Krishnamurti & the Art of Awakening
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Pages from the Book of Life


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Tue, 19 May 2015 #1
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

Hopefully this new thread will not end up in a 'calendar' format, with carefully selected quotes and beautiful pictures, but rather offer some authentic pointers towards a spiritual or 'holistic' way of life. Many of them will be certainly inspired by the timeless truths of the K Teachings, but our fine readers and participants are free to bring in their own favourite insights- especially those which worked out in their own life.

To start this new thread here are a few of K's first degree encounters with Nature:

The morning star was quite high in the sky, and as you watched, it grew paler and paler until the sun was just over the trees and the river became silver and gold. Then the birds began, and the village woke up. Just then, suddenly, there appeared on the window-sill a large monkey, grey, with a black face and bushy hair over the forehead. His hands were black and his long tail hung over the window-sill into the room. He sat there very quiet, almost motionless, looking at us without a movement. We were quite close, a few feet separated us. And suddenly he stretched out his arm, and we held hands for some time. His hand was rough, black and dusty for he had climbed over the roof, over the little parapet above the window and had come down and sat there. He was quite relaxed, and what was surprising was that he was extraordinarily cheerful. There was no fear, no uneasiness; it was as though he was at home. There he was, with the river bright golden now, and beyond it the green bank and the distant trees. We must have held hands for quite a
time; then, almost casually, he withdrew his hand but still remained where he was. We were looking at each other, and you could see his black eyes shining, small and full of strange curiosity. He wanted to come into the room but hesitated, then stretched his arms and his legs, reached for the parapet, and was over the roof and gone. In the evening he was there again on a tree, high up, eating something. We waved to him but there was no response.

This post was last updated by John Raica Thu, 23 Nov 2017.

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Sun, 05 Jul 2015 #2
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

K SEEN THROUGH THE GLASSES OF ALDOUS HUXLEY

A FOREWORD TO "THE FIRST AND LAST FREEDOM"

MAN IS AN amphibian who lives simultaneously in two worlds - the given and the homemade, the world of matter, life and consciousness and the world of symbols. In our thinking we make use of a great variety of symbol-systems - linguistic, mathematical, pictorial, musical, ritualistic. Without such symbol-systems we should have no art, no science, no law, no philosophy, not so much as the rudiments of civilization: in other words, we should be animals. Symbols, then, are indispensable. But symbols - as the history of our own and every other age makes so abundantly clear - can also be fatal. Consider, for example, the domain of science on the one hand, the domain of politics and religion on the other. Thinking in terms of, and acting in response to, one set of symbols, we have come, in some small measure, to understand and control the elementary forces of nature. Thinking in terms of and acting in response to, another set of symbols, we use these forces as instruments of mass murder and collective suicide. In the first case the explanatory symbols were well chosen, carefully analysed and progressively adapted to the emergent facts of physical existence. in the second case symbols originally ill-chosen were never subjected to thoroughgoing analysis and never re-formulated so as to harmonize with the emergent facts of human existence. Worse still, these misleading symbols were everywhere treated with a wholly unwarranted respect, as though, in some mysterious way, they were more real than the realities to which they referred. In the contexts of religion and politics, words are not regarded as standing, rather inadequately, for things and events; on the contrary, things and events are regarded as particular illustrations of words. Up to the present symbols have been used realistically only in those fields which we do not feel to be supremely important. In every situation involving our deeper impulses we have insisted on using symbols, not merely unrealistically, but idolatrously, even insanely. The result is that we have been able to commit, in cold blood and over long periods of time, acts of which the brutes are capable only for brief moments and at the frantic height of rage, desire or fear. Because they use and worship symbols, men can become idealists; and, being idealists, they can transform the animal’s intermittent greed into the grandiose imperialisms of a Rhodes or a J. P. Morgan; the animal’s intermittent love of bullying into Stalinism or the Spanish Inquisition; the animal’s intermittent attachment to its territory into the calculated frenzies of nationalism. Happily, they can also transform the animal’s intermittent kindliness into the lifelong charity of an Elizabeth Fry or a Vincent de Paul; the animal’s intermittent devotion to its mate and its young into that reasoned and persistent co-operation which, up to the present, has proved strong enough to save the world from the consequences of the other, the disastrous kind of idealism.

Will it go on being able to save the world? The question cannot be answered. All we can say is that, with the idealists of nationalism holding the A-bomb, the odds in favour of the idealists of co-operation and charity have sharply declined. Even the best cookery book is no substitute for even the worst dinner. The fact seems sufficiently obvious. And yet, throughout the ages, the most profound philosophers, the most learned and acute theologians have constantly fallen into the error of identifying their purely verbal constructions with facts, or into the yet more enormous error of imagining that symbols are somehow more real than what they stand for. Their word-worship did not go without protest. ”Only the spirit,” said St. Paul, ”gives life; the letter kills.” ”And why,” asks Eckhart, ”why do you prate of God? Whatever you say of God is untrue.” At the other end of the world the author of one of the Mahayana sutras affirmed that ”the truth was never preached by the Buddha, seeing that you have to realize it within yourself”.

Such utterances were felt to be profoundly subversive, and respectable people ignored them. The strange idolatrous over-estimation of words and emblems continued unchecked. Religions declined; but the old habit of formulating creeds and imposing belief in dogmas persisted even among the atheists. In recent years logicians and semanticists have carried out a very thorough analysis of the symbols, in terms of which men do their thinking. Linguistics has become a science, and one may even study a subject to which the late Benjamin Whorf gave the name of meta-linguistics. All this is greatly to the good; but it is not enough. Logic and semantics, linguistics and meta-linguistics - these are purely intellectual disciplines. They analyse the various ways, correct and incorrect, meaningful and meaningless, in which words can be related to things, processes and events. But they offer no guidance, in regard to the much more fundamental problem of the relationship of man in his psychophysical totality, on the one hand, and his two worlds, of data and of symbols, on the other. In every region and at every period of history, the problem has been repeatedly solved by individual men and women. Even when they spoke or wrote, these individuals created no systems - for they knew that every system is a standing temptation to take symbols too seriously, to pay more attention to words than to the realities for which the words are supposed to stand. Their aim was never to offer ready-made explanations and panaceas; it was to induce people to diagnose and cure their own ills, to get them to go to the place where man’s problem and its solution present themselves directly to experience.

In this volume of selections from the writings and recorded talks of Krishnamurti, the reader will find a clear contemporary statement of the fundamental human problem, together with an invitation to solve it in the only way in which it can be solved - for and by himself. The collective solutions, to which so many so desperately pin their faith, are never adequate. ”To understand the misery and confusion that exist within ourselves, and so in the world, we must first find clarity within ourselves, and that clarity comes about through right thinking. This clarity is not to be organized, for it cannot be exchanged with another. Organized group thought is merely repetitive. Clarity is not the result of verbal assertion, but of intense self-awareness and right thinking. Right thinking is not the outcome of or mere cultivation of the intellect, nor is it conformity to pattern, however worthy and noble. Right thinking comes with self-knowledge. Without understanding yourself you have no basis for thought; without self-knowledge, what you think is not true.”

This fundamental theme is developed by Krishnamurti in passage after passage. ‘’There is hope in men, not in society, not in systems, organized religious systems, but in you and in me.” Organized religions, with their mediators, their sacred books, their dogmas, their hierarchies and rituals, offer only a false solution to the basic problem. ”When you quote the Bhagavad Gita, or the Bible, or some Chinese Sacred Book, surely you are merely repeating, are you not? And what you are repeating is not the truth. It is a lie, for truth cannot be repeated.” A lie can be extended, propounded and repeated, but not truth; and when you repeat truth, it ceases to be truth, and therefore sacred books are unimportant. It is through self-knowledge, not through belief in somebody else’s symbols, that a man comes to the eternal reality, in which his being is grounded. Belief in the complete adequacy and superlative value of any given symbol system leads not to liberation, but to history, to more of the same old disasters. ”Belief inevitably separates. If you have a belief, or when you seek security in your particular belief, you become separated from those who seek security in some other form of belief. All organized beliefs are based on separation, though they may preach brotherhood.”

The man who has successfully solved the problem of his relations with the two worlds of data and symbols, is a man who has no beliefs. With regard to the problems of practical life he entertains a series of working hypotheses, which serve his purposes, but are taken no more seriously than any other kind of tool or instrument. With regard to his fellow beings and to the reality in which they are grounded, he has the direct experiences of love and insight. It is to protect himself from beliefs that Krishnamurti has ”not read any sacred literature, neither the Bhagavad Gita nor the Upanishads”. The rest of us do not even read sacred literature; we read our favourite newspapers, magazines and detective stories. This means that we approach the crisis of our times, not with love and insight, but ”with formulas, with systems” - and pretty poor formulas and systems at that. But ”men of good will should not have formulas; for formulas lead, inevitably, only to ”blind thinking”. Addiction to formulas is almost universal. Inevitably so; for ”our system of upbringing is based upon what to think, not on how to think”. We are brought up as believing and practising members of some organization - the Communist or the Christian, the Moslem, the Hindu, the Buddhist, the Freudian. Consequently ”you respond to the challenge, which is always new, according to an old pattern; and therefore your response has no corresponding validity, newness, freshness. If you respond as a Catholic or a Communist, you are responding - are you not? - according to a patterned thought. Therefore your response has no significance. And has not the Hindu, the Mussulman, the Buddhist, the Christian created this problem? As the new religion is the worship of the State, so the old religion was the worship of an idea.” If you respond to a challenge according to the old conditioning, your response will not enable you to understand the new challenge. Therefore what ”one has to do, in order to meet the new challenge, is to strip oneself completely, denude oneself entirely of the background and meet the challenge anew”. In other words symbols should never be raised to the rank of dogmas, nor should any system be regarded as more than a provisional convenience. Belief in formulas and action in accordance with these beliefs cannot bring us to a solution of our problem. ”It is only through creative understanding of ourselves that there can be a creative world, a happy world, a world in which ideas do not exist.” A world in which ideas do not exist would be a happy world, because it would be a world without the powerful conditioning forces which compel men to undertake inappropriate action, a world without the hallowed dogmas in terms of which the worst crimes are justified, the greatest follies elaborately rationalized.

An education that teaches us not how but what to think is an education that calls for a governing class of pastors and masters. But ”the very idea of leading somebody is antisocial and anti-spiritual”. To the man who exercises it, leadership brings gratification of the craving for power; to those who are led, it brings the gratification of the desire for certainty and security. The guru provides a kind of dope. But, it may be asked, ”What are you doing? Are you not acting as our guru?” ”Surely,” Krishnamurti answers, ”I am not acting as your guru, because, first of all, I am not giving you any gratification. I am not telling you what you should do from moment to moment, or from day to day, but I am just pointing out something to you; you can take it or leave it, depending on you, not on me. I do not demand a thing from you, neither your worship, nor your flattery, nor your insults, nor your gods. I say,” This is a fact; take it or leave it. And most of you will leave it, for the obvious reason that you do not find gratification in it.”

What is it precisely that Krishnamurti offers? What is it that we can take if we wish, but in all probability shall prefer to leave? It is not, as we have seen, a system of belief, a catalogue of dogmas, a set of ready-made notions and ideals. It is not leadership, not mediation, not spiritual direction, not even example. It is not ritual, not a church, not a code, not uplift or any form of inspirational twaddle. Is it, perhaps, self-discipline? No; for self-discipline is not, as a matter of brute fact, the way in which our problem can be solved. In order to find the solution, the mind must open itself to reality, must confront the givenness of the outer and inner worlds without preconceptions or restrictions. (God’s service is perfect freedom. Conversely, perfect freedom is the service of God.) In becoming disciplined, the mind undergoes no radical change; it is the old self, but ”tethered, held in control”. Self-discipline joins the list of things which Krishnamurti does not offer. Can it be, then, that what he offers is prayer? Again, the reply is in the negative. ”Prayer may bring you the answer you seek; but that answer may come from your unconscious, or from the general reservoir, the storehouse of all your demands. The answer is not the still voice of God.” Consider, Krishnamurti goes on, ”what happens when you pray. By constant repetition of certain phrases, and by controlling your thoughts, the mind becomes quiet, doesn’t it? At least, the conscious mind becomes quiet. You kneel as the Christians do, or you sit as the Hindus do, and you repeat and repeat, and through that repetition the mind becomes quiet. In that quietness there is the intimation of something. That intimation of something, for which you have prayed, may be from the unconscious, or it may be the response of your memories. But, surely, it is not the voice of reality; for the voice of reality must come to you; it cannot be appealed to, you cannot pray to it. You cannot entice it into your little cage by doing puja, bhajan and all the rest of it, by offering it flowers, by placating it, by suppressing yourself or emulating others. Once you have learned the trick of quietening the mind, through the repetition of words, and of receiving hints in that quietness, the danger is - unless you are fully alert as to whence those hints come - that you will be caught, and then prayer becomes a substitute for the search for Truth. That which you ask for you get; but it is not the truth. If you want, and if you petition, you will receive, but you will pay for it in the end.” From prayer we pass to yoga, and yoga, we find, is another of the things which Krishnamurti does not offer. For yoga is concentration, and concentration is exclusion. ”You build a wall of resistance by concentration on a thought which you have chosen, and you try to ward off all the others.” What is commonly called meditation is merely ”the cultivation of resistance, of exclusive concentration on an idea of our choice”. But what makes you choose? ”What makes you say this is good, true, noble, and the rest is not? Obviously the choice is based on pleasure, reward or achievement; or it is merely a reaction of one’s conditioning or tradition. Why do you choose at all? Why not examine every thought? When you are interested in the many, why choose one? Why not examine every interest? Instead of creating resistance, why not go into each interest as it arises, and not merely concentrate on one idea, one interest? After all, you are made up of many interests, you have many masks, consciously and unconsciously. Why choose one and discard all the others, in combating which you spend all your energies, thereby creating resistance, conflict and friction. Whereas if you consider every thought as it arises - every thought, not just a few thoughts - then there is no exclusion. But it is an arduous thing to examine every thought. Because, as you are looking at one thought, another slips in. But if you are aware without domination or justification, you will see that, by merely looking at that thought, no other thought intrudes. It is only when you condemn, compare, approximate, that other thoughts enter in.” ”Judge not that ye be not judged.” The gospel precept applies to our dealings with ourselves no less than to our dealings with others. Where there is judgement, where there is comparison and condemnation, openness of mind is absent; there can be no freedom from the tyranny of symbols and systems, no escape from the past and the environment. Introspection with a predetermined purpose, self-examination within the framework of some traditional code, some set of hallowed postulates - these do not, these cannot help us. There is a transcendent spontaneity of life, a ‘creative Reality’, as Krishnamurti calls it, which reveals itself as immanent only when the perceiver’s mind is in a state of ‘alert passivity’, of ‘choiceless awareness’. Judgement and comparison commit us irrevocably to duality. Only choiceless awareness can lead to non-duality, to the reconciliation of opposites in a total understanding and a total love. Ama et fac quod vis. If you love, you may do what you will. But if you start by doing what you will, or by doing what you don’t will in obedience to some traditional system or notions, ideals and prohibitions, you will never love.

The liberating process must begin with the choiceless awareness of what you will and of your reactions to the symbol-system which tells you that you ought, or ought not, to will it. Through this choiceless awareness, as it penetrates the successive layers of the ego and its associated subconscious, will come love and understanding, but of another order than that with which we are ordinarily familiar. This choiceless awareness - at every moment and in all the circumstances of life - is the only effective meditation. All other forms of yoga lead either to the blind thinking which results from self-discipline, or to some kind of self-induced rapture, some form of false samadhi. The true liberation is ”an inner freedom of creative Reality”. This ”is not a gift; it is to be discovered and experienced. It is not an acquisition to be gathered to yourself to glorify yourself. It is a state of being, as silence, in which there is no becoming, in which there is completeness. This creativeness may not necessarily seek expression; it is not a talent that demands outward manifestation. You need not be a great artist or have an audience; if you seek these, you will miss the inward Reality. It is neither a gift, nor is it the outcome of talent; it is to be found, this imperishable treasure, where thought frees itself from lust, ill will and ignorance, where thought frees itself from worldliness and personal craving to be. It is to be experienced through right thinking and meditation.” Choiceless self-awareness will bring us to the creative Reality which underlies all our destructive make-believes, to the tranquil wisdom which is always there, in spite of ignorance, in spite of the knowledge which is merely ignorance in another form. Knowledge is an affair of symbols and is, all too often, a hindrance to wisdom, to the uncovering of the self from moment to moment. A mind that has come to the stillness of wisdom ”shall know being, shall know what it is to love. Love is neither personal nor impersonal. Love is love, not to be defined or described by the mind as exclusive or inclusive. Love is its own eternity; it is the real, the supreme, the immeasurable.” ALDOUS HUXLEY

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Thu, 07 Jan 2016 #3
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

CLEANSED OF THE PAST (From Commentaries on Living 2-nd series)

It was a lovely morning, with the breeze from the sea stirring the bright flowers among the ruins. These flowers were very beautiful, their colours rich and deep and they grew in extraordinary places, on rocks, in the crevices of broken walls, and in the courtyards. They had grown there, wild and free, for untold
centuries, and it seemed a sacrilege to tread on them, for they crowded the path; it was their world, and we were strangers, but they did not make one feel that way.
The view from this hilltop was not breath taking, like those which are seen occasionally, and which obliterate ( one's ?) consciousness with grandeur and silence. Here there was a peaceful enchantment, gentle and expansive; here you could live timelessly, without a past and a future, for you were one with this whole rapturous world. You were not a stranger from a different land, but you were those hills, those goats, and the goatherd. You were the sky and the blossoming earth; you were not apart from it, you were of it. But you were not (self-) conscious that you were of it, any more than those flowers were. You were those smiling fields, the blue sea, and
the distant train with its passengers. 'You' didn’t exist, the 'you' who choose, compare, act and seek; you were ( one) with everything.

We were sitting under a tree, and he was telling how, as a young and middle aged man, he had worked in different parts of Europe throughout the two world wars. During the last one he had no home, often went hungry, and was nearly shot for something or other by this or that conquering army. He had spent sleepless and tortured nights in prison, for in his wanderings he had lost his passport, and none would believe his simple statement as to where he was born and to what country
he belonged. He spoke several languages, had been an engineer, then in some sort of business, and was now painting. He now had a passport, he said with a smile, and a place to live.

Q: There are many like me, people who were destroyed and have come back to life again. I don’t regret it, but somehow I have lost the intimate contact with what one calls 'life'. I am fed up with armies and kings, flags and politics. I used to be very
cynical, but that too has passed. I live alone, for my wife and child died during the war, and any country, as long as it is warm, is good enough for me. I don’t care much one way or the other, but I sell my paintings now and then, which keeps me going. At times it is rather difficult to make ends meet, but something always turns up, and as my wants are very simple I am not greatly bothered about money. I am a monk at heart, but outside the 'prison' of a monastery. I am telling you all this just to give you a sketch of my background, for in talking things over with you I may get to understand something which has become very vital to me. Nothing else interests me, not even my painting.
One day I set out for those hills with my painting things, for I had seen something over there which I wanted to paint. It was fairly early in the morning when I got to the place, and there were a few clouds in the sky. From where I was I could see across the valley to the blue sea. I was enchanted to be alone, and began to paint. I must have been painting for some time, and it was coming along beautifully, without any strain or effort when I became aware that "something" was taking place inside my head, if I can put it that way. I was so absorbed in my painting that for a while I did not notice what was happening to me, and then suddenly I was aware of it. I could not go on with my painting, but sitting there I was aware of an extraordinarily creative energy. It wasn’t I that was creative, but 'something' in me that was also in those ants and in that restless squirrel. It was just Creation, pure and simple, and the things produced by the mind or by the hand were on the outer fringes of this Creation, with little significance. I seemed to be bathed in it; there was a sacredness about it, a benediction. It was the centre of Creation, God himself, it was holy, something uncontaminated, unthought of, and tears were rolling down my cheeks; I was being "washed clean" of all my past and there was an astonishing silence - not the silence of the night when all things sleep, but a silence in which everything was awake. I must have sat there, motionless, for a very long time, but time seemed to have stopped - or rather, there was no time. I had no watch, but several hours must have passed from the moment I put my brush down to the moment I got up. Picking up all my things and carefully putting them in my knapsack, I left, and in that extraordinary state (of Grace) I walked back to my house. All the noises of the small town did not in any way disturb that state, and it lasted for several hours after I got home. When I awoke the next morning, it was completely gone. I looked at my painting; it was good, but nothing outstanding.
Now, I am not asking for an explanation, but how does this thing come into being? What are the circumstances that are necessary for it to happen ?

K: You are asking this question because you want to experience it again, are you not?

Q: I suppose that is the motive behind my question...

K: Please, let us go on from there. What is important is that you should not "go after it". Greed breeds ( its own ?) arrogance, and what is necessary here is innocence, freedom from the memory of your past experiences, good or bad, pleasant or painful.

Q: Good Lord, you are telling me to forget something which has become of total importance to me. I cannot forget it, nor do I want to.

K: Yes, sir, that (lack of inner humility ?) is the difficulty. so please listen with patience and insight. While it was happening it was a living thing and your mind was in a ( spontaneous ) state of innocency, without seeking, asking, or holding; it was 'free' ( of any anchoring in the past ?) . But now you are again clinging to the dead past. Oh, yes, it is dead; your ( clinging to its ?) "remembrance" has destroyed it and is creating a new conflict between what has been and what you hope for. This state of conflict is like death (preventing that work of Creation to happen again ?) and you are living with darkness. This "thing" does happen when the self-(consciousness ) is absent (taking a break ?) ; but your ( attachment to the ?) memory of it, strengthens the self-(centred consciousness ?) and prevents the "living" reality.

Q: Then how am I to "wipe away" (delete ?) this exciting memory?

K: Again, your very question indicates the (devious ?) desire to recapture that state, does it not? You want to "wipe away" the memory of that state in order to experience it further, so ( the subliminal ?) craving (for a similar experience ?) still remains. Your craving for that extraordinary state is ( a psychological addiction ?) similar to that of a man addicted to drink or to a drug . What is all-important (experientially ?) is that this ( addictive form of spiritual ) 'craving' should dissolve without resistance, without the action of (your) 'will'.

Q: Do you mean that my very remembering of that state, and my intense urge to experience it again, are preventing something of a similar or perhaps a different ( inwardly creative ?) nature from happening ? Must I do nothing, consciously or unconsciously, to bring it about?
K; If you really understand , that is so.

Q: You are asking an almost impossible thing, but one never knows.

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Tue, 23 Feb 2016 #4
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

Talking about 'lost and found' pages from the Book of Life, here is the interesting record of a personal "out of the body" experience read by Sir Auckland Geddes in 1937 to the Members of the Royal Medical Society, UK. Some similarities with some K remarks about the 'Stream of Time' ?

On Saturday, November 9th, a few minutes after midnight, I began to feel very ill, and by 2 o'clock was definitely suffering from acute gastroenteritis. I wanted to ring for assistance, but found I could not, and so quite placidly gave up the attempt. Suddenly I realized that my consciousness was separating from another consciousness, which was also me. These for purposes of description we could call the A and B consciousness, and throughout what follows the ego attached itself to the A consciousness. The B personality I recognized as belonging to the body, and as my physical condition grew worse and the heart was fibrillating rather than beating, I realized that the B consciousness belonging to the body was beginning to show signs of becoming composite, that is, built up of "consciousness" from the head, the heart, the viscera, &c. These components became more individual, and the B consciousness began to disintegrate, while the A consciousness which was now me, seemed to be altogether outside my body, which it could see. Gradually I realized that I could see not only my body and the bed in which it was, but everything in the whole house and garden, and then I realized that I was seeing not only "things" at home, but in London and in Scotland, in fact wherever my attention was directed it seemed to me; and the explanation which I received, was that I was free in a 'time' dimension of space, wherein "now" was in some way equivalent to "here" in the ordinary threedimensional space of everyday life. I next realized that my vision included not only "things" in the ordinary three-dimensional world, but also "things" in these fourth dimensional places that I was in.

From now on the description is entirely metaphorical, because there are no words which really describe what I saw, or rather appreciated. Although I had no body, I had what appeared to be perfect two-eyed vision, and what I saw can only be described in this way, that I was conscious of a "psychic stream" flowing with life through time, and it seemed to have a particularly intense iridescence. I 'understood' that our brains are just end organs projecting as it were from the three-dimensional universe into the psychic stream, and flowing with it into the fourth dimensions. Around each brain there seemed to be what I can only describe in ordinary words as a 'condensation' of the psychic stream, which formed in each case as though it were a cloud; only it was not a cloud. While I was just appreciating this, the ( inner) voice who was conveying information to me explained that the fourth dimension was ( implicit ?) in everything existing in the three-dimensional space, and at the same time everything in the three-dimensional space existed in the fourth dimension, and I quite clearly understood how "now" in the fourth-dimensional universe was just the same to all intents and purposes as "here" in a three-dimensional universe—that is to say a four-dimensional (4-th dimension of our ?) being was everywhere in the "now" just as one is "everywhere" in the "here" in a three-dimensional view of things. I then realized that I myself was a "condensation", as it were, in the psychic stream, a sort of cloud that was not a cloud, and the visual impression I had of myself was blue.

Gradually I began to recognize people, and I saw the psychic condensation attached to A, B, C, D, E, F, and to quite a number of men that I knew. In addition I saw quite a number of people that I know had very little psychic condensation at all attached to them. Each of these condensations varied from all others in bulk, sharpness of outline, and apparent solidity. Just as I was beginning to grasp all these I saw "A" enter my bedroom; I realized she got a terrible shock, and I saw her hurry to the telephone; I saw my doctor leave his patients and come very quickly, and heard him say, or saw him think, "He is nearly gone." I heard him quite clearly speaking to me on the bed, but I was not in touch with the body, and could not answer him. I was really cross when he took a syringe and rapidly injected my body with something which I afterwards learned was camphor. As the heart began to beat more strongly, I was drawn back, and I was intensely annoyed, because I was so interested, and just beginning to understand where I was and what I was "seeing." I came back into the body really angry at being pulled back, and once I was back all the clarity of vision of anything and everything disappeared, and I was just possessed of a glimmer of consciousness which was suffused with pain. It is surprising to note that this dream, vision, or experience has shown no tendency to fade like a dream would fade, nor has it shown any tendency to 'rationalize' itself as a dream would do. I think that the whole thing simply means that but for medical treatment of a peculiarly prompt and vigorous kind, I was dead to the three-dimensional universe. If this is so, and if, in fact, the experience of liberation of consciousness in the fourth-dimensional universe is not imagination, it is a most important matter to place on record.

Thus ended the record: what are we to make of it? Of one thing only can we be quite sure. It is not fake. Without certainty of this I should not have brought it to your notice. But, was it a dream, or does it record a symbolic vision of one aspect of reality translated into adequate words? I do not know. Whichever or whatever it was it provides us with a scheme that helps to make "picturable" to our minds things otherwise difficult to grasp. First it has helped me to define the idea of a psychic continuum spread out in time like a plasmic net. It does more; it provides a comprehensible background for the soul paleontology of Jung, and it seems to throw a flood of light on the meaning of soul abysses discovered by the method of Freud. It brings all the parapsychic manifestations into the domain of the picturable. It also provides a rational seeming background for such ideas of the 'group soul' and such a conception as the 'psychic atmosphere'. But, most important, it makes the idea of the lifelong unity of body and soul (mind ?) much simpler to grasp. Of course, I do not imagine there is a visible 'psychic stream', but I do quite definitely believe that the record I have read presents in words one aspect of Man's complicated being and relationships, as these were symbolized in the mind of a man at the point of death. There is one more important point that we must notice: there is absolutely nothing in the record which is 'metaphysical'. The whole adventure, if such it were, took place on the plane of nature. It is thus to be sharply distinguished from the records of the spiritual adventures of the mystics.

Beyond the scientific knowledge of man lay an
incompletely explored area in which important things
happened without discoverable physical cause. They had
all become so sure that science was the only door to
knowledge that they tended to ignore the older ways of approach. If they could re-awaken the sense of untrammelled wonder, which in the days of the Renaissance gave birth to science itself, they should make fresh starts along new lines; but for the time being, and for a little longer, science was queen of the mind. The brilliant record and achievement of science showed how rich had been the prize won for each of them by disciplined curiosity, but that must not obscure from them the fact that to-day science was running into blind alleys from which it could only emerge by escaping from direct touch with human understanding. They could not grasp man as a whole. This did not mean that it was impossible to improve their understanding. On the contrary, once they had ceased to fear what seemed to them nonrational, and recognized that human reason could not grasp all reality, they could get to know a lot about him. The body-soul of a man was only the house in which his real self lived. Man was also a spirit, and this spirit in some way had become a partner in the body-soul, making the
diagrammatic formula of man, body-soul-spirit."

This post was last updated by John Raica Tue, 23 Feb 2016.

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Fri, 24 Jun 2016 #5
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

More lost & found 'pages from K's life ( dutyfully recorded by Mrs Zimbalist ) Who said they are 'boring' ?

Mary (Lutyens) told, jokingly, of a sentence she had censored in Krishnaji’s letters to her mother. He had written from Ojai, “I am going to Santa Barbara, where I will cook a millionaire.”’ To our amazement and hilarity, Krishnaji said, “Yes, and she only gave a hundred dollars!”’ ‘It was a Mrs. Bliss. (For a man who cannot remember so many things he suddenly remembered this!)

*

‘Narayan, Fritz Wilhelm, and David Bohm had planned to have a discussion. Krishnaji said he would sit in “as an observer.” Dorothy and I also were present. Once there, of course, Krishnaji participated.

They began to examine the way a child learns, motor-learning, action-learning, then touch, etcetera. After a bit, Krishnaji jumped it way forward to insight. He asked if our consciousness can be aware of itself. He said that if insight is not acted upon, it dies. He spoke of observation in which there is no distortion; distortion is the "me". He said there is no action before insight. If there is action, it is the action of learning. Dave said humans handle their lives through "action-learning", therefore, insight must be different. Bohm said, “You say insight comes before action, something goes beyond action—what is it? Perception? Krishnaji said there was fragmentary perception. “Insight implies holistic action, which affects my daily life, the way I live, feel, love.
Dave said that then motor-learning is a limited perception and insight is when it is whole. Krishnaji said he had yesterday picked up his biography and read about dissolving the Order of the Star . “And I said, How did he do it? He had tremendous insight—he did it.” Krishnaji went on to say that insight doesn’t come out of learning. Dave pointed out that Krishnaji emphasizes observation and learning. Isn’t it necessary?

Krishnaji said it helps free the mind. Narayan said that Krishnaji had once spoken of the art of listening, the art of looking, and the art of learning—the three arts. Do they precede insight? Krishnaji replied, “They open the door, but it doesn’t mean that there will be insight. He didn’t do these—he simply said, “This is absurd.”… “The point is how we move out of the pattern. Looking, listening, learning is in the pattern.”… “Can you have insight without compassion? But he (as a child) didn’t know the meaning of the word.”…“There is 'outward-going' and 'inward-going'. Most of us are 'outward-going', linear. That means he was entirely inward-going at that time. He was not an extrovert. There was insight. That is what I want to get at. I wish I could study him.

Can consciousness become aware of itself? Is there a mirror in which consciousness sees itself—the three arts ? David asked, “What does it learn?” Krishnaji replied, “Its content. I think it can. I say, yes it can.”…“Can consciousness listen to itself without an outsider listening in?”…“Have you ever seen a body from the outside?”’
‘“Can consciousness listen to itself? What happens? Nothing happens. There is empty space, absolutely nothing. No observer, only 'that'.”’

What is insight? There must be a certain foundation. The foundation is "non-self". Insight 'is' (occuring) in the absence of self. When consciousness is aware of itself, and there is 'no-thing', then there is insight. That nothingness is insight. Insight is emptiness and non-self.

‘“Consciousness becomes aware of itself, and there is no-thing, no content.”…“How am I to communicate this? If ( a holistic) education isn’t (helping) the flowering of human beings, it has no meaning.”’
‘“Without love, compassion, there is no fine mind. No fine mind without insight, observation.”’
‘At the end, he said, “This morning while I played (the disc with) Southerland singing Bellini there flashed a great delight I missed in my youth. I said, ‘What the hell are you looking at there? It is here.’ That was insight.”’

*
First there is freedom, then insight, revolutionary action. If they stiffen into a pattern, then follows dogma and power. Freedom is movement. When or if insight becomes knowledge, then dogma follows. Freedom from self brings insight. When there is insight, there is radical transformation, which is freedom. When fundamental change does not take place, then there is pattern, dogma, and power. It is the function of the Foundations to see this doesn’t happen.

*

Krishnaji spent the day in bed sleeping, reading. He said, “I don’t dream anymore. Somewhere in Madras or RishiValley, I forget which, I dreamt Rajagopal was chasing me and then I woke up. I said this is silly to keep thinking of that man. That is enough. And so I went into it, and I haven’t dreamt since.”

*

Krishnaji at lunch said that the Sanskrit root meaning of mantra is interesting: Man means 'reflect on non-becoming'. 'Tra' means to destroy, to finish with self-centered activity.”’

*

(1977) Near the big rock, he said, “You must see into this brain, learn how he thinks. Amma and Leadbeater said this brain had been prepared for a thousand years. It is a special brain. It will probably get better the longer I live, and I will live another ten or fifteen years. You are twenty years younger, you must outlive me. I must find someone, maybe it is you, someone to carry on who has understood something. I wish I had met you forty years ago.”’

*

Along the beach road, he said, “During the last three or four months, something has been happening during sleep. It sounds silly, but it is a sense of ecstasy, as though the brain were trying to assimilate a "depth". Dreams are usually superficial and have very little meaning. I have hardly any dreams.”’

‘I asked, “How do you perceive it?”’

‘Krishnaji replied, “When I wake up, there is a strange feeling that I haven’t had before.”’

‘Me: “Is it that the brain is touching something it hadn’t touched before?”’

‘Krishnaji: “Yes. That’s it. It is something the brain hasn’t touched before. It isn’t an 'experience'. In that sleep, there is a greater penetration into something that the brain —no, thought- can never touch.”’

‘Me: “What happens to most people is that you see something and then you try to understand what it is, but this is different? How is it different? Is it outside the realm of what the brain can investigate? Is that right?”’

‘Krishnaji: “The brain is trying to understand it, trying to find out what it is.”’

‘Me: “When you say ‘the brain,’ do you mean thought, or the brain without thought?”’

‘Krishnaji: “No, not thought.” A little later, he said, “You remember that night we were sitting quietly and there was "something" in the room? That has been happening more. It happened in India a little.” I asked him about the pain, and he said it is going on slightly all the time. I asked if the “otherness” of The Notebook and this thing he is speaking of today, is of the same, and he said, “Yes, yes”…“But I don’t remember ‘the other.’ It is gone.”’

*

February twenty-fifth (1977) , ‘Krishnaji slept badly. He said he had a nightmare. “Evil ones were trying to push me, fight me, and I was trying to make a circle around myself, but it didn’t work and I finally woke up.”…“I was trying to make a circle around the house. I knew you were in there, and I was trying to make a circle.”’

‘When I questioned him about why the 'circle' didn’t work, he said. “Well, it did because I woke up.” Then we started to talk about 'making the circle', and he said it was something he didn’t want to talk about.

‘I asked, “Was it magic?”’

‘And he said, “Yes, sort of.”’

‘I asked, “Did you learn it? Were you taught it?” He replied no, but he knows things like that.

I asked why shouldn’t it be told to other people?
And he said, “I have an 'instinct' about it. I’ve never talked about it.” Then he said, “Do you remember when we first came to this house?”’—he was referring to Pine Cottage—‘“I wanted to run from it, it was bad, it was all wrong. And then we came and stayed, and it became alright, and it got better and better. Do you remember that?”

And out of this, he told me he 'does this thing' whenever he comes to a house, Brockwood, Malibu, here, or I presume Tannegg too, or a hotel room. He does what he calls “drawing a circle around a place” and he said that that is one reason that when he is not with me, it is difficult for him to do it—when I’m traveling or away, and yet even when I go to town in the car alone, he does it to some degree to protect me. One does not protect Maria or oneself. One is with non-resistance, non-opposition, non-setting oneself— there is no self in this because there is no opposition—the intrinsic part is the non-self and non-opposition. He spoke of 'angels', not angels as 'sentimental beings'—that blah, as he put it—but the invitation to the good, the beauty.

*

He spoke of a "mine of gold"; are we going to stop at the edge of the cave? What are we going to do about the mine of gold?”…“I’m going to pursue this for the rest of my life with the Foundations. It happened we are together. My job is very clear for the next ten years. Whenever we meet, I’m going to push this thing. What is your 'dharma'? A good word, but spoilt. Dharma means 'sustain the original'—if I may use that word with tremendous hesitation. It is not understood in the West.”

K says this "(gold) mine" is a sacred treasure. I leave it to you. What will you do with it? My dharma has become very clear in these meetings, apart from the public meetings, to push and pull you into the cave. I feel this tremendously. I accept that.

*

‘Krishnaji said, “No human being has refused to go through all this (fear, etc.) and said I won’t operate in my conditioned response. If he did, something other may take place. Something other does take place when you look at the whole thing.”…“Yet, that man, K, never said that, he just did it. The demand for the essence of excellence washes everything else way. It is possible.…One must have passion for excellence.”… “Total insight is the flame that burns away all confusion.”…“Don’t you then act as a magnet when you are passionate to bring about transformation? Passion may be what is missing. If it is missing, ask for it!

*( lost & found excerpts from a 'casual' K conversation with David Bohm and Mary in 1977)

Krishnaji: There are other "forces". You may use the word 'evil'. There are people in the world who are "evil".

David Bohm: Would you say (the action of these) forces penetrate beyond the ordinary communication ?

Krishnaji: They penetrate only when "that interest" is not in charge.

Bohm: What is not clear to me is, suppose there is an evil person, making evil through his words and actions. But suppose I don’t see him. He is somewhere, far away.

Krishnaji: But there is a very well-known phenomenon (of telepathy ?) . I can think about you with affection, care, or I can hate you.

Bohm: How does that hate affect you when you are far away?

Krishnaji: Yes, that’s what I mean.

David: Then, there is ( telepathic) transmission of thought?

Krishnaji: Oh, obviously, obviously.

David: “Yes... Well, it is important to get it clear, because it contradicts what people usually accept, but you are quite clear on that? Quite sure of it?

Krishnaji: I’m quite sure. Personally, when I go to a place which I’m not familiar with, where I haven’t lived, say when I first came here (in Ojai) after ten years, I came through that door. I felt appalling, I said to her: I (wanted to ) ran out.

David: But, how is it now?

‘Krishnaji: Nothing. It’s all gone.

David: But what happened?

Krishnaji: Because the "other thing" is stronger, it cannot be touched. That’s why whenever a doctor said to me, ‘Do you want it?’”’—meaning a general anesthesia—‘“by injection, a total anesthesia…(the answer is 'no' ?) ’

‘David: Would you say, suppose you took an anesthetic could an 'evil thought' take hold of you?

‘Krishnaji: Oh, but I don’t want to go through all that. Of course.

‘Mary: Is it relevant to ask what is the difference between the "unconsciousness" of anesthesiology and sleep?

‘Krishnaji: Oh, that’s entirely different. There, it is natural. This is unnatural.

‘Mary: Because it is imposed?

‘Krishnaji: You are forced, you’re driven out.

David: Now, with sleep, would you say there is still a kind of attention (going on) ?

‘Krishnaji: Oh, yes. That Intelligence is watching.

*

In the evening, Krishnaji spoke to me about not letting him 'slip away' in the hospital. I must talk to him, remind him, be watchful after the operation. He said that the (consciousness of the ?) body for the last three days has been resisting the (prostate) operation, and that the danger is that he, Krishnaji, might suddenly say, “That is enough,” and 'slip out'. The (fine) line between life and death is always there; it has happened to him in the past; it happened here in Ojai when he was walking in the mountains; it has happened in India when he “goes off” and “wanders away,” and that could happen here. He said he must not take any sedation, but in particular I must be "watchful". I asked what I could do, and he said to talk, to talk to him. It wouldn’t happen with strangers about, but after he comes back to his room after the operation, I must talk to him. I must remind him, too, in the morning before he goes down to surgery. I must also remind him before he gives blood. I must be watchful. Last night, when we were joking about a “home loan,” which was being advertised on television, I jokingly said, “Do you wish to apply for a home loan?” and he said, yes. And I said, “For what purpose?” And, he said, “For an operation,” which threw me, because since he made the decision to have the operation, he hasn’t referred to it except very factually, and suddenly in the middle of a joking conversation, I realized it is in his mind to some degree. Sometime later, I asked if he didn’t want to have the operation. Should we cancel it? And he said, no, no. It is decided, and this morning, I asked him again if we should not have it. “No. If one neglects it and there is a 'stoppage', it would be much worse.” But, I must 'remind' him.

*

Abdullah and Ms. Habib were there. They asked Krishnaji about thought being matter, etcetera. Thought as matter dies with the body, which is matter, but Krishnaji implies thought in some form enters a 'stream of (collective) consciousness' and continues.

Abdullah asked about reincarnation, and Krishnaji said the body and mind die, but "thought" is like an energy put out by the mind, and it is matter and continues as evil exists, as good exists, the good put out by man, etc

*

( summer 1977) After she (the hospital nurse) left, he took my hand, then had me sit near, but not too near the bed. “This is the danger point. I feel like going off, not fainting, you understand.” I talked quietly to him as he had instructed me, but now he stopped me, “No, no. You mustn’t say anything. You mustn’t interfere. You mustn’t think about anything.” He had me move the chair to the foot of the bed opposite him. His face became inward-turned, slightly hallucinated look. This was interrupted by Lailee coming in to see him.Dr Hausman had left orders for Demarol if needed, and Lailee told the nurse, Ms. Mitchell, to give him a tiny dose, what one would give a child. It was given, and he began to feel a dizziness from it. “Is this normal?” he asked several times. It cut the pain, but soon made him sick to his stomach, and he vomited several times.

Hallucinatory look increased. He kept telling the nurse to go and have her supper, which she had had earlier. It was by now a little before 9 p.m. When she was out of the room, he told me, “I felt the body floating and there was a dialogue between death and the body and ‘the Other,’ and death was winning.” He became aware that the nurse had returned to the darkened room, and this seemed to bring him out of the state he had been in.

We were able to talk about this in spite of her comings and goings. And he said there was nothing I could do, not to interfere. I pointed out that the nurse’s presence had brought him round. But he said, “It will come again tonight until it is settled.” Soon, he lapsed again into the “off” state and said that since five this morning, so many people have touched the body, and he began to count them, and said, “About ten have touched me.” There was a sense of irritation in all that had been done to him and soon he began to look about as though seeing things, making random gestures, raising his right arm.

Then, “Where am I?” Pause. “I have been wounded,” looking about. Then, “Where’s my brother Nitya?” The voice was light, higher, almost that of a boy. Then “I want to join you, Nitya.” And then, “I’m going away.”

I said, “No Krishna. You are going to be well and strong.” After a few seconds, he made a deep-sounding cough, his normal cough, and his voice dropped to its normal level, and he said, “That’s better.” And then, “I’m not going. I’ll join you later, Nitya, much later, another ten years.” Later, he said, “One mustn’t be burdened with the past.” And later, he said, “You and I mustn’t be in an automobile accident, so drive carefully.” And later, “I’m not a philosopher.”’

‘Finally, after about an hour, he seemed to come out of it and spoke directly to me. “I’m all right now.”

May tenth. ‘Krishnaji was reading when I came in at 6 a.m. He is much better. No pain. Lailee came in early and so did Hausman. Krishnaji didn’t want solid breakfast, but I made a little muesli and some of his usual food, and he ate it saying “L’appétit vient en mangeant.”

After Hausman’s visit, Krishnaji dictated to me a dialogue with death which is, at least partly, already in Mary Lutyens’s book.

“It was a minor operation and not worth talking about, though there was considerable pain. While the pain continued, I saw or discovered that the body was almost floating in the air. It may have been an illusion, some kind of hallucination, but a few minutes later, there was the personification of death. Watching this peculiar phenomenon between the body and death, there seemed to be a sort of dialogue between them. Death seemed to be talking to the body with great insistence, and the body reluctantly, not admitting what death wanted. Though there were people in the room, this phenomenon went on, death inviting, the body refusing. It was not a fear of death why the body was denying the demands of death, but it realized it was not responsible for itself, there was another "entity" that was dominating, much stronger, more vital than death itself.

Death was more and more demanding and insisting and so ‘the Other’(spiritual entity ?) interfered. Then there was a conversation or a dialogue between not only the body, but ‘the Other’ and death. So, there were three entities in conversation. He had warned before he went to the hospital that there might be a 'dis-association' with the body and so death might interfere. Though the (MZ) person was sitting there, and a nurse, it was not a self-deception or kind of hallucination. Lying in the bed he saw the clouds full of rain and the town below stretching for miles. There was spattering of rain on the window pane and he saw clearly the saline solution dripping drop by drop into the organism. One felt very distinctly and clearly that if ‘the Other’ had not interfered, death would have won.

This 'dialogue' was expressed in words with thought operating very clearly. There was thunder and lightning and the conversation went on. Since there was no fear at all, neither on the part of the body or ‘the Other’—absolutely no fear—one could converse freely and profoundly. It is always difficult to put a 'conversation' of that kind into words. Strangely, as there was no fear, death was not enchaining the mind to things of the past. What came out of the conversation was very clear. The body in considerable pain and was not apprehensive or anxious and ‘the Other’ was discernibly beyond both. It was as though ‘the Other’ were acting as an 'umpire', a dangerous game of which the body was not at all aware. Even if it was, there would be no withdrawal from the scene.

Death seemed to be always present, like one’s shadow. Being concerned with the whole movement of life, death cannot be 'invited'. But, death and the living, in this peculiar phenomenon that was going on, the three, would never be separate. During this 'conversation' there was no sense of time. Probably the whole dialogue lasted about an hour and the time by the watch did not exist. There were no words used but an immediate insight into what each was saying. (Of course, if one is attached to anything—ideas, beliefs, property or person, death would not come to have a conversation with you) 'Death' in the sense of ending is absolute freedom.

The quality of conversation was 'urbane'. There was nothing whatsoever of sentimental, emotional extravagance to distort the absolute fact of time coming to an end and the vastness without any border when death is taking part in your daily life. There was the feeling that the body would go on for many years but death and ‘the Other’ would always be together till the organism could no longer be active. There was a great 'sense of humor' among the three of them and one could almost hear the laughter. And the beauty of it was with the clouds and the rain.”’

PS: When in the evening, he did have me reread the whole piece, I pointed that he’d been speaking of death, “the Other,” and the body, and now he referred to death, K, and the body—so he changed that sentence, putting “the Other” in place of “K.” “You know what I mean by ‘the Other,’” he said. “The "mind" that is inhabited by K.”’

This post was last updated by John Raica Fri, 24 Jun 2016.

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Sun, 26 Jun 2016 #6
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

Continuing the 'lost and found ' pages about K from MZ's memos

(1970) He asked me if I felt any presence of Sam (her husband) after he died. I said yes. We discussed what is evidence and what is imagination. I said I felt it strongly but neither saw objectively nor heard anything. It was a strong sense of presence and communication, real to me, but I cannot offer it as objective evidence to another.

Krishnaji said to me, “You can tell the difference between imagination and a 'something'.” I asked how one can assess such things. "I don’t assert anything because I cannot see how it can be proven. But I pay attention and do not deny any part of it".

Krishnaji then spoke of change and listening, i.e., ‘“if you really listen and see, that erases the habit, the previous imprint. The "new" then functions in the mind and whenever an action of the old pattern arises the mind alerts the consciousness, the conscious attention.” He spoke of my bad habit of frowning, and the need for “a quiet face”’—he always used to say to me, “Have a quiet face”—‘remains because I haven’t seen the importance of changing them. If I had, the old pattern would be erased, he said. He said, “The body sometimes takes time to relearn, but the mind can be instantly alert, therefore, to listen, to see, to change, to wipe out the old pattern. Lack of change is inattention,” he said.

*

Toward the end of lunch, Krishnaji began to ask Dick Clarke about what Krishnaji was like when they found him. Clarke seemed to remember it all clearly. Krishnaji kept at him with questions, holding Clarke’s left hand and ticking off the questions on his fingers. Krishnaji seemed to feel that what “the boy” was like and whatever went on in his mind—as he kept asking—eluded him.’ In other words, he seemed to feel that it eluded him. But for me, the picture was a true line throughout; the dreamy child who when punished by the school master would stand on the veranda until told to leave, who often had to be fetched home by his little brother, was a gentle, compliant boy who replied to his TS elders, “Whatever you say” when asked about doing something. He was polite and accepting, but not really touched by their world; it went in one ear and out the other. He learned outward things: manners, speech, witnessed the TS goings-on, but it left little mark; he was "elsewhere". He remembers vaguely standing by the Adyar River for hours, staring at it, vacant. *This vacancy was some 'otherness' that protected him, let whatever he is grow, mature very slowly. It protected him from most of the pulls of life later on, from the brutalities of Rajagopal and Rosalind. It is there today when he is “off,” when he sits in the dental chair for four hours without a thought; his "reality", his native place is elsewhere, as it were. I said all this to him later and at supper when we all talked a bit about it. In the Rajagopal and Rosalind times, he said he was sometimes physically beaten, but he didn’t resist their violence as he hadn’t fought against the wretched schoolmaster as a child. It all left no scars, just as the Theosophical beliefs did not condition his mind.

*

On Sunday, the twentieth (1970), ‘Krishnaji planned to write, but a conversation at breakfast lasted into the morning. He sat with Pupul and me in the West Wing dining room, and got onto the subject of kundalini. He questioned Pupul on whether her observation of what happened in Madras and at Ooty in 1948 could have been kundalini. Her version, which she wrote in detail, was taken by Rajagopal, who forbid her to make a copy. She described it to Krishnaji and me. She and Nandini were staying in Vasanta Vihar. They heard Krishnaji groaning in his room and went in, fearing he was sick. He looked at her and said, “Are you Rosalind?”
She said, “No.”
He told them to stay in the room and not leave him alone. He said, “Krishna has gone away,” and then he put his hand over his mouth and said, “I mustn’t say his name. He doesn’t like me to say his name.” He was in apparent pain, sweating and faint.
This happened again the same year when he was staying with Frydman. It would start around 6 p.m. and lasted until 1 a.m. He told Pupul and Nandini to stay in the room’—this is the Ooty occurrence—‘but wouldn’t have Frydman there. He would faint and an extraordinary beauty would come into his face. Pupul described what was happening to him as seeing a total cleansing of his mind.

In reply to Krishnaji’s questioning, she said that she wouldn’t describe it as kundalini, which is a result of conscious deliberate meditation on chakra centers in the lotus pose, and the result of great effort and a release of great energy, bringing various powers, etcetera. But Krishnaji’s various related experiences were different. Leadbeater, who knew at least something about kundalini, couldn’t explain Krishnaji’s experience. In kundalini, there is a breaking of the energy in the mind, like an explosion. Krishnaji never seems to have been caught in conditioning. He was very interested, and questioned her at length. After these episodes, he has no memory of them at all. In Madras, and maybe it was at Ooty, he spoke of “the shining ones, the great ones are here.”

*

Later he told me he had dreamt he met Winston Churchill talking to a girl. Churchill said to Krishnaji, “Oh, it doesn’t matter if you marry a girl or not.” Krishnaji said to Churchill’—“If you’ll forgive my saying so, Churchill, you are naughty!”’ ‘To which Churchill replied to Krishnaji, “I love you, I love you.”’ End of dream!
‘Krishnaji said to me, “I’ve met very many distinguished people on the astral plane.”’

*.... And, for instance, his not wanting to go into hospitals is part of that. When I had the skin graft on my leg, it wasn’t serious, but he said to me, “You know that I can’t come and see you in the hospital,” and I said, “Of course I know, I wouldn’t hear of you coming to see me in the hospital!”  He knew I was in the hospital, but it wasn’t so much me in the hospital, but it’s all the terrible things that are happening to people all around. It was the hospital, not me. And when he said to Dorothy or to the school, “If you don’t settle all of this between you, I will close the door to the West Wing,” and that would be a physical cut-off. And when he would come to Brockwood, when the troubles were going on, he would pick it up the minute he got here, that it was… It also ties in with him saying that he wanted students, when they came through the gate, to "feel something".
I keep coming back in my mind—I know we talked about "the angels". Two angels who were looking after me.
And he asked me the next day, “Do remember what we talked about?” and I said, “Yes, about the two angels.” And then I said, “What did you mean by that?” And he said, “You should have asked the man then.” That has been haunting me. Who was saying that?  And when I said something, he said, “Probably.” I mean that was a bystander’s comment. It’s very strange if you start questioning these things.And there’s that strange repeated statement reported by Nitya in “the process” times of “the man who came to watch.”  Well, there were different entities during “the process”; there was' Krishna', who went away; there was the 'little child' who was left; and there were 'entities' or “somethings” who were doing operations, and then the "man who came to watch".
(...)Where were we? While driving, Krishnaji said he had a meditation,’ it says here. ‘“Be empty and aware from within.”’

*

. So we went in the morning in his, he driving. He said “a marvelous meditation” had been in the night.’
‘I asked what made it marvelous, special. Was it the intensity or content?’
‘He said, “Both.”’
‘I asked if it had content, and he said, “Of course not.”’
‘I asked, “Is it a feeling without content, without words?”’
‘“Yes,” he said; it was in his sleep, but continued when he awoke and got up in the night, and when he went back to bed.’

*

He said he awakened in the night with a sense of joy and felt the room was filled with people. Quote: “Eminent, holy beings who seem there when something happens in his brain. My head felt enormous.”

This post was last updated by John Raica Wed, 29 Jun 2016.

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Wed, 29 Jun 2016 #7
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

More 'lost & find' stuff From K's life

1972

What happened was that years before, Biascoechea was donating some money to KWINC, and he wanted to know more about the finances of KWINC.
Rajagopal refused to give that information, and said that if there were any difficulty about it, he would reveal that Krishnaji had a relationship with Rosalind. And this so shocked Biascoechea, not the relationship, but the fact that Rajagopal would blackmail him. And poor Biascoechea was concealing this for the rest of his life, including through the deposition. So, this wretched Terry Christensen lawyer got him to lie, that Rajagopal had never done anything wrong about money.

*

At lunch, after reading Candles in the Sun, he spoke of “protecting the body”, how it is necessary. Crossing the beach road together, Krishnaji paused and a car came along fast with the sun in its eyes. I called to Krishnaji, who was just out of my reach, and he said, “I see it, I see it,” but he didn’t move. He has an odd tendency never to act quickly when there is danger from traffic. He says he sees it as though that was enough.’
I remember the first time crossing Piccadilly road with him: he was about to step into traffic and I, without thinking, grabbed him. And he said very casually, “You just saved my life.” And I was horrified, and he said,
“Well, it wouldn’t happen if I were alone. Then I pay attention.”**

*

On the ninth of June we went to London, and we lost my briefcase in the cab. What happened was Krishnaji was always concerned by what I carried. And when I carried both a handbag and, in this case, a briefcase, he wanted to carry the non-handbag. I always resisted, but I gave in on this occasion. He left it in the backseat of the cab.
 We didn’t know it until we got to Huntsman. He was very disturbed by that. ‘So, The taxi driver had taken it to the police, who could see from papers inside that it had to do with Michael, so they called his office, and Michael’s clerk collected it.

*

Then, Krishnaji guided us to Montesano, a hotel where he and his brother stayed in the early ’20s, when Nitya had TB. Then, in 1957 also, Rajagopal left him there alone for about two months, giving him just enough money to pay his board plus 50 francs so he could do nothing else. We lunched there in the dining room where Krishnaji used to have a table alone in the corner by the window. It is a family hotel with long tables, children and parents on holiday. Krishnaji told us of Rajagopal having written to Vanda who was, at the time, in Gstaad not to communicate with Krishnaji.’ He left him there alone.
‘When Rajagopal left, after several days there, on one of which he was drunk in the dining room and called Krishnaji names in a loud voice, he told Krishnaji,’ ‘“You say you are never lonely, well, now you’re going to find out what it’s like, what the rest of us feel.”’

‘“But I was never lonely,” said Krishnaji.’ ‘“I could have just stayed there.” He went for walks all day in the hills, never spoke to anyone, even when the hotel manager wanted to introduce him to some guests. He left when it was time to go somewhere he was due. He went by train, changing twice, to Chamonix, where de Vidas met him.
But why did I put up with him?” he asked. “I just accepted it. I suppose because there was no one else to turn to.”’

This post was last updated by John Raica Wed, 29 Jun 2016.

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Sat, 02 Jul 2016 #8
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

March sixteenth (1977) ‘Krishnaji’s seventh meeting with the trustees

I asked about the “open window” through which the wind may come.’
Krishnaji said that “laying the foundation (understanding, fears, etc., etc.,) demands the 'other'. Laying the foundation brings about a movement—the volume of the water brings the movement. Movement brings energy

In 'laying the foundation' do not taking too long: compress it, then there is momentum, energy, movement. Then, discussion would take place at a different level, verbally or nonverbally.

Later, he said, “Can we act now as if K were no longer here? What would you do? and “if you have imbibed the teachings, you are the teacher.” Then, “You’ve got a deep well, don’t go to it with a little bucket. For god’s sake, use K, learn. You’ve got a short time. It is the responsibility of the Foundation to 'suck that dry'.’

As he continued, it was clear that one 'goes to the well' with no bucket. Consciousness, empty of knowledge, is no bucket.’

March eighteenth, ‘Krishnaji’s meeting with the trustees number eight. It began with David Bohm suggesting we start where the K-Bohm-Shainberg videos ended, the subject of something “sacred.” There was considerable exploring of guilt and responsibility. Krishnaji rather denigrated 'responsibility' in favor of a much larger, encompassing compassion. “Compassion can never be wrong. Compassion can never be inadequate in any circumstance. If action comes first it leads to guilt. Let compassion act.’

“If you are the world, which I feel most profoundly, compassion arises.…Sacred is the sense of wholeness. To live at the point of wholeness is a tremendous thing.…“The teaching is concerned with all of life, and out of that, comes compassion.”…“K feels you should enter into this sense of compassion, and so he is working at it. You are asking what do we do about this and that, the school, and the administration, etcetera. And K says, ‘Stop all that, and come into this, and you will answer rightly.’…“I won’t feel guilty if you don’t do it. I want you to do it, but it would be a horror if I felt guilty or disappointed. So it is my job to see that you come in . Isn’t it your job to see that others come in? But, first, come here.”…“Do we feel guilty because we can’t do it? Churches have said that you must renounce, and there began the ‘Separation-guilt.

“Are you listening consciously or unconsciously? ( Listening) 'consciously' is reaction. Deep listening is without ( self-conscious ?) response. That may be the answer. At that deep level, there is no 'you' and 'me'. At this ( superficial level ) there is.”’

“Something extraordinary is in this. You are listening to K on the surface, and you are making an effort to go down there and listen. That doesn’t work that way. Can you listen without the waves? Listening with background and knowledge is one thing; ( such ) listening is ( part of the self-centred ?) movement. Can you listen without ( mental ?) movement? That may convey what K wants to say more profoundly than the listening with waves. If you listen at a deeper level without words, as Foundation members, something entirely different takes place, about the schools, the centers, etcetera, then you are the teachers because you have moved from the periphery to the very center of it.… If you really listen in silence, you are there because there is no me, you are the world.”

Krishnaji’s trustee meeting number ten. There was a discussion of what relationship is between Krishnaji’s teachings, Krishnaji’s words, and truth. Is there such a thing as 'K teachings', or only truth? Is he talking out of the silence of truth, or out of an illusion of truth, the “noise of illusion. How to find out? Who is to judge? Is it out of silence of truth, or out of reactions and conditioning? How to approach this question? As I don’t know, I listen —this is what we should do, but put aside the personality, influence. Can I listen to what he says with an abandonment of the past? Then, there is a different relation to him. If I’m listening out of silence I see all the dangers of thought, etc

This post was last updated by John Raica Sat, 02 Jul 2016.

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Tue, 05 Jul 2016 #9
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

More strange 'lost & found' pages from K's daily life (as recorded by Mary Z)

May thirteenth. (1978) The Marogers are here with their youngest daughter, Diane, a dear little girl, very bright, eager, friendly, and who has a congenital bone illness. Her parents hope that Krishnaji will cure her. In the evening, Vanda and I talked. She has brought with her her record of the times in 1961 in Gstaad, and 1962, when Krishnaji fainted, and another 'entity' seemed to speak to her through him. She came across her notebook when moving out of her Rome flat at Via Barnaba Oriani. She feels as though it is private, and she has kept it to herself, but that she has not the right to do this indefinitely.

Vanda began to tell Mary Lutyens about the events that began in July ’61 at Tannegg, the period at the start of Krishnamurti’s Notebook, when Krishnaji was staying with her. Krishnaji, in his room, suddenly fainted, and then as Vanda described it, his eyes became enormous and another being spoke to her through Krishnaji’s body. An extraordinary change came over the face. It happened on July 18, 1961. The voice said, “Don’t leave me until he comes back.” And then, “He must love you if he lets you touch me, as he is very particular in this.” And “Don’t let anyone come near me until he comes back.” On the following day, it happened again. Krishnaji fainted. After trembling, the eyes became larger and deeper, and the voice said, “I feel very strange. Where am I? Don’t leave me. Will you kindly stay with me until he returns? Are you comfortable? Take a chair. Do you know him well? Will you look after him?” It was this last question that Vanda said “Is why I am here.” She feels she gave her word on this; she said that for a whole month Krishnaji’s face continued to change. There was not a return of the other being but a “different look” would come over his face. He fainted once in the woods on a walk across the Turbach stream.

‘She describes these looks, and the feeling around Krishnaji at that time, in language that seems to copy Krishnaji’s own in Krishnamurti’s Notebook, which she was reading as he wrote it. It described a time, a year later, the twenty-first of May, 1962, in Rome when Krishnaji was ill with fever, and became delirious. “It has been told to you to look after him. He should not have gone out. You should’ve told him.” And, “Do you know him? You cannot know him. How can you know the running water?”…“We repeat and never question. Tell him, take a pencil, tell him ‘Death is always there very close to you, to protect you.’…‘When you take shelter, you will die.’ (Mary and I guessed there were four entities in all this. The one who 'goes away' (presumably Krishnaji); the one who tells what should be done; the one with the great eyes; and probably the childlike one who also spoke to me in Gstaad when Krishnaji was delirious).

*

The first of June. Krishnaji and I went to London. In the train he spoke again about the four hours on Tuesday in the dentist chair during the entire of which his mind was empty. And he didn’t…or, at least, I’m saying he didn’t, I don’t know what he did, but I don’t think he was trying to make it empty. I think it just was. He said it hadn’t struck him until afterward that his mind had been empty. He said that only when Mr. Thompson asked if he was alright, if it hurt, he would reply.

Otherwise, his mind was empty. Then, he said, “All this way in the taxi, coming from the station, there has been nothing in my head. It’s getting more and more this way.” Then, he said that when he put his hands on people to heal, sometimes it is as though there were a flame, a little flame in the middle of his hand, and that when he started treating Diane Maroger, there was none, for a number of times, and then slowly, it began to happen. And then, he felt, he was able to help her. He said that, for instance, when he put his hand on Sacha de Manziarly when he was in the hospital and dying’—this was in Paris—‘there was no flame, and from that he could tell that he could do nothing.

*
At lunch, I asked him about his own response to seeing suffering in India, or a poor bent man that we saw shuffling along the Strand. Was what he felt “a reaction”? "I mustn’t, because he then feels it in me, and he doesn’t want the burden on me. He spoke about going back to India in 1922, and the sights of misery were so appalling, that he could only walk at night.’

*
A man named Geoffrey Nicoletti in Philadelphia has been writing urgent letters to Krishnaji, to me, to David Bohm, and one came here for Alain Naudé, which I forwarded. He is hung up on resolving Krishnaji’s teachings and life, to the implications of the life of Padre Pio, whom he greatly reveres. He speaks of the physical signs: the stigmata, healings, being in two places, etcetera, which he regards as evidence of something, all involved with faith, a belief in Jesus, etcetera; but then there’s Krishnaji’s denial of faith, etcetera. I read the latest letter to Krishnaji, and he suggested that he and I have a taped conversation in which I put forth the questions in Nicoletti’s letters, and see what happens. We did this today, taping it on the Uher.

Krishnaji said that the phenomena of so-called “sainthood” are familiar in various religions, and they can come about without the person having truly perceived truth. He spoke of waters in the harbor and the waters of the sea. They are the same waters, but those in the harbor are 'contained' (i.e., still within a framework); whereas those of the sea are boundless. He questions any perception that doesn’t discard all religious dogma. It is partial, and therefore not the ultimate.

Nicoletti had mentioned kundalini, assuming Krishnaji to have had it, and that Padre Pio’s experience could be so described. Krishnaji objected to the term, and said he questions most descriptions of kundalini as not being the real thing. Nicoletti also asked if Padre Pio would consider Krishnaji as a profound thinker, but incomplete in not having perceived the meaning of Jesus; and if Krishnaji would consider Padre Pio as one who had helped people through healing, etcetera, but who had fundamentally done them harm through using faith, belief, etcetera. Krishnaji said this was a question he didn’t want to answer: to assess someone, “to say he is or is not.” And he questioned comparing Krishnaji and Padre Pio.

*

 June eighth. Krishnaji and I went to London. Then, during lunch at Fortnum’s, Krishnaji said, “There’s something in the head that is absolutely still, and that "center of energy" looks and sees. And when that is happening, the rest of the body is quiet, as though it were nonexistent.

M: When that 'silence' (silent energy ?) looks, does it record?

K: No, and that is the point of it.

M: If I were to ask you what you see, do you know what you see?

K: Yes; (but) the 'center of energy' doesn’t record. The tape records, the memory records, but not the "center of energy". (He said that the other day he thought of Rajagopal, and it kept coming back into his mind, and he said to himself “Why is this happening? No recording!” And from then on, he has not thought of it.)

M: I asked him if there is an 'action' in this, and he said, “Yes. There is an action but I don’t know what it is. In the center of the head there is a sense of great space, stillness, and energy. I discovered when I was putting my hands on little Diane—usually when I do that, I just put my hands on the person and look at the sky or the trees. But I discovered when I was doing it with her, that energy was not doing it, but that energy was there and is still continuing.

M: Is this is something new, something different?

K: Entirely. I am just watching it go on. It is an extraordinary kind of stillness, quietness, I haven’t had before. I mustn’t talk too much about it. ( as he said this, he gestured with his hand across his forehead) I shouldn’t talk about it. I talk about it to you, but it is something totally new. I haven’t had it before.

This post was last updated by John Raica Tue, 05 Jul 2016.

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Wed, 06 Jul 2016 #10
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

More 'lost an found' pages from K's life (1974) as recorded by Mary Z‘
*

A few days ago he said he had had a good meditation in the night. I asked him about the distinction he appears to make in the book between meditation and “that otherness,” that immensity. Krishnaji asked, “What does it say?” I said that it seemed to me as if there were something in him, a state of perception of which he was capable, whereas “the otherness” appeared to come to him and enter into his consciousness. He replied, “That sounds right, but they are not entirely separate.”

‘This evening when I said how good his talk was this morning, he said,  “I knew something was going on in the brain the last few days.” When I spoke of the ( Notebook) manuscript he wrote, he said, “It’s not my book. I didn’t write it.”’

*

On the twenty-fifth of June, on the train going up to London, Krishnaji asked me to tell him again what Erna’s letter had said. One obvious advantage is the land is suitable and the cost is nil. Krishnaji dictated a cable to be signed by us both and sent to Erna. “Please gladly proceed with what you propose in matter of land.” Krishnaji then said, “It is strange. Four days ago when I was going down to lunch, the thought came. I said, ‘Nitya, do something about Arya Vihara. They are such silly people. See that something happens about this.”’

*

June twenty-sixth: ‘A while back, in a conversation with Krishnaji about interviews, he said, “When they are open, they want you to read their letter. Other times, they have a mask on, and I am deceived. And if people don’t want to be looked into, he said, “It is not my business.” ‘And he said, “You come to see me, and you are serious. You ask me to look. I never offer my opinion. Then it is simple and clear. I can go ahead. Others say, ‘Look, but not too deeply.’ I go as deeply as they want me to. If they want me to go a mile, I go a mile. Naudé never did. I wish he had. That is what makes me uncomfortable. “If you are able to perceive me, you must be in a meditative mind.”

It is pleasant and I feel a sense of having brought Krishnaji safely to a shelter in the sense of a necessary shell around him, clean, quiet, adequate food, and something he is used to. The luxury is what one must take to have all those other essentials. “Without you, I wouldn’t be here,” he said. Then he said, “Thank you for looking after me.” It is warm in Paris, and nice to be here. We went for a little walk to a pharmacy for toothpaste and came back to supper in the rooms. Krishnaji had stopped twice at windows of a patisserie. “It makes me hungry,” he said. So we had tarte aux pommes for supper.

*

This morning he said, “There is something even in this room, a marvelous meditation, that thing is going on. It started here last night. It was good to get away from Brockwood. The atmosphere was too infantile.

*

Krishnaji remained in bed till 4 p.m. when the Sufi leader Pir Vilayat Khan, who has asked to see him, was due. He didn’t turn up till 5. “Typical of these people.”’ ‘He came with a young woman who remained outside, and Krishnaji and he talked alone for one-and-a-half hours. Tea was then given. The Sufi left. Long black robe, gray beard, speaks excellent French, lectures in it, and German. He told Vanda and me that he was for subduing the self, control, etcetera. Krishnaji said, “How rigid these fellows are.”’

*

The next day, ‘I woke up and worried about Krishnaji’s weakness yesterday. Until almost 8 a.m. his door was closed. He then appeared almost shaking with energy. “Fine, fine,” he said. He said he had been thinking of a center in Ojai and everywhere else.
He had me write it down. “Must produce people so intelligent they will be basically religious, and with that intelligence will function in every field, politics, art, business, and every form of social relationship.” Krishnaji, blazing with energy, told me to write about the essentials of the center: keep the school in a corner, separate from the center. But he wants also a school for older children. The center is to have a meeting room to hold 200 people, kitchen and dining room for 100, and housing for thirty to forty people there on invitation to discuss, etcetera. We would start building immediately. I pointed out we had no funds yet to even pay Mark Lee’s salary. “You’re always talking about money,” he said impatiently.’

*

In the woods, Krishnaji said suddenly, “I woke up early and something extraordinary happened. It was as though this”’ [wide gesture] “‘were enormous, spreading out to take the universe.” I asked, “This being consciousness?” Krishnaji replied, “More than consciousness. It went on for more than an hour.” I asked, “Did it fade then?” Krishnaji answered, “No, you know how this is. It is there somewhere.” We walked to the river only. He asked me to walk ahead and leave him alone to walk more slowly. He said, “I must work.” In the wood, by the small stream, he called ahead to me, saying he would sit there awhile. I sat on the bench there for about twenty minutes, and he then passed me and went on to Tannegg. When I returned, he was coming out with rubber gloves to clean the Mercedes engine.’ Full of energy! I had been wondering and when I mentioned it to Vanda whether there is something in the fact that just about every summer before his talks here, he has a low period, a sick week, and then zooms up for the talks, as if some unknown something puts the body into low gear in order that some other force gathers in him.


On July thirteenth, ‘Edgar Graf came to see Krishnaji for a personal interview, and Mr. Mirabet came to greet Krishnaji and make his annual donation. Graf came back to lunch with Vanda and me. I got car washing equipment and started washing the Mercedes while Krishnaji was on the walk with Peter Racz. Vanda brought a young American boy, a sculptor home, and after Krishnaji was finished washing the car, he went with him for a short walk. Frances and Tapas came for a short visit.’

*

We wore them on a walk to the river. On the way, I speculated what would happen if people really said no fighting, no wars. The aggressor nations would take over. Krishnaji said you couldn’t let them do that. You would speak up, get people to 'not cooperate'. Do no work. Russians or anyone else couldn’t control the world if everyone refused to work. “You’d have to talk, organize it ahead of time. At the last minute, it’s too late.” I said, “Isn’t it already too late?” and he said, “Maybe. Now I must get woolly. I have to talk tomorrow.”’ ‘I said no more, but walked ahead so he could be alone. In the woods, he called to me,  “Maria, remind me of these words: idea(ls ?) creates conflicting energy.

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Fri, 08 Jul 2016 #11
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

More 'lost & found' pages from K's life :

January tenth (1976).

At breakfast Krishnaji said, I once saw ‘a face.’ I’ve been feeling ‘that face’ all night. Something happens to me here.

MZ: Something curious happened to me last night when you were talking to me. Did you know that?

K: Yes. I will tell you sometime, not now(...)

In the car coming home, I asked about “the face.” He has seen it often, “out there like that bush there.” A face only, not a body.

MZ: Does it move or speak?

K: No. I have been seeing it since that night (Friday). Not outside, but inside. It usually means it is moving into this body.

MZ: Could presage his “going off,” and, if so, should he stay alone in the cottage while I am in the hospital?

K: That will not happen when I am alone. The body must be looked after.

 And he once said to me, “Did you see ‘the face?’  He’d seen “the face,” and it seemed to move into him, but he didn’t say, as I’m looking at you, of course, with several feet of space. He hadn’t seen it that way. So he seems to be saying two different thingS: He has seen it outside and inside.

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Sun, 10 Jul 2016 #12
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

More lost & found random pages from K's life

( 1972) Krishnaji and I walked in Villa Glori. He said, “Pay attention to your "unconscious" (mind ?) . It may want to tell you something now. Do not take too long to change. You are quiet inside now. Do not take so long to change. It will tell you something and you must be alert and quick to respond, otherwise it is harmful". He has touched "something" that is now different, an interior movement.

*

On the seventh of October Krishnaji has a dialogue with David Bohm. Saral, Dorothy, Doris, and I were present. They discussed what intelligence is, it is not thought, which is in time, etcetera. At one point, far into the discussion, Krishnaji put the question: “What is its source?” David was silent, and Krishnaji later asked me if I had noticed the "change of atmosphere" in the room when he asked that question. Then, at the end, he suddenly began to speak of another way to communicate something, to speak not to the "conscious" mind, but to the "unconscious". “That is affection,” he said, “that is love.” To me, later, he said, I’m going to speak to you that way about your habits of tension.

On October eighth, Krishnaji was scolding me saying he’s going to "speak to my unconscious". He said that he has noticed that I have neglected my body, that for reasons he doesn’t want to inquire into it, I am highly nervous physically. It shows in an unquiet face, fiddling with fingers, etcetera. I have tried to correct it from the outside, through will, through the conscious mind, and when he has pointed out these mannerisms, I have responded with effort, will, irritation, or depression- all of which are superficial responses. He said, “I am now talking to a deeper level, out of affection. It is from this level, from the inside, you must listen and change. If you do, in a few days, you will be different. There will be an awareness of your body.” He said that after my husband died, for eight years, I abandoned my body, neglected it. Today, I have greatly changed and am aware in many ways, but still not in the well-being of the body. He will speak at this level to me, to "my unconscious" during the coming days.’

October ninth. ‘Last night Krishnaji again said, “I’m speaking to your unconscious mind. I feel it doesn’t feel it is important or you would’ve changed these habits during these five years. Do you know what it is to be quiet?” As he was saying this, I saw that the habits are offshoots of tension; I don’t feel tense or nervous, but somehow, to get things done, I build up this steam of energy, which has a quality of tension. It feels like being in high gear. This shouldn’t be necessary. It probably wastes the very energy I need. I see that, from the inside, a quietness is necessary, and that the core of these things cannot be done from without. It is a false tension. Quietness inside, I understand that. Later this morning, while doing dishes in the kitchen, Krishnaji said he felt a difference in me. Then late in the evening, he said, “You have taken the first initiation. Do you know why you have taken so long? When you do, it will be the second initiation.”’

*

a quote from Krishnaji: ‘“I had an odd dream last night. There was a certificate that the mother, probably our mother, was dead. And I sat down on the bed and put my hands on her, and gradually I felt the warmth return to her and she sat up. Then I woke up. Probably it is symbolic.

*

he sixteenth of August (1973) . ‘Krishnaji, about his head pains, and that faraway feeling, said, “These people usually remain in one place surrounded by their disciples. The Buddha walked eighty miles, but that wasn’t very far. This body was made sensitive and it rebels at being pushed around in strange places.”’
‘I said, “Shouldn’t it stay in one place?”’
‘Krishnaji said, “If you mean Brockwood, no.’

*

Krishnaji told her of the curious thing that happened before the first Brockwood talk two weeks ago, August thirty-first. He woke in the night feeling as if a ball of light were being placed in his head.

*

On the drive this morning (August 1972) Krishnaji spoke of death. “I don’t like to speak of your father,” he said, “but what happens to a man like Rajagopal?” Late in the evening he said the following, which I wrote down verbatim

K: Take a man like X who is suspicious, jealous, secretive, concerned with his physical security. He is, after all, a product of his environment, his culture, his pattern of behavior. He may have peculiarities, his temperament, his so-called character. His mind is conditioned by the class he was born in, and so on. And when he dies, and that’s what we are talking about, what happens to him? He has not come out of his (psychic ?) ‘environment.’ He has not made anything of life. He is merely reacting within his conditioning, which may be very clever, cunning, artistic, but he has not come out of it. He is part of the whole quivering mass. He may think he will reincarnate, be reborn, or absorbed into something greater, which is his hope and comfort, but basically, he is still a result of his tradition, of his forefathers, his environment. He has not come out of it, so he is absorbed into his basic conditioning. This sounds cruel, but as you observe, he is part of this humanity. As he was in his life, so he is in death. To live with death every day is to deny totally this conditioning. So to die to conditioning every day is to live a life of a different dimension.

*

(1974) We had supper as usual on trays and watched “Washington Week in Review.” Then Krishnaji watched Ben-Hur on television. I came in several times to remind him it was getting late, and when I came in at 9:45 p.m., he was sitting with the sound turned off and a far-off look. He said, “Sit down quietly.” He looked as though something were happening—intent, listening, aware of something. ‘Soon he left the living room and told me it had been extremely intense, a “precipitation,” something so strong in the room he had been prepared for it to become “manifest” in some further way “visible—I don’t know how. I’ve never felt it like this. Something is happening.” He said later that it continued when he was in bed so that he stayed wide awake and had to sit up. His head was bad.’

*

A little later he said, “One shouldn’t die violently, suddenly. It is too much of a shock.”
A shock to the one who dies? I asked.
“Yes. It should be willingly, healthily.
Few people die willingly, I said.
I’ll talk to you about that another time.

He told of the time some years ago when Kitty Shiva Rao was with him on a flight from Delhi to Benares and the plane came into thick fog. Kitty, sitting beside him, got panicky, and Krishnaji took hold of her hand and said, “If we are going to die, we are going to die. Let’s do it happily.” She calmed down, but pretty soon as the plane lost altitude, she began to get hysterical. Krishnaji spoke to her again and then the pilot got below the fog and was able to land.’ There’s another anecdote with Kitty, when he said, “Nothing will happen because you’re with me.” He always thought that if he was in a plane, it would be safe.’

*

(1975)At supper he asked about the Ananda magazine that Tapas had sent. I read him part of an article by E. A. Wodehouse withering Arundale for carrying on ceremonies in Benares in 1928 when Mrs. Besant asked Krishnaji to preside at a TS congress in her absence, and out of politeness to Krishnaji and his views decreed there should be no ceremonies. Krishnaji remembered it vaguely and smiled. He said E. A. Wodehouse wrote very well, but gradually died of laziness.He looked at the magazines. “We were all very young then.” There is a chapter on the Hindu version of the Lord Maitreya in their sacred books. I read it to Krishnaji. Maitreya foretold by Gautama, it said, did not become a Buddha himself, but refused it until humanity is rescued, hence he returns to human life.’ That’s why the Maitreya returns.
‘I asked Krishnaji, “Will you become a Buddha?”’
‘“You mustn’t ask that,” he said. “It doesn’t work that way. These people made it all into a hierarchical affair.”’

*

Erna handed me to read the five-page account, handwritten by Pupul Jayakar of events in June 1948 in Ootacamund when Krishnaji was “off,” in great pain, spoke of **“they have burnt me so there can be more emptiness. They want to see how much of Him can come.

Then it goes on about ‘something to being close to death but not wishing it “as there is so much to be done” and of something happening on the walk (when he was alone) and not being able to remember it, of fearing 'pieces of him' were left on the road, of a great power filling him.

*

During lunch, Mary Lutyens gave Krishnaji the first and only copy so far of the biography Krishnamurti: The Years of Awakening. On the dust jacket there is part of one of the photos of Krishnaji taken in 1926 in Indian clothing standing in front of the Gobelin tapestries at Castle Eerde. I read the biography all afternoon while Krishnaji slept. Then, he and I went for a walk and talked about the book. He asked if it would really interest people, what they could make of it ?

I said that the first part, which is all that I have so far read, may bring up the inevitable questions about Theosophy, masters, etcetera—if the masters exist, why all those communications reported with them then and nothing since?

Krishnaji said, It is simple. The Lord is here.

I said, You mean those communications were necessary to prepare for that (coming ?) ?

Krishnaji replied: Obviously. I just thought of it [with humor in voice].

I asked: Am I being dense or insensitive not to perceive such things, or am I simply not being spoken to?

Krishnaji said, You’re doing what you should, looking after K. There may be no need to communicate (with you) . You have been with me how long? You are perhaps used to certain things.

I began to tell him of the curiously full reporting by the young Krishnamurti of his “initiation,” so unlike his present-day way of describing, so detailed, etcetera. But Dorothy came along the lane and joined us, and we couldn’t go on with the conversation

*
The tenth of May. ‘I put the biography on Krishnaji’s bed beside the breakfast tray. He said he wasn’t going to read it’ ‘but I thought he might read parts, and so he did, starting with the discovery of the boy. He asked how far I had read in the night, which was up to page 120, and what it seemed to me.’

I said: So far, the mystery of his becoming what he is, is deepened by the book. Working from Krishnaji’s letters to Mary L.’s mother and the latter’s diary gives a picture of an entirely immature, partly Victorian child, surrounded by jealous and competing friends, much talk of "love" that is childish and unreal.

Krishnaji said: The boy was not conditioned, that he was fed all the TS stories, but that it was superficial, and it went into his head and out. If he were conditioned, he said, he would’ve gone on in the TS way.

I pointed out that many people have changed belief or views, but he said this was different. He was simply empty, moronic, dull. What made him awake? He thinks that slowly, drop by drop, he was awakening, changing. There was no real conditioning there. He was untouched and the very slow maturing was important. “Care of the body was and is important. I have right food and all that. I may live to be 100 (90 ?)

*

On May eleventh (1975) , Krishnaji spoke to the school in the Assembly Room. He asked what is the most important question in life? He was critical later of their lack of response. On the walk, he said to Dorothy (Simmons) , “They are 'dead'…It’s no use to ask what Brockwood can give to them or they to Brockwood.” And in the evening, to me he said, “What is the use of all this? In five years, there is not one student who has understood something.”

*

Doris, having read the biography, heatedly asked Krishnaji why he had to suffer so. Do we all have to go through that? Krishnaji replied that to come upon something new, to discover, one person had to go through it in order to be able to point it out to others.’

*

When I brought Krishnaji his supper, he said he had a message from the Great White Brotherhood thanking me for looking after him, but I mustn’t spoil him.”

*

June third, Krishnaji spoke to the school and said, “I will teach them in spite of themselves.”’

*

‘Before lunch today, Krishnaji had a very far-off look, while sitting with Erna and Theo. At lunch, he said to Erna, You asked about the process. It began here( in Ojai) . Pains, fainting. It’s probably Kundalini. I am very skeptical about those things. I doubt most who say they have had it.

*

Then,( 1976) he said, “Do you feel something in the room?” I had and did. And strangely, the tiredness I had felt disappeared as if a transfusion of strength had been given.’
On January tenth. ‘At breakfast Krishnaji said, “I once saw ‘a face.’ I’ve been feeling ‘that face’ all night. Something happens to me here.”’
‘I asked, “Something curious happened to me last night when you were talking to me. Did you know that?”’
‘He replied, “Yes. I will tell you sometime, not now.

In the car coming home, I asked about “the face.” He has seen it often, “out there like that bush there.” A face only, not a body.’

‘I asked, “Does it move or speak? No. I have been seeing it since that night”’‘(Friday) not outside, but inside. It usually means it is moving into this body.”**’
I asked if it could presage his “going off,” and, if so, should he stay alone in the cottage while I am in the hospital?’ That will not happen when I am alone,” he said. “The body must be looked after.”’

*

K.” He then said that at Ojai, he had a feeling he must offer a chance to Rajagopal and RR’—that’s Rosalind—‘to redeem themselves, expiate their sins before they die. Must do it, so they cannot refuse, for if they do, it will be worse.’
‘“Greater damnation?” I asked.’
‘“Yes,” said Krishnaji.’

*

. Krishnaji came in and talked seriously. He said, “My life is uncertain and because it is uncertain, it is enduring. He said, “There is something more in my life than K, and if "That" operates, it will do what it wants. No one can prevent it. And he said, “My love for you is without attachment, and therefore it will endure.”’

*

From Krishnaji, “I will talk to your body, not you, on a quiet face and quiet hands.”…“I am aware of gestures as I talk; why aren’t you?” said he.’ . Krishnaji was always bothered that my hands were not quiet. It bothered him always. Bothers me still.

 On the twenty-second, ‘Krishnaji walked in his sleep last night. I must’ve heard him bump into something in his room, for I woke up suddenly and totally and alarmingly.’ ‘He came into the sitting room, where I was sleeping on the sofa. I spoke to him, and he said, “Maria?”’ That’s the name he called me. ‘I put on the tiny Dutch flashlight and saw Krishnaji was standing against the wall facing it.’ That means he would’ve had his back to me. ‘He woke up with the light and went back to the bathroom and bed, falling immediately deeply asleep. I could hear his breathing was that of sleep. I stayed awake a long time. In the morning he said, “I must’ve walked in my sleep. I have never done that.”

February twenty-third. ‘Krishnaji at breakfast said, “My head, here”—he indicated the back part—“feels as if it were expanding—great stillness, air, and light.” He gestured and laughed. Last night he seemed to have walked in his sleep again. I was instantly awake around 1 a.m. when I heard him walking in his room. I spoke and he responded, and came in. “I wonder why I do this.” He went back and slept immediately.

‘And so, we didn’t get off till about 5 p.m. in the car. Krishnaji said his head was suddenly bad. He asked me to drive between fifty and fifty-five m.p.h.’ That means slowly. ‘Suddenly he said, “I almost fainted just now.” Several times, he put one hand over his eyes and groaned. “It’s pretty bad,” he said. Along the coast road near Decker Road, he fainted for about two minutes. The seat belt held him gently so that he didn’t fall into my lap as in past faintings. When we reached the house, he said he was alright, and jumped out and opened the garage doors. We carried things into his room. When I asked, he said, “I’m alright. Don’t worry. I never faint when I’m alone.” So, I went to fix our supper. Going to bed and saying goodnight later, he said his head was bad.’. Krishnaji also saw Rusch and Carey Smoot. We enlarged on Monday’s decisions. Tea afterward. Krishnaji had a stomachache after lunch, but felt better later.’

February twenty-seventh. ‘We left at 11 a.m. for Ojai in the green car, Krishnaji driving. Along Zuma Beach, he asked, “Have you any paper?” I found a scrap in my bag and wrote what he said. “A strange thing happened this morning. I was sitting quietly, a sort of meditation, and suddenly, there was absolute silence, a withdrawal of everything, and it was like death; there was this body sitting quietly and this truth of not existing anywhere; complete death. And if I hadn’t felt, by Jove, this is getting too far, I don’t know what would’ve happened. It was absolute nothingness. It felt as though, if that state continued, the body would die. There would be an end of everything.”

‘Then, I asked, “Was it similar to the times on a walk alone when you felt like going away?”’
‘Krishnaji replied, “It was much more intense this morning.”’
‘I asked, “When did it happen?”’
‘Krishnaji said, “After I’d seen you.” Which was about 7 a.m.’
‘I said, “Before breakfast?”’
‘He replied, “Oh, long before breakfast. There was a period when the back of the brain was tremendously ventilated, as though taking deep breaths and being filled with air. It went on for some time.”’
‘“How long?” I asked.’
‘Krishnaji said, “May have been two or three minutes or more. I don’t know.”’
‘I asked, “When you felt it was getting too much, was it then instantly out?”’
‘Krishnaji replied, “Oh, instantly out.”’

What do you think it is? I asked.’
He said, “I’ve had it before, but it was in the sense of going away, "withdrawing" is the wrong word. It was absolute stillness. I think it has to do with what happened in the brain, the expanding, getting ventilated, really air going into it: a slight strain, as though a new fresh brain had been put into it.
It sounds so damn silly.” Then he laughed. “A totally uncontaminated…”’ I

*

‘We were off at 11 a.m. with Krishnaji driving. After a while, he said, “The curious thing is happening. A new thing is being added to it. This morning it was so easy—it has become quite ordinary—it is there, nothingness, a vast space of nothingness. The new thing I felt a few days—something—that word sacred; something totally holy—sacred—I don’t know what it is.

*

He described Rosalind's anger when he used to heal. “Why do you do that!?” she would say.’ And her walking out when he would talk to the Happy Valley teachers. She didn’t come to discussions. ‘“She was too stupid to understand,” and he retold her query when The Commentaries were published, “Did you write that? You couldn’t have. It must’ve been Rajagopal.”’

*

‘At 4 p.m. he talked about how to handle a child who doesn’t respond the to two approaches they use, creating an atmosphere and by dialogue. The child is self-centered, gets attention by behaving badly. Krishnaji said, “Can you move his attention from himself by creating another attention which he will want, instead of giving him the personal attention which he wants, you move his attention away from him with the same intensity, divert his energy.”’

I will talk to 8,000 people in Bombay about things that are the opposite of what they want. This is my problem, how to reach them. I point out something that is true, get them to look at it, not as opposed to something else. I appeal to their 'unconscious'. There may be an 'unconscious' movement for change. And this may affect parents to send the child to the school. The same quality may affect the child
There may be an 'unconscious' demand, urge, that we cannot go on living as we have in violence.
So, there are two things, to direct his attention and talking to his unconscious.
You mustn’t put him in the position of resisting. He may be here because 'something else' sent him, not his parents. Therefore, my responsibility is much gr he asked Krishnaji

*

Bud asked about the communications reported between Theosophy and the Masters. Krishnaji explained the beliefs that were held by the Theosophists, and way back, before that, by the Hindus and Buddhists. He said he has no memory of those days. Bud asked if Jesus figured in the Theosophical hierarchy. Krishnaji said Jesus was considered to be “a disciple,” not an "original".

This post was last updated by John Raica Wed, 20 Jul 2016.

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Thu, 21 Jul 2016 #13
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

More 'lost & found' pages from K's life as recorded by Mrs Zimbalist

(May 1976) He said to me in the evening, I had the most extraordinary meditation while sitting at breakfast. I "went off". I must be very careful. You know, death is very close. You mustn’t look like that when I mention "death". It isn’t that; it is complete emptiness, nothingness.

*
Krishnaji spoke to school and guests on registering only at the biologic or technical level but not at the psychological level. A “thin, thin” surface registering without reaction of the psychological 'me'.

*

Krishnaji told me in the morning of a “strange happening,” and then while at his lunch, he spoke of it again to Vanda and me, and dictated the following:
Before beginning asanas, he generally sits quietly, thinking of nothing. But this morning, a strange happening took place, most unexpected and in no way invited. And besides, you can’t invite these things. Suddenly, it appeared as though in the center of the brain, the head, right inside, there was a vast space in which was unimaginable energy. It is a part, or it is there that nothing whatever is registered, for that which is registered is a wastage of energy. If one can call it, it was pure energy in a limitless space, a space that had nothing but this sense of immensity. One doesn’t know how long it lasted, but all during this morning, it was there. And as this is being written, it is as though it was taking root and becoming firm. These words are not really the thing itself.

Basta. I better go ahead and eat.

*

Krishnaji received a letter from Pupul from Bombay, saying she and Nandini had been writing all they could remember about the incidents at Ootacamund in May and June of 1948. She wrote down every night what had taken place during the evenings that she and Nandini were living at a hotel nearby, and Krishnaji was staying with Ms. Hilla Petit and Maurice Frydman.

She describes Krishnaji’s pain in spine, nape of neck, and tooth. Krishnaji had asked Pupul and Nandini to sit quietly, not interfere and not be afraid, not to touch him except to close his mouth if he fainted, and on no account to leave the body alone. He would toss on the bed, have fits of shivering and would call out for Krishna, and then put his hand to his mouth and say, “I must not call him.” The body appeared to be only a shell. In this state, the voice was frail, childlike. “Then, suddenly, the body appeared to fill with a vast presence, Krishnaji would sit up, cross-legged, his eyes closed, the fragile body would appear to grow and fill the room, and there was a palpable, throbbing silence that poured into the room and enveloped us. In this state, the voice had great volume and depth.

They remembered one incident vividly: Krishnaji in great pain, stomach swollen, tears streaming down his face, suddenly fainting, and the body becoming intensely still. “The traces of pain and fatigue were wiped away. The face was greatly beautiful. There was a radiance, a light that illumined it and a stillness, and a sense of vastness that we had never witnessed. A quality of sacredness filled the room.”…“For moments, he lay unmoving. Then, his eyes opened. He saw us, and after sometime said, ‘Did you see that face?’ We said, yes, but could not say anything else as we had no words. Krishnaji lay silently, and then, ‘The Buddha was here.’ And then after sometime, ‘You are blessed.’…“Most of the time in the room, we had no part to play in what was happening, and yet, we had a role we could not understand. We questioned him during the day, but he became vague and would not explain…On most occasions, while the pain rocked him, he spoke of trees and wind, rain, nature, its storms, and vast silence. There was nothing personal in him during the incidents, no emotion, no relationship to us. The ordeal appeared physical, and yet the next day it left no traces on his face or body. Not a word that was said by him had psychological overtones. What he spoke was totally impersonal. The sense of the sacred permeated the room and the atmosphere on every occasion.

Krishnaji didn’t read it for quite a while. He said, “We’ll read it together later,” and then put it off. When I asked about it later, he said, “I’ve seen it. I’d be shy to have it read out loud.”’

*

Krishnaji said our talk yesterday in Villa Glori was very much in his mind. He had me repeat it, and then write him a memo on it to take with him. He said, “First there is freedom, then insight, revolutionary action. If they stiffen into a pattern, then follows dogma and power. Freedom is movement. When or if insight becomes knowledge, then dogma follows. Freedom from 'self' brings insight. When there is insight, there is radical transformation, which is freedom. When fundamental change does not take place, then there is pattern, dogma, and power.

*
Krishnaji spent the day in bed sleeping, reading. He said, “I don’t dream anymore. Somewhere in Madras or Rishi Valley, I forget which, I dreamt Rajagopal was chasing me and then I woke up. I said this is silly to keep thinking of that man. That is enough. And so I went into it, and I haven’t dreamt since.

*

( Ojai 1978) In the evening, suddenly, while watching a Hitchcock movie on television, Krishnaji said, “I must’ve been born this way, able to see directly. I have never been through all that... What makes me see all this?
I suggested that he never thinks about all these matters except when he’s talking seriously. He nodded.’

*

In the evening something came up that made me ask Krishnaji if mankind’s impulse toward religion is a plea to make things better, or something deeply inherent. He replied, “I think it is inherent.”

*
Vanda ( Scaravelli) began to tell Mary about the events that began in July ’61 at Tannegg, the period at the start of Krishnamurti’s Notebook, when Krishnaji was staying with her. Krishnaji, in his room, suddenly fainted, and then as Vanda described it, his eyes became enormous and another being spoke to her through Krishnaji’s body. An extraordinary change came over the face. It happened on July 18, 1961. The voice said, “Don’t leave me until he comes back.” And then, “He must love you if he lets you touch me, as he is very particular in this.” And “Don’t let anyone come near me until he comes back.” On the following day, it happened again. Krishnaji fainted. After trembling, the eyes became larger and deeper, and the voice said, “I feel very strange. Where am I? Don’t leave me. Will you kindly stay with me until he returns? Are you comfortable? Take a chair. Do you know him well? Will you look after him?” It was this last question that Vanda said “Is why I am here.” She feels she gave her word on this; she said that for a whole month Krishnaji’s face continued to change. There was not a return of the other being but a “different look” would come over his face.

A year later, the twenty-first of May, 1962, in Rome when Krishnaji was ill with fever, and became delirious. “It has been told to you to look after him. He should not have gone out. You should’ve told him.” And, “Do you know him? You cannot know him. How can you know the running water?”…“We repeat and never question. Tell him, take a pencil, tell him ‘Death is always there very close to you, to protect you.’…‘When you take shelter, you will die.’ (
Mary Lutyens and I guessed there were four entities in all this. The one who 'goes away' (presumably Krishnaji); the one who tells what should be done; the one with the great eyes; and probably the childlike one who also spoke to me in Gstaad when Krishnaji was delirious.

 I don’t know why we got the fourth one with the “great eyes” it says. I didn’t see 'great eyes' when I had the same experience. Well, I don’t know what she interprets, because when—I’m now judging from my own experience with him, which is that he was looking around the room and didn’t recognize or even know who I was. I’ve written about that elsewhere. And he spoke to me as though…and he said, “Did you ask him any questions?” he said to me. He was looking around the room, as though he didn’t know where he was; he certainly didn’t know who I was. And he spoke to me as though I were a stranger, “Did you ask him any questions?” and I said, “No.” And he said, “He doesn’t like to be asked questions.”
But his eyes could’ve been described more as…they were unseeing. They were eyes of…

 Well, without repeating it all, the one who is left says, ‘“Don’t leave me until he comes back.” And then, “He must love you if he lets you touch me as he is very particular in this.”…“Don’t let anyone come near me until he comes back.”’ And then on the following day, it happened again. Krishnaji fainted after trembling. ‘The eyes became larger and deeper and the voice said, “I feel very strange. Where am I? Don’t leave me. Will you kindly stay with me until he returns.”’ That’s still the one who’s left, but, you see, that has the big eyes.vI think it’s the same one who’s looking around bewildered ‘“Will you stay with me until he returns? Are you comfortable? Take a chair. Do you know him well? Will you look after him?”’ It was to this last question that Vanda said ‘“Is why I am here.”’ She took it as her job, just as I took it as my job when he said these things. ‘She feels she gave her word on this. She said that for a whole month Krishnaji’s face continued to change. There was not a return of the other being, but a “different look” would come over his face.
 Well, there’s always a person who goes away, and there’s always the person who’s there, who is, as he said to me, something like…“Even after all this time, all these years, I don’t feel at ease with him.” That’s said by the person who is left, when Krishnaji has gone away.The one who doesn’t know who you are, or where he is, really, and he looks around with vacant eyes, which could be described as 'big eyes'. She said, ‘“there was not a return of the other
being, but a  ‘different look’ would come over his face.”’

I only made one mistake in not sensing it. It was in Malibu and we were having supper on trays and looking at the evening news. And I was sitting on that long sofa that’s in the other room; and I was sitting on that long sofa, and he was at the other end; it’s twelve feet long, so it was quite a ways away, and the television was over there, and we were both watching it. And we’d been talking. And he was eating; I was eating. And I suddenly made some remark, and he reacted with a convulsive shock as though…a physical shock. And I didn’t realize that he’d suddenly gone off. I mean, it wasn’t unlikely. He would go off in many unusual moments, but I hadn’t picked it up. And it gave him this physical shock. And the next day he told me that he’d been shaking all night from it. So you had to be very sensitive. And that’s the only time I didn’t pick up the signal.

*

November fifth (1978) , ‘There was another small group discussion ( in India) at 9:30 a.m. Krishnaji used the analogy, “You have been given a baby. What have you done with it? Have you cared for it? Is it the most important thing in your life?” Pupul spoke of “clouding over”; one has clarity, then it clouds over. Krishnaji in effect said, “You let this cloud over because you are not serious. You have not accepted the baby’s responsibility. You have not given it your being, your total energy. This is not the whole of your life.” It hit hard at most of them. He spoke with great force. At lunch, he lingered at the table until 3 o’clock discussing whether Nagarjuna and Shankara’—these are great teachers in Buddhist and Hindu traditions—whether they ‘had the insight of the Buddha, or whether intellect brought saints to see the limitations and the futility of intellect, until out of that and an ensuing search, there came an insight. Krishnaji felt that a Buddha and possibly Nagarjuna, “They were not intellectuals though they had great intellect.” He felt that they had insight born of compassion. Then, from that, came intelligence.

*

January thirteenth (1979) . There was a discussion at breakfast with Krishnaji, Achyut, Sunanda, Radha, and I on what Krishnaji means by 'no recording'. I asked if he meant 'no recall'. He said, “In insight, there is no recording.” I asked him about The Notebook that he wrote, in which he describes what happened earlier. He said, it was not written using memory. The words 'happened' (came ?) at the moment of writing.

*

 The sixteenth. ‘At breakfast, Krishnaji, Radha, Sunanda, Pama, and I had a discussion on reincarnation of which this is a rough summary: There is a "stream", which is ( sustained by our self-centred ?) thought, attachments, etcetera. Thought is a material process. If when the body dies, ( our) attachment, etc, has not been understood and ended, that attachment, that ( self-identified ?) thought continues as part of the ( collective ?) Stream. It can manifest in another but it is not reincarnation of a total person. Ego is an illusion.’ ‘The desire for reincarnation—the wanting another chance is part of attachment, thought, the stream. Karma—cause and effect, is meaningless if one sees this.

*

Krishnaji seemed to feel that what “the boy” was like and whatever went on in his mind—as he kept asking—eluded him.’ But for me, the picture was a true line throughout; the dreamy child who when punished by the school master would stand on the veranda until told to leave, who often had to be fetched home by his little brother, was a gentle, compliant boy who replied to his TS elders, “Whatever you say” when asked about doing something. He was polite and accepting, but not really touched by their world; it went in one ear and out the other. He learned outward things: manners, speech, witnessed the TS goings-on, but it left little mark; he was 'elsewhere'. He remembers vaguely standing by the Adyar River for hours, staring at it, vacant. This vacancy was some "otherness" that protected him, let whatever he is grow, mature very slowly. It protected him from most of the pulls of life later on, from the brutalities of Rajagopal and Rosalind. It is there today when he is “off,” when he sits in Hamish Thompson’s dental chair for four hours without a thought; his "reality"", his native place is elsewhere, as it were. I said all this to him later and at supper when we all talked a bit about it.
In the "Rajagopal & Rosalind" times, he said he was sometimes physically beaten, but he didn’t resist their violence as he hadn’t fought against the wretched schoolmaster as a child. It all left no scars, just as the Theosophical beliefs did not condition his mind

*

When Krishnaji stopped speaking, he sat silently for a few moments, and Nandini and I went straight to the car, only yards away. But as Krishnaji rose, so did a wave of people pressing forward to touch him for "darshan"— people think they get a blessing if they can touch a holy man. ‘He was caught against the wall by people kissing his hands, his feet, touching him, and in a hysteria of reverence. Asit fought to keep the door of the car open and let him get in. It took minutes. And when he managed it, hands came through the window to touch him. Krishnaji was a figure of compassion, touching as many hands as he could, saying, “Be careful. Be careful.” Nandini called out, “You will be hurt.” And the answer came back in Marathi, “It doesn’t matter.” The chauffeur edged the car forward, but the crowd ahead obliterated the road. It took about ten minutes to drive the 100 or so feet to the street. In the morning, Krishnaji had said, “What will I talk about? Well, I suppose it will come. The day it doesn’t, I’ll shut up shop.”

*

Krishnaji went back to the health question and said he has always felt protected. Something, a “they” is looking after him for the purpose of the teachings. He feels that “they” will decide the time and manner of his death and he will know it. He asked Dr. Parchure how the Buddha died; apparently of eating bad food, but who knows, really.

*

We joined Mary for lunch at Fortnum’s. Talked of the second volume of the biography. The question was of how he got the way he is. He (K) said the choices were, “a biologic freak, a medium, or three, a late maturing mind.” He said if he were writing, he would consider all these very carefully, or is it something else? He would be with the person, K, and he would study him, question him. He, Krishnaji, discards the freak, and the medium. He said he did mature very late, really when he was sixty-five.’
 ‘Today he would never put up with what Rajagopal and Rosalind did. He would throw them out. Mary said that Rajagopal doesn’t realize how Krishnaji has changed, and so attributes it all to “wicked influences”’—that’s me.

*

Septeber eleventh (1979) : ‘Krishnaji said earlier in the morning that he had been sitting very straight in bed, mind empty, and there came a feeling as if something “were pouring into my head. It lasted ten to fifteen seconds to a minute. It was not imagination.

This post was last updated by John Raica Thu, 28 Jul 2016.

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Sat, 30 Jul 2016 #14
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

Fifteenth March (1983)

After the walk, ‘Krishnaji saw a video cassette of a film of himself in 1928 in New York and 1930 in Ojai. He said, “I felt no relationship between that chap and this chap.

*

Pupul came at 6 p.m. for an early supper in the hotel rooms. In conversation about how Krishnaji came to be what he is, a strange "something" was felt in the room. Krishnaji said it always comes when this subject is discussed seriously. And it always comes from the left.

*

(April )Then he jumped to Mary Lutyens' book, the second volume of the biography, The Years of Fulfillment, which has just come out, and which the Indian Foundation members have criticized severely. He said, Mary does not deeply enough know about “all this,” as she had not been around with him in years. He has been thinking about it, and he wants me to write every day so that at some point, and it may be years from now, I will write a biography, which will be right. He said it must start with something about myself, that I am not some devotee. Then he jumped to the subject of memory; of how it had come up in discussions in New York this past week, and how he asked me the question, “Is there something in the brain that is not touched by memory?” He examined it Thursday night, and Friday morning and on the plane to LA; and last night, he "saw it"—there is such a thing. Then he examined it rigorously, until he was sure. “From doubt to 'certainty', there is such a thing, and from that there is energy. When I got up this morning and did my exercises, I could have walked for miles. Now do you understand ?’

*

At lunch, he wore his new Navy fatigue shirt from L.L.Bean. He looks very smart and very young. We lunched at Arya Vihara. “David Bohm is picking my brains,” he said.

*

The twenty-second. ‘Krishnaji did a Sony dictation. A letter came from Mary Lutyens saying that her sister Betty had died suddenly of a heart attack. Krishnaji said, “Thank god. Poor Betty. She had an unhappy life.

*

And later, as we left the kitchen, he had me stop in the hall and look into the living room northeast corner. “You asked what you can do when you are alone here. You must look quietly at that, not hastily. (It is where the jewels are buried ) . ‘It has been neglected. It is a shrine and one must pay attention to it or it will fade.

*

Krishnaji is being interviewed by a Donald Lattin, religious editor of San Francisco’s The Examiner.The reporter had files and Examiner interviews from fifty-five years ago with Krishnaji and Dr. Besant. He quoted Krishnaji as saying that he was Christ. “Did you mean that then?” he asked Krishnaji. “God knows,” said Krishnaji with amusement.’

*

In the morning, at the Huntington, he had come to my room, I thought to wake me up as we were leaving early. But he had stayed with me a little, and later he said he had awakened  “with something different” in his head, pointing to his forehead, “which frightened the body, so I came to you.” The feeling has continued, to a lesser degree, all day, but the fright is gone.’ The body, in Krishnaji’s terminology, is almost as though it’s another entity sometimes. ( but it was his responsibility) .

*

He (K) used to say to me, “You must outlive me.” And I would say,  “Why should I outlive you?” He would reply, “To look after me.”

*

May twenty-eighth. ‘We had our preferred two forward seats on either side of the aisle. I slept fitfully, contorted in my seat. Krishnaji sat upright like a statue. His sleeping face in the dim light was austere, majestic; an extraordinary carving. Then he awakened and his face became eager, alive as a child. He said he’d had a good meditation.

*

July third. Krishnaji said at lunch that he would live to be 100, “To see what it is like.” He later told me, “Rajagopal is getting it. I have sent two angels to tell him.”’ They were not persuasive. They, being angels, aren’t the best thing to be to deal with Rajagopal. He should’ve sent something from 'downstairs' with a pitchfork.

‘I asked what is happening along these lines in Russia, and Asit said they are concentrating on biochemistry, research into parapsychology, especially mind reading and control. Asit asked Krishnaji if this is possible. Krishnaji said, “Of course, mind reading is obviously possible.” Asit asked if Krishnaji could do it, and Krishnaji replied that he could, but that he refuses to. Then Krishnaji went on to say a person can block someone else reading one’s mind, reaching it. Rajagopal’s aggression is directed at him, but Krishnaji forms a 'wall' it cannot penetrate. On Krishnaji’s side, there is emptiness, which forms the wall, and within this, Krishnaji can function.’  ‘Krishnaji went on to say that because Rajagopal’s sendings cannot penetrate, “It is like coming up against a rock,” and it returns to Rajagopal. “I do not want to hurt him. I am not doing anything to him,” but something may change, that stillness may reach him, or perhaps he is too full o
f hatred, it may not. “It will be interesting to see.

Krishnaji spoke in that way that may be serious or may not of those very high in Masonry to whom two angels are given. They watch over the welfare of a person or persons, though he may not ask for himself and may rarely ask an action from them. Krishnaji has never asked his until now. But he has “sent two angels to talk to Rajagopal” to make him turn from this ugliness. Asit translated this into a force of goodness and Krishnaji smiled. He spoke of sensing an atmosphere when serious things are being discussed, which is different from the atmosphere when discussing computers.’ Asit asked if Krishnaji could convey to a friendly person instead of Rajagopal in ways that would change them. Krishnaji said that is what is happening in the tent, but the other person must be willing to listen. Krishnaji said he thinks the ancient Hindus knew about this. This is part of meditation.’

This post was last updated by John Raica Sat, 30 Jul 2016.

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Thu, 04 Aug 2016 #15
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

Below is ( a lost & found page from Krishna’s account of his Initiation ( from a letter) addressed to Mrs Besant (From Mary Lutyens fierst volume of K's biography ' The Years of Awakening'

January 12th, 1910. When I left my body the first night, I went at once to the Master’s house and found Him there with the Master Morya and the Master Djwal Kul. The Master talked to me very kindly for a long time, and told me all about the Initiation, and what I should have to do. Then we all went together to the house of the Lord Maitreya, where I had been once before, and there we found many of the Masters—the Venetian Master, the Master Jesus, the Master the Count, the Master Serapis, the Master Hilarion and the two Masters Morya and K.H. [Kuthumi]. The Lord Maitreya sat in the middle, and the others stood round Him in a semicircle like this [diagram].

Then the Master [Kuthumi] took my right hand, and the Master Djwal Kul my left, and they led me in front of the Lord Maitreya, you and Uncle [Leadbeater] standing close behind me.

The Lord smiled at me, but He said to the Master:— ‘Who is this that you thus bring before me?’ And the Master answered: ‘This is a candidate who seeks admission to the Great Brotherhood’. Then the Lord asked:— ‘Do you vouch for him as worthy of admission?’ The Master replied:— ‘I do’. The Lord continued: ‘Will you undertake to guide his steps along the Path which he desires to enter?’ And the Master answered:— ‘I will’. Then the Lord asked:— ‘Our rule requires that two of the higher Brethern shall vouch for every candidate; is any higher Brother prepared to support this application?’ The Master Djwal Kul said:— ‘I am prepared to do so’. Then the Lord said:— ‘The body of the candidate is very young, if he should be admitted, are any members of the Brotherhood who still live in the outer world ready to take charge of him and to help him on his upward way?’ Then you and uncle came forward and bowed and said:— ‘We are ready to take charge of him’. The Lord continued:— ‘Are your hearts full of love for him, so that such guidance will be easy?’ And you both replied:— ‘They are full of love, brought over from many lives in the past’. Then the Lord spoke to me for the first time:— ‘Do you on your part love these two Brethren, so that you will gladly submit yourself to their guidance?’ And of course, I answered:— ‘Indeed I do love them with all my heart’. He asked:— ‘You desire then to join the Brotherhood which exists from eternity unto eternity?’ And I said:— ‘I wish to join when I am fit to do so’. He asked:— ‘Do you know the object of this Brotherhood?’ I replied:— ‘To do the work of the Logos by helping the world’. Then he replied:— ‘Will you pledge yourself to devote all your life and all your strength henceforth to this work, forgetting yourself absolutely for the good of the world, making your life all love, even as He is all love?’ And I answered:— ‘I will, with the Master’s help.’ He continued:— Do you promise to keep secret those things which you are told to keep secret?’ And I said: ‘I do promise’. Then He showed me many astral objects and I had to tell Him what they were. I had to distinguish between the astral bodies of a living man and a dead man, between a real person and a thought-image of a person, and between an imitation Master and a real one. Then He showed me many cases, and asked how I would help in each, and I answered as well as I could. Then He showed me an image of my worst enemy a cruel man whom I had hated, because he had often tortured my younger brother and me; and He said:— ‘Will you help even this creature, if he needs your help?’ But there can be no hatred in the Master’s presence, so I replied:— ‘Surely I will’. At the end He smiled and said that the answers were very satisfactory, and then He asked all the other Masters:— ‘Do all present agree to the reception of this candidate into our company?’ And all said that They did.

Then the Lord turned away from me and called towards Shamballa:— ‘Do I this, O Lord of Life and Light, in Thy Name and for Thee?’ And at once the great Silver Star flashed out over His head, and on each side of it in the air there stood a figure—one of Lord Gautama Buddha and the other the Mahachohan. And the Lord Maitreya turned and called me by the true name of the Ego and laid His hand upon my head and said: ‘In the name of the One Initiator, whose Star shines above us, I receive you into the Brotherhood of Eternal Life; see to it that you are a worthy and useful member of it. You are now safe forever, for you have entered upon the stream; may you soon attain the further shore!’ Then He gave me the Key of Knowledge and showed me how I might always and anywhere recognize any member of the Great White Brotherhood when I met Him; but these things, He said, I must not repeat. Then He spoke to my two sponsors and asked them to take charge of the necessary buddhic experiences. Then all the Masters, one by one, touched my head and spoke kindly to me and congratulated me, and the Lord Maitreya gave me His blessing.

Then the Star disappeared and we all came away, and I awoke feeling wonderfully happy and safe. I very soon went to sleep again, and all that day I was away from my body, being taught about the buddhic plane, and how to form a buddhic body and a mayavirupa [a materialised astral body]. But I do not remember that very clearly in this brain; because it has come down through several planes. The next night I was taken to see the King, and that was the most wonderful experience of all for He is a boy not much older than I am, but the handsomest I have ever seen, all shining and glorious, and when He smiles it is like sunlight. He is strong like the sea, so that nothing could stand against Him for a moment, and yet He is nothing but love, so that I could not be in the least afraid of Him. And the Silver Star that we have seen is just part of Him—not sent there, for He is there and everywhere all the time, but just somehow made so that we can see it. But when we do not see it, He is there just the same. He told me that I had done well in the past, and in the future I should do still better; and if my work should be difficult I must never forget His presence, for His strength would be always behind me, and His Star would shine over me. Then He raised His hand in blessing and we came away. There were three other Shining Ones who stood behind Him, but I did not look at Them, for I could not take my eyes from Him. On the way there and back I saw enormous ruins and a great bridge, different from any other that I have ever seen; but I was thinking so much of Him, that I did not notice them very much.

This post was last updated by John Raica Thu, 04 Aug 2016.

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Fri, 05 Aug 2016 #16
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

Here are a few lost and found pages about K's youth extracted from Pupul Jayakar's remarkable K Biography:

This anonymous account of K in Pergine was found among Shiva Rao’s (who was supposed to write K's official biography) papers after his death. It is possibly a diary kept by Nitya. Though the author’s identity is not known, the document appears authentic.

August 29, 1924: Our life here is one of intense inner activity and almost complete outer inertia. Or that is what it should be and what Krishnaji desires.
On previous holidays of this kind, when Krishnaji has collected around him those whom he desired to teach and help and has retired to some quiet spot away from civilization, there has been no concerted plan of action. Krishnaji has of course spoken to each of his followers individually, but never before have the Masters been spoken of to us all collectively, as in our present group, so that every grade and those who were still apart might listen and talk openly about them.

We are here for but one purpose, to take definite “steps” and thereby become directly useful to Them. Each one has his opportunity; each one is at a different stage, and therefore capable of serving those above and helping those below.
The regime for the day is, meditation at a quarter past eight, breakfast at eight thirty. A walk down to an open stubble field where we play rounders for an hour or two, and then one hour’s talk under the trees, of the Masters and of how to serve Them. Lunch at 12.30—rest or individual work, if wished, until three; games in the ( Eerde ) Castle grounds, bath, and dinner at six. After which all separate for the night, some of us going to the Square tower where certain intensive preparation goes on for an hour. Bed at 8.30.

Krishnaji is of course the central figure of each day; of the games, and of the work. Around him everything [is] centred; Krishnaji’s life is one of absolute devotion to the Lord, such passionate worship of the idealistic and the
beautiful—and yet he is so perfectly human and so near to his fellow men. No words can depict his character, but he seems like a human creature who has perfected himself to a great extent, rather than a divine being in an imperfect human form. Surely what the Lord will desire, will be a perfect human instrument, so that he can contact humanity on its own level. The divinity He Himself will show forth through the instrument. Never except at the coming of a World Teacher to His world is there such a union between those things which are Divine and those that are human. For usually humanity reaches up to Divinity and the moment it touches it becomes one with it, but in this case Divinity reaches down to a human instrument, uses it, works through it as separate and apart from it, and retires again leaving the instrument still a human instrument. Certainly the evolution of the human instrument is often so quickened that it becomes almost immediately super-human (through this service) but this is a separate process. Man may reach up and become Divine but he cannot use divine powers while he is still human. Whereas the Divine can descend and use human powers, even though he is no longer human.

Today Krishnaji was very alive at breakfast, and as often our conversation was not printable. The morning after a very serious talk or hard evening’s work, Krishnaji will often be most frivolous, making jokes and laughing at them uproariously, with his sudden thundering outbursts of mirth, or prolonged, infectious giggle. These two things are strange about him—first, his capacity to change from the most serious, real and glorious mood, to one of laughter and joking instantaneously; secondly that no joke he utters however vulgar, makes the usual atmosphere surrounding such talk. It seems as though his beauty, his absolute clarity of being, sweeps everything before it, so that he can touch any person, or object or subject, and impart his cleanness to it, endow it with the fresh air of his presence. Krishnaji tried to remember his own experiences. When he and Nitya first saw C. W. L. he showed them pictures of the Master M. and the Master K. H. and asked them which they preferred. When they chose the one of the Master K. H. he said it was as he expected.

When Krishnaji was young the Masters were very real to him, then it was that he wrote “At the Feet of the Master,” afterwards came a period when for him the reality was not so intense, he only believed because of what C. W. L. and A. B. said. Now again the intense realization has returned. Nitya said that our group should make an atmosphere which should “attract” Their attention. He spoke of the various influences at Ojai, on the different nights. That of the Master M. as a power that made you feel capable of anything. That of the Master K. H. as perfect kindness—it was as if honey were entering into you when he spoke. And that of the Master K. H. as absolute cleanness, perfect clarity. Then of the greatest of all influences, that of the Lord, as we also felt at Ehrwald “the peace that passeth understanding.”
Krishnaji spoke of Adyar as of a mighty power house, where either you became a saint, went mad, or were turned away as useless by an unerring watcher.

I have never seen him so radiantly beautiful as he is at nights, at these times. His eyes laugh with a strange unearthly joy, which is triumphant and yet so gentle. Gentleness and a sweet keen joy robe him, and show in the lines and curves of his face, and an aroma of roses surrounds and envelopes him. At times, he shivers as if cold and at other times he is too worn out, but on these nights, these particular nights of which I speak, the real Krishna, all that makes him what he is in the deepest sense, comes and looks out through his eyes.

September 1, 1924: Lady Emily compares Rajagopal to St. Peter. He is the Buffoon amongst the present disciples it seems; and he dearly loves his position as High Court Jester. To know Krishnaji, one has to know his followers. Rajagopal was once St. Bernard of Clairveaux, and at other times he has been a venerable priest; and both the saint and priest peep out through him over and over again. Perhaps especially the latter. He talks perpetually, and when making a speech is lengthy and tedious, in fact he sermonises. He is or rather pretends to be very fond of food, this being his chief topic for jokes etc. When Krishnaji is strained and tired, or the party in general, dull, Rajagopal has always some joke, or amusing phrase to hand, and he laughs at himself so persistently that everyone must join in. It is said that the one quality all the Masters have, and without which it is impossible for the disciple to progress, is a sense of humour. And the more the spiritual life is led the more this becomes apparent. A sense of humour will relieve the tension of feelings and thoughts under the most trying circumstances, and often it is just that that prevents a definite break in the work, or individually in a person. Certainly Rajagopal’s wit is not of the clearest, sharpest type, but then it allows Krishnaji and the others to take part and add their quota. Needless to say, Rajagopal gets a great deal of teasing, but then so does everyone who comes near Krishnaji, that being one way through which he influences people; especially of certain types.

One of Krishnaji’s theories is that people must surely be able to evolve through joy alone, arriving at Godhead as naturally as a flower opens to the sun. At one time it seemed almost to worry him, that everyone he met had evolved so far by the long devious ways of sorrow, and so few had taken the simple way of joy. I think I have heard him even say that he has never met anyone who evolved through joy alone, nevertheless it is a possibility, which would become very common if only our present civilization were not so complex. “Be natural, be happy.” So Rajagopal plays a great role in this mighty drama, in which Krishnaji is the first to laugh, the easiest to be amused. “Be a God, and laugh at yourself.”

Speaking of his two years of training with Leadbeater Krishnaji said he was “bored to tears,” literally. All desires were burnt out; for instance, K and N asked for bicycles, (probably as they were small boys they pestered C. W. L. for them); the bicycles were found and a ten mile ride was not only done once but they had to do it every day for two years. Also they expressed a desire for porridge; they had it—but again every day for a year; if they had dirty feet, or as once Nitya threw a stone at a frog, it was “Pupils of the Master do not do these things.” But it must have seemed hard then for the small dark boy who was to become the Krishnaji of today—the Jesus of tomorrow.

He has had many lives as a woman, and these have left a very strong trace in his character; his exceptional power of intuition makes him unlike most men. At times he can be as cruel as he can be the reverse, but this always for a purpose. One short sharp phrase, which his flashing eyes emphasise to an unbearable degree, that is all. Krishnaji will never offer to talk to anyone, unless an approach is made, and then for the first two or three times that a serious conversation is broached, he is terribly shy.

September 8, 1924: Lady Emily, Cordes and I sat in Krishnaji’s room. Krishnaji being in the one below. The time was about a quarter to seven, and all was the same as on ordinary nights, except for a magic silence that came down on us. Somewhere in the tower Nitya, Rama Rao and Rajagopal were chanting, and incense wafted in through the cracks on the door. We all felt His Presence, how would even the dullest fail to recognize the ineffable peace that pervaded the building. We sat “silent and rapt” for an hour.
Afterwards when we were all together, and Krishnaji sat in our midst it was as if we had all only just found each other; and as we spoke of what had happened, a low sweet laughter, of greatest inexpressible joy seemed to come to our lips. “If it is like this now, what will it be when the time comes?”

September 14, 1924: This afternoon instead of playing the usual “volley-ball,” we all lay out on the rocks which surround the Square Tower. Krishnaji squatted on the rocks with Rama Rao, examining a small yellow snail with great interest. Once before some years ago, I remember being with Krishnaji when he discovered a colony of ants and spent the whole morning feeding them with sugar, stirring them up and watching them carry eggs and rebuild their home. Presently, another snail was found and the two were made to crawl over each other and up and down precipitous crags. At Ehrwald last year, he was lying amongst the long grass and flowers, when a butterfly settled on his hand, and soon he had one or two poised on his finger. His delight was unbounded. He has a love of all creatures great and small, indeed anything that is beautiful or natural interests him; he will chase a grasshopper following its movements and noting the colour of its wings; or with his customary “I say!” will stand almost enraptured before a beautiful scene. “Just look at that lake, it’s so smooth, like ice—and dark green. See the reflections in it? Oh-ee you should see Lake Geneva—so blue.”

Krishnaji reads a small passage out of “The Gospel of Buddha” in meditation each morning. He is indeed a devotee, and the very sound of the name of the Lord Buddha, seems almost to make him tremble with a feeling of utmost worship. There was one sentence today, in which the Lord Buddha said, that the disciple who lives in the world must be like a lotus. In India, the lotus, symbolizes purity. Its ability to blossom fully while rooted in a muddy, slushy pond signifies the human ability to flower in purity and rise out of any condition however dark and sullied.

Krishnaji was speaking to me this afternoon. He spoke of the Lord Buddha and that state of existence which is absolutely without self. He is thinking much
of being absolutely impersonal these days, and already he seems to have dived deep into that clear well which is unsullied by the mud of self. As he spoke of the Lord Buddha, a new world lay stretched before one, in which all personal love and ambition died away and became as naught, only an impersonal, tremendous unshakeable love remained. The full realisation of life without self only came to Krishnaji while he was at Ojai, and even he finds it almost impossible to describe. He spoke of how when all the Masters were assembled together, the coming of the Lord Buddha was like the north wind, so free from anything even resembling self. He said: “Whenever I see the picture of the Lord Buddha, I say to myself, I am going to like it.”

The image of the Lord Maitreya has been appearing to him on several occasions. At Pergine on the last appearance He was to give Krishnamurti a message—“The happiness you seek is not far off; it lies in every common stone.” In another message, He conveyed “Do not look for the Great ones when they may be very near you.” For the next three evenings, Krishna was to laugh often, tell comic stories—many members of the party were shocked at his behaviour.

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Wed, 17 Aug 2016 #17
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

Talking about strange "lost & found" pages from the Book of Life, here are a few excerpts from an older book written by Estelle Roberts , who was a well known English medium - before and after the 2 nd WW. 'Red Cloud' was the 'stage name' of her spirit guide. There are quite a few striking similitudes with the deeper expression of the K Teachings

I have worked with Red Cloud for nearly fifteen years, and during
that time he has toiled unceasingly to demonstrate eternal spirit
truth. He has never told us who he was on earth. When asked, he
has always answered: "Know me by my works." We know that he
passed this way before us, when he probably dwelt in Egypt. We
believe, too, that he was either in this world, or very near to it, in
the days of Jesus of Nazareth. Once or twice he has tantalized us
into believing ourselves to be on the verge of discovering only to
find the answer has again been denied us.

We know that his identity as a Red Indian is a cloak which is
assumed in order to make receptive by us the very high vibrations
that are naturally his because of his advanced spiritual
attainment. He says he long ago reached the point in his evolution
from which, had he gone on, there would have been no returning
to this world. The choice was his - to go on, or to remain as a guide
and teacher to mankind, bringing peace of mind and
understanding of divine truths. He chose the latter course,
explaining to us: "As your elder brother, which I am, your sorrows
are my sorrows, your joys are my joys. When you fall back, I fall
back with you. When you go forward, I go forward, too."

Always Red Cloud is loving and kind. I have never known him to
condemn harshly any living person, though he will frequently
gently point out our errors.
He is ever ready to answer our
questions, though not always as directly as some sitters could have
wished. He is never dogmatic. In discussion and argument, he is
tolerant, never laying down the law, and forever reminding his
hearers that the final decision is theirs to make.
God has given
man a will of his own, he says, and man alone must exercise it.

In the many years that he has been my guide he has delivered
score of lectures, both in public and private sittings. Some of them,
particularly those having a scientific basis, have been too obtrusive
for the comprehension of the average circle-member, though great
scientists, such as Sir Oliver Lodge, read many of them with
respect and understanding. His philosophical teachings, follow
closely those of Jesus of Nazareth, whom he invariably calls "The
Nazarene" God, tells us, is perfect mind, which is love, wisdom and
power. God is not a being but a force of good which permeates the
universe and is infinite.
Evil is not force, but an error in thought
which has arisen in the world because of the misuse of free will. It
is finite and can be overcome by concentration on good and on
God.

As God dwells within each one of us, every individual is part of
the Whole which is God. And because we are all part of the Infinite
Spirit of God, we cannot die.
The gradual unfolding of the consciousness of the Mind of God
within us is the process of evolution of our souls. In order to find
God we must be "born again" into the realization that we are
spiritual beings, and into the acceptance of our personal
responsibility for every action we commit. Thus the extent of our
evolution depends entirely upon ourselves. As we desire, so we
shall receive.

The universe is ordered by divine law. If we follow this law, it will
lead to perfect harmony; if we go against it, the result is chaos. The
first law is that of love. Love is the ability to see only latent
perfection in our fellowmen.
Love is the attribute of the Divine
mind, whereas fear stems from the material mind. Love and fear
are the two incompatible opposites, the one forever striving to cast
out the other. Love is the complete negation of self; self-interest is the father of fear. The natural expression of love is service to
others, not so much in the p.erformance of great works as in doing
that which lies nearest to hand

To dwell within the kingdom of heaven is to dwell within the
Mind of God which lies within ourselves. All must first seek this
kingdom from which, once found, all else will flow. Prayer for
ourselves is purposeless, for we already have all we can ever need.
The only true prayer is the unceasing communion with the divine
spirit within us.
Never must we forget that God is within us, not
outside us, that we are all individual parts of God, which is the
Whole.

It is not to be expected that we can achieve perfection within the
span of one lifetime. After death we go to the astral plane, in which
there are many worlds of consciousness. After a period we
incarnate once again on this earth, or some other inter-penetrating
world, for the further progress of our souls. Eventually, and who
can say how long this may take, we reach a state of evolution at
which further reincarnation is no longer necessary and we pass on
to higher realms of spiritual existence.

In all his addresses Red Cloud quotes freely from the Bible,
sometimes changes the words of an accepted version to bring to
them a different and more illuminating meaning. The words, "Lead
us not into temptations," as they occur in the Lord's Prayer, for
instance, Red Cloud will never accept. The significance of these
words has many times been debated by theologians, but Red Cloud
is unhesitating in his judgement. "How can that which is Perfection
lead into temptation?" he asks. "God does not lead you there, for
that part of you which is God does not know temptation. Only the
carnal mind knows temptation and, too often, submits to it.
Therefore, when you pray to God, say rather: "Leave us not when
in temptation."

The power of love to cast out hatred has been a recurring theme
in Red Cloud's trance addresses. To overcome hatred in ourselves
we must try to see in others only that part of them which is God or
good.
"God is there for all who have the eyes to see Him." These are the
words with which Red Cloud began one of his inspirational
lectures, and I don’t think I can do better than to quote the words
with which this lecture ended: "You know, my children, in this day of life, the greatest aspect that you find within the jewel of your being is to see with far-seeing eyes the beauty of God's kingdom. See it in the simple flower, its folding petals, its colors rare. In the heart of that small blossom, seeking peace, God will be found.

"Stand upon the hilltop and watch the setting sun, and in your
heart be calm. Watch the blending of the colors as they fall behind
the hills, and in that quiet stillness, God will be. Stand among the
yellow of the buttercups in the open fields when the dew lies upon
the grass. Watch the bird rise with a flutter of wings, its throat
trembling in the beauty of its note. It is there God will be found. In
the laughter of a child when it runs to its mother's side; there, too,
will God be found.
"May I always find within your world the beauty of God and the
wisdom of His kingdom expressed in the one simple word - Love."

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Fri, 19 Aug 2016 #18
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

The following excerpts are from Mrs Jayakar's remarkable K biography

February 9 (1927 ) Krishnamurti wrote to Leadbeater:

"I know my destiny and my work. I know with certainty that I am blending into the consciousness of the one Teacher and that he will completely fill me. I feel and I know also that my cup is nearly full to the brim and that it will overflow soon. Till then I must abide quietly and with eager patience. I long to make and will make everybody happy".

*

on September 29 (1931) , Krishnaji refers to his sorrow at Nitya’s death, his enquiry into the cause of sorrow, and a blazing awakening.

" I know, Padmabai the fight you must be putting up because we want the perfume of love through one person only, and death [darkens] our love. There will be always death as long as our understanding is limited by personal, egotistical outlook. I tell you, as long as there is consciousness of oneself there is death, loneliness and sorrow. I went through this when Nitya died and I understood what lay behind sorrow, the cause of it. I have cheated death. So, Akkaji, this is the time to understand in the midst of this sorrow and loneliness. You must understand, probe into the deepest and you will see that there is something more permanent, eternal than all persons. We all must die and while you are in the midst of this sorrow, this is the time to understand. Don’t postpone it, Akkaji. In the gloom, you must seek the way out and not wait or let sorrow eat your heart and loneliness darken your smile. So Padmabai, be eager to understand, though it hurts. Detach your mind from loneliness, sorrow and examine and you will see that by freeing your own consciousness, you go beyond birth and death. Try it dear Padmabai and don’t say these are just words.
I wish I were with you, perhaps I could be able to help you. Oh, Padmabai, you have no idea the joy of true impersonal love.

This post was last updated by John Raica Fri, 19 Aug 2016.

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Fri, 26 Aug 2016 #19
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

More 'lost and found' pages about K's 'process' from Mrs Jayakar's Memoirs

(1948)

Late at night we woke to the sound of Krishnaji’s voice calling from the veranda where he slept. His voice sounded frail, and we were bewildered and thought he was ill. After a great deal of hesitation, we went to the doorway that led to the veranda and asked him whether he was unwell. Krishnaji was calling for somebody, his voice was fragile and childlike. He kept on saying, “Krishna has gone away, when will he be back?” His eyes were open, but there was no recognition. Then he seemed to grow aware of us and asked, “Are you Rosalind?” And then, “Oh, yes, yes, he knows about you, it is all right, please sit here, wait here.” Then again after a little while, “Don’t leave the body alone and don’t be afraid.” The voice started calling for “Krishna” again. His hand would cover his mouth and he would say, “He has said not to call him.” Then in the voice of a child, “When will he be back? Will he come back soon?” This went on for a while; he would be quiet, then shout for “Krishna,” then chide himself.

After about an hour his voice became joyful. “He is back, do you see them? They are here, spotless.” His hands expressed a fullness. And then the voice changed, it was again the familiar voice of Krishnaji. He sat up, apologizing for having kept us awake. He saw us to our room and left. The strangeness of it all bewildered us (Pupul and her sister Nandini) ; we were dazed and did not sleep all night. Next morning at breakfast he looked fresh and young. We questioned him as to what had happened. He laughed and said he did not know. Could we describe what had happened? We did so. He said we would talk about it some time, which by then we had come to understand meant that he did not wish to discuss the matter further. The next day we returned to Bombay.

*

Krishnaji wrote to Nandini and me to join him in Ootacamund. We had just returned from seeing him in Madras. Looking back, it appears incomprehensible that Krishnaji did not consider for a moment whether it was possible, whether the money for the journey and stay in Ooty was forthcoming, whether Nandini could get permission to come. I was free to travel within the constraints of my not very affluent finances, but with Nandini the situation was entirely different. Her estrangement from her husband was deepening; though her husband and his family were quite wealthy, they were orthodox and very conservative. Nandini had no independent means of her own.
But it had been always so with Krishnaji. Once a necessity arose within him and was expressed, it happened And so Nandini, her children, her father-in-law, and I with my daughter Radhika arrived in Ootacamund in the third week of May. We found that Krishnaji had recovered from an illness and had grown a beard while he rested in bed. It was cold, and Krishnaji wore a long, flowing choga of natural tus wool. The large penetrating eyes, bearded face, and long robes gave him a biblical appearance.
We went with him for long walks, taking shortcuts through the pines. He walked lithely up vertical slopes and it was difficult to keep pace with him. It was the season before the rains, the forests were opaque with rising mists. We walked with Krishnamurti, entering enchanted woods where trees shrouded in rising clouds turned incandescent, as sunlight touched them, to dissolve as mists closed in. On one occasion, climbing up a steep path through the pine trees, we came on three women walking carefully downhill, balancing heavy loads of wood on their heads. Krishnaji stood to one side and watched every movement the women made as they passed him. Suddenly, one felt it—a compassion emanating from him, a tender attention and energy that wiped away the burdens of the women who passed, never knowing what made their loads lighter.

One day, on a walk through the pines, he asked me how I met people. He said, “Surely, if you want to understand them, you do not see them through your thoughts: Why aren’t you just aware of them passively, with alertness? Why are you not sensitive to them?” Later, as we were returning home, he turned to me and said with a twinkle in his eye, “Go and make friends with the trees.”

Although Krishnamurti was resting and in retreat, the news of his presence in Ootacamund had spread rapidly.
Jawaharlal Nehru, now the prime minister of India, was in Ootacamund, and I got a message from his secretary that the prime minister would like to call on Krishnamurti. Nehru asked Krishnamurti whether his teaching had changed over the years since they had last met. Krishnaji said it had, but he could not say exactly where and how.
“Tell me, sir,” he asked Krishnaji, “I wish to be clear of this confusion within me. Tell me what is right action and what is right thought.”
There was silence for over three minutes. We were discovering that the silences that surrounded Krishnaji in dialogue formed part of communication; a silence of the mind in which distances between the minds diminished so that there was direct mind-to-mind contact and communication.

Then Krishnamurti spoke slowly, “Right action is only possible when the mind is silent and there is a seeing of ‘what is.’ Action that arises from this seeing is free of motive, of the past, free of thought and cause.” Krishnaji leaned forward, his hands eloquent. He said that with the growing chaos in India and the world, man could only start the process of regeneration with himself. He had to begin anew. For the world to be saved, a few individuals had to free themselves of the factors that were corrupting and destroying the world. They had deeply to transform themselves, to think creatively and so transform further people. It was from the ashes that the new had to rise. “Like Phoenix from the ashes,” said Nehru.
“Yes,” replied Krishnaji, “for there to be life there must be death. The ancients understood this and that is why they worshipped life, love, and death.

Krishnaji then spoke of the chaos of the world being a projection of individual chaos. The human mind caught in the past, in time as thought, was a dead mind. Such a mind could not operate on chaos, could only add to the confusion. Man had to free himself from time as becoming, the projection into the tomorrow. He had to act in the “now” and so transform himself.

Toward the end of May certain incidents occurred which cast light on the secret mystical life of Krishnamurti.

The incidents at Ooty extended over a period of three weeks, from around May 28 or 29 1948 to June 20. They took place in Krishnaji’s room at Sedgemoor. My sister Nandini and I were present.

It began on an evening when Krishnaji had been for a walk with us. He started to say that he was not feeling well, and could we go home. When we asked whether he wanted to see a doctor, he said, “No, it is not that.” He would not explain further. When we got home he went to his room, telling Friedman that on no account was he to be disturbed; but he asked Nandini and me to come into the room. He closed the door and then told us not to be afraid, whatever happened, and on no account to call a doctor. He asked us both to sit quietly and watch him. There was to be no fear. We were not to speak to him, not to revive him, but to close his mouth if he fainted. On no account were we to leave the body alone.

Krishnaji appeared to be in extreme pain. He complained of severe toothache and an intense pain at the nape of the neck, the crown of the head, and in the spine.
In the midst of the pain he would say, “They are cleansing the brain, oh, so completely, emptying it.” At other times he would complain of great heat, and his body would perspire profusely. The intensity of the pain varied as did the area where it was concentrated. At times the pain was located in the head, in the tooth, the nape of the neck, or the spine. At other times he groaned and held his stomach. Nothing relieved the pain; it came and went at will.

When the 'process' was operating, the body lying on the bed appeared a shell; only a body consciousness appeared to be present. In this state the voice was frail, childlike. Then suddenly the body filled with a soaring presence. Krishnaji would sit up cross-legged, his eyes closed, the fragile body would appear to grow and his presence would fill the room; there was a palpable, throbbing silence and an immense strength that poured into the room and enveloped us. In this state the voice had great volume and depth.

After the first evening he started going for a walk alone in the evenings and used to ask Nandini and me to come later to the house. In the beginning the experiences started at 6 P.M. and were over by 8:30 P.M., but later they sometimes went on until midnight. On one occasion he asked Nandini to hold his hand, as otherwise he would "slip away" and not come back.

May 30, 1948: Krishnamurti was getting ready to go for a walk when suddenly he said he was feeling too weak and 'not all there'. He said, “What a pain I have.” He caught the back of his head and lay down. Within a few minutes the Krishnaji we knew was not there. For two hours we saw him go through intense pain. He said he had a pain in the back of his neck, his tooth was troubling him, his stomach was swollen and hard, and he groaned and pressed down. At times he would shout. He fainted a number of times. When he came to, the first time, he said, “Close my mouth when I faint.”

He kept on saying: “Amma—oh, God, give me peace. I know what they are up to. Call him back. I know when the limit of pain is reached, they will return. They know how much the body can stand. If I become a lunatic, look after me—not that I will become a lunatic. They are very careful with the body. I feel so old. Only a bit of me is functioning. I am like an India rubber toy, which a child plays with. It is the child that gives it life.”

After two hours, he fainted again. When he came to, he said: “The pain has disappeared. Deep inside me I know what has happened. I have been soaked with gasoline. The tank is full.”
He then said he would speak so that he would not think of the pain inside him. “Have you seen the sun and the soft clouds heavy with rain? They pass over the sun and then the rain comes down with a roar on the earth that waits like an open womb. It washes clean. Every flower, every leaf. There is fragrance, a newness. Then the clouds pass and the sun comes out and touches every leaf and every flower. The gentle little flower that is like a young girl that ruthless men destroy. Have you seen the faces of rich men? Hard busy with their stocks and money-making? What do they know of love? Have you ever felt every limb of a tree, touched a leaf, sat by a ragged child? You know when I drove to the aerodrome, I saw a mother washing the buttocks of a child. It was beautiful. Nobody noticed her. All they know is to make money and cesspools of their women. Love to them is sex. To hold a woman’s hand, when she is not a woman, that is love. Do you know what it is to love? You have husbands and children. But how would you know? You cannot hold a cloud in a golden cage.”

He was silent for a time, then said, “This pain (of the 'process') makes my body like steel—but, oh, so flexible, so pliant, without a thought. It is like a polishing—an examination.” We enquired whether he couldn’t stop having the pain. He said: “You have had a child. Can you stop it coming when once it starts?” Then: “They are going to have fun with me tonight. I see the storm gathering. Oh, Christos!”
After some time, Maurice brought in some soup and then went out. Krishnaji had the light put on. He had sat up with the legs crossed, body erect. The pain had gone from his face. His eyes were closed. He seemed to grow. We felt tremendous power pour into him. There was a throbbing in the atmosphere. It filled the room. Our eyes and ears were filled with it and with sound, though there was no sound; and every pore of our bodies felt a touch, but there was nothing in the room. Then he opened his eyes and said: “Something happened—did you see anything?” We told him what we had felt. He said: “My face will be different tomorrow.” He lay down and his hand went out in a gesture of fullness. He said, “I will be like a raindrop—spotless.” After a few minutes, he told us he was all right and that we should go home.

June 17, 1948: Krishnaji went out for a walk alone. He asked Nandini and me to wait for him. We sat by the fire and waited. He entered the room as if he were a stranger. He went straight to his table and wrote something in his file. After some time he grew aware of us. He came and sat down near the fire. He asked us what we had been doing and said that he had walked far beyond the Golf Club. There was a flute being played in the distance and he sat silently, listening to it intently. It was only after it stopped that he appeared in that semiconscious state. Twice while we sat there, that tremendous 'presence' filled him. He grew in stature before us. His eyes were half-closed; his face silent and immensely beautiful.

And then he lay on the bed and there was just the body. The voice that came from it was that of a frail child. The Krishnaji we knew was not there. The body of Krishnamurti started saying that he was very hurt inside, that they had burnt him inside; that there was a pain right through his head. He was shivering and started saying that something had happened on the walk. He turned to us and asked, “Did you see him return?” He could not synchronize his body and mind. At time he felt he was still in the woods. “They came and covered him with leaves.”
He said, “Do you know, you would not have seen him tomorrow. He nearly did not return.” He kept on feeling his body to see if it was all there. He said, “I must go back and find out what had happened on the walk. Something happened and they rushed back. But, I do not know whether I returned? There may be pieces of me lying on the road.” Twice he got out of bed and made for the door, but lay down again. Later, he went to sleep. When he awoke, he felt himself and stared at his hands.

June 18, 1948: Krishnaji asked us to come at about seven in the evening. He was out. We waited. He came in some time later. He was again the "stranger". He wrote something in the book and then came and sat with us. He said: “Thoughts of my talk in Bangalore are pouring in. I am awake again.” He closed his eyes and sat for some time erect, silent. Then he complained of hurt and went and lay down. He said he felt he was burnt. He was crying. “Do you know, I found out what happened on the walk. 'He' came fully and took complete charge. That is why I did not know whether I had returned. I knew nothing.” A little later, “Then in the emptiness, there was a light and a storm and I was tortured that day in the wind. Do you know that emptiness that has no horizon—no limit—it stretches?” His hand moved to show empty space.
Then a little later:
“They have burnt me so that there can be more emptiness. They want to see how much of Him can come.

Then later: “Do you know emptiness? When there is not a thought? When it is completely empty? But, how could you know? It is this emptiness that brings pure power—like that in a dynamo. You know, on the walk I was in an ecstasy. I have never cried like that. As I walked I met a poor man. He saw me crying and thought I had lost a mother or sister. Then he smiled at me and I could not understand.” Suddenly, he said, “I have a thought—time and emptiness—that’s it. I hope I remember when I wake up.”

He started saying that he could not bear it, that he was all burnt inside, hurt. Then suddenly he sat up and said, “Don’t move,” and again we saw him like the other night. His face was in the dark, but the fire leapt up and his shadow lengthened on the wall. All pain had disappeared from the face. His eyes were closed, his body was throbbing, as if some power was entering his body. His face was pulsating. He appeared to grow and fill the room. He sat without movement for about three minutes and then he fainted. He woke up calm and peaceful.

Although the notes we took on the final night are lost, Nandini and I remember the occasion vividly:

Krishnaji had been suffering excruciating pain in his head and neck, his stomach was swollen, tears streamed down his face. He suddenly fell back on the bed and became intensely still. The traces of pain and fatigue were wiped away, as happens in death. Then life and an immensity began to enter the face. The face was greatly beautiful. It had no age, time had not touched it. The eyes opened, but there was no recognition. The body radiated light; a stillness and a vastness illumined the face. The silence was liquid and heavy, like honey; it poured into the room and into our minds and bodies, filling every cell of the brain, wiping away every trace of time and memory. We felt a touch without a presence, a wind blowing without movement. We could not help folding our hands in pranams. For some minutes he lay unmoving, then his eyes opened. After some time, he saw us and said, “Did you see that face?” He did not expect an answer. He lay silently. Then, “The Buddha was here, you are blessed.”

We went back to the hotel, and the silence came with us and enclosed us for the next few days. We were held by a pervading presence. Most of the time we were in the room with Krishnaji, we had no part to play; yet our presence seemed necessary. There was nothing personal in him during the incidents—no emotion, no relationship to us. The ordeal appeared physical, and yet the next day left no trace on his face or body. He was aflame with energy—joyous, eager, and youthful. Not a word he said had psychological overtones. A weight, depth, and strength was present in the silence that permeated the room and the atmosphere on every occasion. When Nandini and I compared notes later, we found that we had both had identical experiences.

When Nandini and I left Ootacamund, Krishnamurti asked us to “go to Bombay and rest. You have gone through a great ordeal.”
In one of his letters to me, K later referred briefly to what had happened. I had asked him one morning what was the reason for the two voices—that of the frail child and the normal voice of Krishnamurti. I said that it looked as if some entity
goes out of the body and some entity reenters the body. Krishnamurti said in his letter, “This is not so. It is not that there are two entities.” He said he would talk about it later; but it was to be many years before he spoke of it again.

This post was last updated by John Raica Sat, 27 Aug 2016.

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Sat, 27 Aug 2016 #20
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

Talking abourt 'lost and found pages from the Book of Life, here's a most fascinating NDE story told personally to Dolores Cannon by her friend Meg who was recovering from some lung surgery. ...

"So anyhow, I came through the surgery fine, but I felt like
hell because I hurt. I was hurting so bad all I could think of was,
when was the next shot? I’m putting this all in because I think
I have to be honest. I was drifting in and out, and I was being
given Demerol. So for the skeptics, they can say, “Well, she was
on pain killers.” It doesn’t matter. The skeptics are going to say
what they’re going to say anyway. About the third day in intensive
care, I fell asleep.

And suddenly I was going down a very long, dark canyon. I felt very, very warm and very, very secure, but it was the blackest canyon I’ve ever seen. They were like mountain walls that seemed quite far away, and then suddenly they seemed close.
At one point I looked on these mountain
walls and instead of being all black they almost appeared orange
with dark, flickering lights against them. It had something to do
with souls, but I don’t remember what it was. But it was a very
warm, secure feeling.
As I was going down the canyon I saw a very misty place just
ahead of me. And as I came upon it, I could see that there was
some kind of a rock barrier blocking the entire entrance to this
canyon. You couldn’t go on, but there was just enough room to
squeeze around it. There was mist everywhere.
And then I saw the people standing there. There were two
men, and another shadowy figure. All of a sudden, I recognized
who that person was, and then he was no longer a shadowy
figure. This is funny, but he looked like Gene Wilder used to
look in Willy Wonka. He had that wonderful curly, curly hair
and was wearing a suit with white piping. My first thought was,
“What is this?” And then all of a sudden I realized I was dying.
I did experience a moment of fear there.

Then this man in this suit said, “You are at death.” Those
were the words: “You are at death.’’ Then I realized that he was
the “angel of death.” He didn’t say it, but I knew it. And I
thought to myself he was a little intimidating. But when he said,
"You are at death,” it was so kind that I was not afraid. I was just
not afraid at all. He was so kind. And he was so efficient. It was
incredible.
And I remember pondering it; then nodding my head and
saying, “I know.” Now I’m going to say all of the rest of this in
a jumble because I was getting information simultaneously. It
was just coming in from impressions. Where someone said
something I will quote exactly what they said. My first thought
was, “There really is something after death! There really is!’’ I
was absolutely astounded. I kept saying, “But death is so easy.
It’s so easy. It’s like getting up out of this chair and sitting down
in that chair.”

These men were nodding their heads. And one of them said,
“Yes, but it is hard to get there.” I didn’t understand it, but that’s what he said. Then the man in the suit said, “And you are being given a choice.” I also got the impression that not everyone was given
a choice. That this was just at this particular time, at this point.

Then I also got the impression that this “angel of death” was not
this beings permanent position. I felt that he was just on assignment,
and that he wouldn’t always be having this assignment.
There were some other shadowy figures there, and I perceived
that they were there to help me. Because he said, “Do you
wish to stay or do you wish to go?” Now "stay" meant stay with
them; "go" meant go back. It’s not what you would normally
think. It was the reverse. “DO you wish to stay or do you wish
to go?” And I knew it was wonderful there, and I wanted to stay.
[Excited] And so I said, “I want to stay.”

I can’t remember his exact words, but he said, “There are
some things you have to know before you make up your mind.”
Then I was shown my mother and she was crying and sobbing.
And he said, “Now, your mother will be destroyed. And she, in
her destruction will destroy those around her.” And I’m sure he
was talking about my father. I perceived that her life would just
be over at that point. And in his love for her, his life would be
over. But I said, “Oh, I want to stay.” Because I perceived that
time was so fast there, that it was nothing.
They would be there
so quickly, and they would understand when they got there. I
also perceived another thing, that whatever way I chose was just
right. There was absolutely no judgment or censure, but what I
chose to do was the right thing to do.
Then I was shown my husband.
He was crying and he was saying, “I never knew I loved
her,” which fits in with the way the marriage was at that time.
I saw it would be very hard on him, but I said, “I want to stay. “

Because I knew that in just a little while everybody would be
there, and they’d all understand.
Then he said, “Now, your children will be all right, but they
will not go as far as they could.” But I still said, “I want to stay.”
I knew my children would be all right. Maybe not do as well as
if I was there; but they’d still not go under. To stay there was still
the most attractive choice. And then Death said, “Now, you will
have to stay close to your children.”
In other words, stay close
to the edge. And I was told I would have to guide my children.
I was just astonished, because that’s not what I wanted. I wanted
to go on over to this happy place and learn. I don’t know how I
knew I could learn there. It just came into my mind, and I knew.
I hadn’t seen it, but I knew the minute these people opened their
mouths, that this was a place that I wanted to be. I just knew
that there were answers there. "The" answers, I suppose. There
were studies; answers; growth. This was just instinctive, but I
knew it was a place I wanted to stay. I sure didn’t want to leave
it and go back to these problems. I wanted to be there.

But I reluctantly said at that point, “Well, if I have to stay close to the edge, I might as well go back. I’ve got these responsibilities. And
I can handle it better from that side than I can by just trying to
stay close to my children and influencing.” So I said, “Okay, I'll
go.” And they all seemed quite pleased that I had decided that,
even though there would have been no censure or judgment.

I felt as if I was beginning to pull back. And I saw those other
minor figures whispering, “She’s going to go. She’s going to go.”
I can’t remember if they disappeared or if they went around the
barrier. I think they went around the barrier. And I perceived
that they had been there to help me cross over. But they weren’t
needed so they disappeared. Then I started to pull. back, as if I
was leaving. And one of these men spoke up and said, “Before
you go, there are some things we want you to know.”

Instantly I was in another place. I wasn’t in the tunnel anymore.
It was kind of like a backyard, and there was a circle of
people. I’ve tried since then to guess how many were in that
circle of people sitting around in chairs. I would guess maybe
eight, ten men and women. I perceived that they were my council.
And I knew that every single person has a council that has
a responsibility for each soul down here. They sort of reminded
me of a country Sunday school group meeting out at the church
yard, maybe in the afternoon or something. I really couldn’t see
faces but this one person sort of "guided" me. I remembered his
bare arms and his rolled-up white shirt sleeves, very much like
men would do at a warm Sunday Bible-class type of
thing. He took me over to a girl sitting under a tree and she had
black skin, colored skin. And he kind of plucked at her skin.
[She made the motions of pinching the skin of her forearm
between her thumb and forefinger.) And he said, “This is so
unimportant-this skin. This is so unimportant. It’s just a little
covering. It is so unimportant, it’s laughable,” and then they
both kind of laughed. And I was thinking, “Why is he telling me
this? I know that.”

Then the next picture was . . . we were standing on a road, and
there was at least one of my 'counselors' with me. These two
young men of East Indian visage were walking up the road. And
they were there to show me my 'self'. Now I was standing there
and all of a sudden next to me was my 'self'. I saw a beautiful, very
large, brilliant, opaque shimmering sphere that I knew was
myself. And I walked around, and I entered myself, this sphere
of light.
(She illustrated with hand motions the act of entering
the top of this sphere and proceeding downward through it to
come out of the bottom.) And I knew that when I came out I
would have all my answers. I would "know myself".
And I did.
But when I went into the sphere I descended. It was like being
bathed in milky white, very comfortable. And I thought, “Any
minute now I will reach the center.” And soon I reached on
through and emerged out the other side, sort of at a downward
angle. I knew when I was in the center, but the center was
exactly like the periphery. In other words, the center was exactly
like the edges. Yet I perceived when I was in the edges and going
through and in the center and coming out again. But the center
was exactly like the periphery. They were just the same composition.
When I came out I knew myself. And I stood there, and
I felt embarrassed. I felt naked because I knew myself and I
perceived my good and my bad, and I made no judgment upon
myself. And I said, "I've got to work on that.” And they knew
me, too. They knew me totally. And they smiled and nodded.
And the nice thing was that there was no censure. Absolutely
none. No judgment.

This is where I get hazy. I cannot recall which came next. I
looked up and the sky was suddenly darkened, and it was filled
with stars. Some were huge and some were medium and some
were tiny, and they were of varying brilliancies but not one outshone
the other. Even if there was a very tiny one next to a huge,
brilliant one, you could still see each with equal clarity. And I
knew the "stars" were souls. I said, “Well, where’s mine?” And
someone said, “There it is.” I looked behind me and there was
my star. It had just risen off the horizon. And suddenly I was
there, in the place where my star was. And I felt like I was
interwoven into fabric. In that instant I knew that we were all
totally connected and that no matter what happened we could
not be destroyed. Even if something came and ripped the fabric,
the fabric would hold. I knew that I could not be destroyed, nor
could anyone else. That I was as I was as I am.

Then I was next back in the meadow, standing at that roadside.
And I looked out across this beautiful sunlit meadow and
there was a grove of trees. It was symbolic to me that there was
a grove, but I perceived that within it was the tree of life. And
suddenly, out of this grove of trees, came this enormous ball of
lightning. I just watched it as it flew across the meadow. And
it struck me right here. (She put her hand on her chest over her
heart area.) It was as though I had the breath knocked out of me.
It was as if every ounce of everything was sucked out of me and
I was consumed. And what came into me was total, pure,
unconditional love.
It was so incredible. It went into every cell,
and I could hardly get my breath. There wasn’t anything I could
give except love because that was all I was composed of.
It had
taken over every atom. And then I started coming back. And
someone shouted to me, and it may have been my counselor:
“Stay married. You’re meant to be married.” (Resignedly)
Which I have done.

I came back. And I woke up and I saw the nurse in the Intensive
Care Unit leaning over me with the most concerned look on
her face. She was watching me. And I thought, “Don’t worry,
I’m all right. I’m not going to die. And I won’t go away again.”
I also thought, “Oh, you don’t know where I’ve been.” I didn’t
tell anybody for quite a few days.

There will undoubtedly be debate about whether this incident
really occurred or whether it was a drug-related fantasy. But
Meg has no such argument going on within her. She knows it
was "real". There is no doubt in her voice as she relates the incident.
She knows because it changed her life forever.
As Meg said, “Maybe someone has to almost lose their life
in order to find it.”

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Mon, 29 Aug 2016 #21
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

More strange "lost & found" pages from Pupul Jayakar's K Biography

On my return to Bombay I underwent a very deep and inexplicable experience. My senses, torn from their routine, had exploded. One night as I lay down to sleep I felt the pervading touch of a presence, waiting. I was received and enveloped in a dense embryonic fluid. I was drowning, for I felt my consciousness fading. My body rebelled; it struggled, unable to accept this encompassing embrace, this "sense of death". Then the silent presence disappeared. This happened for three nights running. Each time, my body struggled; it resisted this encounter, unable to face this touch of death, which passed as swiftly as it had come, never to return. There was no fear. I told Krishnaji about it at our next meeting, and he told me to let it be, neither to hold it nor resist it.

Krishnaji had asked us to keep secret what we had witnessed at Ooty. We felt that he did not wish it to confuse the precision, clarity, and directness of the teaching. But by the 1970s Krishnaji himself started talking about it to many of the people close to him.

I asked, “Do you think that the physical brain cells, unable to contain or hold the immensity of the energy that was flowing into the brain, had to create the spaces in the brain to sustain it? Did there have to be a physical mutation in the brain cells themselves? Or was it like a laser beam operating on the brain cells to enable them to function fully and so contain the boundless?”

Krishnaji said, “Possibly that was so. After ( The Pepper Tree experience, 1922 in ) Ojai, Leadbeater could not explain the pain, nor could Mrs. Besant. The explanation given by them was that the consciousness of Krishnaji had to be 'emptied' for a fragment of the Maitreya Bodhisattva to use the body.”

When asked whether it was “Maitreya,” he ( K) neither said yes nor no. I asked, “Is it that we are witnessing the first mind that is operating fully, totally?”
“Possibly,” K said, “and that is what has to be done with the children here [at the Rishi Valley School].”

Krishnamurti, speaking in 1979 about the happenings in Ooty, said that for him the dividing line between life and death was fragile and tenuous. During the state when the body was a 'shell', the possibility existed that K could "wander away" and never come back, or some other elements that wanted to destroy the manifestation could harm the body. Therefore there could be no fear amongst the people near him at the time. Fear attracted evil.
I told him that while he was in those states, only the body was operating; there was an 'emptiness' in the body. The voice was childlike. K said, “Couldn’t you explain the two voices by saying that one was that of the body alone?”
I asked, “Only the body speaking?”
He said, “Why not?”
“Only a shell?” I persisted.
“Yes, why not?” Then K asked me, “Was the voice hysterical?”
I replied, “There was no hysteria.”
“Was it an imaginative state?” he asked.
“How could I know?” I replied.

K asked "What would happen the next morning ?" . I said we sometimes went with him for a walk. Krishnaji was alive, fresh. The pain (of the Ooty process) had left no mark, and he appeared to have forgotten what had happened. He laughed a great deal, looked at us quizzically, was affectionate, considerate, overwhelmed us with his presence, and had no answer to our questions. He said he did not know.

That same year, 1979, when K was in Bombay, some of us asked him to explain the phenomenon of the face changing. He said, “Many years ago I awoke and there was the face beside me. There was the face that K’s face was becoming. This face was with me all the time, happily. The face was extraordinary, highly cultured, refined.” He spoke as if his words related to another being. “And one day the face was no longer there.”
“Had it become one with K?” I asked.
K said he did not know. He also spoke of the need of the body to be protected. Nothing ugly should take place around it while K was away, nothing evil. In that state the body was defenseless, all kinds of elements wanted to destroy it. “When there is good, there is also the other.”

He was asked whether evil could take over his body when it was empty. His “no” was absolute.
“Then what could evil do? Destroy the manifestation?”
“Yes,” K said, “that is why there has to be love. When there is love there is protection.”

K also said that it was possible that the pain and what took place was necessary, as the brain was not ready. Traces of immaturity remained, the brain cells were not large enough to receive the energy. “When the energy comes pouring in and the brain is not capable of holding it, then that energy feels it has to polish it up. It may be its own activity.”

Speaking further of the need for two people to be with the body, K said, “Where there is love there is protection. Hatred permits evil to enter.”

When asked where does the consciousness of K go ? he replied, “I have asked myself what happens when there is no movement of the brain.” After some time he continued. “It ceases completely. Only when it has to manifest it comes. It ceases to exist when it is not there. Has air any "place", has light any "place"? Air is enclosed and so it is there. Break the enclosure, it is everywhere.”

He seemed hesitant to probe further. He said that he should not probe further. “You can ask,” he said, “and I will reply. But I cannot ask.”

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Sun, 18 Sep 2016 #22
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

Continuing with 'lost & found' pages from K's book of life as related by Mrs Jayakar

Creation can only be when the mind is completely empty; whatever is born of that emptiness is negative thinking. It has no root, no source.

*

Something new is going on of which we are not aware... You are not aware of the movement, the significance, the flow, the dynamic quality of this change. We think we have time... There is no (more ?) time,... the house is burning.

*

How does the religious mind enter the unknown? It cannot come to the unknown except by ‘jumping.’ It cannot calculate and enter the unknown.

*

(Speaking of the Unknown he said) “The mind cannot come to it; the mind that measures itself in time must wipe itself away and enter into That, without knowing That. You cannot know it. It has no color, no space, no shape. You cannot make a statement about it. All you can do is to jump out of the old, then you won’t even know, for you are part of that extraordinary state.”

*

The Mind is a vast thing. It is not a spot in the universe. It is the Universe. To investigate the ( Mind of the ?) Universe demands an astonishing energy. It is energy greater than all rockets, because it is self-perpetuating, because it has no center. This is only possible when there is an enquiry into the inner and outer movement of the mind (we've got ?) . The 'inner', the racial unconscious, in which are the urges, compulsions, the hidden dark fears, is the story of man. How do you observe it ? If the observation is direct, then you are observing 'negatively'. Then the mind has no conclusions, no opposites, no directives. In that looking it can see what is near and what is far away. In that there is an ending. Such a mind
is the new mind. It has exploded without direction. Such a mind is the religious mind.

*

The mind that explodes without direction is compassionate, and what the world needs is Compassion, not schemes.
The 'new mind' is not within the field of knowledge. It is that state of creation which is exploding. For that, all ( movement of ?) knowledge has to come to an end. The new mind cannot come into being with authority, with masters, with gurus. With a burnt-out mind, you cannot come to the new mind. You need a fresh, eager, live mind.

*

What releases ( the new mind's ?) energy is direct perception. The greater part of the brain is the residuary animal and the remaining part 'undefined'. We live our life in the very small part. We never investigate. Sensitivity arises when you watch a tree, bird, animal, ant. Watch how you walk, bathe, dress; watch yourself (pretending to ?) being important. If you so watch, if you so observe thought and every emotion, flowering, then the brain is very sensitive; out of that, the flowering of the Mind begins. That is mutation.

*

To watch, to observe everything (directly) , is to be aware of totality, never to limit any thought, to let everything flower. A mind that is completely quiet, without any reaction, is only an instrument of observation. It is alive, sensitive.

*

Mutation is only possible when you have brought this about through awareness,and without effort. The challenge of the present time and of every instant, if you are awake, is to respond totally to something that is new.

This post was last updated by John Raica Sun, 18 Sep 2016.

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Sun, 20 Nov 2016 #23
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

'So Spoke (the young) Krishnamurti'

Know Yourself by J. Krishnamurti ( printed in the May 1925 issue of The Herald of the Star magazine).

I think there is no more interesting or more promising subject, none more exciting, than the study of oneself. At the age 15 or 16, one is usually immersed in oneself. There is nothing else that interests a person so much. Later he falls in love with somebody; but still he is wrapt up in himself. There is, you find, much more intelligence shown in the study of himself, and very little thought given to somebody else. He quite willingly pays a palmist 15 Rupees to get him to tell us all about ourselves. And we feel quite comfortable in the thought that we are going to be great one day - without, apparently, having to struggle to achieve greatness. There is only one subject that really appeals to us and that is ourselves. We discuss ourselves, and in an approving sort of way consider how we behave, in what manner we evolve, and so on.

It seems to me that if we think entirely from that point of view, from the point which interests ourselves alone, we shall not understand why we exist, or why anything in the world, at all, exists. Of course it is true that one has to understand oneself first before one can find out anything about life in general. Philosophy, religion and other subjects have no real value, no real sway over an individual, or have only a modicum of influence, when they only point out how he can escape certain things, how he can avoid evil, and so on. But those of us who are Star members, or belong to such other organisations, should have some conception of a definite plan in evolution.

We are in a position to examine things roost valuable to the self - things that produce in the self the desire to evolve. In all of us there is the desire to find out for ourselves how far we can understand ourselves and what affects us. The average person is far more interested in himself than in anybody else. Luxury, comfort, happiness, everything must subserve his ends. When everything has been done to satisfy himself, then only one thinks of others. When I have had enough food and sleep, I turn to think about others. That is the average view. If you have had a surfeit of love, or of happiness, you are led to think of another.
But to achieve that happiness, we must find out how far we fit into a definite plan. We must be conscious that there is a plan in which each one of us has a role to play, and must have determination with which we shall act, with which we shall create the environment into which we shall either fit - or not; and if we are willing to look at it with the right attitude we shall be able to find out how far we shall fit into that plan. For me, I can imagine that the Gods that be have said that Krishna shall fit into a certain definite plan, and that whatever else he does, shall have no value, and as long as he fits into that plan, Krishna shall evolve and be happy. I was interested and watched myself, and I could see from year to year a definite change, a definite orientation, a definite transformation and I could see what my definite role was. And so each one of us must find out what path we shall tread and what shall be our special work.
It often happens that most of us are willing to go up to the altar and pour forth our devotion. Devotion however is, in varying degrees, in most of us, but it cannot and must not satisfy us. If I went to Dr. Besant and told her: "I am willing to serve you in any capacity. I am willing to sacrifice everything and my only desire is to work at the cost of comfort, independence, and so forth," she would say, "Oh, very nice; what capacities do you bring with you. In what manner can you render service to the Master?'' Devotion must have an outlet in physical work; and so if we have to determine what role we each one of us have to play, before we offer ourselves, we must find out what are our capacities. When to a Theosophist or a Star member or anyone, the call comes to "sacrifice everything and come to the Master," it is not enough to ask the Master merely to accept our devotion; we must give Him something that will enable Him to guide us. In other words, you must have certain capacities to bring with you to the Master and not go just empty-handed. If I can go to the Master and say "I can do this or that, I can write or paint or compose music or act," He will say: "All right, that is your way. Go and find out, discover what your talents are, and once you have found that out, you will know how to suffer and to serve." For there are very few indeed who can say, "I can do this; along this line lies my sacrifice in the work of the Master. We consider that we have sacrificed when we have done without something which we can easily give up.

If I had a vision of something particular that the Teacher wanted done, I would go about with a different mind. And if I needed wealth, I would go and accumulate it, not for myself but for the Master, and in accumulating it, I should know that I have to sacrifice, and have to put up with a great deal of suffering and misunderstanding. But it is the attitude that matters. We are afraid that our capacities may not lead us along the path laid down for us. So we have to find out before we can truly serve, in what manner each one of us can serve Him, in what manner we can offer our sacrifice, and in discovering what our path is we shall find out to which type we belong, whether to the type which goes to the world and evolves in the world, so to speak or is kept in a hot-house and evolves, like a plant, equally strongly. There are people who work in the world for a number of years, who work and do everything without finding out what the real purpose of life is. They discover what their purpose is by chance, but they have accumulated all that the world has to give, and when they come into contact with the spiritual realities they give up their all that they have gained, whereas those who have grown in the hot house apart from the world reach the goal by another path.
So it does not matter as long as you have learnt what both the war Ids can give, and not till then will you be able to serve the world. Just imagine a person who is brought up, say, in a temple where he is suppressed, where he develops complexes. When such a person goes out into the world, he has a thundering good time; and it is the same with the person who works in the outside world. You cannot evolve along one definite line. You must evolve all round and until then we shall only hinder and not help.

As I know my own path, so we must each one of us discover our own path and until that discovery is made we shall not be able or fit to serve the Master. Those of us who have imagination, who have in any degree the capacity to take an impersonal view of life, can find this out. But most of us have neither the desire to serve, nor the desire to attain our path or goal.
The trouble with us is that as in the outside world, we have our own vested interests. And as long as there is the element of selfishness, we shall not discover the path. Each one of us wants the Master to come down for us; but what we have not learnt is that even if, as we imagine, He came down from the clouds, we shall not be able to serve Him, because we have not equipped ourselves for rendering Him service.

We must find out in what way we can serve, and that means the complete upsetting of oneself, one's relations, &c. It is not that we have not the desire, not the same longing that great people have; but with us it is not constant. There is not the continuous pressure that keeps us going on and on and on. It means real sacrifice, means subjugating oneself in everything and not letting the self get on top. Then we shall not warp things to suit our prejudices, but we shall understand them in a complete way; in other words, become really simple.
We must have the courage and determination to give up; and when one has achieved and climbed some distance, one discovers how foolish is one who is struggling about what is so trivial, so common. There are so many subjects with which we are struggling in a complicated manner; but if we but let ourselves expand a little, all these subjects become simple, all complications vanish. But it requires constant watching of oneself, being on the look-out to see if one is doing the right thing or the wrong thing.

Each one of us knows these things through and through, and yet if the Teacher came and asked what each one of us could do, in what way we had acted during His absence, in what way we had fulfilled our role, what would our answer be? It is astonishing how we cannot change, as we should, like a flower. Our belief though strong, is not the belief of a man who acts with a fixed determination. Those are the people, however, that the Master wants for His service, and not those who are merely devoted, without that devotion leading to action. If one can set aside one's own evolution, and work and forget oneself in the work, then one is a true server and gets nearer to the Master. It may be that I am young, that I have not suffered as the old have suffered, but if suffering can damp out enthusiasm, it is not worth having. But what has suffering taught us?
As I said at the beginning, there is nothing so absorbing as the study of ourselves. That is the only subject that is worth thinking about; because it means change. There is nobody to force the older, and so they become crystallised. What matters is to find out what we can do and how far we can sacrifice; what our strength is and what our capacities are. When one sees people in an attitude of reverence, I often wonder what they have done by way of sacrifice.

In the coming years, either one has to adapt oneself quickly to the changing current, or go right out of it all. When you have definitely caught a glimpse of the Plan, however passing that glimpse, and know that you have to go on, you just go on, because it is much more fun than just marking time. What matters is that one must do something to change. Old age does not mean that you cannot change. On the other hand, it ought to be easier for the old, because they have had experience, and they have had suffering; and yet one goes on in the same old way of perpetual neglect. If you want to earn money, go and earn millions and offer them to the Master, and you can do it if you have the right attitude. And it is the same with whatever else you want to do - type-writing, shorthand or anything else you wish to make your special work for the Master. The attitude is what matters and when once you have attained this all the rest will follow.

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Tue, 22 Nov 2016 #24
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

steve schuler wrote:
Very interesting to me, thanks for posting this. I have not previously read anything from this time period.

Thanks, Steve, I'll try to continue this 'sampling' of the Teachings in small steps - of one or a few years- just to see how K himself 'matured' along with his teachings. Here's a 1926 excerpt:

SO SPOKE (the young) KRISHNAMURTI IN 1926

THE VOICE OF INTUITION

I want, if I can, to put before you certain ideas, which you should cultivate, and which would give you a definite and intelligent conception of true spiritual life. I think all of you realize that to create, as you must create if you would live, there must be struggle and discontent; and in guiding these to their fruition, you must cultivate your own point of view, your own tendencies, your own abilities; and for this I desire to arouse in each that ( special ?) voice, the only true guide that will help you to create. The noblest guide each of us has is this Voice ( of spiritual Intuition ?) and it is in cultivating, in ennobling, and in perfecting this, that we arrive at the goal. Now what is this goal? To me it is to attain the Ultimate Truth. I want to reach a state where I know for myself that I have conquered, that I have attained, that I am the embodiment of that Truth, so that all the little struggles, the little disturbances of life -though they have their (relative ?) value- do not upset me, do not cloud the vision of the Truth. And in attaining this Truth I attain at the same time what I desire -the peace, the perfect tranquillity of mind and of emotions. This is the "goal" for me, and in cultivating and in ennobling (our spiritual ?) Intuition we must learn to think and act for ourselves. The cultivation of this voice of intuition means a life according to its edicts.

I want, if I can, to rouse in each one of you this (Inner) Voice, that shall guide you along the line you want to follow, that is your own life, the path of your own making. And as long as you obey that Voice, that Intuition, you cannot err. I can lay down the ( basic ?) principles of Truth, but through your own Voice, through the obeying of that Voice, you must develop your own intuition, your own ideas, and so you will come to the 'goal' where we shall all meet (eventually ?)

This is for me the 'big thing' in life: Instead of being the ordinary and the mediocre, (if ?) you will listen to this Voice and cultivate this Intuition, to discover new avenues of life instead of being swept aimlessly along the path of another.

In realizing this ideal, as I said, you must develop your (own ) Intuition. A perfect harmony of emotions and of mind is essential, so that intuition, the voice of your true self, can express itself. Intuition is the whisper of the soul; Intuition is the guiding word in our life. The more we harmonize (integrate ?) our strong feelings and keen mind by perfecting and purifying them, the more likely are we to hear that Voice, the Intuition which is common to all, the Intuition which is of humanity and not of one particular individual. You must have strong feelings, whether of love, of intense happiness, of real kindness. A person who has no feelings at all is useless; a great lover (of Life ?) is never mediocre or small. The more feelings you have, the better; but at the same time you must learn control, because emotions are like weeds, and unless you restrain them, they will spoil the garden. If you have weak emotions, but give them nourishment day by day, they will strengthen and grow. The idea that we should have no feelings and emotions is absurd and unspiritual. The more you are bubbling over with feelings, the better; but you will find you have to control them, and if you do not, you suffer. If you do not control them you are going farther away from your Intuition, you are wandering away on the bypaths instead of walking on the main road towards your goal. Have tremendous feelings. Sport yourselves with them.

Do not be negative, but go out and be 'adventurous'. I feel this so strongly, because we all tend to become of one type (inwardly standardised ?) ; we all want to think along the same lines, we all want to flock around the same person, we all fear that if we do not belong to this or that movement we shall not advance. What is advancement? It is your own happiness -advancement is only a word. I would rather be happy than gain all the petty satisfaction that the world can give. What does it matter to which religion you belong, what glories you bear, so long as you 'feel really happy' and can keep your goal absolutely clear and undimmed? Imagine for the moment the Lord Buddha and His disciples. They were the great exceptions of their Age. They all had one Master, one goal, one ideal, and that was He. And yet they ( were supposed to have ?) had, every one of them, the spark of genius; they were not mediocre, because they followed Him who was the exception, the flower of humanity, and such examples must we all become.

This post was last updated by John Raica Tue, 22 Nov 2016.

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Tue, 22 Nov 2016 #25
Thumb_stringio steve schuler United States 1 post in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED

Again, very interesting! And thanks again, John!

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Tue, 22 Nov 2016 #26
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

SO SPOKE (THE YOUNG) KRISHNAMURTI IN 1927

Imagine that you are on one side of a river and that on the other side are blue fields. The whole of humanity stands on this side looking at the beauty of the other side; very few have the desire to jump into the river. Of the few who jump, there will be some strong ones who can swim directly to their goal. Others will be carried down by the stream; they will be landed lower down and will have to walk up. It does not matter so long as one gets there. The desire to plunge into the river is the main thing. The time taken to cross may be a quarter of an hour, a life, or two ( or more ?) lives.

QUESTION: Will one who attains Liberation leap over the various evolutionary stages of growth into some formless Nirvana of bliss, to come forth no more?

KRISHNAJI: If I am a spark, as a separate individual I enter into that flame and become part of that flame; whether I return and bring others to the flame depends upon the personal desire. If I desire to come back and conquer the world of Maya again, I can do so. Once I have the centre well established in me, I can do anything from that centre; from that I can go forth, having established it as my home, as the bee which knows its hive can go miles away, certain that there is a home, that there is a flame.

QUESTION: To attain Liberation is it not essential to form a link with a Teacher who is himself liberated ?

KRISHNAJI: Liberation may be personified, as Theosophists would say, in the World-Teacher; but if you have that desire to attain Him who is the embodiment of Liberation and have an intense and tremendous desire, tremendous longing to become part of Him, then it certainly is easier to have such a Teacher to guide you and to help. There is a question as to whether Krishnamurti is the World-Teacher or not. There will be people who will say that Krishnamurti is the vehicle; others will say he is one in whom the World-Teacher will from time to time visit and through him give forth His message; some will maintain that Krishnamurti will grow into His consciousness and so become one with Him, and hence that there will be no separation between the two. Someone asked me: "Do tell me if it is you speaking or someone else". I said: " I really do not know and it does not matter". What matters is that you should understand, and not wonder what the phenomenon happening is. The desire for Liberation is all that matters. Leave all else for the complicated minds, for the philosophising mind is to wrangle over. That will come eventually. In two thousand years there will probably be another society to discover whether it was this or that.

QUESTION: Does that imply that a person without a Teacher could not attain Liberation?

KRISHNAJI: He may perhaps take longer. Suppose a man has traveled all over the world, and knows the way of the world, and comes back to tell an intending traveler where to stay and what to take with him, it makes it much easier, more comfortable. Hence a Teacher is necessary for those people who are uncertain of the goal, who are not sure, who are doubting, who have no strength, who need their purposes, their determinations, awakened and made strong. But for those people who have already seen the goal, who have already perceived, and have experienced that flame which is Liberation, to them he will act as an encouragement, he will be the embodiment -but they will get there without him.

QUESTION: For a 'practical mystic' what would be the most effective way of helping others to reach Liberation? By becoming a fit channel for love and peace?

KRISHNAJI: I think the best way of helping others to reach Liberation is by reaching it yourself. If you had not reached it, and talked vaguely about it, you would soon be found out. The moment you are liberated you do become a channel; but I dislike the word 'channel' because it implies that you are acting for somebody else, and that somebody else is master over you, which personally I do not like.

QUESTION: Do you look on the work of the World-Teacher as that of teaching individual men the way to liberation, only, or also as inspiring civilisation with new ideals in all departments -in art and religion, as well as in political and social life?

KRISHNAJI: I will explain my answer with a simile. We go into a garden and see a rose in magnificent bloom. One person who is an artist merely thinks of that rose in terms of painting; another who looks at that rose will go away and meditate; a third will translate that delight into some social activity. People approach religion in the same way as they approach that rose; it depends on the individual, on his temperament, his point of view, his idea of how best he can translate it to the outer world. For instance, say I am interested in education. I want to translate that Liberation in terms of educational ideals and to put it before young people, and children, so as to make them grow according to those ideals. Another person, seeing that Liberation, might be a keen social worker and might translate it in social terms and so help people to attain it.

QUESTION: How should suppression be used in control of the self?

KRISHNAJI: There should be no suppression. You know what happens when you kill some poison on the surface -that same poison will break out again somewhere else. If you try to cure a sore on the body without curing its real cause, it will come out somewhere else. I should never personally suppress anything, for the moment you do so it comes out in another form; but you should learn to control it and to transmute it -and translate it into activity.

QUESTION: Some of those who in life are acquiring Liberation may have made certain ties which must be fulfilled, but for the younger people who have not formed such ties, would you say it meant not incurring them or incurring them in a new way?

KRISHNAJI: I have always wanted to attain Liberation; I have always wanted to come near the Buddha so that there should be no barrier between Him and myself. I let nothing interfere with that desire: I put aside all other desires; I said, I want to arrive at a certain stage as soon as I can, and anything which interferes must be set aside, must be conquered. I incurred no responsibility, which would come in the way of my desire, and I have attained it. But do not think I mean that if you are longing to marry, longing to paint, that you should stop yourselves.

QUESTION: Is it not true that action done as duty and with detachment does not make karma?

KRISHNAJI: Yes, I think so.

QUESTION: In The Kingdom of Happiness you said it does not matter what is the degree of evolution of the individual; does that mean that at every degree of evolution one can attain Liberation?

KRISHNAJI: I am sure of it. Take a Sudra (of the lowest caste): if his desire to attain is so burning, so intense, that he throws aside everything, he will attain.

QUESTION: Do you mean by Liberation only a degree or stage of Liberation? Is it union with the Manifested Deity or with the Absolute?

KRISHNAJI: To me Liberation means the destruction of the separate 'self', the self that is so dominant in each one that creates karma, that binds. Once you have destroyed that 'self' you are liberated and it does not matter whether you belong to the Manifested or to the Unmanifested, whether you belong to this stage or that stage, for these are only technical terms.

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Thu, 24 Nov 2016 #27
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

SO SPOKE (the young) KRISHNAMURTI IN (London, UK) 1928

Everyone in the world ( who is ) seeking Truth, imagines that Truth is away from the ordinary current of life, whereas Truth IS ( to be found in the actuality of ?) life. I want to show this evening that the moment you understand life as it is taking place around each one of you, then you understand Truth and by understanding Truth you will solve the problems of your own lives. Now, truth never comes through a form, or through any definite mould which has been created by the ( mind or ?) hand of man, and in order to understand Truth, which is life, you must come prepared with an unbiased and unprejudiced heart and mind - that is the first requirement.

Secondly, in order to understand life, and hence Truth, you should be ( intelligently ?) discontented. Now, it is very easy to get (mentally settled ?) into a state of so-called 'discontentment', as it is equally easy to get into a state which you call 'contentment'. The discontentment I want is intelligent discontentment, and when you are discontented intelligently you are beginning to create, and in this creation lies the solution of life.

The third (qualification) is that you should have a mind and a heart that are simple. Take a leaf and watch it. How simple it is. But behind it there lie (the steady work of ?) many winters, many springs, many summers, and many autumns. It is the production of great experience, great sorrow, great struggle, out of which simplicity is born. That is what is required for the understanding of Truth. A mind and a heart that are not prejudiced, a mind and a heart that are in intelligent revolt, and a mind and a heart that are made simple through great experience.

Now with that as our canvas let us "paint a picture". What is it that every ( serious ?) human being in the world craves for?
Every human being wants to be happy and for the attainment of that happiness he must have immense experience -not of one short life, but of many lives. Such happiness is the culmination, the apotheosis of all experience, and yet it is beyond all experience, and from the happiness comes liberation which is freedom from all things because you have learnt from all things. Now I say that I have found such freedom, such happiness. I have struggled, I have watched many people, some rich in the multitude of possessions, some who have nothing at all, people who are religious and full of dogmas and creeds and who run on every possible occasion to a church or to the temple in order to have their problems solved -and because I have watched all these things, and because of the ( past ?) lives that lie behind, I have attained, and because of that attainment I would like to show you the way. That does not mean a new creed, a new crutch, a new religion, for I hold that (organised ?) religion is the frozen thought of men, in which they are held, bound, by the 'gods' who demand special rites and ceremonies, traditions and superstitions.

Now as I said,(the creative ?) happiness which is not negative but positive, happiness which is the culmination of all experience and yet is beyond all experience, happiness which gives liberation to the mind and to the heart which is bound to a limited form of thought and feeling, such happiness is the only requirement that each one of you wants, that each one of you longs for, and the moment you have that as your goal, you need no interpreters. That is the Absolute, the final goal for humanity. Hence, because you want to be happy and because you want to be free and liberated from all ( attachments to ?) desires? Then, when you have established your (spiritual ?) goal.

Take a ship on the open waters of the sea. Imagine that there was no compass on that ship, it would be lost, it would not know which way to go or where lay its port. So, because individuals in the world have no ( spiritual ?) goal, they are lost in the confusion of thought and in order to determine their course they must establish a goal, and that goal must be of their own creation and not that of another. As I said, every human being in the word wants to be happy; it is the only delight, the only Truth, and when you have established that goal for yourself then you have the rudder which will guide your ship. Let us imagine for a moment that each one of you has fixed that goal of happiness for himself. Then, you say, what is the manner by which I can establish that happiness within myself eternally?

Within each individual there are three separate beings; there is the mind, there are the emotions, there is the body. It is like this: if you were in carriage and had three horses to draw you but had no control over them, you would not get to your destination because the horses would each be pulling in a different direction. But if you had control over them and a fixed purpose, then you would get to your destination with understanding and with harmony. There are in each one of you three separate beings, if I may so call them, the mind, the emotions and the body and each one must be made perfect in order to have perfect harmony.(a) What is the ultimate goal for the mind? That goal is the purification of the self. This does not mean the destruction, the annihilation of the 'self', but on the contrary, the development of individual uniqueness. You can never destroy the self -you can purify it, ennoble it, and hence bring it nearer to its desired end. Take a mosaic: in that there are innumerable colours which go to make up the particular form which the painter desires to produce, but if the colours in it are not each perfect, it will not be harmonious. Likewise each one has to develop his own particular individual uniqueness and when he develops his own individual uniqueness to perfection, then there is unity with everyone. Suppose for a moment that your colour is green and mine is red, and so on: if you develop your colour to perfection and I develop mine to perfection, when we meet there is no colour, for as we know, all colours eventually melt into the one white light. When they meet there is absolute unity, no division, no feeling of the separate self. That is the highest goal for the mind.

So (b) you must also establish a 'goal for the emotions'. What is it? It is to have immense affection, and yet to be detached. Watch how your affection develops. At first it is envious, narrow, limited, jealous of everything, but little by little, through sorrow, through pain, it develops, and little by little it extends and includes more and more people. So when you watch and follow affection to its ultimate goal, you will find that it has become an affection with detachment.

And for the body, what is it that is essential to bring about perfect harmony? First, beauty. Then restraint, which does not mean suppression, but understanding. And then, great simplicity.

So ( in a nutshell:) For the mind the Absolute (goal) is to purify the 'self' -which does not mean destruction of the self, but on the contrary to develop its individual uniqueness. For the emotions, for the heart, the goal is to be detached and yet at the same time to be greatly affectionate. For the ( psycho-somatic ?) body it is (outer and/or inner ?) beauty, refinement, culture and behaviour -for with behaviour dwells righteousness. When you have these three practically carried out, then there is harmony, and when there is harmony then there is ( the creative) happiness.

So when once you have established the "goal" for yourself which is happiness from which comes liberation -that ( spiritual ?) detachment from all things which is the outcome of all experience -then, as I have said, you will know the way because you have harmony within yourself.

As I have found that harmony, and have established within myself that happiness which is the outcome of liberation, so I would be as a signpost for those who desire to walk the path of happiness, for those who desire to understand ( the living essence of ?) life which is Truth. Perfection lies within the individual grasp of each one.
So (for homework ?) you must, as an individual, solve the problem for yourself and then you will solve the problem of the world. As an individual you will have to create harmony within yourself, and when once you have created that harmony, that synthetic understanding of life, then there is happiness and freedom.

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Sun, 27 Nov 2016 #28
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

SO SPOKE (the young) KRISHNAMURTI IN 1929

QUESTION: Could you kindly describe for us the feelings or reactions regarding the state of consciousness experienced in the physical body by one having attained Liberation?

KRISHNAJI: When you attain liberation, that 'perfection', you 'are', and in you all things cease and have their being. It is not a sentimental thing nor an emotional thing nor an intellectual thing, but it is as the wind, swift as the violent waters -it 'is' everything. In you there is the whole process from the very beginning until the end, and yet in you there is no beginning and no end -you 'are' (That ?) . Truth is not relative, it is absolute; and to a person that is caught in the relative, the absolute is ever escaping, so it is very difficult to understand unless you yourself are made incorruptible; and I am interested in that, not in describing to you what it is, what it feels like. ( All the details ?) of that you will know when you have attained.

The root of ( spiritual ?) immortality is understanding and the very beginning of understanding is the true discipline gathered from the final fulfilment of all life.

QUESTION: In regard to those who do not fully understand your "mission" or Teachings, can any harm result from the effort to understand?

KRISHNAJI: Sir, why do you make it my mission and teaching? Isn't it what all (subliminally ?) people want? Don't you want to be free and happy? It isn't my 'mission'. It is your mission. Bu because you are not aware of your suffering, of your narrowness, of your limitations, of your corruption of life, you give to another the authority to lead you. And as I am not accepting that authority, it is useless to say it is my teaching or my message. It is the message and teaching of life, which is in everything and in everyone; and the moment you understand that, it is yours and not mine. So, as it is yours, my purpose is only to awaken that knowledge, that desire to discover for yourself. And as it is yours, ( for your own homework ?) you must struggle to understand.

QUESTION: How can one stimulate a desire for freedom?

KRISHNAJI: What a question to ask! Is not the suffering of another, are not the tears of another, the laughter, the rejoicing, the corruption, sufficient to give you that burning desire to free others and yourself? But you want an artificial stimulation, an enticement, a reward for your good actions, and you want me to tell you of a new God, to whom you can offer for your stimulation, to build a new altar. I hope you are thinking; not accepting what I am saying, nor rejecting. The dancing shadows, the clear sunshine, the bird on the wing, the light on the waters, the suffering of a man, or a woman, the delight, the rejoicings of your neighbours -if that does not give you sufficient desire- woe to you!

As life is one, the forms of that life are many. The moment you understand that the forms have little value, then they have their place. But to come to that perfect life, you must make your own form as perfect as possible.

QUESTION: Would working for one society only tend to narrow one's view and effectiveness?

KRISHNAJI: Again, it depends on you, for if your mind is narrow, whatever you do will be narrow.

QUESTION: What is it in our nature that makes us do things contrary to our better judgment, and how may we overcome this difficulty?

KRISHNAJI: By not doing wrong. By struggling. If I have not the strength to walk up to the mountaintop, I make the effort, fall down, and make another (try). It does not mean that I am failing.

You will spoil everything if you base your understanding on individuals, even on Krishnamurti. There is a much greater thing than this form, which you call Krishnamurti, which is Life; and of that Life I speak, and of that Life I would urge you to become disciples, and with that Life I would urge you to be in love.

Ignorance is that ( inner condition ?) which is created by the individual within himself by the intermingling that which is fleeting and lasting. Therefore ignorance has no beginning, but it has an end.
That which is Real shall not bind. That which is fleeting shall bind, corrupt and put a limitation. So, the wise man, having this ( guiding principle) as his measure by which he shall judge his actions, his thoughts, his emotions, his whole life as a whole, shall begin to disentangle himself from that ignorance which is the mixture of the real and the unreal, of life and death.

You cannot 'kill the self', but you can make the 'Self' grow so enormous, so vast, that it includes all life. Then you do not rely on anything but the Truth; then you do not want comfort from anything or anyone. But from the understanding of Truth there is born strength in yourselves.

If you did not say, 'Krishnamurti says so and so', but if you realised that what I have said is the truth for its intrinsic value, it is yours and you can repeat with certainty -that certainty which cannot be shaken by any doubt or by any person. That is what I want to create in your minds and in your hearts; not the desire to follow Krishnamurti, because Krishnamurti will die. All (physical) forms are transient things; they hold within themselves their ultimate decay, but that of which I am speaking knows of no ( subject to ?) decay. The moment you adhere to that which does not die, then your integrity, your purpose, your ecstasy is lasting, fundamental, has its foundation in that which is everlasting.

QUESTION: What then is the true function of the mind?

KRISHNAJI: A sane balanced judgement is the function of the mind, but to arrive at that ( wise ?) judgement, mind must have its counterpart equally balanced, and that is affection. As I said yesterday, you cannot divide mind and heart. It is the same substance. Please realise that you ( eventually will ?) have to attain this ocean, this sea of life, without limitation, without corruption, which is free and eternally active. And you should rejoice at one who has attained and find out from him the glad news; and by discovery and by understanding, alter the very condition of your thoughts, the state of your hearts, so that you yourselves shall come in that shadow of perfection.

It is (really) a question whether you want it, whether you want to be happy, whether you want to be free and establish yourself in perfection. And the majority of you do not want it, and hence all these innumerable vain useless questions. You do not want it as a hungry man wants food. You do not want it as a thirsty man wants water. You do not want it as a drowning man wants air, or as a man that is covered with wounds wants a healing balm that shall cure all sorrow, all suffering, is to be found in that which is lasting and that which is life, and of that I speak.

QUESTION: Isn't the theory of individual freedom really ( leading to ?) anarchy and a dangerous menace to social life ?

KRISHNAJI: Sir, you call individual freedom 'anarchy'. If the individual is not happy, as he is not at the present time, he is creating chaos and anarchy around him, by his selfishness, by his cruelty. You want everyone to be ( inwardly standardised ?) of a particular kind and that is why you have all these religions, these acts of morality. But there is the other influence which, when truly understood, gives nourishment, encouragement, because each individual must find by himself and through himself that which is lasting.

What is it then that you want in life -love, possessions, or that feeling of (deep inner ?) comfort which men call 'happines's? If that is the jewel hidden in the secret sanctuary of your heart, then you will pursue it and acquire that which you desire; but if, on the other hand, you desire that happiness which is eternal, that life which is absolute, unconditioned -if that is your desire, if that is what is hidden in the sanctuary of your heart, then you will pursue that. As the lotus utilizes the mire to produce its lovely blossoms, so you will utilize the transient life to produce the perfect flower of your understanding.

Life has no technical process of fulfilment; life has no special way by which it must tread toward its glory; life has no special meditation, yoga. It is by constant assimilation and by rejection, by examining, by analysis, by careful consideration of every little event of the day that you grow to perfection. True affection is the right standard and that love is like the flower that gives perfume to every passer-by and does not care to whom it gives its delicious fragrance; so should true love be. And towards that all affection must struggle, must evolve, must progress -towards that perfect love. Now you will ask me: "How shall we do it? How shall we arrive at that perfect love?" By liking someone, in however small a way, from corruptibility to corruptibility, till you arrive at that incorruptibility of love. There is no other way than by constant struggle, by strife, by gathering great storms of love and rejecting them. Realising this great truth, it were better that you should fall from a great height than from the pavement. The mediocrity of life, the smallness of life, consists not in falling, but in falling off a small place. Were you to fall from a great height, from the house-tops, from the great mountains, then the world would rejoice and know that there is a great man, for his fall was great. For mediocrity, the smallness of mind and the smallness of emotion stifle Truth and it cannot abide with those that are fearful of their fall.

For, having a full understanding of that eternal Truth, or partial at least it may be, your love should from now on withstand that wave of corruptibility. Because if there were ten -if there were one who really was capable of pure, detached affection, that affection which gives encouragement, that points ever with clarity towards the perfection of all love, then that one individual would awaken within the hearts of many that love which cannot be tinged by corruption.

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Sun, 04 Dec 2016 #29
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

Here are a few 'lost & found' pages ( a full chapter) from the book 'God is my adventure' published by Rom Landau in 1936. They contain the author's first encounters with the young Krishnamurti in 1927-1928

THE THRONE THAT WAS CHRIST'S

One Sunday morning I sat in a small panelled room in one of those fine Queen Anne houses that are still to be found in certain parts of Westminster. The house belonged to Lady De La Warr, and I was waiting to meet Mr. Jiddu Krishnamurti, who was staying there on a short visit.This was to be my first meeting with Krishnamurti. The young Indian was supposed to be rather shy, and, in view of all the sensational reports about him in the newspapers, I did not find this in the least surprising. I had determined to come to this meeting with an open mind, but I must confess I found it hard to feel anything but the profoundest scepticism. I recalled several of the strange tales that I had read in the course of the last few days. One of them remained in my memory with particular vividness, though it described an event that had taken place almost twenty years earlier. It was an account of a convention at Benares, and its author was at the time private secretary to Krishnamurti, then aged fifteen. He had written: 'The line of members began to pass up the central passage . . . with a bow The whole atmosphere . . . was thrown into powerful vibration. ... All saw the young figure draw itself up and take on an air of dignified majesty The approaching member involuntarily dropped on his knees, bowing his head to the ground. ... A great coronet of brilliant shimmering blue appeared a foot or two above the young head and from this descended funnelwise bright streams of blue light. . . . The Lord Maitreya was there embodying Himself in His Chosen. Within the coronet blazed the crimson of the symbol of the Master Jesus, the rosy cross . . .'

I am afraid I did not read on much farther after the 'rosy cross'; but I was told that the writer of these impressive lines was not the only one who claimed to have seen this colourful performance. There seemed some justification for an attitude of scepticism, and as I sat waiting I experienced a feeling of superciliousness which we are all occasionally apt to indulge in when we know a particularly weak spot in the life of the person we are going to meet. In me this feeling had been strengthened by the fact that I had read in a newspaper only the night before that Krishnamurti's followers in Holland had finally proclaimed him the 'World Teacher'. He himself had uttered these words: ' Krishnamurti has entered into that life, which is represented by some as the Christ, by others as Buddha, by others still as the Lord Maitreya. . . .' These words had put the conscience of Krishnamurti's followers at ease and had induced them to proclaim him once and for all 'The Vehicle of the Lord'. For ordinary people this was, to say the least, alarming news. I was thinking of all these strange things while I was looking on the empty street half hidden by the heavy drizzle. I had plenty of information about Krishnamurti's life to counterbalance my scepticism. I knew that some of the people who stood behind him were serious minded and intelligent. I had come across the name Krishnamurti directly only a few weeks previously at the house of Lady De La Warr at Wimbledon, where I had met some of his most intimate friends experienced elderly men and women who were not at all the sort of people to be bluffed. The centre of the group was Mrs. Annie Besant, then almost eighty years old and a most attractive person, very bright and untheosophical, full of political and intellectual interests, which she expressed in a most lively and amusing manner. Next to her was Mr. George Lansbury, the veteran labour leader. He too was preoccupied with Indian and other political problems. There was very little to suggest a religious fanaticism in his slow, deep-voiced pronouncements. Anything more solid, more natural, could hardly be imagined. Even our hostess mentioned the subject of theosophy only casually. Then there was a member of Parliament who, I believe, was an Under Secretary of State; he was evidently a great authority on India. There was nothing exalted or mystical about the other people in the room. These were Krishnamurti's closest friends in England. It was difficult to imagine these people talking of the 'great coronet of brilliant blue' and 'the rosy cross of the Lord Jesus'. Annie Besant herself was obviously a very shrewd woman. Though at the time I knew little about her or her work, I could see that there was not much in life that had escaped her.

And then Krishnamurti entered the room. He walked towards me with an inviting smile, and we shook hands. I was immediately struck by his remarkably handsome face, and after a few minutes conversation I was equally charmed by his attractive personality. These two impressions were very strong, and I suppose they determined in some ways my future attitude towards him. I heard later from other people that their first impressions of Krishnamurti were the same as mine. My former superciliousness gave way to a feeling of pleasure. At first I thought that this feeling was due to the aesthetic delight caused by his appearance. Indeed, he was much more handsome than his photographs made him appear. He seemed no older than twenty-two or twenty-three, and he had the slender grace of a shy young animal. His eyes were large and deep and his features finely cut. His head was crowned with thick silky black hair. But it cannot have been the aesthetic impression or the musical quality of the voice alone that had put me at ease so quickly. He was obliging, though reserved; but in spite of this after half an hour's conversation he made me believe that I had known him most of my life; and yet there was nothing particularly easygoing about him, though there was a pronounced feeling of balance and proportion in his manner. And there was an undercurrent of human warmth which was responsible for the atmosphere of spiritual intimacy between us.

These were my first impressions of Mr. Jiddu Krishnamurti .

*

In 1925 the Theosophical Society considered that the moment had come for Krishnamurti to acknowledge his destiny in more formal fashion, and this official recognition accordingly took place during the celebration of the jubilee of the Society. Theodore Besterman, a biographer of Mrs. Besant, describes most effectively the central scene of the proceedings: ' ... In the shadow of the great banyan tree in the grounds of the Adyar headquarters, Mr. Krishnamurti was addressing some three thousand assembled delegates. ... A few of those present had been warned what to expect, and these communicated their excitement to those around them. The whole audience was in the sort of state in which the individual is merged in the mass a revivalist psychology The words of the speaker became more and more urgent. "We are all expecting Him", he said; "He will be with us soon." A pause, and then, with a dramatic change from the third person to the first, the voice went on, "I come to those who want sympathy, who want happiness. ... I come not to destroy but to build." . . .

And afterwards Mrs. Besant said that "the voice not heard on earth for two thousand years had once again been beard".' It was now decided that Krishnamurti should have something more than the merely spiritual sphere of influence which was provided by the 'Order of the Star', and various properties were purchased for the establishment of enormous camps in different continents. A suitable territory was bought in the Ojai Valley in California, where people from all over America could gather for yearly meetings at which Krishnamurti would deliver his message. California was particularly dear to Krishnamurti's heart, since it was here that his beloved younger brother Nityananda had died a few years ealier. For the Australian followers there was erected the Amphitheatre in Sydney; for the Indian friends a camp in the Rishi Valley. A Dutch nobleman, Baron Philip Pallandt van Eerde, an enthusiastic admirer of Krishnamurti, put at his disposal his Castle Eerde at Ommen in Holland with its old gardens and extensive grounds. Eerde was to become Krishnamurti's European headquarters, and here his European followers were to assemble at a vast camp meeting which was to be held every summer.

In January 1927 Krishnamurti spoke at a meeting in California, and concluded his speech by reading one of his recent poems, which ended with these words: 'lam the Truth, I am the Law, I am the Refuge, I am the Guide, The Companion and the Beloved.

The imaginative reporter of the Theosophist added to this a poetic summing up of the situation: 'As the last words were uttered there was a sprinkle of light rain that seemed like a benediction and, spanning the valley, a perfect rainbow arch shone out.' Meanwhile Mrs. Besant was travelling from country to country, giving lectures to packed halls and speaking in her masterly way of the new World Teacher.

*

Many details of this extraordinary story flashed through my mind when Krishnamurti entered that room. But after half an hour's conversation with him I was willing to forget most of the reports I had heard. The picturesque story of his life seemed to me no longer of much importance. How right I was I could not foresee at the time.

We parted friends, and I accepted an invitation to come to stay with Krishnamurti at Eerde. There I should meet his friends from all over the world; and, besides listening to his public speeches, I should also have an opportunity of further personal conversation. I actually went twice to Eerde in the course of the summer. The first time I could only spend two or three days there, so I decided to visit Krishnamurti again in a month's time, when I should be able to stay at least ten days, and witness the huge gathering of theosophists and members of Krishnamurti's own movement. There would be many visitors from the United States, from India and even from Australia.

To a writer of fiction the atmosphere at Eerde would probably offer the most attractive material I could imagine all sorts of books inspired by it psychological, devotional, religious, romantic, hysterical, lyrical, satirical. How tempting it would have been for a novelist to describe the little castle, an elegant building of the early eighteenth century rising up from a moat and connected with the 'mainland' by a delightful semicircular terrace; the romantic canal spanned by a decorative stone bridge; the long low pavilions on each side of the castle; the formal circular garden in front of it. And what opportunities were offered by the ancient park around the castle, its dignified avenues, its magnificent trees, its fields, its river, its water roses on the pond.

And then the guests themselves, wandering reverently along the garden paths, discussing under old trees the deepest problems of life, and greeting one another with smiles of forgiveness and looks of understanding. There were fair Scandinavian girls with transparent complexions, and voices so soft that they seemed incapable of saying any but the holiest of things. Some of them helped in the kitchen, others in the offices, and in the evenings they sat together and held one another's hands. Though I have not found out for certain, I imagine that they were 'disciples' who had been driven by faith to leave their comfortable homes in Oslo or Stockholm and to come to the castle to work for the common good. There were several Americans in whose mouths the Masters, gurus and astral worlds used to lose all their ethereal qualities and become convincingly matter of fact. There was a very learned French lady with at least three daughters who looked as though they preferred the Cote d'Azur to the Dutch scenery, but had to content themselves with their mother's knowledge of all sorts of devas, Chinese saints and Tibetan gomtchengs. There was an Italian countess who was always telling me of yet another dream she had had about Krishnamurti; and there were several elderly English ladies, quiet, kind, helpful, and wearing a surprising amount of jewelry, though their jewels, even if less obvious, were in a way like the taboos and charms of African Negroes, made of lions' teeth or human bones, since although they were mostly of gold and often of precious stones, their triangular or circular shapes showed clearly that they were worn for their symbolical significance and not in order to satisfy a craving after beauty. Then there were several Indians of indeterminate age but obviously higher education, who at night would sometimes appear in their attractive native coats, with tight white trousers and coloured shoes, the envy of their American, Dutch, British and Scandinavian brethren, many of whom wore homely sandals and looked altogether less picturesque. Some charming Australians and Anglo-Indians and a Scottish couple completed the house-party.

The writer of fiction would have found even better models and more vivid 'local colour' in the large camp, situated in the woods a couple of miles outside the castle. Such readers as have ever attended a theosophical or practically any sort of religious convention will know the type, and I shall refrain from describing it at length. They generally abhor the idea of meat as violently as that of wine or tobacco; they look deep into your eyes when they talk to you; they have a weakness for sandals, for clothes without any particular distinction of shape, for the rougher kind of texiles and such colours as mauve, bottle-green and purple. The men affect long hair, while the women keep theirs short. There were several workmen and farmers among them who had been saving up their money for several years in order to come here. Two German youths had walked for two or three weeks from a distant part of Germany. Indeed, the three thousand visitors would have been worthy of a much more gifted pen than mine.

The organization of the camp lay in the hands of a few Dutch followers of Krishnamurti, experienced business men, who had succeeded in turning out this model 'camp city' in the midst of uninhabited forests and fields. Tourists and journalists from many countries arrived solely to visit the camp, and organizers of similar gatherings would come from distant countries in order to learn from the organization at Ommen. There were rows upon rows of tents of all sizes; there were shower baths, attractive huts with post office, bookshops, photographer, ambulance and information bureau. In huge dining-tents excellent vegetarian meals were served; there was a lecture tent with seats for three thousand people and there was even an open-air theatre. Everywhere one found helpful guides and interpreters and a fine spirit of fellowship.

As the Dutch summer was at times trying with incessant rain and icy winds the nerves of the people must have been somewhat strained. Harmony could be achieved only by self-discipline. Ignorance of the language was, no doubt, a tiresome handicap for many people. Some of them must have come merely for the sake of a new experience and for human fellowship, for the Serbs and Russians, South Americans, Rumanians, Turks and Greeks who hardly knew one word of English could not understand much during the lectures. And yet most of them remained happily till the very last day. This was undoubtedly due, to a very great extent, to the efficiency of the organization.

As I did not live in camp, which I visited only for the lectures and an occasional meal, I knew the routine of life at the castle much better. Since the castle itself was not large enough to accommodate the twenty or more personal guests of Krishnamurti, most of us were put up in the long pavilion flanking the castle. Besides Krishnamurti and his closest friend Rajagopal, the head of the whole organization, only a few friends stayed within the castle itself. The dining-room, library, reception rooms and offices were on the ground floor. In the reception rooms there were several attractive pieces of Dutch furniture, and the main room, called the state room, contained, besides some fine panelling, four handsome Flemish tapestries specially made for the castle. An ingeniously constructed wooden Louis XIV staircase led from the entrance hall to the first floor and to the bedrooms. The former owner of the castle, 6aron van Pallandt, was a quiet middle-aged gentleman, who had kept for himself only one or two of the castle rooms. He went on administering the big estate, and all the secretarial, clerical and household work, besides that of organizing the movement itself, was done voluntarily.

I stayed in one of the two pavilions, where all the rooms were alike simple, attractive and comfortable. Every visitor had to look after his own room and make his own bed. When, however, after a day or two some kind spirit had discovered that my talent for manual domestic work was more original than effective, my services in this direction were no longer expected, and for the remainder of my stay there, whenever I returned to my room after breakfast, I found that my bed had already been made with enviable skill. In the morning we assembled in the big state room. We took off our shoes more experienced guests than myself would appear in bedroom slippers and sat down on the floor to meditate. Perhaps it was my native cynicism that prevented my enjoying the morning meditations as much as I ought to have done. It always put me into the wrong frame of mind.

There were several problems connected with the morning meditations about which I wished to be enlightened. Of course I might have asked any of the other twelve or fifteen fellow guests attending this service, but I could never summon the courage to do this, for fear lest they might find out how ignorant I really was. I wanted to ask them whether they considered it necessary to meditate in a crowd. I sincerely believed in meditation, but I always found it much more successful in solitude or with a single companion. Just when I was getting into the right frame of mind, one of the meditators must needs sneeze or cough, and thereupon all my limited powers of concentration would be dissipated.

And I should have liked also to ask whether it was essential to sit on the floor without having been instructed previously how to do it. Most of us had been brought up in the Western world, and were not used to Eastern attitudes. I found that my attention had to be directed towards my aching spine and ankles, and a good deal of the energy that was wanted for a better purpose was thus wasted. Eastern postures for meditation are taught solely by the yoga of body control, and can be learnt successfully only in the Far East. Of the eighty-four different postures for the various meditations, only the first few have ever been mastered by any European. Even the elementary 'lotus posture' which is indispensable to meditation done in the pose adopted by my fellow meditators, can only be comfortably assumed after many patient and painful exercises. How, then, could I expect all these people, most of whom had never been to the East, or undergone the essential training, to have the necessary command over their bodies? I could see for myself that hardly one of them was sitting in the correct attitude that of intertwined ankles and straight spine. Possibly the worst indication of my own immaturity was to be found in the fact that the sight of all these people sitting there in stockinged feet always evoked in me a schoolboy propensity for practical joking.

Had it not been for my shortcomings, the morning meditations would undoubtedly have provided me with a source of inspiration. Someone read aloud a few words I believe it was always one of Krishnamurti's sayings and after that we were meant to meditate upon it. The tightly shut eyes of the other guests made me feel very envious of the wonderful ten minutes they were spending on some blissful plane. From the state room we moved into the dining-room for breakfast, which was always an enjoyable meal, with excellent honey and delectable nut pastries. Lunch, too, was a very attractive meal, not only by virtue of the quality of the vegetarian dishes but equally because hunger, and the pleasure of satisfying it, induced many of the guests to cast off their reserve and to show a greater individuality of character than conversation at other times had led one to expect.

As a rule everyone attended to his own wants, but I was often permitted to wait on Annie Besant, and I several times had the privilege of sitting next to her at meals, and each time it was a joy to be near this exceptional woman. There was a childlike quality about her not the childishness of old age, but rather the essential simplicity and happy disposition of childhood itself. You felt that she knew so much more than anybody else present; but her greater wisdom and experience never interfered with her manner of treating even the youngest members of the party as her equals. The saintliness that hung over Eerde, like a pink cloud in a play, made me somewhat sceptical; and yet the first meeting between Annie Besant and Krishnamurti on her arrival at the castle had greatly impressed me. Krishnamurti had been waiting for the car that was bringing his guest, in the circular garden in front of the castle. He was by himself and we, his other guests, kept in the background. One could see that he was nervous. When the car arrived, Krishnamurti walked up to it to open the door. Annie Besant appeared, dressed in white Indian robes with white shoes, and a white shawl over her snow-white hair. Krishnamurti bowed his head and kissed the old lady's hand. She in her turn put both her hands on his black hair and whispered a few words to him. In her face there was the expression of the deepest tenderness, and I could see that she was crying. It was obvious that their welcome was an expression of their personal affection for each other and had nothing to do with their theosophical relationship. Krishnamurti took Annie Besant's arm and led her slowly towards the castle. We were introduced to her and shook hands. Her eyes were still moist and the loving smile was still lingering on her lips. Krishnamurti hardly ever came down to breakfast. Generally he remained in his bedroom. It was a very simple bedroom, and must have been the smallest in the castle. Each morning after breakfast some of his most intimate fellow workers used to walk up the staircase and disappear into a room which connected with Krishnamurti's bedroom. My curiosity was pricked by these morning processions. I imagined mysterious happenings behind the doors: special initiations or mental exercises of a higher order, reserved only for the 'inner circle'. I never found out what went on behind the doors probably household bills and questions of daily routine were discussed.

In the mornings and on most afternoons there were lectures in the big tent in the woods. Krishnamurti spoke almost every day; and then there followed speeches by Annie Besant, Mr. Jinarajadasa, the vice-president of the Theosophical Society, a Frenchman Prof. Marcault, a Dutch scholar Dr. van der Leeuw, and one or two other followers of Krishnamurti. The main tenor of Krishnamurti's talks was that the " Kingdom of Happiness" lies within ourselves, and the other lecturers spoke on very much the same lines. Krishnamurti's principal talks were of an autobiographical kind, and he tried to explain in them how he himself had found truth by giving up all conventional conceptions of life one after another.

There were several meetings at the castle in the afternoon, and often at these there were visitors, both legitimate and also of a less legitimate but more intrusive kind. Many people from the camp would come to see the home in which their prophet lived. They were taken inside the castle and along the quiet garden paths, and they often hardly dared utter a word. There were also sightseers and tourists, who had heard of the new messiah from India and who would peep through the gates a though expecting strange miracles to occur at any moment. They looked at Krishnamurti's guests, apparently convinced that we were the disciples of a magician or of a yogi. Each time I left the castle or came back, I noticed the inquisitive glances of the occupants of some motor car, and I would hear their interested chatter. This embarrassed me and made me wish that I had the power to produce white rabbits from my coat pocket or flames from my mouth, since I always felt as though the people in the cars were not being treated with that consideration to which they believed themselves entitled. In the hall of the castle there was a very large and very new gramophone, given to Krishnamurti by one of his admirers and placed here for the enjoyment of the guests. I knew that Krishnamurti was a great lover of music, and I caught him one evening sitting by himself in the corner of a little study off the main hall. It was after dinner and the room was quite dark. I can still remember the record : it was the slow movement of the G Minor Quartette by Debussy that almost unreal piece of strangely coloured cascades and sudden melancholy halts. Whenever I hear that movement I see the night over the castle and Krishnamurti sitting by himself in the little room and listening joyfully to the violins.

Several members of our house-party were fond of music, and would spend the evening listening to the gramophone. The prevailing taste seemed to be Parsifal, Gotterdammerung, and Siegfried. The listeners would sit in just those attitudes in which you would have expected to find them, when revelling in the superior boredom of Kundry's endless laments or Siegfried's narratives. Their eyes were closed, their souls no doubt very wide open, in their faces was a mixture of happiness and reverence, and you could see all the silver and mauve ethereal pictures that the music painted for them. Perhaps I was too frivolous for them, and at times I would become genuinely alarmed by my cynicism, and would decide never again to make critical comments even to myself. And yet there was one thing which gave real cause for a certain irritation.

My inability to find the true meaning of Krishnamurti's teaching led to the anxiety that my visit might be an utter failure. Krishnamurti's lectures were too vague to give me clear answers to any of my questions. I had been hoping to find those answers among the people who stayed at the castle and who must have known exactly what was to be understood. They were only too willing to help me; but it seemed to me that they had all sacrificed their personalities in order to become members of the Order of the Star in the East. I talked to many of them in the course of the day, but they left too little impression to enable me to distinguish them in my mind later on. They all met me halfway; and they would talk of reincarnation and karma with an understanding smile on their lips and as though they were speaking of the next train from Ommen to the Hook of Holland. They did their very best to copy Krishnamurti, to be kind and sincere or to make jokes and show how jolly they were. But I was not among doctors, farmers, schoolmasters, politicians, housewives; I was just among theosophists and members of the Order of the Star. I had expected that their new spiritual experience would have made them more enlightened about their former problems; that they would talk with greater understanding about the world at large. There were political and economical congresses, religious disputes, naval conferences going on all over the world; new movements in art, in literature, music, the theatre, the cinema were being experimented with; the world talked of unemployment and reparations; there were thousands of things that had to be discussed, improved upon but none of them seemed to have penetrated the woods of Eerde.

One day I was told that the moment had arrived when Krishnamurti's message would be heard by the outside world which had hitherto known it only through distorted newspaper reports. A new organ was to be founded. My opinion was sought, since I had had some experience and enjoyed press connections that might be helpful. The publications of the Order of the Star periodicals, pamphlets and news-sheets were run by amateurs. I knew that the outside world could only be reached if one were to use a language intelligible to it. Devotional poetry, accounts of personal visions were not likely to convince men and women used to a matter-of-fact world. Those lawyers, business men, theologians and scientists of the outside world would only grasp Krishnamurti's ideas if they could be presented in a clear and sober way. People must see that they were dealing not with dreamers but with men who knew the world and her needs better than others did, and who therefore might be able to solve some of the most pressing problems.

The few people with whom the plans were discussed listened patiently to my suggestions; they nodded obligingly, and assured me that this was the right way to proceed. In actual practice not one of these suggestions was adopted, and the events of the following months showed that a metaphorical and semi-theosophical jargon was still being employed for enlightening the world at large about the 'World Teacher'.

I am sure that none but myself was to blame for my intellectual disappointment. The general atmosphere of adoration had put me into a state of expectancy which simply could not be satisfied anyhow or by anyone. My intellectual upbringing had made me expect a clearer message than Krishnamurti was willing or able to offer. I had not yet found in his friends and followers that inner readjustment to life that would have allowed me to accept the new message in the form in which it was offered. I had gathered enough to see that Krishnamurti's teaching was not Eastern, that it repudiated passivity. Everyone should find truth for himself; should listen to no-one but himself; should consider unification with happiness as the final goal. But when I asked how this could be achieved I received no clear answers. It is not enough to see the summit of Mont Blanc. If we want to reach the top, we must be informed as to the most advantageous season, the best route, and such details of equipment as the most suitable boots to wear. Most of Krishnamurti's answers would be dissipated in similes and metaphors. You asked him about your personal troubles, your religious beliefs, your intellectual doubts, your emotional difficulties, and he would talk to you about mountain peaks and streams running through fields. When asked about his own road and the road along which one might find happiness, he would answer: The direct path, which I have trodden, you will tread when you leave aside the paths that lead to complications. That path alone gives you the understanding of life. ... If you are walking along the straight path, you need no signposts.' But where, exactly, the direct path lay, or how we were to find it, he did not disclose. The very same day Krishnamurti might renounce all paths and say that no one path was better than any other.

I had several talks with him, and each time I eagerly looked forward to our meeting. We would talk as we walked through the woods and across the fields of Eerde. One afternoon we suddenly found ourselves in front of a charming litlle house, flat roofed and rather modern, surrounded by high trees but with a view on one side across the fields. It was Krishnamurti's retreat, a self-contained little home, where he could get away from people, meditate and rest in solitude, He must have been very sensitive to solitude. He was not very strong physically, and though he went in for all sorts of games and was a great lover of lawn tennis, he remained rather delicate. The camp with its thousands of people, with its daily lectures, interviews and visitors, must have been a heavy strain on his health.

I found no further intellectual satisfaction either in Krishnamurti's lectures or in his books, and I wondered whether this was not due to his Eastern origin. On the other hand, I had experienced no similar difficulties when reading the writings of Eastern sages. Even if one did not grasp their full meaning, there still remained enough to provide intellectual contentment. Among the books by Krishnamurti that I tried to read were Temple Talks, The Kingdom of Happiness and The Pool of Wisdom. There were also a few volumes of poetry. I admired their oriental beauty and their deep ring of sincerity, but I was baffled by their vagueness. It is certainly unfair to judge lyrical poetry by the same rules as those by which we attempt to judge scientific books. On the other hand Krishnamurti's poetry was supposed to contain not only the lyrical confession of a sensitive youth with the gift for poetry but also the account of a deep spiritual experience. When I read:

'As the flower contains the scent, So I hold Thee, O world, In my heart. Keep me within the heart. For I am liberation And happiness. As the precious stone Lies deep in the earth, So I am hidden Deep in thy heart . . .'

I enjoyed the beauty of the poem and I felt the truth in it. But this poem, called 'I am with thee' and written in 1927, was considered by Krishnamurti's followers and even his biographer Lily Heber as of great importance. I seemed to remember having seen poems of that kind in various anthologies containing Eastern poetry. At times you would even find such poems in those slender volumes published by young men who had come down from Oxford and Cambridge and had been greeted by some of the London critics with prophecies of a splendid literary future. But we were not dealing with a talented young man whose earlier poems had been accepted by the Editor of the Oxford Outlook. We were dealing with a teacher who did not repudiate this title; who allowed thousands to come and listen to him and to expect guiding principles from him, and who must have been conscious of the immense responsibility that all this implied. I felt that I had a right not only to expect answers but even to expect them in a language that I could understand; in a language that was common to people of the Western world. I even felt entitled to expect perfection in everything he said or did. The unity between the content and the form was of great importance in a person like Krishnamurti. When I read:

' Thou must cleanse thyself Of the conceit of little knowledge ; Thou must purify thyself Of thy heart and mind; Thou must renounce all Thy companions, Thy friends, thy family, Thy father, thy mother, Thy sister and thy brother ; Yea, Thou must renounce all; Thou must destroy Thy self utterly To find the Beloved.

I could see a glimpse of Krishnamurti's philosophy, but I felt that the same truth might have been expressed less pretentiously: 'Thou must purify thyself of thy heart and mind. Thou must renounce all thy companions, thy friends, thy family, thy father, thy mother, thy sister and thy brother . . .' If we write these lines without the lineal demarcation of poetry we acknowledge at once the fine statement contained in them, but we do not maintain that they are poetry. And yet I wanted Krishnamurti to write poetry that would convince people, and such as I might show to my sceptical friends. When after a certain time I was able to perceive the main idea of Krishnamurti's teaching I understood that it was complete libera- tion, which means complete happiness. It is achieved by love and it rests within our own inherent power. Krishnamurti defined it in later years when he said: 'The goal of human feeling is love which is complete in itself, utterly detached, knowing neither subject nor object, a love which gives equally to all without demanding anything whatever in return, a love which is its own eternity.'

As far as I understand, this is the teaching of Christ, the teaching of Buddha. We all heard these words when we were given our first religious instruction. I asked myself, therefore: If Krishnamurti's teaching is just a repetition of the teaching of Christ, or of Buddha, then why all this theosophical background; why the Star in the East, that huge organisation; why the talk of a new path; why the followers, camps and labels? Would it not have been wiser to remain in our old-established Churches which give us clearer words for all these messages? Is it all humbug?

I was very fond of Krishnamurti, otherwise I should have left Eerde after the first few days. But I wanted Krishnamurti to be able to help me in my own way, and to help the other three thousand people in their own way. I wanted to be able to convince the cynic within myself that Krishnamurti was right and capable of helping, and that he had fulfilled my highest expectations. Instead, I felt uncomfortable when the Saul within myself would say to the Paul after every talk I had with Krishnamurti: 'Wasn't I right? Did you grasp more to-day than yesterday? Didn't I tell you it would be a waste of time? Why don't you talk instead to the rivers and the trees? Their language will be more intelligible.'

And yet there were people, with less intellectual resistance, who perceived Krishnamurti's message quite clearly. Looking back on those days I am particularly struck by the impression Krishnamurti made on a man brought up in the rough school of English workingclass life, a man matured in political battles. I mean George Lansbury. This is what the old labour leader wrote after one of the meetings at Ommen: 'I have seen the glorious march of the Socialists in Paris, in Brussels, in Stockholm and in our own country, and I have seen them sitting and standing round our platform. But I think that these gatherings round the camp fire . . . are somehow the most wonderful sight of all. . . . When we Socialists come together, we come together pledging oursefves to fight in order to raise the material conditions of ourselves and our fellows. Round this camp fire we were listening to one who is teaching us the hardest of all truths . . . that if mankind is to be redeemed it must be redeemed through the individual action of each one of us. ... There must be great hope for the future . . . whilst there are living in our midst those who are inspired by a great ideal to work and toil for impersonal causes.'

I hoped that Mr. Lansbury was right, and that some of the characteristics that I seemed to have found among Krishnamurti's followers were only evident when they were all together. They may have talked and behaved in quite a different manner when left to themselves in their normal surroundings. Perhaps all these people were really leaders in their various professions, efficient and capable of reforming their individual worlds in a direction that had disclosed itself to them during their visit to Eerde. Perhaps it was only due to blindness on my own part that even when I saw them later in London at one or two gatherings and in several offices, I again had the impression they had given me at Ommen.

Though my intellect remained critical, I felt that I was indeed becoming happier every day through my contact with Krishnamurti, and that only intellectual barriers within myself prevented me from accepting him as wholeheartedly as I longed to do. But even this reaction irritated me. I knew that the three thousand people who had come here were as anxious to catch his smile and were almost in a fever every time Krishnaji, as they called him affectionately, addressed or approached them. I had imagined myself more critical than they.

Only the evenings round the camp fire were really impressive. After dinner we would drive out in cars belonging to members of our house-party to the camp fire in the woods. A large amphitheatre had been built there, with innumerable circular rows of seats; in their midst was Krishnamurti's own seat. This was made of large tree trunks and suggested some huge Niebelungen throne. Each time I saw this seat I imagined that Wotan and Hunding and the many substantial valkyries must have sat in such chairs when attending a family party in Valhalla. Krishnamurti, slender, dark, rather shy, looked strange and lost on his Wagnerian throne. Most of the people who had comd to the camp at Ommen looked upon the evening gatherings, quite rightly, as the climax of the day. Krishnamurti, stepping into the centre of the amphitheatre where a huge heap of wood for a beacon had been prepared, would kindle it and stand in front of it for a few minutes watching the fire grow higher and higher. Then he would walk back slowly to his seat. Smoke would begin to rise to the sky and the flames would suffuse thousands of eager faces with a red glow. Many members of the audience were sitting with their hands resting quietly in their laps and their eyes shut, and you could see how deeply they enjoyed the moment. In the evenings there was a festive feeling, there was an atmosphere of human fellowship and spiritual satisfaction. It was a real holiday to the three thousand people. On one or two occasions the light of the flames and the last pink of a sun that had disappeared more than an hour ago would merge into each other and would produce striking colour effects in which, I daresay, some of the people present discovered symbolical meanings.

I have never heard Krishnamurti speak so well as he did in the evenings round the camp fire. On the whole he was not a very effective speaker; he often repeated himself; he often halted; and many of his sentences were too long. His hold over the masses was not due to any forensic talents. In the evening his words seemed to come more easily to him, and his voice would carry melodiously across the silent crowd, the pictures evoked by his words becoming more clearly visible and the whole atmosphere more convincing. Now and then he would begin an Indian chant at the end of the evening, and on such occasions he was even more impressive than during his speech. Though he spoke English with mastery, you could not help feeling that English was not his language. It was, I remember thinking at the time, the melodious quality of his voice that may have given that impression. In the evenings round the camp fire the contrast between his entire personality and the English language would become more striking. For he then wore Indian clothes, a simple brown coat reaching below the knees and buttoned up to the neck, tight white trousers and white shoes, and his appearance would only emphasize the emotion produced by his voice. During the Indian chants the precise meaning of his words seemed to matter little, and there was no longer a gulf between the man and his words. In the unintelligible Hindustani there was the magic sound that words assume in a strange tongue. After his chants Krishnamurti would sit silently for a few minutes, with an expression of great serenity on his face. He would then leave his seat and walk away to the car that took him back to the castle.

One or two experiences may help to show what a real influence Krishnainurti had on my life. It may be considered a mere coincidence that when I met Krishnamurti for the first time, on that rainy Sunday morning in Westminster, I gave up smoking. I had smoked since I was seventeen, usually thirty cigarettes a day, and I had become something of a slave to the habit. Nevertheless I had never tried to give up smoking, because I had never seen any convincing reason for so doing. Even to-day I cannot explain clearly why I should have given it up the day I met Krishnamurti. We did not discuss the subject; I did not know that he himself did not smoke. And yet to give up smoking at once seemed the most natural thing. Though I carried a cigarette case in my pocket for many days I never felt tempted to light another cigarette. Nor have I smoked since.

The other incident is more difficult to describe. I had been trying for a long time to meditate in the evenings on a particular subject. I used to do it in bed before going to sleep. For months on end I would reach a certain point in my meditation after which it would break up. Either my attention would falter or else I fell asleep before getting beyond the particular point. A few days after I had met Krishnamurti I succeeded for the first time. I experienced the feeling of "sinking into a deep well". Though the well seemed bottomless I had simultaneously the two opposed sensations of going on sinking and yet of having reached the bottom. This was accompanied by a very vivid impression of light. The strongest impression, however, was of receiving at once an emotional shock and a mathematical revelation. It is difficult to describe this last sensation: no metaphor or comparison represents it correctly. Though I do not claim any mystical significance for my experience, I can best translate it into words by quoting an abler pen than my own. When Dean Inge once described mystical experiences he said: 'What can be described and handed on is not the vision itself but the inadequate symbols in which the seer tries to preserve it in his memory. . . . But such experiences, which rather possess a man than are possessed by him, are in their nature as transient as the glories of a sunset. . . . Language, which was not made for such purposes, fails lamentably to reproduce even their pale reflection.' What, however, can be said is the fact that the culminating point of my experience made me unspeakably happy. It was such an acute happiness that it was almost like a feeling of physical delight or physical pain. The division between delight and pain seemed lifted. How long the moment lasted I could not tell; but I imagine it to have been no more than the fraction of a second. When it was all over, I was awake and fully conscious, and I recorded my experience to myself with a feeling of deep gratitude.

The above experiences showed me that Krishnamurti's effect upon me was vital enough to act even against my intellectual resistance. In the summer of 1929 I found in a newspaper a report which described at some length how Krishnamurti had suddenly dissolved the Order of the Star, broken deliberately all connections with the Theosophical Society and their teaching about himself, and renounced all the claims that had been made in his name. He had, then, at last summoned the courage to sever all the ties that had held back his own spiritual convictions through so many years, and that had forced him to act in the shadow of what looked like spiritual usurpation.

The recent rupture had taken place on 3 August 1929 at the yearly summer camp at Ommen. Krishnamurti decided to renounce all the authority that thousands of people had been using as comfortable crutches for their own spiritual incapacity. This is how Mr. Theodore Besterman described the critical meeting in his biography of Mrs. Besant: 'One morning Mr. Krishnamurti rose to deliver his address to the assembled campers. It could be seen at once that he was now speaking for himself and not merely as a mouthpiece; and his words confirmed the impression in no dubious manner. ... He announced the dissolution of the Order of the Star and at one blow laid low the whole elaborate structure so painfully and painstakingly built up by Mrs. Besant during the past eighteen years. "I maintain", Krishnamurti said, "that Truth is a pathless land, and you cannot approach it by any path whatsoever, by any religion, by any sect. That is my point of view and I adhere to that absolutely and unconditionally. ... A belief is purely an individual matter, and you cannot and must not organize it." He declared that he did not want followers ... he made it unmistakably clear that his words were directed against those who had built up the elaborate structure for him during those eighteen years. Krishnamurti added: "You have been preparing for this event, for the coming of the World Teacher. For eighteen years you have organized, you have looked for someone who would give a new delight to your hearts . . . who would set you free. ... In what matter has such a belief swept away all the unessential things in life? In what way are you freer, greater? ..." Mr. Krishnamurti continued: "You can form other organizations and expect someone else. With that I am not concerned, nor with creating new cages. . . . My only concern is to set men absolutely, unconditionally free."

After this Mr. Krishnamurti gave up all the possessions heaped upon him, and gradually severed his connection with all organizations. It was not difficult to perceive what enormous courage it needed to make such a far-reaching decision. To understand its magnitude one has to remember what Krishnamurti was renouncing. There existed an organization with many thousands of members; there were platforms from which to speak in the four most important corners of the globe; there was an independent commercial organization with its magazines, its books and various publications in a dozen different languages; there were helpers among all classes of society, willing to make practically any mental or material sacrifice; there was, in short, a working machine for the transmission of a spiritual message, as powerful as any institution had ever been. To understand what it must have meant to give it all up, one has to visualize the money, the worry, the energy, the time needed for the establishment of an organization for the disseminating of non-commercial ideals, no matter whether of a religious, social, political, intellectual or any other kind. To throw it overboard as though it meant nothing required personal courage, moral integrity and spiritual conviction.

I was glad that I had doubted neither Krishnamurti's sincerity nor his intrinsic spiritual value. The events of August 1929 strengthened the impression I had received when the young Indian entered the dark panelled room in Westminster. Had I not suddenly seen that it mattered little what his life had been up till then? And had I not felt that his personality had nothing in common with the striking headlines in the newspapers?

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Sun, 12 Feb 2017 #30
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 192 posts in this forum Offline

Here are a few interesting pages from Mrs Pupul Jayakar's most remarkable book "Krishnamurti, a biography':

(The year is 1948 ) Although Krishnamurti was resting and in retreat, the news of his presence in Ootacamund had spread rapidly.
Jawaharlal Nehru, now the prime minister of India, was in Ootacamund, and I got a message from his secretary that the prime minister would like to call on Krishnamurti. But the problems of arranging for security were found to be tiresome, and so Krishnaji went to see him instead at Government House. Maurice Friedman and I accompanied him, and were present during the meeting in the prime minister’s private sitting room. There was an open fire, and large bowls of carnations were placed on the tables. Krishnaji and Nehru sat on a sofa facing the fire, while Friedman and I sat on chairs on the side of the sofa. The flames lit the two noble Brahminic heads, their chaste, finely drawn faces—one from the Northern highlands, the other born amongst the most ancient Southern rocks of Andhra. The faces were sculptured, sensitive, with fine translucent skin that accentuated the bones and heightened mobility—the eyes of the seer encompassing vast distances, emanating compassion and silence; the other with the swift, nervous energy of an arrow. Nehru was a romantic, a man of action, with a highly cultivated intellect; concerned, committed, restless, seeking the unknown within the tangle of political adjustments.*

Both men were shy, hesitant. It took some time for them to establish contact. Jawaharlal Nehru started the conversation by saying that he had met Krishnaji many years earlier, and that he had often thought of what he had said. He had been anxious to meet Krishnamurti again. Achyut Patwardhan and other friends had spoken to Nehru at length on the profound work Krishnamurti was doing in Madras and Bombay. Nehru appeared anguished at the massacres and violence that had erupted after partition and independence. He spoke of it at length; he saw the two forces operating in India, the thrust for good and evil. These forces were in conflict; if the good could not contain the spread of evil, the world would perish. Krishnamurti said good and evil were always present; while it was more difficult for the good and the compassionate to function, evil was waiting for a crack in which it could gain a foothold. It needed a great awakeness and awareness to ensure that evil could not enter and gain strength. To be awake and aware, said K, was what would sustain man.
Jawaharlal Nehru asked Krishnamurti whether his teaching had changed over the years since they had last met. Krishnaji said it had, but he could not say exactly where and how. Nehru then spoke of what Krishnamurti had to say on transformation. He felt there were two ways in which transformation could be accomplished. By the individual transforming himself and so transforming his environment, and by the environment working on and transforming the individual. At this Krishnamurti intervened, “Isn’t that the same? The two could not be said to be separate processes.” Nehru agreed. He was groping, trying to express the desperation he felt at the state of the chaos in the world and what had happened in India in recent months. Greatly troubled and not knowing which way to turn, he started to question in depth his own thoughts and actions.

“Tell me, sir,” he asked Krishnaji, “I wish to be clear of this confusion within me. Tell me what is right action and what is right thought.” To us who listened it was the perennial question of the awake Indian mind.

There was silence for over three minutes. We were discovering that the silences that surrounded Krishnaji in dialogue formed part of communication; a silence of the mind in which distances between the minds diminished so that there was direct mind-to-mind contact and communication.

Then Krishnamurti spoke slowly, pausing at every word. “Right action is only possible when the mind is silent and there is a seeing of ‘what is.’ Action that arises from this seeing is free of motive, of the past, free of thought and cause.” He then said that it was difficult to go into this vast problem in a short time. Jawaharlal Nehru was listening deeply, his mind appeared fresh and sensitive, capable of receiving and responding. Krishnaji leaned forward, his hands eloquent. He said that with the growing chaos in India and the world, man could only start the process of regeneration with himself. He had to begin anew. For the world to be saved, a few individuals had to free themselves of the factors that were corrupting and destroying the world. They had deeply to transform themselves, to think creatively and so transform further people. It was from the ashes that the new had to rise.

“Like Phoenix from the ashes,” said Nehru.

“Yes,” replied Krishnaji, “for there to be life there must be death. The ancients understood this and that is why they worshipped life, love, and death.”

Krishnaji then spoke of the chaos of the world being a projection of individual chaos. The human mind caught in the past, in time as thought, was a dead mind. Such a mind could not operate on chaos, could only add to the
confusion. Man had to free himself from time as becoming, the projection into the tomorrow. He had to act in the “now” and so transform himself.

The seer and the hero politician spoke for over an hour and a half. The evening sky had darkened and the evening star had sunk behind the horizon, when we came out of the room. The prime minister saw us to the car and there was affection and grace in the parting. They promised to meet again in the winter, when Krishnaji was to be in Delhi. Later Krishnaji recorded these observations:

He was a very famous politician, realistic, intensely sincere and ardently patriotic. Neither narrow minded nor self-seeking, his ambition was not for himself, but for an idea and for the people. He was not a mere eloquent tub-thumper or vote-catcher; he had suffered for his cause and, strangely, was not bitter; he seemed more of a scholar than a politician. But politics was the breath of his life and party obeyed him, though rather nervously. He was a dreamer, but he had put all that aside for politics.

Toward the end of May certain ( very strange ?) incidents occurred which cast light on the secret mystical life of Krishnamurti.

In August 1922 in Ojai, when Krishnaji was undergoing a violent (process of spiritual ) awakening, he had two trusted friends with him. This was so on most such occasions in his life, and the emphasis on the two people is not accidental. From Krishnaji’s early years, Annie Besant had insisted that two people be with Krishnaji all the time, to protect the body. The protection of the body of the sage when it is undergoing mystical processes of mutation and transference of consciousness, was deeply rooted in Indian mystical tradition. The body at this time is immensely sensitive, vulnerable, and empty of all ego sense.

The incidents at Ooty extended over a period of three weeks, from around May 28 or 29 1948 to June 20. They took place in Krishnaji’s room at Sedgemoor. My sister Nandini and I were present. It was embarrassing for Nandini and me. Maurice Friedman had undoubtedly explained to Shanta Rao and Miss Petit something of what was happening, familiar as he was with the secret mystical traditions of the sages of this land. Anyway, there was nothing we could do.
It began on an evening when Krishnaji had been for a walk with us. He started to say that he was not feeling well, and could we go home. When we asked whether he wanted to see a doctor, he said, “No, it is not that.” He would not explain further. When we got home he went to his room, telling Friedman that on no account was he to be disturbed; but he asked Nandini and me to come into the room. He closed the door and then told us not to be afraid, whatever happened, and on no account to call a doctor. He asked us both to sit quietly and watch him. There was to be no fear. We were not to speak to him, not to revive him, but to close his mouth if he fainted. On no account were we to leave the body alone.

Although I had been swept away by my meeting with K, I had a skeptical mind and observed very intently the events as they took place.
Krishnaji appeared to be in extreme pain. He complained of severe toothache and an intense pain at the nape of the neck, the crown of the head, and in the spine.
In the midst of the pain he would say, “They are cleansing the brain, oh, so completely, emptying it.” At other times he would complain of great heat, and his body would perspire profusely. The intensity of the pain varied as did the area where it was concentrated. At times the pain was located in the head, in the tooth, the nape of the neck, or the spine. At other times he groaned and held his stomach. Nothing relieved the pain; it came and went at will.
When the process was operating, the body lying on the bed appeared a shell; only a body consciousness appeared to be present. In this state the voice was frail, childlike. Then suddenly the body filled with a soaring presence. Krishnaji would sit up cross-legged, his eyes closed, the fragile body would appear to grow and his presence would fill the room; there was a palpable, throbbing silence and an immense strength that poured into the room and enveloped us. In this state the voice had great volume and depth.

After the first evening he started going for a walk alone in the evenings and used to ask Nandini and me to come later to the house. In the beginning the experiences started at 6 P.M. and were over by 8:30 P.M., but later they sometimes went on until midnight. On days when he had to meet people (Jawaharlal Nehru, for instance), nothing happened. Toward the end the periods grew longer, and on one occasion went on all night. On no occasion did he speak of dirt or express a desire to leave the room as he had done at Ojai, though Sedgemoor was not particularly clean; nor did he speak of disturbing thoughts. On one occasion he asked Nandini to hold his hand, as otherwise he would slip away and not come back.
While he was in the midst of the ordeal, his body would toss on the bed. He would have fits of shivering, would call out for Krishna, and then put his hand to his mouth and say, “I must not call him.”

May 30, 1948:* Krishnamurti was getting ready to go for a walk when suddenly he said he was feeling too weak and not all there. He said, “What a pain I have.” He caught the back of his head and lay down. Within a few minutes the Krishnaji we knew was not there. For two hours we saw him go through intense pain. He said he had a pain in the back of his neck, his tooth was troubling him, his stomach was swollen and hard, and he groaned and pressed down. At times he would shout. He fainted a number of times. When he came to, the first time, he said, “Close my mouth when I faint.”
He kept on saying: “Amma—oh, God, give me peace. I know what they are up to. Call him back. I know when the limit of pain is reached, they will return. They know how much the body can stand. If I become a lunatic, look after me—not that I will become a lunatic. They are very careful with the body. I feel so old. Only a bit of me is functioning. I am like an India rubber toy, which a child plays with. It is the child that gives it life.”

His face throughout the occurrence was worn and wracked with pain. He kept clenching his fists and tears streamed from his eyes. After two hours, he fainted again. When he came to, he said: “The pain has disappeared. Deep inside me I know what has happened. I have been soaked with gasoline. The tank is full.”
He then said he would speak so that he would not think of the pain inside him. “Have you seen the sun and the soft clouds heavy with rain? They pass over the sun and then the rain comes down with a roar on the earth that waits like an open womb. It washes clean. Every flower, every leaf. There is fragrance, a newness. Then the clouds pass and the sun comes out and touches every leaf and every flower. The gentle little flower that is like a young girl that ruthless men destroy. Have you seen the faces of rich men? Hard busy with their stocks and money-making? What do they know of love? Have you ever felt every limb of a tree, touched a leaf, sat by a ragged child? You know when I drove to the aerodrome, I saw a mother washing the buttocks of a child. It was beautiful. Nobody noticed her. All they know is to make money and cesspools of their women. Love to them is sex. To hold a woman’s hand, when she is not a woman, that is love. Do you know what it is to love? You have husbands and children. But how would you know? You cannot hold a cloud in a golden cage.”

He was silent for a time, then said, “This pain makes my body like steel—but, oh, so flexible, so pliant, without a thought. It is like a polishing—an examination.” We enquired whether he couldn’t stop having the pain. He said: “You have had a child. Can you stop it coming when once it starts?” Then: “They are going to have fun with me tonight. I see the storm gathering. Oh, Christos!”
After some time, Maurice brought in some soup and then went out. Krishnaji had the light put on. He had sat up with the legs crossed, body erect. The pain had gone from his face. His eyes were closed. He seemed to grow. We felt tremendous power pour into him. There was a throbbing in the atmosphere. It filled the room. Our eyes and ears were filled with it and with sound, though there was no sound; and every pore of our bodies felt a touch, but there was nothing in the room. Then he opened his eyes and said: “Something happened—did you see anything?” We told him what we had felt. He said: “My face will be different tomorrow.” He lay down and his hand went out in a gesture of fullness. He said, “I will be like a raindrop—spotless.” After a few minutes, he told us he was all right and that we should go home.
June 17, 1948: Krishnaji went out for a walk alone. He asked Nandini and me to wait for him. We sat by the fire and waited. He entered the room as if he were a stranger. He went straight to his table and wrote something in his file. After some time he grew aware of us. He came and sat down near the fire. He asked us what we had been doing and said that he had walked far beyond the Golf Club. There was a flute being played in the distance and he sat silently, listening to it intently. It was only after it stopped that he appeared in that semiconscious state. Twice while we sat there, that tremendous presence filled him. He grew in stature before us. His eyes were half-closed; his face silent and immensely beautiful.

And then he lay on the bed and there was just the body. The voice that came from it was that of a frail child. The Krishnaji we knew was not there. The body of Krishnamurti started saying that he was very hurt inside, that they had burnt him inside; that there was a pain right through his head. He was shivering and started saying that something had happened on the walk. He turned to us and asked, “Did you see him return?” He could not synchronize his body and mind. At time he felt he was still in the woods. “They came and covered him with leaves.” He said, “Do you know, you would not have seen him tomorrow. He nearly did not return.” He kept on feeling his body to see if it was all there. He said, “I must go back and find out what had happened on the walk. Something happened and they rushed back. But, I do not know whether I returned? There may be pieces of me lying on the road.” Twice he got out of bed and made for the door, but lay down again. Later, he went to sleep. When he awoke, he felt himself and stared at his hands.
June 18, 1948: Krishnaji asked us to come at about seven in the evening. He was out. We waited. He came in some time later. He was again the stranger. He wrote something in the book and then came and sat with us. He said: “Thoughts of my talk in Bangalore are pouring in. I am awake again.” He closed his eyes and sat for some time erect, silent. Then he complained of hurt and went and lay down. He said he felt he was burnt. He was crying. “Do you know, I found out what happened on the walk. He came fully and took complete charge. That is why I did not know whether I had returned. I knew nothing.” A little later, “Then in the emptiness, there was a light and a storm and I was tortured that day in the wind. Do you know that emptiness that has no horizon—no limit—it stretches?” His hand moved to show empty space.
Then a little later: “They have burnt me so that there can be more emptiness. They want to see how much of him can come.” Then later: “Do you know emptiness? When there is not a thought? When it is completely empty? But, how could you know? It is this emptiness that brings power—not the power they know, the power of money, the power of position, the power of husband over wife.” He paused. “This is pure power—like that in a dynamo. You know, on the walk I was in an ecstasy. I have never cried like that. As I walked I met a poor man. He saw me crying and thought I had lost a mother or sister. Then he smiled at me and I could not understand.” Suddenly, he said, “I have a thought—time and emptiness—that’s it. I hope I remember when I wake up.”
He started saying that he could not bear it, that he was all burnt inside, hurt. Then suddenly he sat up and said, “Don’t move,” and again we saw him like the other night. His face was in the dark, but the fire leapt up and his shadow lengthened on the wall. All pain had disappeared from the face. His eyes were closed, his body was throbbing, as if some power was entering his body. His face was pulsating. He appeared to grow and fill the room. He sat without movement for about three minutes and then he fainted. He woke up calm and peaceful.

Although the notes we took on the final night are lost, Nandini and I remember the occasion vividly:

Krishnaji had been suffering excruciating pain in his head and neck, his stomach was swollen, tears streamed down his face. He suddenly fell back on the bed and became intensely still. The traces of pain and fatigue were wiped away, as happens in death. Then life and an immensity began to enter the face. The face was greatly beautiful. It had no age, time had not touched it. The eyes opened, but there was no recognition. The body radiated light; a stillness and a vastness illumined the face. The silence was liquid and heavy, like honey; it poured into the room and into our minds and bodies, filling every cell of the brain, wiping away every trace of time and memory. We felt a touch without a presence, a wind blowing without movement. We could not help folding our hands in pranams. For some minutes he lay unmoving, then his eyes opened. After some time, he saw us and said, “Did you see that face?” He did not expect an answer. He lay silently. Then, “The Buddha was here, you are blessed.”
We went back to the hotel, and the silence came with us and enclosed us for the next few days. We were held by a pervading presence. Most of the time we were in the room with Krishnaji, we had no part to play; yet our presence seemed necessary. There was nothing personal in him during the incidents—no emotion, no relationship to us. The ordeal appeared physical, and yet the next day left no trace on his face or body. He was aflame with energy—joyous, eager, and youthful. Not a word he said had psychological overtones. A weight, depth, and strength was present in the silence that permeated the room and the atmosphere on every occasion. When Nandini and I compared notes later, we found that we had both had identical experiences.

In one of his letters to me, K later referred briefly to what had happened. I had asked him one morning what was the reason for the two voices—that of the frail child and the normal voice of Krishnamurti. I said that it looked as if some entity goes out of the body and some entity reenters the body. Krishnamurti said in his letter, “This is not so. It is not that there are two entities.” He said he would talk about it later; but (...) it was to be many years before he spoke of it again.


On my return to Bombay I underwent a very deep and inexplicable experience. My senses, torn from their routine, had exploded. One night as I lay down to sleep I felt the pervading touch of a presence, waiting. I was received and enveloped in a dense embryonic fluid. I was drowning, for I felt my consciousness fading. My body rebelled; it struggled, unable to accept this encompassing embrace, this sense of death. Then the silent presence disappeared. This happened for three nights running. Each time, my body struggled; it resisted this encounter, unable to face this touch of death, which passed as swiftly as it had come, never to return. There was no fear.

I told Krishnaji about it at our next meeting, and he told me to let it be, neither to hold it nor resist it.
Krishnaji had asked us to keep secret what we had witnessed at Ooty. We felt that he did not wish it to confuse the precision, clarity, and directness of the teaching. But by the 1970s Krishnaji himself started talking about it to many of the people close to him. I asked, “Do you think that the physical brain cells, unable to contain or hold the immensity of the energy that was flowing into the brain, had to create the spaces in the brain to sustain it? Did there have to be a physical mutation in the brain cells themselves? Or was it like a laser beam operating on the brain cells to enable them to function fully and so contain the boundless?”

Krishnaji said, “Possibly that was so.” He paused, and then continued. “After Ojai, Leadbeater could not explain the pain, nor could Mrs. Besant. The explanation given by them was that the consciousness of Krishnaji had to be emptied for a fragment of the Maitreya Bodhisattva to use the body.”

When asked whether it was “Maitreya,” he neither said yes nor no. I asked, “Is it that we are witnessing the first mind that is operating fully, totally?”
“Possibly,” K said, “and that is what has to be done with the children here [at the Rishi Valley School].”
Krishnamurti, speaking in 1979 about the happenings in Ooty, said that for him the dividing line between life and death was fragile and tenuous. During the state when the body was a shell, the possibility existed that K could wander away and never come back, or some other elements that wanted to destroy the manifestation could harm the body. Therefore there could be no fear amongst the people near him at the time. Fear attracted evil.

I told him that while he was in those states, only the body was operating; there was an emptiness in the body. The voice was childlike. K said, “Couldn’t you explain the two voices by saying that one was that of the body alone?”

I asked, “Only the body speaking?”
He said, “Why not?”
“Only a shell?” I persisted.
“Yes, why not?” Then K asked me, “Was the voice hysterical?”
I replied, “There was no hysteria.”
“Was it an imaginative state?” he asked.
“How could I know?” I replied.

K asked what would happen the next morning. I said we sometimes went with him for a walk. Krishnaji was alive, fresh. The pain had left no mark, and he appeared to have forgotten what had happened. He laughed a great deal, looked at us quizzically, was affectionate, considerate, overwhelmed us with his presence, and had no answer to our questions. He said he did not know.

That same year, 1979, when K was in Bombay, some of us asked him to explain the phenomenon of the face changing. He said, “Many years ago I awoke and there was the face beside me. There was the face that K’s face was becoming. This face was with me all the time, happily. The face was extraordinary, highly cultured, refined.” He spoke as if his words related to another being. “And one day the face was no longer there.”

“Had it become one with K?” I asked.

K said he did not know. He also spoke of the need of the body to be protected. Nothing ugly should take place around it while K was away, nothing evil. In that state the body was defenseless, all kinds of elements wanted to destroy it. “When there is good, there is also the other.”
He was asked whether evil could take over his body when it was empty. His “no” was absolute.
“Then what could evil do? Destroy the manifestation?”
“Yes,” K said, “that is why there has to be love. When there is love there is protection.”

K also said that it was possible that the pain and what took place was necessary, as the brain was not ready. Traces of immaturity remained, the brain cells were not large enough to receive the energy. “When the energy comes pouring in and the brain is not capable of holding it, then that energy feels it has to polish it up. It may be its own activity.”

Speaking further of the need for two people to be with the body, K said, “Where there is love there is protection. Hatred permits evil to enter.”
When asked where does the consciousness of K go, he replied, “I have asked myself what happens when there is no movement of the brain.” After some time he continued. “It ceases completely. Only when it has to manifest it comes. It ceases to exist when it is not there. Has air any place, has light any place? Air is enclosed and so it is there. Break the enclosure, it is everywhere.”

He seemed hesitant to probe further. He said that he should not probe further. “You can ask,” he said, “and I will reply. But I cannot ask.”

This post was last updated by John Raica Sun, 12 Feb 2017.

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