanced day by day.
It assumes centre stage as though it is controller. In the functioning of brain this process is necessary for daily living, to acquire skills and knowledge.
Brain falls in habit forming pattern and ‘I’ factory starts up in full throttle. The fictional ‘I’ gets embedded in memory and assumes a separate role of master controller.
I is an image stored in memory borne out of agglomeration of thoughts. Image then solidifies & takes centre stage.
Brain is ‘I’ making factory which is fictional yet real as it takes centre stage. Science is experimenting to establish how brain produces I observation, choiceless awareness is the only way out of self generating machinery. Any other attempt is contradictory and enhances ‘I’ apparaties. Only enquiry is needed rest takes minute or 100 years. Is there an illusion? Can I see it. That’s all Then just live in awareness with zeal and zest. Simply flow.
Life has gathered dust on the way
during her centuries of travelling time
Particles of the dust
Have developed into mountain
which calls irself "I"
Truth can be found by only that mind which is free of any thing manmade.J.k.
Only a peaceful mind which Is free from conflict and hurts can enquire peace.J.K.
Thoughts based on J.Krishmanurti`s teachings
From "The reluctant Messiah" by Sidney Field
This is a very long quote copied from pp. 117, 118 and pp. 135-157 from the book "The reluctant Messiah" by Sidney Field, Paragon House, New York 1989, Edited by Peter Hay, ISBN 1-55778-180-X, Copyright 1989 by Sidney Field. Sidney Field was a close friend to Krishnamurti and the book is about all the encounters he had with K. At page 117, Sidney wrote:
My brother, John, died early in January, 1972. His death was totally unexpected and a great shock to me. John had been a photographer, a lover of adventure, women and wine, a mean of great Latin charm. He had known Krishnaji as long as I had, and had many times delighted him with his stories and personal adventures. Krishnaji had just arrived from Europe and was staying in Malibu at the home of Mrs. Zimbalist. I called him to give him the sad news, saying I wanted to see him, and he asked me to come the following day for lunch.
He greeted me most affectionately. At the dining table I came right to the point: "Has John survived his bodily death in a subtler form? Yes or no?" There was a moment's silence. "My gut feeling," I went on, "is that he is here beside me, right now."
"Of course he is, right here beside you," said Krishnaji. "He's very close to you, and will continue being close for some time." Two hours later we were still deep into the subject of death and the hereafter. He referred to that part of the personality that survives bodily death as an echo, instead of an astral body, as the Theosophists call it, the echo of the person who lived on earth, the duration of its life on the other side depending on the strength of the individual's earthly personality. "Dr. Besant's echo, for instance," he said, "will go on for a long time, for she had a very strong personality."
"Your viewpoint here is very similar to that of the Theosophists," I said.
"With one important difference," he replied. "There is no permanent substance that survives the death of the body. Whether the ego lasts one year, ten thousand, or a million years, it must finally come to an end."
Krishnaji's remarks during this conversation were among the most revealing and enlightening I had ever heard him make on the subject of death and survival beyond it. At the end of our talk Mrs. Zimbalist remarked that it was a great pity we had not recorded it, for, prodded by insistent questioning and probing on my part, and aided by a sympathetic Mrs. Zimbalist, Krishnaji had explored what to us was a new dimension on this fascinating subject.
Krishnaji has an extraordinary capacity for recall, when he wants to use that gift, and a few days later, he Alain Naude and Mrs. Zimbalist recreated the entire conversation, this time recording it, with Naude asking Krishnaji essentially the same questions I had asked. It was staged in a much quieter atmosphere, naturally, and Naude's questions were cool and intellectual. They did not have the same urgency and strong feeling of my approach, for I was hurting at the time. Nevertheless, I was fascinated when I heard the recording. Krishnaji gave me permission to publish it in connection with this memoir, and it appears in the Appendix.
A conversation following the Death of John Field
Participants : Krishnamurti , Alain Naude , Mary Zimbalist
recorded on january 14, 1972
Krishnamurti : We said the other day Sidney Field came to see me. His brother John died recently. You knew him. He was very concerned whether his brother was living in a different level of consciousness; wether there was John as an entity born [in the] next life. And did I believe in reincarnation and what did it mean. And so he had a lot of questions. He was having a difficult time with himself because of his brother, whom he loved and whom we have known for years. So out of that conversation two things came up. First, is there a permanent ego? If there is such a thing as a permanent something, then what is its relationship from the present to the future? The future being next life or ten years later. But if you admit or accept or believe or assert that there is a permanent ego, then reincarnation...
Alain Naude: ... is inevitable.
K: Not inevitable. I wouldn't say inevitable. It is plausible, because the permanent ego, to me, if it is permanent, can be changed in ten years' time. It can incarnate differently in ten years time.
A: We read this all the time in the Indian scriptures. We read about children who remember the past life, about a girl who said, "What am I doing here? My home is in some other village. I'm married to so and so. I have three children." And in many cases I believe that this has been verified.
K: I don't know. So there is that. If there is no permanent entity, then what is reincarnation? Both involve time, both involve a movement in space. Space being environment, relationship, pressure, all that existing within that space, time.
A: Within time and temporal circomstances ...
K: ... That is, culture etcetera ...
A: ... Within some sort of social set-up.
K: So is there a permanent me? Obviously not. But Sidney said, "Then what is it that I feel, that John is with me? When I enter the room, I know he is there. I'm not fooling myself, I'm not imagining; I feel him there as I feel my sister who was in that room yesterday. It's as clear, as definite as that."
A: And also sir, when you say "obviously not" , would you explain that ?
K: But wait. So he says, "My brother is there." I said of course he is there, because first of all you have your association and memories of John and that is projected, and that projection is your remembrance.
A: So that the John who was contained within you is that.
K: And when John lived he was associated with you. His presence is with you. When he was living, you might not have seen him all day, but his presence was in that room.
A: His presence was there, and perhaps this is what people mean when they speak of an aura.
K: No, aura is different. Let's not push that in yet.
Mary Zimbalist: May I interrupt - when you say he was in that room, whether alive or dead, was there something external to his brother and sister that was there, or was it in their consciousness?
K: It is both in their consciousness and outside consciousness. I can project my brother and say he was with me last night, feeling he was with me, that may emanate from me; or John, who died ten days ago - his atmosphere, his thoughts, his way of behaving still remaining there, even though physically he might have gone.
A: The psychic momentum.
K: The physical heat.
Z: Are you saying there is a sort of energy, for want of a better word, which human beings give off?
K: There was a photograph of a parking lot taken where there had been many cars, and the photo showed, although there were no cars there, the form of the cars that had been there.
A: Yes. I saw that.
K: That is, the heat that the car had left came on the negative.
A: And also one day when we were living in Gstaad, the first time I was your guest at Gstaad, we were living as Les Capris - you left for America before any of us left, and I went into that flat - you were still alive and on your way to America and your presence was there, extremely strong.
K: That's it.
A: Your presence was so strong, one felt one could touch you. This was not simply because I was thinking about you before I entered the flat.
K: So there are three possibilities. I project out of my remembrance and consciousness, or pick up the risidual energy of John.
A: Like a smell that would linger.
K: John's thought or John's existence is still there.
A: That's the third possibility.
Z: What do you mean by that, John' existenc?
A: That John is really there as before he died? The third possibility.
K: I live in a room for a number of years. The presence of that room contained my energy, my thoughts, my feelings.
A: It contains its own energy, and when we go into a new house it sometimes takes time before you are rid of the person who was there before you, even though you may not have known him.
K: So those are the three possibilities. And the other is John's thought, because John clings to life. John's desires are there in the air, not in the room.
K: Yes, they are there just like a thought.
A: And does that mean that John is conscious and there is a being who is self-conscious calling himself John, thinking those thoughts?
K: I doubt it.
A: I think that is what the people who believe in reincarnation would postulate.
K: See what happens, Sir. This makes four possibilities and the idea that John whose physical body is gone, exists in thought.
A: In his own thought or someone else's?
K: In his own thought.
A: Exists as a thinking entity.
K: As a thinking entity exists.
A: As a conscious being.
K: That is - listen to this, it's rather interesting - John continues because he is the world of vulgarity, of greed, of envy, of drinking, and of competition. That is the common pattern of man. It continues and John may be identified with that, or is that.
A: John is the desires, the thoughts, the beliefs, the associations.
K: Of the world.
A: Which are incarnate and which are material.
K: Which is the world - which is everybody.
A: This is a big thing you are saying. It would be nice if you could explain it a bit better. When you say John persists, John continues because there is a continuation of the vulgar in him - the vulgar being worldly, material association.
K: That is right: fear, wanting power, position.
A: Desire to be as an entity.
K: So that, because that is a common thing of the world and the world does incarnate.
A: You say the world does incarnate.
K: Take the mass of the people. They are caught in this stream and that stream goes on. I may have a son who is part of that stream and in that stream there is John also, as a human being who is caught in it. And my son may remember some of John's attitudes.
A: Ah but you are saying something different.
A: You are saying that John is contained in all the memories that different people have of him. In that respect we can see that he does exist. Because I remember a friend of mine died not long ago, and it was very clear to me when I thought about it that in fact he was very much alive in the memories of all the people who had loved him.
K: That's just it.
A: Therefore, he was not absent from the world, he was still in the stream of events which we call the world, which is the lives of different people who had associated with him. In that sense we see that he can perhaps live forever.
K: Unless he breaks away from it - breaks away from the stream. A man who is not vulgar - let's use that word, vulgar, representing all this ... greed, envy, power, position, hatred, desires, all that - let's call that vulgar. Unless I am free from the vulgar, I will continue representing the whole of vulgarity, the whole vulgarity of man.
A: Yes, I will be that vulgarity by pursuing it, and in fact incarnating in it, giving it life.
K: Therefore I incarnate in that vulgarity. That is, first I can project John, my brother.
A: In my thought and imagination or remember him. The second point, I can pick up his kinetic energy, which is still around.
K: His smell, his taste, his saying the words.
A:The pipe which is unsmoked on the desk, the half-finished letter.
K: All that.
A: Flowers he picked in the garden.
K: Third, the thought remains in the room.
A: Thought remains in the room?
K: Feelings ...
A: One might say, the psychic equivalent of his kinetic energy.
A: His thought remains almost as a material smell. As a physical smell.
K: That's right.
A: The energy of thought remains like an old coat that you hang up.
K: Thought, will, if he has a very strong will; active desires and thought, they also remain.
A: But that's not different from the third point. The third point is that thought remains, which is will, which is desire.
K: The fourth point is the stream of vulgarity.
A: That's not very clear.
K: Look, sir, I live an ordinary life, like millions and millions of people.
A: Yes, pursuing goals, hopes and fears.
K: I live the usual life. A little more refined, a little bit higher or lower, along the same current, I follow that current. I am that current. Me, who is that current, is bound to continue in that stream, which is the stream of me. I'm not different from millions of other people.
A: Therefore are you saying, sir, even, dead I continue because the things which were me are continuing.
K: In the human being.
A: Therefore, I survive. I was not different from the things which filled and preoccupied my life.
K: That's right.
A: Since these things which filled and occupied my life survive, in a manner of speaking I survive since they do.
K: That's right. That's four points.
A: The question is about the fifth. Is there a conscious thinking entity who knows that he is conscious when everybody has said, "There goes poor old John," even put him in the ground. Is there a conscious entity who immaterially says, "Good gracious, they've put that body in the ground but I have consciousness of being alive."
A: That is the question which I think is difficult to answer.
K: Sidney was asking that question.
A: Because we see that everybody does exist in these other ways after death.
K: Now, you are asking the question, Does John, whose body is burned - cremated - does that entity continue to live?
A: Does that entity continue to have its consciousness of its own existence?
K: I question whether there is a seperate John.
A: You said at the beginning, is there such a thing as a permanent ego? You said obviously not.
K: When you say that John, my brother, is dead and ask wether he is living, living in a seperate consciousness, I question whether he was ever seperate from the stream.
K: You follow what I am saying, sir?
A: Was there a John alive?
K: When John was alive, was he different from the stream?
A: The stream filled his consciousness of himself. His consciousness of himself was the stream knowing himself.
K: No, sir, just go slowly. It's rather complicated. The stream of humanity is anger, hate, jealosy, seeking power, position, cheating, corrupt, polluted. That is the stream. Of that stream is my brother John. When he existed physically, he has a physical body, but psychologically he was of this. Therefore was he ever different from this? From the stream? Or only physically different and therefore thinking he was different. You follow my point?
A: There was an entity who was self-conscious ...
K: ... As John.
A: He was self-conscious, and the stream was in relationship to himself.
A: My wife, my child, my love.
K: But was John inwardly different from the stream? That's my point. Therefore what is dead is the body. And the continuation of John is part of that stream. I, as his brother, would like to think of him as separate because he lived with me as a seperate being physically. Inwardly he was of the stream. Therefore, was there a John who was different from the stream? And, if he was different, then what happens? I don't know if you follow.
A: There is a stream from outside and there is a stream from inside. Vulgarity seen in the street is from the man who feels himself to be acting in the moment of that vulgarity. I insult somebody. This is vulgarity. You see that vulgarity from the outside and say there is a vulgar act. I who am insulting somebody see the act in a different way. I feel self-conscious life at the moment when I insult. In fact I insult because there is a conscious thinking about me. I am protecting myself, so I insult.
K: My point is, this is what is happening with one hundred million people. Millions of people. As long as I swim in that stream, am I different? Is the real John from the stream?
A: Was there ever a John?
K: That's all my point.
A: There was conscious determination which felt itself to be John.
K: Yes, but I can imagine. I can invent because I am different.
A: There was imagination, thought, calling itself John.
K: Yes, sir.
A: Now, does that thought still call itself John?
K: But I belong to that stream.
A: You always belong to the stream.
K: There is no separate entity as John who was my brother, who is now dead.
A: Are you saying that there is no individual?
K: No, this is what we call permanent. The permanent ego is this.
A: What we think is individual.
K: Individual, the collective, the self.
A: Yes, the creation of thought which calls itself self.
K: It is of this stream.
A: That's right.
K: Therefore, was there ever a John? There is only a John when he is out of the stream.
A: That's right.
K: So first we are trying to find out if there is a permanent ego which incarnates.
A: The nature of the ego is imperminent.
K: Reincarnation is in the whole of Asia, and the modern people who believe in it say there is a permanent ego. You take many lives so that it can become dissolved and be absorbed in Brahma and all that. Now, is there from the beginning a permanent entity, an entity that lasts centuries and centuries? There is no such entity, obviously. I like to think I'm permanent. My permanence is identified with my furniture, my wife, my husband, surcumstances. These are words and images of thought. I don't actually possess that chair. I call it mine.
A: Exactly. You think it's a chair and you own it.
K: I like to think I own it.
A: But it's just an idea.
K: So, watch it. So there is no permanent self. If there was a permanent self, it would be this stream. Now, realizing that I am like the rest of the world, that there is no seperate K, or John, as my brother, then I can incarnate if I step out of it. Incarnate in the sense that the change can take place away from the stream. In the stream there is no change.
A: If there is permanence, it is outside the stream.
K: No, sir, permanency, semipermanency, is the stream.
A: And therefore it is not permanent. If it is permanent, it is not the stream. Therefore, if there is an entity, then it must be out of the stream. Therefore, that which is true, that which is permanent, is not a something.
K: It is not in the stream.
A: That's right.
K: When Naude dies, as long as he belongs to the stream, that stream and its flow is semipermanent.
A: Yes, It goes on. It's a historical thing.
K: But if Naude says, I will incarnate, not in the next life, now, tomorrow, which means I will step out of the stream, he is no longer belonging to the stream; therefore there is nothing permanent.
A: There is nothing to reincarnate. Therefore, that which reincarnates, if reincarnation is possible, is not permanent anyway.
K: No, it's the stream.
A: It's very temporal.
K: Don't put it that way.
A: A seperate entity is not real.
K: No, as long as I belong to the stream ...
A: I don't really exist ...
K: There is no separate entity. I am the world.
A: That's right.
K: When I step out of the world, is there a me to continue?
A: Exactly, It's beautiful.
K: So, what we are trying to do is justify the existence of the stream.
A: Is that what we are trying to do?
K: Of course, when I say I must have many lives and therefore I must go through the stream.
A: What we are trying to do, then, is we are trying to establish that we are different from the stream.
K: We are not.
A: We are not different from the stream.
K: So, sir, then what happens? If there is no permanent John or K or Naude or Zimbalist, what happens? You remember, sir, I think I read it in the Tibetan tradition or some other tradition, that when a person dies, is dying, the priest or the monk comes in and sends all the family away, locks the door and says to the dying man, "Look you're dying - let go - let all of your antagonisms, all your worldliness, all your ambition, let go, because you are going to meet a light in which you will be absorbed, if you let go. If not, you'll come back. Which is, come back to the stream. You will be the stream again.
K: So what happens to you if you step out of the stream?
A: You step out of the stream, you cease to be, but the you which was, was only created by thought, anyway.
K: Which is the stream.
K: Vulgarity. What happens if you step out of the stream? The stepping out is the incarnation. Yes, sir, but that is a new thing you are coming into. There is a new dimension coming into being.
K: Now, what happens? You follow? Naude has stepped out of the stream. What happens? You are not an artist. Not a businessman. You are not a polititian, not a musician, all that identification is part of the stream.
A: All the qualities.
K: All the qualities. When you discard that, what happens?
A: You have no identity.
K: Identity is here. Say, for instance, Napoleon, or any of these so-called world leaders: they killed, they butchered, they did every horror imaginable, they lived and died in the stream, they were of the stream. That is very simple and clear. There is a man who steps out of the stream.
A: Before physical death?
K: Of course; otherwise there is no point.
A: Therefore, another dimension is born.
K: What happens?
A: The ending of the dimension which is familiar to us is another dimension, but it cannot be postulated at all because all postulation is in terms fo the dimension we are in.
K: Yes, but suppose you, living now ...
A: Step out of it.
K: Step out of the stream. What happens?
A: This is death, sir.
K: No, sir.
A: This is death, but no physical death.
K: You see, you step out of it. What happens?
A: Nothing can be said about what happens.
K: Wait, sir. You see, none of us step out of the river, and we are always from the river, trying to reach the other shore.
A: it's like people talking about deep sleep from awakeness.
K: That's it, sir. We belong to this stream, all of us. Man does belong to the stream and from the stream he wants to reach that shore, never leaving the river. Now the man says, all right, I see the fallacy of this, the absurdity of my position.
A: You can't state another dimension from the old dimension.
K: So I leave that. So the mind says, "Out!". He steps out and what takes place? Don't verbalize it.
A: The only thing one can say about it in terms of the stream is silence. Because it is the silence of the stream, and one can also say it is the death of the stream. Therefore, in terms of the stream it is sometimes called oblivion.
K: You know what it means to step out of the stream: no character.
A: No memory.
K: No, sir, see: no character, because the moment you have character it's of the stream. The moment you say you are virtuous, you are of the stream - or not virtuous. To step out of the stream is to step out of this whole structure. So, creation as we know it is in the stream. Mozart, Beethoven, you follow, the painters, they are all here.
A: I think perhaps, sir, sometimes that which is in the stream is vivified, as it were from something which is beyond.
K: No, no, can't be. Don't say these things because I can create in the stream. I can paint marvelous pictures. why not? I can compose the most extraordinary symphonies, all the techniques ...
A: Why are they extraordinary?
K: Because the world needs it. There is the need, the demand, and the supply. I'm saying to myself what happens to the man who really steps out. Here in the river, in the stream, energy is conflict, in contradiction, in strife, in vulgarity. But that's going on all the time ...
A: Me and You.
K: Yes, that's going on all the time. When he steps out of it, there is no conflict, there is no division as my country, your country.
A: No division.
K: No division. So what is the quality of that man, that mind that has no sense of division? It is pure energy, isn't it? So our concern is this stream and stepping out of it.
A: That is meditation, that is real meditation, because the stream is not life. The stream is totally mechanical.
K: I must die to the stream.
A: All the time.
K: All the time. And therefore I must deny - not deny, I must not get entangled with - John who is in the stream.
A: One must repudiate the things of the stream.
K: That means I must repudiate my brother.
A: I must repudiate having a brother. You see what that means?
K: I see my brother belonging to this, and as I move away from the stream my mind is open. I think that is compassion.
A: When the stream is seen from that which is not of the stream.
K: When the man of the stream steps out and looks, then he has compassion.
A: And love.
K: So, you see, sir, reincarnation, that is, incarnating over and over again, is the stream. This is not a very comforting thing. I come to you and tell you my brother died yesterday, and you tell me this. I call you a terribly cruel man. But you are weeping for yourself, you are weeping for me, for the stream. That's why people don't want to know. I want to know where my brother is, not whether he is.
Katinka Hesselink Net
Monday, September 01, 2008
J.Krishnamurti : Death is impermanence and possessiveness is hoping for permanence.Happiness is a side-effect, not an end in itself.
No, the brain is the entire centre of desire, feeling, anxiety, pain, loneliness. The consciousness is all that, the beliefs, fears, sorrow, loneliness, anxiety, the whole….
: …. The psychological being.
K : Yes, the psychological structure, confusion. That is the brain. And love is not part of the brain because it is something outside that.
I know. I use that word but, you see, meditation is a very complex business. In meditation there is no meditator at all.
K : That’s all. When you are really looking at something there is the absence of the self.
From what I have discussed with people, Nirvana apparently means a state in which the self is not. The self in the sense of all the turmoil. Come to that point, don’t discuss what Nirvana is you will find out.
: No, I am putting it differently. When you are not hearing with the sensory ear, but hearing inwardly, completely, in that state we are absolutely silent. When absolutely silent, then insight may take place. Perception in which there is no division as the ‘me’, the perceiver and the perceived-right? So the whole mechanical process of thinking, with its conflict, comes to an end.
I wouldn’t ask a human being whether he has insight. That, I think, would be a wrong question. But I would ask: does the mechanical process of thinking ever stop? Or is the brain perpetually occupies?
I follow that, sir. What you are saying is: insight is perception or listening without any examination, any analytical process at all.
DB : If you start with logic, you are starting with your past assumptions that are wrong. You see the difficulty. When you start from insight, you start from something new, a new perception. But if you start from logic, you must start from what you already know, which is always wrong, fundamentally.
So we started out by saying that thought is mechanical. The computer is mechanical. What thought can do the computer can do, up to a certain point. But thought being mechanical, can never capture that which is non-mechanical. And insight is non-mechanical, totally non-mechanical. Now listen to that, don’t argue. You have argued enough now to say thought is mechanical, computers are mechanical; whatever thought can do, up to a certain point the computer can do, it can learn, relearn, adjust, it can do all the kinds of thing that thought can do, based on knowledge and so on. We both agreed to that. David tells me it is perfectly right up to that point. But that doesn’t bring about insight, he tells me. So I say, all right. I don’t say, what am I to do? The moment I say, what am I to do, you are back in the cycle. Right? He says, see that very clearly and don’t move away from that. We have argued about this mechanical process sufficiently. We can go into much more detail and so on but we have got the principle of it. Right? That’s all. Don’t move from there. Don’t say, what is insight? If you don’t move, it’s there. I don’t know if I’ve conveyed this.
K : I would like to discuss that a little. ‘Attending’ means giving all your energy, sensitivity, the whole nervous organism, so that not only your hearing, you eyes, but everything is tremendously alive. In that state of attention there is no centre as the ‘me’ attending. So there is no fear in that. I don’t know if I am making myself clear.
: No, the point is to understand living, the significance of living, not this perpetual battle, struggle, conflict, I must have more, be better, this constant measurement of myself with somebody else – he is famous so I must become famous, he is on television, I am not! This terrible sense of poverty; and in the attempt to be rich there is the burden of fear. I may never get rich because there is somebody much richer.
Yes, You see that’s why one has to inquire, is there a becoming and therefore the ending of becoming is fear.
K : And is there psychological becoming at all? There is a becoming in the world in the sense that one is apprenticed to a master carpenter and you gradually work with him until you become as he is. But that same attitude spills over, or is extended into, the other, the psychological, inner field – I must become something. If I don’t I am lost, I am a failure, I am depressed, look, you have become something, I am nobody.
K : Death is impermanence and possessiveness is hoping for permanence.
So there are two separate entities. The thinker and the object of which you think. Now, what is the thinker?
: To realize that the observer, the thinker, the experience and the observed, the experience are one, are not separate, sir, that means a tremendous, inward, psychological revolution. It means there is no division, there is no conflict. And when you then give attention to the fact, the fact is burnt away. But thought will be kept to plant a tree, to bring that flower into being.
K : No, the ultimate goal, if you can put it that way, is to find that which is completely sacred, totally uncontaminated by thought.
: Of course not, that’s why I said one has to be free of all the illusions that thought has created to see something really sacred which comes about through right meditation.
K : You see, this question is very complex. Putting the house in order means no fear, the understanding of pleasure, the ending of sorrow. From that arise compassion, intelligence, and the process of that we’ll call it process for the moment – is part of meditation and then to find out whether thought can ever stop, which means time has to have a stop. And then out of that comes the great silence, and it is in that silence that one can find that which is sacred.
K : No, when one realize that the observer is the observed, the controller is the controlled, the experiencer is the experience, when one realize it not intellectually, verbally, but actually, profoundly, then that very perception stops it. It’s like seeing danger. If you see danger you move away from it. For example, a human being who is perpetually in conflict may ‘meditate’, he may do all kinds of things but the conflict still goes on; but when he sees the psychological danger, the poison of conflict, then he’ll stop it, there’s an end of it.
You see, then we have to find out what action is. Is there an action that doesn’t create conflict, in which there is no regret, which under all circumstances, whether we live in a poor or an affluent society, is and must always be correct? To find that out one has to go into the question of what our action is now. It is either idealistic action concerned with the future or it is action based on past memories, which is knowledge. Now, is there an action independent of the future, of time? That’s the whole point, isn’t it?
Belief atrophies the brain. If you keep on repeating, repeating, as they do, your brain atrophies.
Many Questions No answers
what is the source of goodness and evil.
Is absence of evil a ground for goodness? Is evil apparent or surreptitious?Apparent such as terrorism is visible and easier to handle.What about the unrecognised aspect of evil?
Does that mean goodness neednot be cultivated.Cultivated goodness is motivated goodness.Can it sustain and deliver.Can it stand testing times?Just focus on absence of evil.
Source of evil could be many or just one.Many facets of one evil.
Would there be evil if there is no I-ness.But then how would life be without I-ness.What will be the motivation to progress in absence of it.Could there be progress without sense of I-ness.Theoritically yes but practically flawed.
What is greater sea of humanity or wave of misantrophy?
Many questions .No answers.
Matrix, Mind and Maya
MATRIX and MIND share more than the literary alliteration.Before unravelling what is mind, Matrix needs a MENTION.
According to me the world is divided into people who have seen The Matrix trilogy and those who havenot.The former is seized with an urgency to ponder over it,decipher it and keep themselves open to newer interpretations .What is Matrix?Forget about Morpheus definition.How real is the real world?How can we say with certainty that the dream world is not real and physical world is real?
The Matrix is our mind indeed.Call it a hard drive or operating system or intangible software.Mankind is a prisoner of its mind.There is perhaps no difference between Fantasy and Mind.The only difference is that fantasy is matrix of matrix.The problem is that Rene descartes created a confusion in the world by saying I THINK THEREFORE I AM.Instead of I AM THEREFORE I THINK.
What is mind?How and where does thought arise.Is there a residency of mind within ourselves or is it all pervading.Most naive and unthinking would confuse Mind with brain and memory.Memory is a recall action of physical brain.Man does exist without mind though momentarily .What is the space between two breath? Mind generates thoughts which generate ideas which generate sense of I ness .Isnot deciphering life is just a reverse engineering process.Define I ness, unbundle the content of I ness and peel the layer till it reaches to no thought level.
Life and Line again share a lot more than alliteration.Line is a discrete series of points .Life is a discrete series of moments.Each moment a point .Each breath a point.Set of points give an illusion of line.Sets of moments give an illusion of continuity and hence of life.Krishnamurti says observer is observed.Buddha says there is there is no solid I.Hinduism says Tat svam Asi.I am That and so on.I prefer just I am or rather AM?
Can thought be thwarted to break the illusion of I .Subject object duality is a product of mind thought process.If there is no subject there is no object.There is only IS.As the famous Zen Kaon goes.There is a noise of thud in the forest where no life being exist.Was there a sound?Analysis-Analyst.Think-Thinker,Experience-Experiencer. Or just Analysing,Thinking or Experiencing.
So whats the big deal.Is intellectual understanding an end in itself? Is there a transcendence beyond intellect.Whats the prize for guessing Reincarnation phenomenon?Who reicarnates? or What reincarnates.
The polish brothers bring in Architect,Keymaker and Source in Matrix.Where does God ,creator and creation feature in.Is there a dimension beyond space and time?
The conundrum of Matrix,Mind and Maya lie in no mans land.If you get it you sense futility in describing.If you dont get it ,post a blog.
Posted by Taozen
THE ART OF LETTING GO Dr. Alan Zimmerman's Comments:Sooner or later, *everyone* you know will disappoint you in some way.They'll say something or fail to say something that will hurt you.And they'll do something or fail to do something that will anger you.*It's inevitable*.Unfortunately, you make things worse when you stew over someone's words and deeds.*When you dwell* on a rude remark or an insensitive action made by another person, *you're headed for deeper problems*.In fact, the more you dwell on these things, the more bitter you'll get.You'll find your joy, peace and happiness slipping away. And you'll find your productivity slowing down as you spend more and more time thinking about the slight or telling others about it.Eventually, if you don't stop doing it, you'll even get sick.So what should you do the next time someone betrays you?*TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR FEELINGS*. Even though the other person may be at fault, even though the other person wronged you, *you are still responsible for your own feelings. *In other words, other people do not "cause" your feelings. *You choose them. *For example, two different people could be told that their suggestions made at the staff meeting were "stupid and idiotic."One person may "choose" to feel so hurt that he never speaks up at any other meeting again. The other person may "choose" to feel sorry for the critic, sorry that the critic couldn't see the wisdom and necessity of her suggestions.As long as you blame other people for your feelings,as long as you believe other people caused your feelings, you're stuck. You're a helpless victim.But if you recognize the fact that you choose your feelings and you are responsible for your feelings, there's hope. You can take some time to think about your feelings. And you can decide what is the best thing to say or do.Then, you've got to learn to *WALK AWAY FROM DISAPPOINTMENT*. It's difficult to do, but *it's possible *.The famous 19th century Scottish historian, Thomas Carlyle, proved that.After working on his multi-volume set of books on "The French Revolution" *for six years*, Carlyle completed themanuscript and took volume one to his friend John Stuart Mill. He asked Mill to read it.Five days later, Mill's maid accidentally threw the manuscript into the fire. In agony, Mill went to Carlyle's house to tell him that his work had been destroyed. Carlyle did not flinch. With a smile, he said,"That's all right, Mill.These things happen. It is a part of life. I will start over. I can remember most of it, I am sure. Don't worry. It's all here in my mind. Go,my friend! Do not feel bad."As Mill left, Carlyle watched him from the window.Carlyle turned to his wife and said, *"I did not want him to see how crushed I am by this misfortune."* And with a heavy sigh, he added, "Well the manuscript is gone, so I had better start writing again."Carlyle finally completed the work, which ranks as one of the great classics of all time. He had learned to walk away from his disappointment.After all, what could Carlyle have done about his burnt manuscript?Nothing. Nothing would have resurrected the manuscript. All Carlyle could do was to get bitter or get started.And what can you do about anything once it is over?Not much. You can try to correct it if it is possible, or you can walk away from it if it isn't.Those are your only two choices.Sometimes you've just got to *shake it off and step up.*It's like the farmer who had an old mule who fell into a deep dry well.As he assessed the situation, he knew it would be difficult, if not impossible, to lift the heavy mule out of the deep well.So the farmer decided to bury the mule in the well.After all, the mule was old and the well was dry, so he could solve two problems at once. He could put the old mule out of his misery and have his well filled.The farmer asked his neighbours to help him with the shovelling. As they threw shovel-full of dirt after shovel-full of dirt on the mule's back, the mule became frightened. Then all of a sudden an idea came to the mule. Each time they would throw a shovel-full of dirt on his back, he would shake it off and step up.Shovel-full after shovel-full, the mule would shake it off and step up.In not too long a time, the exhausted and dirty mule stepped over the top of the well and through the crowd.That's the same approach we all need to take. We need to shake it off and step up.Finally, you need to *FORGIVE*. It's difficult,especially when the other person doesn't deserve your forgiveness or doesn't even seek it. It's difficult when the other person is clearly in the wrong.Part of the difficulty comes from a common misunderstanding of forgiveness.Forgiveness doesn't mean that the other person's behaviour is okay. Andforgiveness doesn't mean that the other person is off the hook. He's still responsible for his misbehaviour.*Forgiveness is about letting yourself off the emotional hook*.It's about releasing your negative emotions, attitudes, and behaviours.It's about letting go of the past so you can go forward to the future.*Everyone* in your life, *everyone* on and off the job is going todisappoint you. If you know how to respond to those situations, you'llbe way ahead of most people. You'll be able to live above and beyond your circumstances.Action:Identify two people that have disappointed, hurt, or angered you. Ifpossible, select two people towards whom you still have some bitterness.Then ask yourself, "How does my bitterness serve me?Am I happier holding on to it?Do I sleep better?Is my life richer, fuller, and better because of my bitterness?"If you find that your bitterness is hurting you, make a decision. Actually *decide to let it go *.Walk away from the disappointment -- which means you no longer dwell on it or talk about it.
Translative(traditional/ritual based) religion has its place in society with deep significance for it also provides with good code of conduct to its collective members and also provides calmness and peace to its practioners.It may be superficial or deceptive but it can be genuine too.Sacredness and profanity co exist and thus sacredness cannot be jettisioned just because there is a lurking danger of profanity just as airplanes neednot be stopped as air accidents could happen.So far so good.Arguements can also be made there can be one Buddha in thousand years and so there can be one one Mirabai in thousand years,Hence translative or transformative the probability of attaining holy heights leave aside complete enlightenment is .00000000000000001 .
Western writers have a good knack of putting across .For instance what ken wilber says is not new to easterners and scriptures are abound with dual vs nondual path .Dwait/adwait or gross vs existential nothingness.
Its a choice to be made.Opinions will always be divided on whther it is ladder type situation,meaning gradual climbing step by step or whther it is now and here.
Read article below
A Spirituality That Transforms
Hal Blacker, consulting editor of What is Enlightenment?, has described the topic
of this special issue of the magazine in the following way (although this repeats
statements made elsewhere in this issue, it is nonetheless worth quoting at length, simply
because of its eloquence, straightforwardness, and unerring good sense):
We intend to explore a sensitive question, but one which needs to be
addressed--the superficiality which pervades so much of the current spiritual
exploration and discourse in the West, particularly in the United States. All too
often, in the translation of the mystical traditions from the East (and elsewhere)
into the American idiom, their profound depth is flattened out, their radical
demand is diluted, and their potential for revolutionary transformation is
squelched. How this occurs often seems to be subtle, since the words of the
teachings are often the same. Yet through an apparent sleight of hand involving,
perhaps, their context and therefore ultimately their meaning, the message of the
greatest teachings often seems to become transmuted from the roar of the fire of
liberation into something more closely resembling the soothing burble of a
California hot tub. While there are exceptions, the radical implications of the
greatest teachings are thereby often lost. We wish to investigate this dilution of
spirituality in the West, and inquire into its causes and consequences.
Copyright © 2006 Ken Wilber. All Rights Reserved.
I would like to take that statement and unpack its basic points, commenting on
them as best I can, because taken together, those points highlight the very heart and soul
of a crisis in American spirituality.
Translation Versus Transformation
In a series of books (e.g., A Sociable God, Up from Eden, and The Eye of Spirit), I
have tried to show that religion itself has always performed two very important, but very
different, functions. One, it acts as a way of creating meaning for the separate self: it
offers myths and stories and tales and narratives and rituals and revivals that, taken
together, help the separate self make sense of, and endure, the slings and arrows of
outrageous fortune. This function of religion does not usually or necessarily change the
level of consciousness in a person; it does not deliver radical transformation. Nor does it
deliver a shattering liberation from the separate self altogether. Rather, it consoles the
self, fortifies the self, defends the self, promotes the self. As long as the separate self
believes the myths, performs the rituals, mouths the prayers, or embraces the dogma, then
the self, it is fervently believed, will be "saved"--either now in the glory of being
God-saved or Goddess-favored, or in an after-life that insures eternal wonderment.
But two, religion has also served--in a usually very, very small minority--the
function of radical transformation and liberation. This function of religion does not
fortify the separate self, but utterly shatters it--not consolation but devastation, not
entrenchment but emptiness, not complacency but explosion, not comfort but
revolution--in short, not a conventional bolstering of consciousness but a radical
transmutation and transformation at the deepest seat of consciousness itself.
There are several different ways that we can state these two important functions
of religion. The first function--that of creating meaning for the self--is a type of
horizontal movement; the second function--that of transcending the self--is a type of
vertical movement (higher or deeper, depending on your metaphor). The first I have
named translation; the second, transformation.
With translation, the self is simply given a new way to think or feel about reality.
The self is given a new belief--perhaps holistic instead of atomistic, perhaps forgiveness
instead of blame, perhaps relational instead of analytic. The self then learns to translate
its world and its being in the terms of this new belief or new language or new paradigm,
and this new and enchanting translation acts, at least temporarily, to alleviate or diminish
the terror inherent in the heart of the separate self.
But with transformation, the very process of translation itself is challenged,
witnessed, undermined, and eventually dismantled. With typical translation, the self (or
subject) is given a new way to think about the world (or objects); but with radical
transformation, the self itself is inquired into, looked into, grabbed by its throat and
literally throttled to death.
Put it one last way: with horizontal translation--which is by far the most prevalent,
wide-spread, and widely-shared function of religion--the self is, at least temporarily,
made happy in its grasping, made content in its enslavement, made complacent in the
face of the screaming terror that is in fact its innermost condition. With translation, the
self goes sleepy into the world, stumbles numbed and near-sighted into the nightmare of
samsara, is given a map laced with morphine with which to face the world. And this,
indeed, is the common condition of a religious humanity, precisely the condition that the
radical or transformative spiritual realizers have come to challenge and to finally undo.
For authentic transformation is not a matter of belief but of the death of the
believer; not a matter of translating the world but of transforming the world; not a matter
of finding solace but of finding infinity on the other side of death. The self is not made
content; the self is made toast.
Now, although I have obviously been favoring transformation and belittling
translation, the fact is that, on the whole, both of these functions are incredibly important
and altogether indispensable. Individuals are not, for the most part, born enlightened.
They are born in a world of sin and suffering, hope and fear, desire and despair. They are
born as a self ready and eager to contract; a self rife with hunger, thirst, tears and terror.
And they begin, quite early on, to learn various ways to translate their world, to make
sense of it, to give meaning to it, and to defend themselves against the terror and the
torture never lurking far beneath the happy surface of the separate self.
And as much as we, as you and I, might wish to transcend mere translation and
find an authentic transformation, nonetheless translation itself is an absolutely necessary
and crucial function for the greater part of our lives. Those who cannot translate
adequately, with a fair amount of integrity and accuracy, fall quickly into severe neurosis
or even psychosis: the world ceases to make sense--the boundaries between the self and
the world are not transcended but instead begin to crumble. This is not breakthrough but
breakdown; not transcendence but disaster.
But at some point in our maturation process, translation itself, no matter how
adequate or confident, simply ceases to console. No new beliefs, no new paradigm, no
new myths, no new ideas, will staunch the encroaching anguish. Not a new belief for the
self, but the transcendence of the self altogether, is the only path that avails.
Still, the number of individuals who are ready for such a path is, always has been,
and likely always will be, a very small minority. For most people, any sort of religious
belief will fall instead into the category of consolation: it will be a new horizontal
translation that fashions some sort of meaning in the midst of the monstrous world. And
religion has always served, for the most part, this first function, and served it well.
I therefore also use the word legitimacy to describe this first function (the
horizontal translation and creation of meaning for the separate self). And much of
religion's important service is to provide legitimacy to the self--legitimacy to its beliefs,
its paradigms, its worldviews, and its way in the world. This function of religion to
provide a legitimacy for the self and its beliefs--no matter how temporary, relative,
nontransformative, or illusory--has nonetheless been the single greatest and most
important function of the world's religious traditions. The capacity of a religion to
provide horizontal meaning, legitimacy, and sanction for the self and its beliefs--that
function of religion has historically been the single greatest "social glue" that any culture
And one does not tamper easily, or lightly, with the basic glue that holds societies
together. Because more often than not, when that glue dissolves--when that translation
dissolves--the result, as we were saying, is not breakthrough but breakdown, not
liberation but social chaos. (We will return to this crucial point in a moment.)
Where translative religion offers legitimacy, transformative religion offers
authenticity. For those few individuals who are ready--that is, sick with the suffering of
the separate self, and no longer able to embrace the legitimate worldview--then a
transformative opening to true authenticity, true enlightenment, true liberation, calls more
and more insistently. And, depending upon your capacity for suffering, you will sooner
or later answer the call of authenticity, of transformation, of liberation on the lost horizon
Transformative spirituality does not seek to bolster or legitimate any present
worldview at all, but rather to provide true authenticity by shattering what the world takes
as legitimate. Legitimate consciousness is sanctioned by the consensus, adopted by the
herd mentality, embraced by the culture and the counter-culture both, promoted by the
separate self as the way to make sense of this world. But authentic consciousness quickly
shakes all of that off of its back, and settles instead into a glance that sees only a radiant
infinity in the heart of all souls, and breathes into its lungs only the atmosphere of an
eternity too simple to believe.
Transformative spirituality, authentic spirituality, is therefore revolutionary. It
does not legitimate the world, it breaks the world; it does not console the world, it
shatters it. And it does not render the self content, it renders it undone.
And those facts lead to several conclusions.
Who Actually Wants to Transform?
It is a fairly common belief that the East is simply awash in transformative and
authentic spirituality, but that the West--both historically and in today's "new age"--has
nothing much more than various types of horizontal, translative, merely legitimate and
therefore tepid spirituality. And while there is some truth to that, the actual situation is
much gloomier, for both the East and the West alike.
First, although it is generally true that the East has produced a greater number of
authentic realizers, nonetheless, the actual percentage of the Eastern population that is
engaged in authentic transformative spirituality is, and always has been, pitifully small. I
once asked Katigiri Roshi, with whom I had my first breakthrough (hopefully, not a
breakdown), how many truly great Ch'an and Zen masters there have historically been.
Without hesitating, he said "Maybe one thousand altogether." I asked another Zen master
how many truly enlightened--deeply enlightened--Japanese Zen masters there were alive
today, and he said "Not more than a dozen."
Let us simply assume, for the sake of argument, that those are vaguely accurate
answers. Run the numbers. Even if we say there were only one billion Chinese over the
course of its history (an extremely low estimate), that still means that only one thousand
out of one billion had graduated into an authentic, transformative spirituality. For those
of you without a calculator, that's 0.0000001 of the total population.
And that means, unmistakably, that the rest of the population were (and are)
involved in, at best, various types of horizontal, translative, merely legitimate religion:
they were involved in magical practices, mythical beliefs, egoic petitionary prayer,
magical rituals, and so on--in other words, translative ways to give meaning to the
separate self, a translative function that was, as we were saying, the major social glue of
the Chinese (and all other) cultures to date.
Thus, without in any way belittling the truly stunning contributions of the glorious
Eastern traditions, the point is fairly straightforward: radical transformative spirituality is
extremely rare, anywhere in history, and anywhere in the world. (The numbers for the
West are even more depressing. I rest my case.)
So, although we can very rightly lament the very few number of individuals in the
West who are today involved in a truly authentic and radically transformative spiritual
realization, let us not make the false argument of claiming that it has otherwise been
dramatically different in earlier times or in different cultures. It has on occasion been a
little better than we see here, now, in the West, but the fact remains: authentic spirituality
is an incredibly rare bird, anywhere, at any time, at any place. So let us start from the
unarguable fact that vertical, transformative, authentic spirituality is one of the most
precious jewels in the entire human tradition--precisely because, like all precious jewels,
it is incredibly rare.
Second, even though you and I might deeply believe that the most important
function we can perform is to offer authentic transformative spirituality, the fact is, much
of what we have to do, in our capacity to bring decent spirituality into the world, is
actually to offer more benign and helpful modes of translation. In other words, even if
we ourselves are practicing, or offering, authentic transformative spirituality, nonetheless
much of what we must first do is provide most people with a more adequate way to
translate their condition. We must start with helpful translations, before we can
effectively offer authentic transformations.
The reason is that if translation is too quickly, or too abruptly, or too ineptly taken
away from an individual (or a culture), the result, once again, is not breakthrough but
breakdown, not release but collapse. Let me give two quick examples here.
When Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, a great (though controversial) Tibetan
master, first came to this country, he was renown for always saying, when asked the
meaning of Vajrayana, "There is only Ati." In other words, there is only the enlightened
mind wherever you look. The ego, samsara, maya and illusion--all of them do not have
to be gotten rid of, because none of them actually exist: There is only Ati, there is only
Spirit, there is only God, there is only nondual Consciousness anywhere in existence.
Virtually nobody got it--nobody was ready for this radical and authentic
realization of always-already truth--and so Trungpa eventually introduced a whole series
of "lesser" practices leading up to this radical and ultimate "no practice." He introduced
the Nine Yanas as the foundation of practice--in other words, he introduced nine stages or
levels of practice, culminating in the ultimate "no practice" of always-already Ati.
Many of these practices were simply translative, and some were what we might
call "lesser transformative" practices: miniature transformations that made the bodymind
more susceptible to radical, already-accomplished enlightenment. These translative and
lesser practices issued forth in the "perfect practice" of no-practice--or the radical,
instantaneous, authentic realization that, from the very beginning, there is only Ati. So
even though ultimate transformation was the prior goal and ever-present ground, Trungpa
had to introduce translative and lesser practices in order to prepare people for the
obviousness of what is.
Exactly the same thing happened with Adi Da, another influential (and equally
controversial) adept (although this time, American-born). He originally taught nothing
but "the path of understanding": not a way to attain enlightenment, but an inquiry into
why you want to attain enlightenment in the first place. The very desire to seek
enlightenment is in fact nothing but the grasping tendency of the ego itself, and thus the
very search for enlightenment prevents it. The "perfect practice" is therefore not to
search for enlightenment, but to inquire into the motive for seeking itself. You obviously
seek in order to avoid the present, and yet the present alone holds the answer: to seek
forever is to miss the point forever. You always already ARE enlightened Spirit, and
therefore to seek Spirit is simply to deny Spirit. You can no more attain Spirit than you
can attain your feet or acquire your lungs.
Nobody got it. And so Adi Da, exactly like Trungpa, introduced a whole series of
translative and lesser transformative practices--seven stages of practice, in fact--leading
up to the point that you could dispense with seeking altogether, there to stand open to the
always-already truth of your own eternal and timeless condition, which was completely
and totally present from the start, but which was brutally ignored in the frenzied desire to
Now, whatever you might think of those two Adepts, the fact remains: they
performed perhaps the first two great experiments in this country on how to introduce the
notion that "There is only Ati"--there is only Spirit--and thus seeking Spirit is exactly that
which prevents realization. And they both found that, however much we might be alive
to Ati, alive to the radical transformative truth of this moment, nonetheless translative
and lesser transformative practices are almost always a prerequisite for that final and
My second point, then, is that in addition to offering authentic and radical
transformation, we must still be sensitive to, and caring of, the numerous beneficial
modes of lesser and translative practices. This more generous stance therefore calls for
an "integral approach" to overall transformation, an approach that honors and
incorporates many lesser transformative and translative practices--covering the physical,
emotional, mental, cultural, and communal aspects of the human being--in preparation
for, and as an expression of, the ultimate transformation into the always already present
And so, even as we rightly criticize merely translative religion (and all the lesser
forms of transformation), let us also realize that an integral approach to spirituality
combines the best of horizontal and vertical, translative and transformative, legitimate
and authentic--and thus let us focus our efforts on a balanced and sane overview of the
Wisdom and Compassion
But isn't this view of mine terribly elitist? Good heavens, I hope so. When you
go to a basketball game, do you want to see me or Michael Jordan play basketball?
When you listen to pop music, who are you willing to pay money in order to hear? Me or
Bruce Springsteen? When you read great literature, who would you rather spend an
evening reading, me or Tolstoy? When you pay sixty-four million dollars for a painting,
will that be a painting by me or by Van Gogh?
All excellence is elitist. And that includes spiritual excellence as well. But
spiritual excellence is an elitism to which all are invited. We go first to the great
masters--to Padmasambhava, to St. Teresa of Avila, to Gautama Buddha, to Lady
Tsogyal, to Emerson, Eckhart, Maimonides, Shankara, Sri Ramana Maharshi,
Bodhidharma, Garab Dorje. But their message is always the same: let this consciousness
be in you which is in me. You start elitist, always; you end up egalitarian, always.
But in between, there is the angry wisdom that shouts from the heart: we must, all
of us, keep our eye on the radical and ultimate transformative goal. And so any sort of
integral or authentic spirituality will also, always, involve a critical, intense, and
occasionally polemical shout from the transformative camp to the merely translative
If we use the percentages of Chinese Ch'an as a simple blanket example, this
means that if 0.0000001 of the population is actually involved in genuine or authentic
spirituality, then .99999999 of the population is involved in nontransformative,
nonauthentic, merely translative or horizontal belief systems. And that means, yes, that
the vast, vast majority of "spiritual seekers" in this country (as elsewhere) are involved in
much less than authentic occasions. It has always been so; it is still so now. This country
is no exception.
But in today's America, this is much more disturbing, because this vast majority
of horizontal spiritual adherents often claim to be representing the leading edge of
spiritual transformation, the "new paradigm" that will change the world, the "great
transformation" of which they are the vanguard. But more often than not, they are not
deeply transformative at all; they are merely but aggressively translative--they do not
offer effective means to utterly dismantle the self, but merely ways for the self to think
differently. Not ways to transform, but merely new ways to translate. In fact, what most
of them offer is not a practice or a series of practices; not sadhana or satsang or
shikan-taza or yoga. What most of them offer is simply the suggestion: read my book on
the new paradigm. This is deeply disturbed, and deeply disturbing.
Thus, the authentic spiritual camps have the heart and soul of the great
transformative traditions, and yet they will always do two things at once: appreciate and
engage the lesser and translative practices (upon which their own successes usually
depend), but also issue a thundering shout from the heart that translation alone is not
And therefore, all of those for whom authentic transformation has deeply unseated
their souls must, I believe, wrestle with the profound moral obligation to shout from the
heart--perhaps quietly and gently, with tears of reluctance; perhaps with fierce fire and
angry wisdom; perhaps with slow and careful analysis; perhaps by unshakeable public
example--but authenticity always and absolutely carries a demand and duty: you must
speak out, to the best of your ability, and shake the spiritual tree, and shine your
headlights into the eyes of the complacent. You must let that radical realization rumble
through your veins and rattle those around you.
Alas, if you fail to do so, you are betraying your own authenticity. You are hiding
your true estate. You don't want to upset others because you don't want to upset your
self. You are acting in bad faith, the taste of a bad infinity.
Because, you see, the alarming fact is that any realization of depth carries a
terrible burden: Those who are allowed to see are simultaneously saddled with the
obligation to communicate that vision in no uncertain terms: that is the bargain. You
were allowed to see the truth under the agreement that you would communicate it to
others (that is the ultimate meaning of the bodhisattva vow). And therefore, if you have
seen, you simply must speak out. Speak out with compassion, or speak out with angry
wisdom, or speak out with skillful means, but speak out you must.
And this is truly a terrible burden, a horrible burden, because in any case there is
no room for timidity. The fact that you might be wrong is simply no excuse: You might
be right in your communication, and you might be wrong, but that doesn't matter. What
does matter, as Kierkegaard so rudely reminded us, is that only by investing and speaking
your vision with passion, can the truth, one way or another, finally penetrate the
reluctance of the world. If you are right, or if you are wrong, it is only your passion that
will force either to be discovered. It is your duty to promote that discovery--either
way--and therefore it is your duty to speak your truth with whatever passion and courage
you can find in your heart. You must shout, in whatever way you can.
The vulgar world is already shouting, and with such a raucous rancor that truer
voices can scarcely be heard at all. The materialistic world is already full of
advertisements and allure, screams of enticement and cries of commerce, wails of
welcome and whoops of come hither. I don't mean to be harsh here, and we must honor
all lesser engagements. Nonetheless, you must have noticed that the word "soul" is now
the hottest item in the title of book sales--but all "soul" really means, in most of these
books, is simply the ego in drag. "Soul" has come to denote, in this feeding frenzy of
translative grasping, not that which is timeless in you but that which most loudly thrashes
around in time, and thus "care of the soul" incomprehensibly means nothing much more
than focusing intensely on your ardently separate self. Likewise, "Spiritual" is on
everybody's lips, but usually all it really means is any intense egoic feeling, just as
"Heart" has come to mean any sincere sentiment of the self-contraction.
All of this, truly, is just the same ole translative game, dressed up and gone to
town. And even that would be more than acceptable were it not for the alarming fact that
all of that translative jockeying is aggressively called "transformation," when all it is, of
course, is a new series of frisky translations. In other words, there seems to be, alas, a
deep hypocrisy hidden in the game of taking any new translation and calling it the great
transformation. And the world at large--East or West, North or South--is, and always has
been, for the most part, perfectly deaf to this calamity.
And so: given the measure of your own authentic realization, you were actually
thinking about gently whispering into the ear of that near-deaf world? No, my friend, you
must shout. Shout from the heart of what you have seen, shout however you can.
But not indiscriminately. Let us proceed carefully with this transformative shout.
Let small pockets of radically transformative spirituality, authentic spirituality, focus
their efforts, and transform their students. And let these pockets slowly, carefully,
responsibly, humbly, begin to spread their influence, embracing an absolute tolerance for
all views, but attempting nonetheless to advocate a true and authentic and integral
spirituality--by example, by radiance, by obvious release, by unmistakable liberation. Let
those pockets of transformation gently persuade the world and its reluctant selves, and
challenge their legitimacy, and challenge their limiting translations, and offer an
awakening in the face of the numbness that haunts the world at large.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
When people come to me and they ask, "How to meditate?" I tell them, "There is no need to ask how to meditate, just ask how to remain unoccupied. Meditation happens spontaneously. Just ask how to remain unoccupied, that's all. That's the whole trick of meditation - how to remain unoccupied. Then you cannot do anything. The meditation will flower.
When you are not doing anything the energy moves towards the centre, it settles down towards the centre. When you are doing something the energy moves out. Doing is a way of moving out. Non-doing is a way of moving in. Occupation is an escape. You can read the Bible, you can make it an occupation. There is no difference between religious occupation and secular occupation: all occupations are occupations, and they help you to cling outside your being. They are excuses to remain outside.
Man is ignorant and blind, and he wants to remain ignorant and blind, because to come inwards looks like entering a chaos. And it is so; inside you have created a chaos. You have to encounter it and go through it. Courage is needed - courage to be oneself, and courage to move inwards. I have not come across a greater courage than that - the courage to be meditative.
But people who are engaged outside - with worldly things or nonworldly things, but occupied all the same, they think ....and they have created a rumor around it, they have their own philosophers. They say that if you are introvert you are somehow morbid, something is wrong with you. And they are in the majority. If you meditate, if you sit silently, they will joke about you: "What are you doing? - Gazing at your navel? What are you doing? - Opening the third eye? Where are you going? Are you morbid? Because what is there to do inside? There is nothing inside."
Inside doesn't exist for the majority of people, only the outside exists. And just the opposite is the case - only inside is real; outside is nothing but a dream. But they call introverts morbid, they call meditators morbid. In the West they think that the East is little morbid. What is the point of sitting alone and looking inwards? What are you going to get there? There is nothing.
David Hume, one of the great British philosophers, tried once... because he was studying the Upanishads and they go on saying: Go in, go in, go in - that is their only message. So he tried it. He closed his eyes one day - a totally secular man, very logical, empirical, but not meditative at all - he closed his eyes and he said, "It is so boring! It is a boredom to look in. Thoughts move, sometimes a few emotions, and they go on racing in the mind, and you go on looking at them - what is the point of it? It is useless. It has no utility."
And this is the understanding of many people. Hume's standpoint is that of the majority: What are going to get inside? There is darkness, thoughts floating here and there. What will you do? What will come out of it? If Hume had waited a little longer - and that is difficult for such people - if he had been a little more patient, by and by thought disappear, emotions subside. But if it had happened to him he would have said, "That is even worse, because emptiness comes. At least first there were thoughts, something to be occupied with, to look at, to think about. Now even thoughts have disappeared; only emptiness....What to do with emptiness? It is absolutely useless."
But if he had waited a little more, then darkness also disappears. It is just like when you come from the hot sun and you enter your house: everything looks dark because your eyes need a little attunement. They are fixed on the hot sun outside; comparatively, your house looks dark. You cannot see, you feel as if it is night. But you wait, you sit, you rest in a chair, and after few seconds the eyes get attuned. Now it is not dark, a little more light........
You rest for an hour, and everything is light, there is no darkness at all.
If Hume had waited a little longer, then darkness also disappears. Because you have lived in the hot sun outside for many lives your eyes have become fixed, they have lost flexibility. They need tuning. When one comes inside the house it takes a little while, a little time, a patience. Don't be in a hurry.
In haste nobody can come to know himself. It is a very very deep awaiting. Infinite patience is needed. By and by darkness disappears. There comes a light with no source there is no flame in it, no lamp is burning, no sun is there. A light, just like it is morning: the night has disappeared, and the sun has not risen.... Or in the evening - the twilight, when the sun has set and night has not yet descended. That's why Hindus call their prayer time sandhya. Sandhya means twilight, light without any source.
When you move inwards you will come to the light without any source. In that light, for the first time you start understanding yourself, who you are, because you are that light. You are that twilight, that sandhya, that pure clarity, that perception, where the observer and the observed disappear, and only the light remains.
Osho - from the book What is Meditation?
The following statement was written by Krishnamurti himself on October 21, 1980 in which he summarizes the teachings. It may be copied and used provided this is done in its entirety. No editing or change of any kind is permitted. No extracts may be used.
"The core of Krishnamurti's teaching is contained in the statement he made in 1929 when he said: 'Truth is a pathless land'. Man cannot come to it through any organization, through any creed, through any dogma, priest or ritual, not through any philosophic knowledge or psychological technique. He has to find it through the mirror of relationship, through the understanding of the contents of his own mind, through observation and not through intellectual analysis or introspective dissection. Man has built in himself images as a fence of security - religious, political, personal. These manifest as symbols, ideas, beliefs. The burden of these images dominates man's thinking, his relationships and his daily life. These images are the causes of our problems for they divide man from man. His perception of life is shaped by the concepts already established in his mind.
The content of his consciousness is his entire existence. This content is common to all humanity. The individuality is the name, the form and superficial culture he acquires from tradition and environment. The uniqueness of man does not lie in the superficial but in complete freedom from the content of his consciousness, which is common to all mankind. So he is not an individual.
Freedom is not a reaction; freedom is not a choice. It is man's pretence that because he has choice he is free. Freedom is pure observation without direction, without fear of punishment and reward. Freedom is without motive; freedom is not at the end of the evolution of man but lies in the first step of his existence. In observation one begins to discover the lack of freedom. Freedom is found in the choiceless awareness of our daily existence and activity. Thought is time. Thought is born of experience and knowledge which are inseparable from time and the past. Time is the psychological enemy of man. Our action is based on knowledge and therefore time, so man is always a slave to the past. Thought is ever-limited and so we live in constant conflict and struggle. There is no psychological evolution.
When man becomes aware of the movement of his own thoughts he will see the division between the thinker and thought, the observer and the observed, the experiencer and the experience. He will discover that this division is an illusion. Then only is there pure observation which is insight without any shadow of the past or of time. This timeless insight brings about a deep radical mutation in the mind.
Total negation is the essence of the positive. When there is negation of all those things that thought has brought about psychologically, only then is there love, which is compassion and intelligence."