Krishnamurti & the Art of Awakening
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Tue, 24 Nov 2015 #211
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 518 posts in this forum Offline

Bombay Meditations ( the 'lost and found' pages from the K Notebook 1962)

They were small clouds, mere brush strokes with wings, hundreds of them, filling the western sky; the sea was covered with small, dancing ripples and the sun was setting, a gigantic red globe, splendid. But it was those little clouds, with wings, that gave enchantment to the evening; they were just a whisper of clouds, breathlessly flying north, all going north; each was enclosed in its own space, in its own beauty and they conquered space in their flight. And yet they were motionless; there was not a breath of air except just over the sea and over the land close to it. The curving bay, with its many houses held the breeze, and those enchanted clouds never moved and, as the sun went down into the sea, they took on its colour; some deep rose, some light pink and others white. And they were flying; they had the beauty of all the earth and heavens; they were delicate, newly born but with that energy that destroys ( the limitations of psychological ?) 'space'. And as you watched them and the rippling waters, 'you' (the 'observer' ?) were lost; they were there, only 'you' were not there; they existed and nothing else; not even 'space' and 'time'.

There was no ( self-centred ?) thought or feeling and so no ( 'experiencer' ?) experiencing. The essence of ( spiritual ?) immaturity is ( the desire for ever new ?) experiencing. Every form of (desire for more ?) experience is in the ( drag-?) net of the past and in the bondage of time. They were flying in the light of colour and there was (an inner sense of ?) emptiness. Seeing is a marvellous thing when there is this ( sense of inward ?) 'emptiness'; this seeing from emptiness dissolves ( the limitations of ?) 'space' (the distance observer/observed ?) and (illusion of ?) 'time' is consumed. The horizon, the dancing waters, the ever flying clouds and the abiding earth were in timeless movement and the glory of heaven was in ( the seeing of ?) that rock, on which a sea gull was sitting. Now the ( contours of the ?) flying clouds were fading and the moon was casting transparent shadows. It was a dusty, crowded road, people everywhere; only the poor walked or waited in a long queue for the buses. You walked seeing, observing, listening without a thought and feeling and so you saw everything, leaving no mark, no scratch.

The full moon seen from the long, enclosed balcony, was just over the large tree, serene, clear and very close. There were a thousand shadows, soft and breathless; the big city was silent so early in the morning. Meditation is a delight and there was no distraction for there was no "concentration"; it is a movement in which everything is ( included ?) for it is ( being as ?) 'nothing'; it has no centre and so no beginning and no ending. 'You' ( the hopeful 'meditator' ?) cannot enter into that movement; the 'you' ( the 'self'-consciousness ?) must be left back in your office, church and temple. 'You' may not enter into that ( living ?) movement (of meditation) with ( your life -) 'experience' and 'knowledge'. There must be no 'you'.
The moon was now behind a house across the way and the shadows were thickening to disappear with the coming dawn. Then began a 'chorus' of all the birds, shouting, singing, chattering. You listened but 'you' were not there; you saw the palm tree awakening but 'you' were not there and with the setting moon the light from the east began to cover the earth. Strangely you were 'aware' (there was an awarenness ?) of everything but 'you' were nowhere ; you were not lost, but 'you' had ceased to be, and it was going to be extremely difficult to 'find yourself' again; you wouldn’t seek to find it because it wasn’t worth (going back to ?) it. You (One ?) lived but it wasn’t 'you' who lived. Such ( liberated ?) living is a movement without measure, an ecstasy that no thought or feeling could ever capture.

A mother came out, carrying a little girl in her arms and by her side walked an older girl who was talking to the litle girl, carried around the hips of the mother; she talked in a soft voice, with such pleasure and boundless affection; you felt it, moving you to tears for it was an affection that had (contained ?) in it the earth, the heavens and tears. Those three were all life, the immensity of it. They just went by, in the dirty alley and 'time' ceased. And then began the day, with its noises; ( the local ?) people loved noise. The children going to school were laughing, shouting and a boy was beating a tin can, just for the noise of it and a car going up the hills crashed its gears. The sun was touching the tree tops, so faintly, so delicately that the leaves were trembling. The scent of flowers in the next garden became stronger and the colours vivid, brilliant but 'you' could never come back.

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Wed, 25 Nov 2015 #212
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 518 posts in this forum Offline

Selected Bombay Meditations ( from the K Notebook 1962)

Two sparrows, male and female, came into the room and began to chatter; they came in whenever they could, full of chatter and curious; they would talk to you if you talked to them and they had become quite friendly. There’s a long mirror on the wall and the male would do a battle with itself in the mirror; it was an endless and futile battle; the female would sit on the little table and encourage him on with little chirps. They had to be pushed out, literally but they would come back; the female would be at the mirror first and then the male and the battle was on. The sun was now behind the trees and on the road it was dusty, dirty and crowded; there were people everywhere, endlessly talking, poor, ill-clothed, hungry looking and worn out. And there was the sea, restless and the water would be alight with the setting sun. Everywhere there was movement, every colour was alive and the black rocks were intense.

Action is not something separate from (our daily ?) living, but the 'idea of action' (the 'thought-out' action?) and 'action' are two different things; a life based on ideas is ( inwardly a form of ?) inaction, which breeds endless conflict and misery. Ideas (and/or concepts ?) is the invention of a ( conflicting ?) thought and such action based on ideation can only lead to contradiction. Living is action; living is not ( based on ?) memory; the ashes of memory is not the 'fire' of life. Ideation is of these ashes. Living and dying, every moment without ( inwardly thinking in terms of ?) 'time' is ( total ?) action. ( Inwardly thinking in terms self- ?) continuity, permanency is (resulting in a ?) mechanical ( repetitive form of ?) inaction which needs ( creates an environment of ?) conflict to keep it going. Conflict and sorrow, self-pity and ( living in the field of ?) memory are the fuel of inaction. Complete living is total action.

The sun was now a fading line in the water and there was a beauty which no thought or feeling could ever capture. It cannot be put in a museum or hung up on a wall; it is not ( with ?) those two couples nor that family with so many children. Love, beauty and death are inseparable for ( the light of ?) life is ever dancing on the water.

He was a poor boy, in a dirty, torn shirt, too long for him; he was running across the road, with an eye on the traffic; he was very thin, very dark with regular, clear features. He stopped on the other side of the road for a while and then went on aimlessly in front of us; he was about seven or eight, his eyes sparkling, ready to smile, barefooted, large of head and infinitely sad. There was no one to talk to him, other boys along the street must have quarrelled with him or left him alone. He was lonely but he wouldn’t know what that meant; his father and mother must be labouring somewhere, probably helping to build those endless ( blocks of ?) flats, in which they will never live. He turned sharply and ran into us; there was a moment of apprehension and pain for he must have been beaten often. He stood there, so surprised and smiling; his hands were rough, small, dirty, eager to hold (someone's hand ?) . We walked together and everything was forgotten except those two, walking hand in hand ( and all of a sudden ?) there was no traffic, no people, no dirt and the sea was there, quiet ( stretching to ?) to the horizon. He wanted to say something and words came pouring out, though they were not understood; he stopped, freeing his hands, we looked at the sea, the palm trees, the little dog on a leash and the bus thundering by. It was a cloudless evening, clear, warm and those brown eagles were circling in the empty sky.

Meditation is the emptying of the mind of (the psychological residues of ?) time and thought. When 'time' is not, there is no ( personal ?) experiencing - the very essence of immaturity. Total negation is ( a state if inward ?) emptiness and in it alone there is creation—not ( the creation ?) of the picture and the book, but ( an inner state of ?) complete no-thingness. It is love. The brain was without a movement, sensitive, seeing not recording, listening without gathering. In those flats lights came on and a man with a long pole was turning the gaslights on. Night was coming in and the dust-covered trees were silent for the night. A car passed by with a lot of children laughing and shouting; a woman with a garland of jasmine in her hair went by and that scent was the earth, the people and that little boy. ( One's ?) mind was without space and time. The Immensity was there.

Two parrots were streaking across the sky, screeching as usual in their flight; they were green light full of that strange beauty and grace that only birds seem to have; they seemed to be without weight, a flash in the evening sky; they had tireless energy; they were going home to roost for the night, hidden among the dark leaves. They liked the town with all the noise, the glare of lights and probably it was safer here than the country; these two disappeared behind a house into a mango tree but they had left a light in the sky. And the evening sun touching the sparkling waters made a path of burnt gold, and a sail was against the sun. It was an evening when meditation was the complete stillness of the brain; it was empty and wholly aware of the activities around itself but sensitive in its stillness. There was no thought, no reaction for there was an (inward ?) 'movement' which was without a cause, without a motive; there was no end, no beginning. There was no 'observer' to experience it. It was a ( timeless ?) 'movement' that had no continuity; it is the only 'active present'. The sun was below the water now and the circling birds were over the town, endlessly wheeling till the stars came out. They were chanting, four voices, deep throated but light and filling the air; they might have been in an ancient cathedral and temple but the voices came from a room. And suddenly everything became quiet and the voices went on; there was an eagerness and depth and a heightened penetration into 'Nothingness'. You were riding on it, it was carrying you; actually, 'you' were not there, only that Nothingness. It was not the 'nothingness' of being or not being. It was empty without the borders of time; there was no measure for (that inner ?) space. It was immeasurably empty, as the mind was. There was not ( your) mind separate from that Nothingness; there was only That. It was there beyond all asking and seeking and recalling. It was incorruptible for thought cannot touch it.

The road goes past flats, houses, empty lots, rich houses with gatekeepers and well kept gardens, with green fresh lawns; the houses and flats may be clean inside but the road is filthy, only the centre of the road is comparatively clean, (as ) so many cars and buses pass by. Where one walks, there’s no pavement and it’s really dirty; banana and orange peels, bits of paper, spit, the dropping of dogs and everything imaginable. People walk there every day, 'unmindful'; they are mostly poor people; the rich go by in cars; they have their golfcourses or take a car and walk along the beach; but here it’s noise and dirt; everyone has got used to it, as they got used to sorrow, privation, insults and death. Here they sell coffee with all the dust of the road in it, the little shops sell bananas and grain and there are plenty of flies. There are a few old mango trees and they are in bloom. There’s a faint fragrance, mixed with monoxide gas but you can smell it; nobody looks at these flowers but the fruit they will eat. They are rather nice pinkish flowers; they are high up and open to the hot sun and this evening the setting sun was upon them, gently afire and the sea breeze was stirring them. A man went by selling small garlands of jasmine which the ladies wore round their knotted hair. On that dirty road the smell of jasmine, so unexpected, opened the door to an enchanted garden, to a fleeting immensity, to a paradise of emptiness. A poor old man, almost blind, pushed his way and nobody seemed to notice him. Everyone was busy talking, waiting for the bus or rushing home.

Meditation is the destruction of habit; ( living in ?) 'habit' is a continuity, a mechanical momentum that prevents the ( insightful ?) flash of an eternal moment. It will ever be a flash, a 'spark of no time' and thought cannot make of it a ( mental ?) continuity, a series of related thoughts (and ?) habits. ( Such habitual ?) thought builds ( the network of daily ?) relationship, the 'getting used' to things, to people, to ideas. This relationship is ( bound to ?) 'time' and through time, do what you will, that flash ( of spiritual insight ?) can be never seen. Meditation is the ending of ( the dissipative temporal process of ?) thought and the beginning of ( living in ?) 'emptiness'. There is no resting place in that ( state of inner ?) emptiness, no thought as ( the desire to ?) 'experience' can take root - which is the ( very) beginning of 'time'. From this ( state of inner ?) 'emptiness' there is 'love' whose death ('time ending' action ?) is Creation.

A little girl, freshly washed, with long, plaited hair, with a clean blouse and frock and a flower in her hair, passed by, following her fat mother, so occupied with her own thought. A juggler with three little brown monkeys, went by beating a tiny little drum and the sun was setting in a clear horizon; it was close and it seemed to have no end. A big man in a big car got out and walked ( along the shore ?) as though he owned the little earth he was walking on; he was an important man, at least he thought he was and that little stretch of earth along the sea was meant to be used for his daily ( 'power' ?) walk. The evening light was gone and swiftly came darkness. Thought was still and the night 'was' (one with ?) that (inner state of ?) emptiness.

A little girl, about four or five, was sitting by the side of the dirty road and she had beside her another little girl, two or less; probably her sister; both were small, in dirty clothes, uncombed hair but full of smiles and tenderness. The older girl was forcing the little one to sit in her lap, but the little one preferred to sit, cross-legged on the hard, dirty road, with cars, buses, lorries rushing by; to the people, it was a common sight and an everyday event. They were very nice looking children; as yet the sun had not burnt their skin too much. They weren’t too thin, their hair wasn’t combed but they were happy and smiling, especially the older one. They had clear eyes and there was beauty in them, unspoiled and new. The older girl was holding the other’s hand and telling her something; they were utterly oblivious of the traffic, the people and the agony of life. The older girl was stroking the little girl’s hair to make it look neat; she was mothering the little one and there was no sorrow. And a policeman came along with a gesture and a word to get closer to the wall; they did as they were told and now the baby was in the lap of the other and there was peace with the abundance of love. Over the wall was a mango tree full of bloom and fragrance and there were also small, pebble-sized mangoes.

It was an evening full of charm and space, everything seemed so close, so near; you could almost touch the horizon and there was that 'light' that showed the beauty of everything. It was a 'light' that revealed and in its revelation, there was neither 'beauty' nor 'ugliness'. Thought has continuity, thought has relationship, but not love; love is not in time. "Time" and "thought" ( thinking in terms of time ?) are interrelated; one does not exist without the other. These two destroy love. For ( the spirit of ?) Love is not a feeling nor can it be shaped by thought- the 'love' that thought breeds is (eventually bringing ?) sorrow. Love has no sorrow and love is not the response of memory which has continuity. The ( perceptive ?) 'flash' of beauty and ugliness is not of two different things; that 'light' ( of insight ?) reveals without ( mental associations or ?) relationship but thought joins them together. It was Clarity- not of the beautiful and the ugly. It was a (quality of ?) light as the quivering sea in which everything seemed to live . Meditation is the emptying of the mind of the (process of ?) 'time' which is (generated by ?) "thought and feeling" and ( in) that emptiness ( there is ?) Light. The two little girls had gone for it was dark now, the street lamps were lit and there weren’t so many cars; but where they had been there was a perfume of the mango blossom.

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Thu, 26 Nov 2015 #213
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 518 posts in this forum Offline

More Bombay Meditations ( From the K Notebook, 1962)

The sea was empty, there was not a sail on it; it was restless, agitated, wide and open; it was so alive, every ripple was whispering; the tide was coming in, gently with an insistence that the black rocks knew. In that little bay, with palm trees at one end of the curve and the dust and noise of a new building going up at the other end, there were black rocks on which were spread newly washed saris of many colours, bright and luminous; they caught the light of the setting sun and you forgot the (real ?) world. There was only colour and light was upon them. It was the light which only the 'god of colour' can give and the black rocks were heavy with age and countless storms. On this ancient blackness was colour, every colour that eyes could see; and the (noisy) traffic ceased and the man standing next to you, smoking a cheap cigarette, disappeared. You were alone with colour; you 'were' colour; nothing else existed and the dark sea was of it. Colour was 'god' and that 'god' was everywhere.

And as you watched, Meditation came upon you, not forced, without
thought. It was the Meditation of an expanding, open 'emptiness' which had no horizon and no time; it was that immeasurable Space of the Mind meeting the vast (physical ?) space of 'time and distance' and in their meeting there was emptiness. It was the death of everything known, every movement of pleasure, joy and sorrow; thought could not travel in that emptiness of timeless space and it became silent; it could not ( recognise and ?) 'experience' (it ) and so all ( attempt of ?) recognition ceased. ( The dualistic ?) 'experience' is the continuity of the known. Meditation is the uprooting of the known. Words, recognition, the known had come to an end and the immeasurable space of the mind moved with its own swiftness that left no mark. It was ( Mind ?) energy without frontiers.

( Meanwhile in Bombay...) the road was crowded with cars; there was hardly any space to walk; they pushed you into the gutter; the chauffeur looked and was indifferent and a child was playing on the verandah. It would cross and uncross its legs, tuck them in more and more and sit upon them, to see how little space she could cover. She was dirty, with a skirt that wasn’t washed for days but she had a sweet face, mischievous and enjoying. The whole street was filled with cars and they were all going to a wedding party and every car was full with well dressed people, jewels, bright saris and the sober dress of men. The little girl never even looked at them for there was nothing much to see; they were the respectable, (the wealthy but...?) 'dead' people. Now, the evening light was gone and Orion was overhead, filling the little space between the trees and the house.

It’s strange how little humility there is (left in us ?) . A car went by, with a very smart, bejewelled woman inside; she was so terribly conscious of herself, of her hair, dress and of her body. She was patting her hair, adjusting her dress and in a little mirror looking at herself; probably she was going to some party or other. The man beside her seemed so insignificant, so bored, so sloppy; she was everything and he was nothing; she ruled and he followed ( although ?) probably in the office, he was the tyrant. Both of them had that peculiar atmosphere of the 'rich and arrogant'; probably they could buy anything they wanted, including the men in ( high ?) positions. They had a large expensive car, with a chauffeur, smartly turned out, who was conscious too of driving an expensive car and rich people. There was ( the smell of ?) money and more of it but not too ostentatious. She had stopped looking at herself and was looking out of the window and nobody existed, not even the setting sun and the light on the water. It was a look of infinite boredom, waiting to be “amused” . But the sea wouldn’t wait (to be 'amused' ?) nor that mass of people on the beach. It was a mass of people that was (feeling ?) alive because it was together.

At the end of the day, it was cool near the water and the sun was setting behind the wooded hill. The streets were crowded; and the beauty of the evening was there everywhere, but not in the cars, ( nor ?) in the ( 'beach' ?) people. You can’t find beauty (out there ?) , nor the tree nor the bird will give it to you, but you will find it everywhere if you ( compassionately ?) 'look'. Beauty as love, is not an act of experience; experience is interaction of the 'thinker' and ( his) 'thought' and so ( in the dualistic field of ?) of conflict.

Beauty, as Love, is (abiding ?) there where the 'thinker' is not and thought with its (associated?) feeling has come to an end. All ( mental activity of ?) 'knowledge' must come to an end for Beauty, as Love, to be. But (if?) you ( think you ?) 'know' about everything; ( since ?) you have argued and counter argued and come to many (valuable ?) conclusions; you have become so 'clever' (mentally) for you have known ( the inner ?) dullness. You can go to the moon but you have no (inwardly open ?) space in the mind where the infinite 'past' and the infinite 'future' have met and lost their meaning completely. It is only in that ( timeless inner ?) Space that there is Beauty, as Love. There is no ( free inner ?) space for ( the self-centred process of ?) thought - there is (the physical space ?) to go to the moon but Beauty, as ( well as ?) Love, is not there. It is (abiding ?) in that 'unspotted' ( pure ?) space of the Mind and it’s difficult to find ( this inward space of ?) the Mind for ( to the materially oriented mind ?) there is only ( the outward ?) exploding space. For Creation is ( a movement of ?) Beauty, as is Love and ( also ?) Death.

It was a magnolia flower, not the large variety, about the size of a small rose; it was still attached to its leaf, long, sparklingly green and beautifully shaped. The flower was pale yellow, with a delicate smell; the whole flower was the size of a large marble, with darker yellowish green petals outside. Somebody had picked it off the tree, carelessly, leaving it short of stem. As it lay on the leaf, it was ( as if ?) 'designed' to contain the structure and colour of the earth and heavens and there was ( the ?) space (of Beauty ?) within it, not the space that’s measured but it was endless. You saw it in a 'flash', a swiftness that the eye and the heart could not follow and ( its perception ?) left you ( inwardly) as empty as that space around that flower; it was a ( perceptive ?) "explosion" without the 'time fuse' and you were left marvelling that such a thing should be. All this in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye. But (in that timeless instant ?) lay the beauty of the Everlasting. Beauty is seeing the immediacy of the whole - and you can see the Immensity only in a flash (of spiritual Insight ?) , ( perceiving ?) the whole of Life in a fleeting second. It is not thought (the 'thinking brain' ?) that sees; thought is put together through time; when ( the self-centred ?) thought 'sees', ( whatever was perceived is dragged ?) within the 'field of time' and so there is continuity and decay follows and (sooner or later ?) age and sorrow set in. But it was there on the table, the flower and the leaf, waiting to be put in water, if somebody cared; it would be put in a vase and a few 'gurgling words' said about it; people were too occupied (with the outward activities ?) , too ( mentally ?) 'committed' to everything, but to see (the timeless Beauty of that ) flower there must be limitless space in the mind and only in that emptiness can there be the ( insightful ?) flash which wipes away all ( the inner procees of ?) 'time'. It (the flower) would wither away in a few hours, but if you cared, you would have no ( 'psychological') memory of it, the dead ashes of the past second.

The beauty of that ( inner ?) space is Silence and only in that immeasurable Silence that there is the flash of the Immense. You looked at that sculptured flower, with its sparkling leaf and wondered that such a thing could happen. In that wondering was a 'humility' (of Creation ?) which the earth cannot yield and beyond that flower was the noisy dirty lane, with children shouting, crying and laughing; there was always somebody on it, coming and going and only in the depth of night was there quiet. The whole city 'slept and forgot'; you would hear, if the tide was high, the far away roar of the sea and the mechanical hum of the air-conditioners. The streetlight made shadows and there is a shadow on the frosted window pane that comes every evening; it’s always dancing, always whispering and you are (meditating ?) among those delicate leaves, lost and forgotten and you can never come back to the chaos and misery of the lane. Everywhere there were ashes and that Immensity of the fleeting second was gone. You could not 'recall' it, and there was the road which had awakened to the coming day.

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Fri, 27 Nov 2015 #214
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 518 posts in this forum Offline

A few 'K words of advice'

You should never be ( stuck in the 'known' ?) here too much; be so far away that 'they' ( the handlers of the 'known' ?) can’t get at you to shape, to mould (your mind ) . Be (inwardly free and ?) 'far away', like the mountains, like the unpolluted air; be so far away that you have no ( psychological attachments to ?) relations, family, or country; be so ( meditatively ?) far away where even 'you' can’t find yourself; keep a passage open always through, (but through ?) which no one can come. Don’t 'shut the door' for there is no ( such ?) 'door', only an open, endless (open ended ?) passage; if you shut any 'door', they will be very close to you, then you are lost. Keep far away; don’t get 'contaminated' by them, by their words, by their gestures, by their great (amount of ?) knowledge; for they are waiting to shape you, to mould you, to tear you to pieces and then put you ( back) together in their own 'image'. Their 'gods' are the ( magnified?) images of themselves, carved by their own minds or hands. They are waiting for you, the 'churchman' and the 'communist', they are both the same; they think they are different but they are not for they both ( try to ?) 'brainwash' you, till you are of them, till you repeat their words, till you worship their saints, the ancient and the recent; they have armies for their 'gods' and they are experts in killing. Keep far away but they are waiting for you, the 'educator' and the 'businessman'; training you to conform to the demands of their ( standardised ?) society ; they will make you into a 'scientist', into an 'engineer', into an 'expert' ('specialist' in anything?) from cooking to architecture to philosophy. Keep far, ( stay ?) far away; they juggle with words and you will be lost in their (arid ?) wilderness. Keep far away from the 'experts in god' and the bomb throwers: the one will convince you and the other [will show you] how to kill. But besides all these ('professionals' ?) , there are hoards of others ( anonymous 'helpers' ?) to tell you what to do and what not to do. You too would ( perhaps ) like to play ( that game ?), but then their 'play' becomes so complicated and entertaining that you will be ( spiritually ?) 'lost'.

'They' ( few local dignitaries ?) were all sitting in a row in the fairly well kept garden; they had on the light and they were eating and the big house was behind them. There was the scent of many flowers in the air and the breeze was coming from the restless sea. On that road there was hardly any car and your brain was utterly still and the movement of a 'flash' was taking place. The meditation 'was' the flash that can only be in emptiness; the 'flash' (of spiritual Insight ?) that opens the door into the Unknown. That 'flash' has no (duration in ?) time, it’s only a fleeting second. You can never keep that 'flash' (of Insight ?) any more than you can hold the winds in your fists.

You never saw anything so utterly innocent; she was lying on her back; you could just see the whole delicate line of her and she was almost touching the water; it was a stroke of light of the very young, new moon, appearing for the first time in a cloudless sky. You never saw her before, though you had seen her a thousand times; it was so innocent that you in that crowded noisy street were made innocent. You were innocent, without striving, without thought; everything about you was new, you had never seen them before. Your eyes were washed clean and you had not a spot in your heart; you were so far away that nothing could touch you. You could never be polluted again for there was no 'past' or 'future'; there was only that vast empty ( inwardly open ?) space of Now, of innocency whose immensity was a benediction, but you couldn’t carry another to it, even though you ( would have ?) loved to. No Saviour, no Teacher could bring you to It; you have to abandon them and ( inwardly ?) 'get lost' where your thought couldn’t find you. It was the innocency of complete aloneness (all-oneness ?) , you were where ( past) experience could not reach you. You did not know it was 'aloneness' but there was an immense innocency in that 'no-thingness'. It was the innocence of all energy and life and if you ever get there you would be in an ecstasy that had no reason and no death.

The dirty street was terribly crowded; it was more dirty than ever and it would be many months before the torrential rains would come and wash away the brutal ugliness of an overcrowded and callous city. The sea was just on the other side of the road. The purifying tide was coming in, covering the black rocks and the sands made dirty by man. Wherever he went there was dirt, brutality and a terrifying indifference to everything, and every dog left a mark on that road where you walked; no incoming tide would wash that street clean; the mind was tired and the heart had withered and a small girl was using the street as her toilet.
But going through the crowded street, you came to a bit of road that went round the curve of the sea and on the black rocks were the many coloured saris, stretched out to dry; they were collecting them now and carefully folding them up. And the red sun was touching the water and the horizon was clear, without a sail, without a cloud. You went with the sun, far away; you didn’t withdraw you just 'went away', not knowing where; if you withdrew, you would ( have to karmically ?) come back, now or later, and then you would repeat the whole weary cycle again, endlessly. Withdrawal bred callousness and the (quiet ?) agony of despair. Don’t ever withdraw or isolate yourself; don’t "retreat" into ( the illusory safety of a ?) corrupting family or into the dead ashes of ideas, beliefs and (or ?) the cheap 'gods' of your mind. There is no love there. But if you just ( inwardly ?) 'went away', not knowing where, not planned, then you can walk in that filthy street, with ( spiritally ?) 'dead' men and you would know (the bliss of ?) Love. As you walked, pushed around by cars and people, you would meditate, with delight; then meditation became an ecstasy, a movement of infinite tenderness and you would give the garland of fragrant jasmine that had just been given to you to that passing beggar and you would see his immense surprise and delight. Then you would know that the Everlasting was always there, round every corner, under that dead leaf and the fallen flower.

We were flying at 32,000 feet; the endless clouds were far below us and the clear, spotless blue sky above; the clouds were over the desert, sea and islands but at that height the sky was of intense blue; it filled your eyes and carried you very far, beyond the measure of time. The plane wasn’t crowded yet, probably, it would fill up at the next landing, so you had the next two seats to yourself. There was the roar of those jets but it wasn’t too noisy, you could hear the conversation of those ladies, seated across the aisle. But ( inwardly) there was Silence. Amidst all that chatter and roar, it was there as clear and spotless as the blue sky. You were aware of it not as an 'observer' [of] something to be experienced; you could not 'think about it', there was no time; it was there with such intensity that there was no experiencing of it. Out of this silence, suddenly and unexpectedly, there was (a visitation of ?) that Immensity. Your whole being became utterly still, without a thought, without a feeling; there was that unapproachable Strength (Power ?) that was not put together by man. It was a Strength that no thing could penetrate and so utterly vulnerable. And there was that strange intensity which no will or passion could conjure up. They were not two separate things; they were inseparable, never to be broken up, like 'death', 'love' and 'creation'. Your (thinking ?) brain could not grasp the vastness, the majesty of it; it had become still, long ago, before you came aboard the plane when they were playing some light music; out of the humid heat of the night, you came in and instantly were lost many, many centuries ago. You sat there motionless and totally lost (in Meditation ?), and 'you' ( the 'self'-consciousness ?) would never be back completely.

Three hours passed and you thought you had just got in and they were telling you to fasten your (seat) belt. And the two seats next to you were taken by a man and woman. And again we were ( up) in the blue sky, innocent and spotless, and that (sense of ?) Immensity was there, and your mind and heart were of it, beyond all time. Such a thing to happen in such a place! The man ( seated beside ?) was smoking and the smoke was (coming) in your face; the roar of the jets changed and we were coming down to land again (in sunny Italy ) . There was a river and green fields; the river was like a snake winding in and out through the fields and the fields were like men’s mind, all broken up, divided; the 'property' of each owner. But beyond was the sea, blue, rough and incredibly alive. And there were the hills and the islands.

This post was last updated by John Raica Wed, 30 Dec 2015.

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Tue, 29 Dec 2015 #215
Thumb_3135 Jo D United Kingdom 14 posts in this forum Offline

John Raica wrote:
And that's when the energy starts to 'feel separate'. A sense of yourself. It's so interesting. It's weird. It's almost like you feel a sense of boundary, whereas before you felt no boundary—it was just all expanse. And then you feel almost like the outer edges of yourself.

I like this piece, talking about going from no boundary to boundary. I have only felt a lessening of boundary a couple of times and that was when experimenting with the following from Tolle:

"When you can feel the inner body clearly as a single field of energy, let go, if possible, of any visual image and focus exclusively on the feeling. If you can, also drop any mental image you may still have of the physical body. All that is left then is an all-encompassing sense of presence or "beingness," and the inner body is felt to be without a boundary."

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Tue, 29 Dec 2015 #216
Thumb_3135 Jo D United Kingdom 14 posts in this forum Offline

That was the first of the DC posts that held my attention, so in general she is probably not my cup of tea.

Tolle once described himself as a spiritual midwife who helps to give birth to an initial awakening. So after that K's teaching and 'spark of spiritual creativity' is very useful and seems to hold much greater scope for learning. I also appreciate that K puts a lot more safeguards in, to help prevent delusion.

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Thu, 07 Jan 2016 #217
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 518 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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Fri, 08 Jan 2016 #218
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 518 posts in this forum Offline


When the mind is on the flight of discovery, imagination is a dangerous thing. Imagination has no place in ( self-) understanding; speculation and
imagination are the enemies of "attention". But the mind was aware of this (potential danger ?) , and was perfectly still - yet how rapid it was! It had moved to the ends of the earth and was back again even before it had started on its journey. It was faster than the fastest, and yet it could be so slow ('slow motion' mode ?) that no detail escaped it. It was perfectly still, and because it was still, it was alone. Its stillness was a movement which was not of time, which had no going and coming, but which was still within the unknown depths of Creation.

Q: I have a guru of my own and I go to him as regularly as possible, but I am not one of those blind followers. As I travel a good bit, I have met many spiritual teachers, from the far north to the southernmost tip of India. Some are obviously "fakes", with a smattering of book knowledge cleverly disguised as their own experience. There are others who have done years of meditation, who practise various forms of yoga, and so on. A few of these are very advanced, but the majority of them are as (self-centred and ?) superficial as any other set of specialists. They know their limited subject, and are satisfied with it. There are ashramas whose spiritual teachers are efficient, capable, assertive and completely autocratic, full of their own sublimated ego. I have
attended some of your talks, when time has allowed; and while I have to work for a living, and can’t give all my time to the religious life, I am entirely serious about it.

K: If one may ask, what significance do you give to that word ‘serious’?

Q: I do not trifle with religious matters, and I set apart a certain hour of the day to meditate, and I give as much time as I can to deepening my inner life. I am very
serious about it.

K: Does the ( self-focussed ?) desire for something make for seriousness? If it does, then practically everyone is "serious", from the cunning politician to the most exalted 'holy' person . The object of desire may be worldly or otherwise; but everyone is serious who is after something, isn’t he?

Q: Surely there is a difference between the seriousness of the politician or the moneymaker, and that of a religious man. The "seriousness" of a religious man
has a quality which is wholly different.

K: Has it? What do you mean by a "religious" man?

Q: The man who is seeking God. The hermit or sannyasi who has renounced the world in order to find God, I would call truly serious. The "seriousness" of the others, including the artist and the reformer, is in a different category altogether.

K: Is the man who is seeking God really (necessarily ?) "religious"? If he knows the God he seeks, what he knows is only what he has been told, or what he has
read; or else it is based on his personal experience, which again is shaped by tradition, and by his own desire to find security in another world.

K: Aren’t you being a little too 'logical'?

K: Surely one must understand the 'myth-making' mechanism of the mind before there can be the 'experiencing' of That which is beyond the measure of the ( man-made ?) mind. There must be freedom from the known for the Unknown to be. The Unknown is not to be pursued or sought after. Is he serious who pursues a projection of his own mind, even when that projection is called 'God'?

Q: If you put it that way, none of us are serious.

K: We are 'serious' in pursuing what is pleasant, satisfying.

Q: I can only speak for myself, and I do not think that I am seeking God for my own gratification.

K: One may see the foolishness of pursuing worldly things, or be frustrated in the effort to achieve them, or be put off by the pain and strife which such achievement involves; and so one’s mind turns to "other-worldliness", to the pursuit of a bliss which is called God. After all, you are seeking some form of permanency, aren’t you?

Q: We all are; that’s the nature of man.

K: So you are not seeking God, or the Unknown, that ( Reality ?) which is above and beyond the transient, beyond strife and sorrow. What you are really seeking is a permanent state of undisturbed satisfaction.

Q: To put it so bluntly sounds terrible.

K: But that is the actual fact, is it not? It is a fact that we are all 'serious' in our
search for contentment, deep satisfaction, however much the manner of achieving it may vary. Some pursuits may not be as socially harmful as the others, but both
of us are seeking gratification, the continuation of that ( self-conscious ?) 'centre' which is ever wanting to succeed, to be or become something.

Q: You are surely not totally condemning ambition, are you?

K: Self-fulfilment in any form is obviously the perpetuation of this 'centre' that is striving to be or become something. Ambition to fulfil, or to become something,
has always within it the seed of frustration, fear and sorrow. This self-centred activity is the very nature of egotism, is it not?

Q: Good heavens, you are stripping me of everything: of my vanities, my desire to be famous, even of my drive to put across some worthwhile ideas. What shall I do when all this is gone ?

K: Your question indicates that nothing is gone, doesn’t it? No one can take away from you, inwardly, what you don’t want to give up. You will continue on your way to fame, which is the way of sorrow, frustration, fear.

Q: Sometimes I do want to chuck the whole rotten business, but the pull is strong. What will stop me from taking that path?

K: Are you asking this question seriously?

Q: I think I am. Sorrow, I suppose?

K: Is sorrow the way of ( self-) understanding? Or does sorrow exist because there’s no such understanding? If you ( meditatively ?) examined the whole urge to become something, and the path of self-fulfilment, not just intellectually, but
deeply, then intelligence, ( a transformational ?) understanding, would come into being and destroy ('delete' ?) the roots of sorrow. But sorrow does not bring understanding.

Q: How is that, sir?

K: Sorrow is the ( accumulated ) result of (psychological) shocks, it is the (result of ) temporary shaking up of a mind that has settled down, that
has accepted the routine of life. Something happens - a death, the loss of a job, the questioning of
a cherished belief - and the ( totality of your self-centred ?) mind is disturbed. And what does a disturbed mind do (after the shock is waning out? ?) It finds an (improved) way to be undisturbed again; it takes refuge in getting a more secure job, in a new relationship. Again the wave of life comes along and shatters its safeguards, but the mind soon finds still further defence; and so it goes on. This is not the way of intelligence, is it?

Q: Then what is the "way of Intelligence"?

K: Don’t you want to find it out for yourself? If I were to give you an answer,
you would either refute or accept it, which again would impede ( the awakening of your own ?) intelligence (and) understanding.

Q: I see what you have said about "sorrow" to be perfectly true. That’s exactly what we all do. But how is one to get out of this ( time-binding ?) trap?

K: To understand the whole ( 'deadly' ?) nature of the trap is to be free of it; no person, no system, no belief, can set you free. (Seeing) the truth of this (and/or other time-binding traps ?) is the only liberating factor - but you have to see it for yourself, and not merely be persuaded. You have to take this voyage on an uncharted sea.

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Fri, 08 Jan 2016 #219
Thumb_2474 Dan McDermott United States 126 posts in this forum Offline

John Raica wrote:
K: To understand the whole ( 'deadly' ?) nature of the trap is to be free of it; no person, no system, no belief, can set you free. (Seeing) the truth of this (and/or other time-binding traps ?) is the only liberating factor - but you have to see it for yourself, and not merely be persuaded. You have to take this voyage on an uncharted sea.

Thank you again John for putting these up.

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Sat, 09 Jan 2016 #220
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 518 posts in this forum Offline


THE MOON WAS just coming out of the sea into a valley of clouds. The waters were still blue, and Orion was faintly visible in the pale silver sky. The white waves were all along the shore, and the fishermen’s huts, square, neat and dark against the white sands, were close to the water. Completely round and full, the moon was making a path of light on the moving waters, and it was huge - you couldn’t have
held it in your arms. Rising above the valley of clouds, it had the heavens to itself. The sound of the sea was unceasing, and yet there was a great silence.

You never remain with any feeling, pure and simple, but always surround it with the paraphernalia of words. The word distorts it; thought, whirling round it, throws it into shadow, overpower it with mountainous fears and longings. You never remain
with (the purity of a ?) feeling; when the feeling of hate arises, you say how bad it is; there is the compulsion, the struggle to overcome it, the turmoil of thought about it. You may want to remain with love; but ( even so ?) you cover it up with words,
giving it the ordinary meaning, you think of someone whom you love, or who loves you. There is every kind of verbal ( consolidating ?) movement (around that feeling ?) .
( But how about ?) remaining with the feeling of envy, jealousy, with the venom of ( of social ?) ambition; for after all, that’s what you have in daily life, though you may want to live with love. Since you also have these feelings, wanting to hurt (back) somebody with a gesture or a burning word, see if you can "stay with that feeling". Try to remain with a feeling, and see what happens. You will find it amazingly difficult (and/or pointless ?) . Your ( all-controlling ) mind will not leave the feeling
alone; it comes rushing in with its remembrances, its associations, its do’s and don’ts,
or chatter.
Pick up a piece of shell. Can you 'look' at it, wonder at its delicate beauty, without saying how pretty it is, or what animal made it? Can you look without the ( regular activities ?) of the ( superficial ?) mind? Can you live with (whatever ?) feeling without the 'images' that the words builds up? If you can, then you
will ( perhaps ?) discover an inner movement beyond the measure of time, a spring that knows no summer.

She was a small, elderly lady, with white hair and a face that was heavily lined, for she had borne many children; but there was nothing weak or feeble about her, and her smile conveyed the depth of her feeling. She spoke quietly and hesitantly, with the voice of one who had suffered much; and she was a (hindu ?) 'orthodox', for she belonged to an ancient caste that held itself high, people who were supposed
to cultivate the intellect as a means to something other than the mere acquisition of things. For a while neither of us spoke; she was gathering herself, and was not sure how to begin. She looked around the room, and seemed to approve of its bareness. There wasn’t even a chair, or a flower, except for the one that could be seen just outside the window.

Q: I am now seventy-five, and you could be my son. How proud I would be of such a son! It would be a blessing. But most of us have no such happiness. We 'produce' children who grow up and become men of the world, trying to be great in their little work. Speaking for myself, I don’t want anything from anybody; I don’t want
more money, or a bigger house. I mean to live a simple life to the very end. My children laugh at my 'orthodoxy', but I mean to continue in it. They smoke, drink and often eat meat, thinking nothing of it. Though I love them, I will not eat with them, for they have become 'unclean'; and why should I, in my old age, pander to all their nonsense? They don’t perform the religious rites, or practise meditation, as their father did. He was a religious man, but...I didn’t come here to talk about my family. My
sons will go their way, and I cannot hold them, though it saddens me to see what they are coming to. They are losing and not gaining, even though they have money and position. They are all becoming 'merchants', selling their talents, and I can’t do anything to stem the tide.
It’s difficult to speak of things that are very deep, isn’t it? It requires a certain confidence in oneself and in the listener to broach a problem,
the very existence of which one has hardly admitted even to oneself for fear of awakening the echo of darker things that have been asleep for so long.
Though as a child I used to play with my brothers and sisters, I spent a great deal of time by myself, and I always felt apart, alone. In living with my husband, that feeling was pushed into the background; there were so many things to do. I was kept very busy with housekeeping, and with the joy and the pain of bearing and raising children. Nevertheless, this feeling of being alone has gradually increased until now, and I am fully immersed in it and it’s an agony, a fearsome thing. I go to the temple; but this sense of being utterly alone is with me on the way, while I am there, and coming back. The other day my son brought me along to your talk. I couldn’t follow all that you were saying, but you mentioned something about "aloneness", and the purity of it; so perhaps you will (help me to ?) understand it.

K: To find out if there is something beyond the loneliness that comes upon you, and in which you are caught, you must first understand ( the origin of ?) this feeling, must you not? What do you mean by 'being alone'?

Q: It is a fear that comes when one feels oneself to be completely alone, entirely by oneself, utterly cut off from everything. Though my husband and
children were there, this wave would come upon me, and I would feel myself to be like a dead tree in a wasted land: lonely, unloved and unloving. The agony of it was much more intense than that of bearing a child. It was fearful and breathtaking; I didn’t belong to anyone; there was a sense of complete isolation. You understand, don’t you?

K: Most people have this feeling of loneliness, this sense of isolation, with its fear,
but usually run away from it, get themselves lost in some form of activity, religious or otherwise. The activity in which they indulge is their (psychological) 'escape' and that’s why they defend it so aggressively.

Q: I have tried my best to run away from this ( depressing) feeling of isolation, with its fear, but I haven’t been able to. Going to the temple doesn’t help; and even if it did sometimes, one can’t be there all the time, any more than one can spend one’s life performing rituals.

K; Not to have found a (permanent ?) escape may be your ( opportunity for ?) salvation. You are fortunate in not having found a means of avoiding this thing. Those who ( manage to succesfully ?) avoid it do a great deal of mischief in the world for they give (a primary ?) importance to things that are not of the highest significance. Often being clever and capable, such people mislead others by their 'devotion' (full committment ?) to the activity which is their escape; if it isn’t religion, it’s politics
or social reform - anything to get away from themselves. They may seem to be selfless, but they are actually still concerned with themselves, only in a different way. They become 'leaders', or the 'followers' of some teacher; they always belong to something, or practise some method, or pursue an ideal. They are never just themselves; they are not human beings, but 'labels'. So you see how
fortunate you are not to have found an escape ?

Q: You mean it’s ( spiritually ?) 'dangerous' to escape?

K: Isn’t it? ( Such ?) a deep ( psychological ?) "wound" must be ( exposed ?) examined, healed; it’s no good 'covering it up', or refusing to look at it.

Q: That’s true. And this feeling of isolation is such a wound?

K: It’s (the result of ?) something you don’t understand, and in that sense it’s like a disease that will keep on recurring; so it’s meaningless to run away from it. You have tried running away, but it keeps on overtaking you, doesn’t it?

Q: It does. Then you are glad that I haven’t found an escape?

K: Aren’t you? - which is much more important.

Q: I think I understand what you have explained, and I am relieved that there’s some hope.

K: Now let’s both examine the 'wound'. With affection we must examine this feeling of being cut off, this deep sense of isolation, of loneliness, mustn’t we? If we are anxious, we shall be incapable of examining it at all.

Q: Yes, I see the difficulty. I haven’t really looked at it before, probably because I was fearful of what I might see. But now I think I can look.

K: Surely, this ache of loneliness is only the final exaggeration of what we all ( subliminally may ?) feel - in a minor way- every day, isn’t it? Every day you are isolating yourself, cutting yourself off, aren’t you?

Q: How is that ?

K: (By thinking that ?) you belong to a certain family, to a special caste; they are your children, your grandchildren; it is your belief, your God, your property; you are more virtuous than somebody else; you know, and another does not. All this is a way (a mentality ?) of isolation isn’t it?

Q: But we are brought up that way, and one has to live in this word. We can’t cut ourselves off from ( the accepted mentality of ?) society, can we?

K: In this ( interactive) relationship called 'society', every human being is ( competitively ?) cutting himself off from another by his ambitions, by his desire for fame, power, and so on; but since he has to live in this brutal relationship with other men like himself, the whole thing is made 'respectable' by pleasant-sounding words. In everyday life, each one is devoted to his own self-interest, though it may be in the name of the country, in the name of peace, or God, and so the isolating process goes on . One becomes ( eventually ?) aware of this whole process in the form
of intense loneliness, a feeling of complete isolation. ( This process of self-centred ?) thinking, which has been isolating itself as the ‘me’, the ego, has finally come to the ( critical ?) point of realizing that it’s held in the prison of its own making.

Q: I’m afraid all this is a bit difficult to follow at my age, and I’m not too well-educated either...

K: This has nothing to do with being 'educated'. It needs "thinking through", that’s all.
( To recap : ) You feel lonely, isolated, and if you could, you would run away from that feeling; but fortunately for yourself, you have been unable to find a means of doing so. Since you have found no way out, you are now in a ( better) position to look at that ( feeling of deep loneliness ?) from which you have been trying to escape; but doesn’t your difficulty lie in the fact that the word itself makes trouble?

Q: I don’t understand what you mean.

K; You have ( already ?) associated certain words with this feeling that comes over you, words like ‘loneliness’, ‘isolation’, ‘fear’, ‘being cut off’. Isn’t that so?

Q: Yes.

K: Now, ( the emotional content of ?) these words prevent you from perceiving and understanding its real qualities and make-up, so you must not let such words as ‘isolation’, ‘loneliness’, ‘fear’, ‘being cut off’, interfere with your examination of the feeling they have come to represent.

Q: I see what you mean. I have always looked at my children in that direct way.

K; And when you look at this feeling in the same direct way, the feeling itself isn’t frightening (or depressing ?) , but only what you think about the feeling.

Q: Yes, at this moment I understand that very well. But will I be capable of understanding it when I leave here, and you are not there to explain?

K: Of course. It is like seeing a ( 'psychological' ?) cobra. Having once seen it, you don’t have to depend on anybody to tell you (what and where that ?) a cobra is. Similarly, when once you have understood ( the origins of this self-isolating ?)
feeling, that ( inner light of ?) understanding is always with you; when once you have learned ( at what ?) to 'look', you have the capacity to see.
But one must go "through and beyond" this feeling of 'loneliness' , for there is much more to be discovered. There is an "aloneness" (all-oneness ?) which is not this sense of isolation. That state of "aloneness" (All-Oneness ?) is untouched by the ( suprficial) mind, by the words, by ( the ongoing mentality of ?) society, by tradition. It is a Benediction.

Q: In this one hour I have learned more than in all my seventy - five years. May that ( enlightening ?) Benediction be with you and with me.

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Thu, 21 Jan 2016 #221
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 518 posts in this forum Offline

THE CONSCIOUS AND THE UNCONSCIOUS (From Commentaries on Living, first series)

He was advanced in years and very wealthy, but he was not generous either with the hand or with the heart. One could see that he was cunning and calculating, and yet there was an urge for something more than material success. Life had scarcely touched him, for he had very studiously guarded himself against any exposure; he had made himself safe, physically as well as 'psychologically'. Psychologically he had refused to see himself as he was, but it was beginning to tell on him. When he was not watchful, there was about him a deep haunted look. Financially he was safe, but he also wanted a safe investment in the so-called spiritual world, and that
was why he was playing with ideas, mistaking ideas for something spiritual, real
. He had no love except for his many possessions; he clung to them as a child clings to its mother, for he had nothing else. It was slowly dawning on him that he was a very sad man. Even this realization he was avoiding as long as he could; but life (and old age ?) was pressing him.

Q: ( You were often saying that) when a problem cannot be solved on the conscious level, the unconscious take over and helps solving it. Can you explain it a little more?

K: Is our 'unconscious' something apart from the 'conscious'? What is it that we call the 'conscious'? To ( experientially ?) understand what it is made up of, we must observe how we approach a problem 'consciously': by seeking an answer to the problem - we are concerned with the solution, and not with ( actually understanding ?) the problem. We are looking for a way out of the problem; we want to avoid the ( crisis potentially created ?) by the problem through a (satisfying ?) answer.
Our whole conscious concern is with the finding of a solution, a satisfying conclusion. Often we do find an answer that gratifies us, and then we think we have solved the problem. What we have actually done is to cover up the ( actual causes of that ?) problem with a conclusion, with a satisfactory answer; but under the ( reassuring) weight of the conclusion, which has temporarily smothered it, the (psychological causation of the ?) problem is still there. So, the search for a (psychologically satisfactory ?) answer is an evasion of the problem. When no satisfactory answer is found, the 'conscious' or 'upper mind' stops looking; and then the so-called 'unconscious', the deeper mind, takes over and ( eventually ?) finds an answer.

The conscious mind is obviously seeking a way out of the problem, and the way out is ( found in ) a satisfying 'conclusion'. Is not the conscious mind itself made up of ( a whole background of ?) conclusions, whether positive or negative, and is it capable of seeking anything else? Is not the upper mind a storehouse of ( collective and individual ?) conclusions which are the residue of ( our previous ?) experiences, the 'imprints' of the past? Surely, the 'conscious' mind is founded on the past, for memory is a fabric of ( active ?) conclusions; and is therefore incapable of looking at the problem without this ( self-protective ?) screen of its conclusions; it cannot be silently aware of the problem itself.

When it cannot find a satisfactory conclusion, the 'conscious' mind ( eventually ?) gives up the search, and becomes quiet; and into the quiet (free inner space of the ?) upper mind, the unconscious pops up an answer. But... is this 'unconscious', the deeper mind, different in its make-up from the 'conscious' mind? Is not the 'unconscious' also made up of ( still deeper ?) racial and social conclusions, memories? Surely, our 'unconscious' is also the result of (all our collective memory of ) the past, ( aka) of 'time', only it is submerged and waiting; and when called upon it throws up its own hidden conclusions. If they are satisfactory, the upper mind ( happily ?) accepts them; and if they are not, it flounders about, hoping by some miracle to find an answer. If it still does not find
any answer, it wearily 'puts up' with the problem, which gradually corrodes the mind. Disease and (or sorrow ?) follow.

(Recap:) The 'upper' and the 'deeper' (layers of our ?) mind are not dissimilar; they are both made up of (mental 'images' ?) conclusions, memories, they are both the outcome of the past. They can supply an answer, a conclusion, but they are incapable of dissolving the ('psychological' roots of the ?) problem. The ( psychological causation of the ?) problem is dissolved only when both the upper and the deeper mind are ( harmoniously integrated and ?) silent, when they are not (active in ?) projecting positive or negative conclusions. There is freedom from the problem only when the whole mind is utterly still, choicelessly aware of the problem; for only then the 'maker of the problem' is not.

This post was last updated by John Raica Fri, 22 Jan 2016.

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Mon, 25 Jan 2016 #222
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 518 posts in this forum Offline


THE SUN HAS gone down and the trees were dark and shapely against the darkening sky. The wide, strong river was peaceful and still. We walked up the steep bank of the river and took a path that skirted the green wheat-fields. This path was a very ancient way; many thousands had trodden it, and it was rich in tradition and silence.
It wandered among fields and mangoes, tamarinds and deserted shrines. There were large patches of sweet peas deliciously scenting the air. The birds were settling down for the night, and a large pond was beginning to reflect the stars. Nature was not communicative that evening. The trees were aloof; they had withdrawn into their silence and darkness. A few chattering villagers passed by on their bicycles, and once again there was deep silence and that peace which comes when all things are alone.

This ( inner sense of ?) aloneness is not the aching, fearsome loneliness. It is the 'all-oneness' of being; it is uncorrupted, rich, complete. That tamarind tree has no existence other than being itself. So is the 'all-oneness'. One is ( inwardly ?) alone, like the fire, like the flower, but one is not ( often ?) aware of its purity and of its immensity, One can truly 'communicate' ( commune with All That Is ?) only when there is all-oneness. Being 'all-one' is not ( the result of ?) self-enclosure, but the ( natural ?) purgation of all the pursuits of desire.

( On the other hand, the deep feeling of one's ?) 'loneliness', with its fear and ache, is ( the result of self- ?) isolation, the inevitable action of the 'ego' . This process of (self-) isolation, whether expansive or narrow, is productive of ( a large amount of global ?) confusion, conflict and sorrow.
Isolation can never give birth to all-oneness; one has to cease for the other to be. All-oneness is indivisible and loneliness is separation. That which is all-one is pliable and so enduring. Only the 'alone' can commune with that (essence of being ?) which is causeless, the Immeasurable. To the 'alone' (universally integrated mind ?) , life is eternal; to the all-one there is no death. The (spiritual essence of ?) all-one can never cease to be.

The moon was just coming over the tree tops, and the shadows were thick and dark. A dog began to bark as we passed the little village and walked back along the river. The river was so still that it caught the stars and the lights of the long bridge among its waters. High up on the bank children were standing and laughing, and a baby was crying. The fishermen were cleaning and coiling their nets. A night-bird flew silently by. Someone began to sing on the other bank of the wide river, and his words were clear and penetrating. Again, the all-pervading All-Oneness of life.

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Fri, 12 Feb 2016 #223
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 518 posts in this forum Offline

I will post in this section a choice of words of wisdom from various sources. The first quotes have been selected by Aldous Huxley in a little known book on 'Perrenial Philosophy'

Great truths do not take hold of the hearts of the masses. And
now, as all the world is in error, how shall I, though I know
the true path, how shall I guide ? If I know that I cannot succeed
and yet try to force success, this would be but another source of
error. Better then to desist and strive no more. But if I do not
strive, who will ?

(Chuang Tzu)

Sixty-six times have these eyes beheld
the changing scenes of Autumn.
I have said enough about moonlight,
Ask me no more.
Only listen to the voice of pines and cedars,
when no wind stirs.

Though God is everywhere present, yet He is only present to
thee in the deepest and most central part of thy soul. The natural
senses cannot possess God or unite thee to Him; nay, thy
inward faculties of understanding, will and memory can only
reach after God, but cannot be the place of His habitation in thee.
But there is a root or depth of thee from whence all these faculties
come forth, as lines from a centre, or as branches from the
body of the tree. This depth is called the centre, the fund or
bottom of the soul. This depth is the unity, the eternity I
had almost said the infinity of thy soul ; for it is so infinite
that nothing can satisfy it or give it rest but the infinity of God.
(William Law)

This post was last updated by John Raica Fri, 12 Feb 2016.

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Sat, 13 Feb 2016 #224
Thumb_leaping_fire_frog_by_sirenofchaos natarajan shivan India 8 posts in this forum Offline

John Raica wrote:
If I know that I cannot succeed
and yet try to force success, this would be but another source of
error. Better then to desist and strive no more. But if I do not
strive, who will ?

John, how do you think this tension is resolved?, as I see it is not a question of dilemma but a fact that could be resolved only through genuine dialogue.

contraria sunt complementa

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Sun, 14 Feb 2016 #225
Thumb_2474 Dan McDermott United States 126 posts in this forum Offline

John Raica wrote:
K.' I am surrounded here (in California) by people who haven't the foggiest idea of what I'm talking about'

That's quite a statement... and he was surrounded (and visited by) some very 'brainy' people. For myself, I have gone back to an early statement he made to some school children regarding 'meditation' as well as later statements: Follow the thought, the thinking...but not as 'you the observer' of the thought, but to see if the thought could be aware of itself, awaken to itself etc. This 'meditation' when it occurs brings thought out of the 'shadows', out of the shadow of the 'thinker' and allows it to be 'alone' by itself...without the 'central image' of a thinker, a 'me' that it 'ordinarily' revolves around; a 'me' who is 'having' these thoughts. Unless this dynamic of a 'thinker apart from the 'thought' process is seen through by an 'awakening' of thought itself, or the brain (through meditation?) sees the 'thinker' as an illusion, the 'self' will continue to be strenghtened and things will continue as they are...the process of 'becoming' will continue.

This post was last updated by Dan McDermott Sun, 14 Feb 2016.

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Mon, 15 Feb 2016 #226
Thumb_2474 Dan McDermott United States 126 posts in this forum Offline

John Raica wrote:
there's a major systemic 'bug' in our brain's Op Sys: the main priority is assigned by default to our 'self-interest'.

That seems to be the case alright.

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Mon, 15 Feb 2016 #227
Thumb_2474 Dan McDermott United States 126 posts in this forum Offline

John Raica wrote:
And also there's very little authentic cooperation in the direction of a radical inner change: the inner change is approached with an accumulative attitude rather than as a learning process. And of course, K's 'absolute' language did not help too much either...

Agreed. Thinking about K.s 'dilemma' though,in imparting to us what he saw our situation to be, any incremental 'approach' to 'Freedom' was just 'more of the same', reaching for another image, as you put it: our inescapable, inevitable "accumulative attitude" kicks in at every turn. But...

This post was last updated by Dan McDermott Mon, 15 Feb 2016.

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Tue, 23 Feb 2016 #228
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 518 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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Wed, 23 Mar 2016 #229
Thumb_avatar Peter Kesting United States 18 posts in this forum Offline

Dan Mcdermott in post 290 in a quote of something K said:

"This 'meditation' when it occurs brings thought out of the 'shadows', out of the shadow of the 'thinker' and allows it to be 'alone' by itself...without the 'central image' of a thinker, a 'me' that it 'ordinarily' revolves around; a 'me' who is 'having' these thoughts." (peters bold)

This statement may be seen as pointing to the fact that the 'me'...the 'you'....isn't having the thoughts. These thoughts are only mechanical activity in the brain. These thoughts, including the thought that there is a me, are being watched by what we actually are.... a seer that is empty of any atributes including a history.

This post was last updated by Peter Kesting Wed, 23 Mar 2016.

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Wed, 23 Mar 2016 #230
Thumb_2474 Dan McDermott United States 126 posts in this forum Offline

Hi Peter,

This was my experience at that time (not a quote of K.'s) and the words still ring true:

This 'meditation' when it occurs brings thought out of the 'shadows', out of the shadow of the 'thinker' and allows it to be 'alone' by itself...without the 'central image' of a thinker, a 'me' that it 'ordinarily' revolves around; a 'me' who is 'having' these thoughts. Unless this dynamic of a 'thinker apart from the 'thought' process is seen through by an 'awakening' of thought itself, or the brain (through meditation?) sees the 'thinker' as an illusion, the 'self' will continue to be strenghtened and things will continue as they are...the process of 'becoming' will continue.

I think it shows the necessity for 'meditation'; to know the 'self' so totally that the "movement beyond thought and feeling" can possibly be revealed. This would be a 'new' consciousness.

This post was last updated by Dan McDermott Wed, 23 Mar 2016.

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Thu, 24 Mar 2016 #231
Thumb_avatar Peter Kesting United States 18 posts in this forum Offline

I don't use this word meditation. There's always a big mess there.

That movement beyond thought and feeling is always there. The discovery of all of the aspects and nuances the content of the false self is an ongoing process. The movement of that, is as outside of the light in one that is the true "self".... what one actually is the weather. One watches it and seeing puts things there, more and more in order. It is on going, never ending discovery. In a way like science.

This post was last updated by Peter Kesting Thu, 24 Mar 2016.

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Thu, 24 Mar 2016 #232
Thumb_photo_reduite John Raica Canada 518 posts in this forum Offline

Peter Kesting wrote:
These thoughts are only mechanical activity in the brain

Hi, Peter, I hope I'm not intruding in your fine conversation, but there is something closely related to this topic in the Ojai 1983 Q&A meeting, just posted today in the 'What are the K Teachings' thread.

My personal understanding is that yes, thought is appearing to be a 'mechanical' activity but there's a deeper active element of 'personal safety' involved: rather than frontally receiving the impact of the direct challenges of life we prefer to function inwardly in a 'safe-mode' where the central, controlling part - aka the 'thinker'- is taking a personal distance from dealing directly with facts and is working through a 'buffering' intellectual interface. Probably mankind has worked at this for millenia (with rather mixed results ) but at the present point in our evolution it seems that we got stuck. Some do acknowledge it as a fact that has to be seriously dealt with here and now, while others 'chose to ignore' it and implicitly leave the responsability of solving it for the next generations

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Thu, 24 Mar 2016 #233
Thumb_2474 Dan McDermott United States 126 posts in this forum Offline

John Raica wrote:
It's only when there is contradiction (a conflict of desire ?) , which is division, there must be effort. So to find out whether it's possible to live a life without a single shadow of ( inward ) effort, or contradiction, one must investigate this whole (dualistic ?) movement of thought. So to find out what's the activity of thought, to watch (non-dualistically ?) it - that's part of 'meditation'.

It seems 'desire' is at work behind the scenes. When I look out on a scene say in nature, I can 'intellectually' understand that 'something' is coming between what is out there and my relation to it. The "structure of words" perhaps as he puts it. So thought asks, what would be different if I had a 'direct perception' of this scene. Would there be a'beauty' different than the one being experienced, would there be a freshness that is missing here? That,it seems is the subtle movement of 'desire'; wishing for 'more', wanting the experience to be other than it is, wanting the 'real' beauty K. speaks about, instead of the fact of 'what is' in front of me, and in me...

Why do you all think that K. put so much importance in his question: "Can thought be aware of itself?"

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Thu, 24 Mar 2016 #234
Thumb_original_avatar max greene United States 17 posts in this forum Offline

Dan McDermott wrote:
When I look out on a scene say in nature, I can 'intellectually' understand that 'something' is coming between what is out there and my relation to it.

It is more than intellectual, it is a feeling -- and that feeling is awareness and understanding. There is something between, and that something is the "I," whose intellect never understands anything. It is sensing -- feeling, seeing, hearing and whatever else -- that is understanding.


This post was last updated by max greene Thu, 24 Mar 2016.

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Thu, 24 Mar 2016 #235
Thumb_original_avatar max greene United States 17 posts in this forum Offline

Peter Kesting wrote:
I don't use this word meditation. There's always a big mess there.

Yes. Probably meditation is nothing more than paying attention.
All the methods aimed at bringing about meditation (attention) of course are not meditation itself.


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Thu, 24 Mar 2016 #236
Thumb_avatar Peter Kesting United States 18 posts in this forum Offline

Here's what came into the mind just now:

First, it is dificult to talk to many people at the same time.

Second why do you all make things so complicated.

But what really came first: Stop thinking there's something wrong with you!

Forgive me if i am speaking too...can find the word.

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Thu, 24 Mar 2016 #237
Thumb_avatar Peter Kesting United States 18 posts in this forum Offline

John, thank you for posting all of these K talks. Very big thank you.

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Thu, 24 Mar 2016 #238
Thumb_avatar Peter Kesting United States 18 posts in this forum Offline

John and Max and Dan (though i think Dan has already)

View the film on youtube titled Human the movie all three parts.

This post was last updated by Peter Kesting Thu, 24 Mar 2016.

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Thu, 24 Mar 2016 #239
Thumb_avatar Peter Kesting United States 18 posts in this forum Offline


"My personal understanding is that yes, thought is appearing to be a 'mechanical' activity but there's a deeper active element of 'personal safety' involved: rather than frontally receiving the impact of the direct challenges of life we prefer to function inwardly in a 'safe-mode' where the central, controlling part - aka the 'thinker'- is taking a personal distance from dealing directly with facts and is working through a 'buffering' intellectual interface. Probably mankind has worked at this for millenia (with rather mixed results ) but at the present point in our evolution it seems that we got stuck. Some do acknowledge it as a fact that has to be seriously dealt with here and now, while others 'chose to ignore' it and implicitly leave the responsability of solving it for the next generations"

Not appearing to be, it is mechanical.

The " deeper active element" is also mechanical, so is " the central controling part. The only thing that is not mechanical is more inward, the empty seer that is not person, that is not the you or the I.

This post was last updated by Peter Kesting Thu, 24 Mar 2016.

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Thu, 24 Mar 2016 #240
Thumb_2474 Dan McDermott United States 126 posts in this forum Offline

John Raica wrote:
My personal understanding is that yes, thought is appearing to be a 'mechanical' activity but there's a deeper active element of 'personal safety' involved: rather than frontally receiving the impact of the direct challenges of life we prefer to function inwardly in a 'safe-mode' where the central, controlling part - aka the 'thinker'- is taking a personal distance from dealing directly with facts and is working through a 'buffering' intellectual interface.

John or anyone, do you see a correlation here with this example of 'different levels of consciousness' in the brain: I was walking in the woods yesterday and at one point my leg stopped in mid-air; what 'I' had taken to be just another shadow was actually a large black snake across my path. A 'deeper' more conscious part that was more alert to possible danger, stopped the body in its tracks, while 'I' (a less conscious part?) would have stepped right on that snake. Through 'my' eyes, I saw only a shadow, but 'my' brain knew before 'I' did, that it was a snake.

This post was last updated by Dan McDermott Thu, 24 Mar 2016.

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