The sea will be the sea, whatever the drop's philosophy...
"Everything is determined by forces beyond our control.
Everything is determined, for the insect as for the star.
Human beings, vegetables or stardust, we all dance
to the rhythm of a mysterious tune
played in the distance by an invisible piper."
When I moved from
one house to another,
there were many things
I had no room for.
What does one do?
I rented a storage space
and filled it.
Years passed.
Occasionally,
I went there
and looked in,
but nothing happened,
not a single twinge
of the heart.
As I grew older
the things I cared about
grew fewer but were
more important,
so one day I undid the lock
and called the trash man.
He took everything.
I felt like the little donkey
when his burden is finally
lifted.
Things! Burn them, burn them!
Make a beautiful fire!
More room in your heart
for Love, for the trees.
For the birds who own
nothing;
the reason they
can fly.
Do you ever say you don’t know?
Does it ever occur to you to say to yourself, ‘Really, I don’t know about this,’ and remain there?
‘I don’t know’ – not trying to find an answer. To find an answer can only be verbal.
Somebody tells you what to do, and you say, ‘Well, that may be.’ It is still verbal; it’s not yours.
So why can’t we be very simple about this matter, which is, ‘I really don’t know’?
Can you honestly say that?
From Public Discussion 6, Saanen, 9 August 1964
Come...come sip the wine from the fountain of life....
How do I open the treasure chest of the heart
to entice you to dive into your own...
coaxing you to tumble down the vortex of love
like Alice falling into the metaphors of wonderland...
enticing you to breathe the fragrance in the mystical garden
of the sweetest sanctuary of belovedness...
hearing the sweet cries of the nightingale
bewitched by the shimmering dew on the wild roses...
i stumble and fall into the spring of eternal youth
and meet the sound of laughter within my own heart...
come and play in the beauty letting the fireflies light the way
through the unknown creativity in your soul...
step out of your dreams into the enchanting stars
where the mystics sing and the free ones dance...
the pure spring of joy bubbles from the earth
waiting for you to sip the sparkling wine of love...
It’s interesting to observe how hard it is to stay alone,
in silence, without distractions.
We are afraid to be face-to-face with ourselves.
Face-to-face with our impatience, our agitation, our worry.
Face-to-face with the depth of our being.
We are afraid to dive into the infinite space of our true nature,
when no attribute nor any - story covers it up.
And yet it calls to us in silence,
but we don’t listen.
And yet we have an acute and painful longing for it,
like exiles too long cut off from their homeland.
So, instead of trying to fill the space which has appeared,
let us give ourselves over to silence, to the absence of certainty.
Let us not miss the incredible opportunity to be,
in all simplicity and humility
and taste the nectar of pure presence
when there are no more expectations, only the gift of self.
Let us not miss the unique chance to taste the substance of the moment
when no superfluous activity waters it down.
-
LIFE BEGINS WHEN THOUGHT ENDS
Beautiful extract from 'The Only Revolution': J Krishnamurti
"If you pass on through the meadows with their thousand flowers of every color imaginable, from bright red to yellow and purple, and their bright green grass washed clean by last night’s rain, rich and verdant – again without a single movement of the machinery of thought–then you will know what love is.
To look at the blue sky, the high full-blown clouds, the green hills with their clear lines against the sky, the rich grass and the fading flower–to look without a word of yesterday; then, when the mind is completely quiet, silent, undisturbed by any thought, when the observer is completely absent–then there is unity.
Not that you are united with the flower, or with the cloud, or with those sweeping hills; rather there is a feeling of complete non-being in which the division between you and another ceases.
The woman carrying those provisions which she bought in the market, the big black Alsatian dog, the two children playing with the ball–if you can look at all these without a word, without a measure, without any association, then the quarrel between you and another ceases. This state, without the word, without thought, is the expanse of mind that has no boundaries, no frontiers within which the I and the not-I can exist.
Don’t think this is imagination, or some flight of fancy, or some desired mystical experience; it is not. It is as actual as the bee on that flower or the little girl on her bicycle or the man going up a ladder to paint the house – the whole conflict of the mind in its separation has come to an end. You look without the look of the observer, you look without the value of the word and the measurement of yesterday.
The look of love is different from the look of thought. The one leads in a direction where thought cannot follow, and the other leads to separation, conflict, and sorrow. From this sorrow, you cannot go to the other. The distance between the two is made by thought, and thought cannot by any stride reach the other.
As you walk back by the little farmhouses, the meadows, and the railway line, you will see that yesterday has come to an end: life begins where thought ends.
J. Krishnamurti
The Only Revolution
A guide has entered this life in silence.
His message is only heard in silence.
Take a sip of his precious wine
And lose yourself.
Don’t insult the greatness of his love,
For he helps all those who suffer, in silence.
Polish the mirror between the breaths.
Go with him, beyond words.
He knows your every deed.
He is the one
who moves the wheel of heaven, in silence.
Every thought is buried in your heart;
He will reveal them one by one, in silence.
Turn each of your thoughts into a bird
And let them fly to the other world.
One is an owl, one is a falcon, one is a crow.
Each one is different from the others
But they are all the same in silence.
To see the Moon that cannot be seen
Turn your eyes inward
and look at yourself, in silence.
In this world and the next,
Don’t talk about this and that;
Let him show you everything,
shining as one . . . in silence.
from Rumi - In the arms of the Beloved - Jonathan Star
Student: It's like when you ask the question, "Who am I?" there's a kind of a blank spot, a blank space before anything comes up is that what you say consciousness is?
Robert: Space is consciousness, correct. The space in between "Who am I?" is the real self. Abide in that. If you continue the practice, after a while, the space will grow longer and longer and longer. You will say, "Who am I?" and pause and you will sooner get lost in consciousness. Then you start thinking again, and you go back to "Who am I?" and there'll be another long space, until "who am I?" stops completely and you become yourself. So as you continue the practice, the space in between becomes longer and longer.
Student: Robert, is the Self clear space or a blank or the perceiver of the space or the blank?
Robert: The space is not a blank. It is not a perceiver. It is nothing that you can qualify. Nothing that you can discuss. Nothing that is known. For space to be known, there has to be a knower. And as long as there's a knower, that's not it. So you have to go beyond that. To silence. Consciousness is silence. Silence is consciousness. They're both the same.
Student: Robert, in a sense the space is not an 'It', but I and that is a problem in a sense, that we see it as it and not I?
Robert: You exist. You exist where there is space and you exist where there is 'I'. So who exists as space? Who exists as 'I'? Ask the question. Who exists? Confer. Follow the existence. Follow the 'I'. And you will come to nothing. You will come to consciousness by itself. But do not believe that the void is it. Many people experience the void and they think the void is it. But don't you exist in the void? (tape break) (Robert continues) ...there is nothing that can be explained. As long as you can explain it, it's not it. So what is left? Silence, quietness.
