Wholeness of Life

B: But that is the whole point about the image, that it imitates an actual fact, you get the feeling that it is real. In other words I feel that I am really there - an actual fact looking at the past, at how I have developed.

S: Right.

B: But is it a fact that I am doing that?

S: What do you mean? It is an actual fact that I get the feeling that I am looking.

B: Yes, but is it an actual fact that that is the way it all is and was?

S: No, it is not. I can see the incorrectness of my memory which constructs me in time. I mean, obviously I was much more at three than I can remember; I was more at ten than I can remember, and obviously there was much more going on at seventeen than I have in my memory.

B: Yes, but the me who is here now is looking at all that.

S: That's right.

B: But is he really there and is he looking? That is the question.

S: Is the me that is looking..?

K: ...an actuality. As this table is.

S: Well, let's...

K: Stick to it, stick to it.

S: That is what I am going to do. What is an actuality is this development, this image of a developmental sequence.

B: And the me who is looking at it?

S: And the me who is looking at it, that's right.

B: But it may be, in fact it is, that the me who is looking at it is also an image as is the developmental sequence.

S: You are saying then that this image of me is...

K: ...is not reality.

B: It is not a reality independent of thinking.

K: So we must go back to find out what is reality.

S: Right.

K: Reality, we said, is everything that thought has put together. The table, the illusion, the churches, the nations - everything that thought has contrived is reality. But nature is not this sort of reality. It is not put together by thought, though it is nevertheless a reality.

B: It is a reality independent of thought. But is the me who is looking, a reality independent of thought, like nature?

K: That is the whole point. Have you understood?

S: Yes. I am beginning to see.

K: Sir, just let's be simple. We said we have images; I know I have images and you tell me to look at them, to be aware of them, to perceive the image. Is the perceiver different from the perceived? That is all my question is.

S: I know. I know.

K: Because if he is different then the whole process will go on indefinitely - right? But if there is no division, if the observer is the observed, then the whole problem changes.

S: Right.

K: Right? So is the observer different from the observed? Obviously not. So can I look at that image without the observer? And is there an image when there is no observer? Because the observer makes the image, the observer is the movement of thought.

B: We shouldn't call it the observer then because it is not looking. I think the language is confusing.

K: The language is, yes.

B: Because if you say it is an observer that implies that something is looking.

K: Yes, quite.

B: What you really mean is that thought is moving and creating an image as if it were looking, but nothing is being seen.

K: Yes.

B: Therefore there is no observer.

K: That is right. But put it round the other way: Is there a thinker without thought?

B: No.

K: Exactly. There you are. If there is no experiencer is there an experience? So you have asked me to look at my images, which is a very serious and very penetrating demand. You say look at them without the observer, because the observer is the image-maker, and if there is no observer, if there is no thinker, there is no thought - right? So there is no image. You have shown me something enormously significant.

S: As you said the question changes completely.

K: Completely. I have no image.

S: It feels completely different. It's as if there is a silence.

K: So I am saying, my consciousness is the consciousness of the world, because, in essence, it is filled with the things of thought - sorrow, fear, pleasure, despair, anxiety, attachment, hope; it is a turmoil of confusion; a sense of deep agony is involved in it all. And in that state I cannot have any relationship with any human being.

S: Right.

K: So you say to me: To have the greatest and most responsible relationship is to have no image. You have pointed out to me that to be free of images, the maker of the image must be absent. The maker of the image is the past, is the observer who says "I like this", "I don't like this", who says "my wife, my husband, my house" - the me who is in essence the image. I have understood this. Now the next question is: Are the images hidden so that I can't grapple with them, can't get hold of them? All you experts have told me that there are dozens of underground images - and I say, "By Jove, they must know, they know much more than I do, so I must accept what they say." But how am I to unearth them, expose them? You see, you have put me, the ordinary man, into a terrible position.

S: You don't have to unearth them once it is clear to you that the observer is the observed.

K: Therefore you are saying there is no unconscious.

S: Right.

K: You, the expert! You, who talk endlessly about the unconscious with your patients.

S: I don't.

K: You say there is no unconscious.

S: Right.

K: I agree with you. I say it is so. The moment you see that the observer is the observed, that the observer is the maker of images, it is finished.

S: Finished. Right.

K: Right through.

S: If you really see that.

K: That's it. So the consciousness which I know, in which I have lived, has undergone a tremendous transformation. Has it? Has it for you? And if I may ask Dr Bohm also - both of you, all of us - realizing that the observer is the observed, and that therefore the image-maker is no longer in existence, and so the content of consciousness, which makes up consciousness, is not as we know it - what then?

S: I don't know how you say it...

K: I am asking this question because it involves meditation. I am asking this question because all religious people, the really serious ones who have gone into this question, see that as long as we live our daily lives within the area of this consciousness - with all its images, and the image-maker - whatever we do will still be in that area. Right? One year I may become a Zen-Buddhist, and another year I may follow some guru, and so on and so on, but it is always within that area.

S: Right.

K: So what happens when there is no movement of thought, which is the image-making - what then takes place? You understand my question? When time, which is the movement of thought, ends, what is there? Because you have led me up to this point. I understand it very well. I have tried Zen meditation, I have tried Hindu meditation, I have tried all the kinds of other miserable practices and then I hear you, and I say, "By Jove, this is something extraordinary these people are saying. They say that the moment there is no image-maker, the content of consciousness undergoes a radical transformation and thought comes to an end, except in its right place." Thought comes to an end, time has a stop. What then? Is that death?

S: It is the death of the self.

K: No, no.

S: It is self-destruction.

K: No, no, sir. It is much more than that.

S: It is the end of something.

K: No, no. Just listen to it. When thought stops, when there is no image-maker, there is a complete transformation in consciousness because there is no anxiety, there is no fear, there is no pursuit of pleasure, there are none of the things that create turmoil and division. Then what comes into being, what happens? Not as an experience because that is out. What takes place? I have to find out, for you may be leading me up the wrong path!

Dialogue 7
7th Conversation with Dr. David Shainberg and Prof. David Bohm
Brockwood Park
20th May, 1976

KRISHNAMURTI: After this morning, as an outsider, you have left me completely empty, without any future, without any past, without any image.

Dr Shainberg: That's right. Somebody who was watching us this morning said, "How am I going to get out of bed in the morning?"

K: I think that question of getting out of bed in the morning is fairly simple, because life demands that I act, not just stay in bed for the rest of my life. You see, I have been left, as an outsider who is viewing all this, who is listening to all this, with a sense of a blank wall. I understand what you have said very clearly. I have, at one glance, rejected all the systems, all the gurus, this meditation and that meditation. I have discarded all that because I have understood the meditator is the meditation. But have I solved my problem of sorrow, do I know what it means to love, do I understand what compassion is? - not just understand intellectually. At the end of these dialogues, after discussing with you all, listening to you all, have I this sense of astonishing energy which is compassion? Have I ended my sorrow? Do I know what it means to love somebody, to love human beings..?

S: Actually.

K: Actually.

S: ...not just talk about it.

K: No, no, I have gone beyond all that. And you haven't shown me what death is.

Dr Bohm: No.

K: I haven't understood a thing about death. You haven't talked to me about death. So we will cover these things before we finish this evening.

B: Could we begin with the question of death?

K: Yes. Let's begin with death.

B: One point occurred to me about what we discussed this morning: We had come to the point of saying that when we see that the observer is the observed, that is death. Essentially that is what you said. Now this raises a question: If the self is nothing but an image what is it that dies? If the image dies that is nothing, it is not death - right?

K: That's right.

B: So is there something real that dies?

K: There is biological death.
B: We are not discussing that at the moment. You were discussing some other kind of death.

K: We were saying this morning, that if there are no images at all in my consciousness, there is death.

B: That is the point. It is not clear. What is it that has died?

K: The images have died. `Me' is dead.

B: But is that a genuine death?

K: Ah, that is what I want to find out. Is it a verbal comprehension?

B: Or, more deeply, is there something that has to die? Something real. In other words if an organism dies something real has died. But when the self dies...

K: Ah, but I have accepted so far that the self has been an astonishingly real thing.

B: Yes.

K: Then you three come along and tell me that that image is fictitious. I understand that, and I am a little frightened that when that dies, when there is no image, there is an ending to something.

B: Yes, well what is it that ends?

K: Ah, quite. What is it that ends?

B: Is it something real that ends? You could say that an ending of an image is no ending at all - right?

K: At all...

B: If it is only an image that ends it is only an image of ending. What I am trying to say is that nothing much ends if it is only an image.

K: Yes. That is what I want to get at.

B: Is it? You know what I mean?

K: If it is merely an ending of an image...

S: ...then that is nothing much.

B: It is like turning off the television. Is that what death is? Or is there something deeper that dies?

K: Oh, very much deeper.

B: Something deeper dies?

K: Yes.

S: How about the image-making process?

K: No, no. I would say it is not the end of the image which is death, but something much deeper.

B: But it is still not the death of the organism.

K: Still not the death of the organism, of course. The organism will more or less...

B: ...go on, up to a point.

K: Up to a point, yes. There is disease, accident, old age. But death. The ending of the image is fairly simple, and fairly acceptable. But that is a very shallow pool.

B: Yes.

K: You have taken away the little water there is in the pool and there is nothing but mud left behind. That is nothing. So is there something much more?

S: That dies?

K: No. Not that dies, but to the meaning of death.

S: Is there something more than the image that dies, or does death have a meaning beyond the death of the image?

K: That is what we are asking.

S: Is there something about death that is bigger than the death of the image?

K: Obviously, it must be.

B: Will this include the death of the organism, this meaning?

K: The organism might go on, but eventually it comes to an end.

B: Yes, but if we were to see what death means as a whole, universally, then we would also see what the death of the organism means. But is there some meaning also in the death of the self-image? The same meaning?

K: That is only, I should say, a very small part.

B: That is very small.

K: That is a very, very small part.

B: But there might be a process or a structure beyond the self-image that might die, that creates the self-image.

K: Yes, that is thought.

B: That is thought. Now are you discussing the death of thought?

K: That again is only superficial.

B: That is very small.

K: Very small.

B: Is there something beyond thought in this that..?

K: That is what I want to get at.

S: We are trying to get at the meaning of death...

B: We are not quite there.

S: ...which is beyond the death of the self, thought or the image.

K: No, just look: the image dies, that is fairly simple.

S: Right.

K: It is a very shallow affair. Then there is the ending of thought, which is dying to thought.

B: You said thought is deeper than the image but still not very deep.

K: Not very deep. Now is there something more?

B: In what sense "more"? Something more that exists? Or something more that has to die?

S: Is it something creative that happens?

K: No, no. We are going to find out.

B: But I mean your question is not clear when you say, "Is there something more?"

K: Death must have something enormously significant.

B: But are you saying that death has a meaning, a significance, for everything? For the whole of life?

K: For the whole of life.

B: It is not generally accepted, if we are thinking of the viewer, that death has that significance. As we live now death is...

K: ...is at the end.

B: ...is at the end and we try to forget about it.

K: Yes.

B: Try to make it unobtrusive.

K: But as you three have pointed out, my life has been in a turmoil, my life has been a constant conflict...

B: Right.

K: That has been my life. I have clung to the known and therefore death is the unknown, so I am afraid of it. And you come along and say, "Look, death is partly the ending of the image and the maker of the image, but death has much greater significance than merely this empty saucer."

B: Well, if you could make it more clear why it must have.

S: Why must it?

K: Is life just a shallow, empty pool? Empty mud at the end of it?

S: Why would you assume it is anything else?

K: I want to know.

B: But even if it is something else we have to ask why is it that death is the key to understanding.

K: Because it is the ending of everything. The end of reality and all my concepts, my images - the end of all the memories.

B: But that is in the ending of thought, right?

K: The ending of thought. It also means the ending of time.

B: Ending of time.

K: Time coming to a stop totally. There is no future in the sense of the past meeting the present and carrying on.

B: Psychologically speaking.

K: Yes, psychologically speaking, of course; we are speaking psychologically. Psychological ending to everything.

S: Right.

K: That's what death is.

B: And when your organism dies then everything ends for that organism.

K: Of course. When the organism dies it is finished. But wait a minute. If I don't end the image, the stream of image-making goes on.

B: It is not too clear where it goes on. In other people?

K: It manifests itself in other people. That is, I die; the organism dies and at the last minute I am still with the image that I have.

B: Yes, well then what happens to that?

K: That image has its continuity with the rest of the images, your image, my image.

S: Right.

K: Your image is not different from mine.

S: Right. We share that.

K: No, no. Not share it. It is not different. It may be a little more frail, or have a little more colour, but essentially my image is your image.

S: Right.

K: So there is this constant flow of image-making.

B: Well, where does it take place? In people?

K: It is there. It manifests itself in people.

B: You feel it is in some ways more general, more universal?

K: Yes, much more universal.

B: That is rather strange.

K: Eh?

B: I say it is rather strange to think of that.

K: Yes.

S: It is there. Like a river, it is there.

K: Yes, it is there.

S: And it manifests itself in streams.

B: In people.

S: Which we call people.

K: No, that stream is the maker of images and imagery.

B: In other words you are saying that the image does not originate only in one brain, but is in some sense universal?

K: Universal. Quite right.

B: You are not only saying that it is just the sum of all the brains; you are implying something more?

K: It is the effect of all the brains and it manifests itself in people as they are born.

B: Yes.

K: Now is that all? Let's say, yes. Does death bring about this sense of enormous, endless energy which has no beginning and no end? Life must have infinite depth.

B: Yes, and it is death which opens that out.

K: Death opens that up.

B: But we say it is more than the death of the image-making. You see, this is not clear. Is it something real which is blocking that from realizing itself?

K: Yes. It is blocking itself through images and the thoughtmaker.

S: The image-making and thought-making are blocking this greater...

K: Wait a minute. There are still other blocks, deeper blocks.

B. That is what I was trying to get at. That there are deeper blocks that are real.

K: That are real.

B: And they really have to die.

K: That is just it.

S: Would that be like this stream that you were talking about.. ?

K. There is a stream of sorrow, isn't there?

B: Is sorrow deeper than the image?

K: Yes.

B: That is important.

K: It is.

S: You think so?

K: Don't you?

S: I do.

K: Be careful, sir, this is very serious.

S: That's right.

B: Would you say sorrow and suffering are the same, just different words?

K: Different words.

S: Deeper than this image-making is sorrow.

K: Isn't it? Man has lived with sorrow a million years.

B: Well, could we say a little more about sorrow. It is more than pain.

K: Much more than pain. Much more than loss. Much more than losing someone.

S: It is deeper than that.

K: Much deeper than that.

B: It goes beyond the image, beyond thought.

K: Of course. It goes beyond thought.

B: Beyond thought, and what we ordinarily call feeling.

K: Of course. Feeling, thought. Now can that end?

S: Before you go on - are you saying that the stream of sorrow is a different stream from the stream of image-making?

K: No, it is part of the stream.

S: Part of the same stream?

K: The same stream but much deeper.

B: Then are you saying that there is a very deep stream, and that image-making is on the surface of this stream?

K: That's all.

B: Right. The waves on the surface, right? Could you say we have understood the waves on the surface of this stream, which we call image-making?

K: Yes, that's right. Image-making.

B: And the disturbances in sorrow come out on the surface as image-making.

K: That's right.
S: So now we have got to go deep-sea diving!

K: You know, sir, there is universal sorrow.

B: Yes, but let's try to make it clear. It is not merely that there is the sum of all the sorrow of different people...

K: No, no. Could we put it this way? The waves on the river don't bring compassion or love - compassion, love, we have said, are synonymous, so we will keep to the word "compassion". The waves don't bring this. What will? Without compassion human beings are destroying themselves. So does compassion come with the ending of sorrow, which is not the sorrow created by thought?

B: In thought you have sorrow for the self - right?

K: Yes. Sorrow for the self.

B: Which is self-pity.

K: Self-pity.

B: And now you say there is another sorrow, a deeper sorrow.

K: There is a deeper sorrow.

B: Which is not merely the total sum but something universal.

K: That's right.

S. Can we spell that out? Go into it?

K: Don't you know it? I am just asking. Don't you know, aren't you aware of a much deeper sorrow than the sorrow of thought, of self-pity, the sorrow of the image?

S: Yes.

B: Is it sorrow for the fact that man is in this state which he can't get out of?

K: That is partly it. That means partly the sorrow of ignorance.

B: Yes. Man is ignorant and cannot get out of it.

K: Cannot get out of it. And the perception of that sorrow is compassion.

B: All right. Then the non-perception is sorrow?

K: Yes, yes, yes. Are we seeing the same thing?

S: No, I don't think so.

K: Say, for instance, you see me in ignorance.

B: Or I see the whole of mankind in ignorance.

K: Mankind in ignorance. Ignorant in the sense we are talking about - that is, the maker of the image...

B: Let's say that if my mind is really right, good, clear, that should have a deep effect on me.

S: What would have a deep effect on me?

B: To see this tremendous ignorance, this tremendous destruction.

K: We are getting at it. We are getting at it.

S: Right, right.

K: We are getting at it.

B: But then if I don't fully perceive, if I start to escape the perception of it, I am in it too.

K: Yes, in it too.

B: The feeling is that universal sorrow is still something I can feel, is that what you mean to say?

K: Yes.

B: Although I am not very perceptive as to what it means.

K: No, no. You can feel the sorrow of thought.

B: The sorrow of thought. But I can sense, or somehow be aware of the universal sorrow.

K: Yes.

B: Right.

S: You say universal sorrow is there whether you feel it...

K: You can feel it.

B: Feel it or sense it.

K: Sorrow of man living like this.

B: Is that the essence of it?

K: I am just moving into it. Let's go.

B: Is there more to it than that?

K: Much more to it.

B: Then perhaps we should try to bring that out.

K: I am trying to. You see me: I live the ordinary life, image, sorrow, fear, anxiety; I have the sorrow of self-pity. And you, who are "enlightened" (in quotes), look at me, and I say, "Aren't you full of sorrow for me?" - which is compassion.

B: I would say that is a kind of energy which is tremendously aroused because of this situation.

K: Yes.

B: But would you call it sorrow? Or compassion?

K: Compassion, which is the outcome of sorrow.

B: But have you felt sorrow first? I mean, does the enlightened person feel sorrow and then compassion?

K: No.

S: The other way?

K: No, no. Go very carefully. You see, sir, you are saying that one must have sorrow first to have compassion.

B: I am not. I am just exploring.

K: Yes, you are exploring. Through sorrow you come to compassion.

B: That is what you seem to be saying.

K: Which implies that I must go through all the horrors of mankind...

S: Right.

B: Well, let's say that the enlightened man sees this sorrow, sees this destruction, and he feels some tremendous energy - we will call it compassion.

K: Yes.

B: Now does he understand that the people are in sorrow..?

K: Of course.

B: ...but he himself is not in sorrow.

K: That's right. That's right.

B: But he feels a tremendous energy to do something.

K: Yes. Tremendous energy of compassion.

S: Would you say then that the enlightened man perceives, or is aware of the conflict, the awkwardness, the blundering, the loss of life, but that he is not aware of sorrow?

K: No, sir. Dr Shainberg just listen. Suppose you have been through all this - image, thought, the sorrow of thought, fears, anxieties, and you say, "I have understood all that". But you have very little left. You have energy, but it is a very shallow business. And is life as shallow as all that? Or has it an immense depth? Depth is the wrong word.

B: Well, yes, inwardness?

K: Inwardness, yes. And to find that out don't you have to die to everything known?

B: But how does this relate to sorrow at the same time?

K: I am coming to that. You might feel that I am ignorant, that I have my anxieties and fears. You are beyond it, you are on the other side of the stream as it were. Don't you have compassion for me?

S: Yes.

B: Yes.

K: Compassion. Is that the result of the ending of sorrow, universal sorrow?

B: Universal sorrow? You say the ending of sorrow. Now you are talking about the person who is in sorrow to begin with.

K: Yes.

B: And in him this universal sorrow ends? Is that what you are saying?

K: No. More than that.

B: More than that? Well, we have to go slowly because if you say the ending of universal sorrow, the thing that is puzzling is to say that it still exists, do you see?

K: Eh?

B: You say if the universal sorrow ends then it has all gone.

K: Ah, it is still there.

B: Still there. There is a certain puzzle in language.

K: Yes, yes.

B: So in some sense the universal sorrow ends, but in another sense it persists.

K: Yes, that is right.

B: Could we say that if you have an insight into the essence of sorrow, universal sorrow, then sorrow ends in that insight? Is that what you mean?

K: Yes, that's right.

B: Although...

K: Although it still goes on.

S: I have got a deeper question. The question is...

K: I don't think you have understood.

S: Oh, I think I have understood that one, but my question comes before, which is that the image-making has died - right? That is, the waves. Now I come into the sorrow.

K: You have lost the sorrow of thought.

S: Right. The sorrow of thought has gone but there is a deeper sorrow.

K: Is there? Or are you assuming there is a deeper sorrow?

S: I am trying to see what you are saying.

K: No, no. I am saying: Is there compassion which is not related to thought? Or is that compassion born of sorrow?

S: Born of sorrow?

K: Born in the sense that when the sorrow ends there is compassion.

S: OK. That makes it a little clearer. When the sorrow of thought...

K: Not personal sorrow.

S: No. When the sorrow...

K: Not the sorrow of thought.

B: Not the sorrow of thought, something deeper.

S: Something deeper. When that sorrow ends then there is a birth of compassion.

B: Of compassion, of energy.

K: Now is there not a deeper sorrow than the sorrow of thought?

S: There is. As you were saying, there is sorrow for ignorance which is deeper than thought - the sorrow for the universal calamity of mankind trapped in this sorrow, the sorrow for a continual repetition of wars and poverty and people mistreating each other, that's a deeper sorrow.

K: I understand all that.

S: That is deeper than the sorrow of thought.

K: Can we ask this question: What is compassion? Which is love. We are using that one word to cover a wide field. What is compassion? Can a man who is in sorrow, in thought, in the image - can he have that? He cannot. Actually he cannot - right?

B: Yes.

K: Now when does that compassion come into being? Without that life has no meaning. You have left me without that. All you have taken away from me is superficial sorrow, thought and image-making. And I feel there is something much more.

B: Just doing that leaves something empty.

K: Yes.

B: Meaningless.

K: There is something much greater than this shallow little business.

B: When we have thought which produces sorrow, self-pity, and when we also have the realization of the sorrow of mankind, could you say that the energy which is deeper is in some ways being..?

K: ...moved.

B: ...moved. Well, first of all in this sorrow this energy is...

K: ...caught.

B: ...is caught up in whirlpools or something. It is deeper than thought but there is some sort of very deep disturbance of the energy.

K: Quite right.

B: Which we call deep sorrow.

K: Deep sorrow.

B: Ultimately its origin is the blockage in thought, isn't it?

K: Yes, that is deep sorrow of mankind. For centuries upon centuries it has been like that - you know, like a vast reservoir of sorrow.

B: It is sort of moving around in some way that is disorderly.

K: Yes.

B: And preventing clarity. I mean perpetuating ignorance.

K: Yes, perpetuating ignorance, right.

B: Because if it were not for that then man's natural capacity to learn would solve all these problems.

K: That's right.

S: Right, right.

K: Unless you three give me, or help me, or show me, an insight into something much greater, I say, "Yes, this is very nice", and off I go - you follow? What we are trying to do, as far as I can see, is to penetrate into something beyond death.

B: Beyond death?

K: Death we say is not only the ending of the organism, but the ending of the content of the consciousness - consciousness as we know it now.

B: Is it also the ending of sorrow?

K: The ending of sorrow of the superficial kind. That is clear.

B: Yes.

K: And a man who has gone through all that says, "That isn't good enough. You haven't given me the flower, the perfume. You have just given me the ashes of it." And now we three are trying to find out that which is beyond the ashes.

S: Right.

B: There is that which is beyond death?

K: Ah, absolutely.

B: Would you say that is eternal, or...

K: I don't want to use that word.

B: I mean is it in some sense beyond time?

K: Beyond time.

B: Therefore eternal is not the best word.

K: There is something beyond the superficial death, a movement that has no beginning and no ending.

B: But it is a movement?

K: It is a movement. Movement, not in time.

S: What is the difference between a movement in time, and a movement out of time?

K: Sir, that which is constantly renewing, constantly - new isn't the word - constantly fresh, endlessly flowering, that is timeless. But this word flowering implies time.

B: I think we can see the point.

S: I think we get that, the feel of renewal in creation, and coming and going without transition, without duration, without linearity.

K: Let me come back to it in a different way. Being a fairly intelligent man, having read various books, tried various meditations, at one glance I have an insight into all that, at one glance - which is the end of image-making. It is finished. I won't touch it. Then a meditation must take place to delve, to have an insight, into something which the mind has never touched before.

B: But even if you do touch, it doesn't mean that the next time it will be known.

K: Ah, it can never be known in a sense.

B: It can never be known. It's always new in some sense.

K: Yes, it is always new. It is not a memory stored up, altered, changed, and called new. It has never been old. I don't know if I can put it that way.

B: Yes. I think I understand that. But could you say it is like a mind that has never known sorrow?

K: Yes.

B: It might seem puzzling at first. You move out of this state which has known sorrow into a state which has not known sorrow.

K: Quite right, sir.

B: In other words there is no you.

K: That's right, that's right.

S: Can we say it in this way too - that it is an action which is moving where there is no you?

K: You see when you use the word "action", it means not in the future, nor in the past; action is doing.

S: Yes.

K: And most of our actions are the result of the past, or according to a future ideal. That's not action, that is just conformity.

S: Right. I am talking about a different kind of action.

K: To penetrate into this, the mind must be completely silent. Otherwise you are projecting something into it.

S: Right. It is not projecting into anything.

K: Absolute silence. And that silence is not the product of control - wished for, premeditated, predetermined.

S: Right.

K: Therefore that silence is not brought about through will.

S: Right.

K: Now in that silence there is this sense of something beyond all time, all death, all thought - you follow? Nothing. Not a thing, you understand, nothing. And therefore empty and therefore tremendous energy.

B: Is this also the source of compassion?

K: That's it.

S: What do you mean by source?

B: Well, in this energy is compassion...

K: Yes, that is right.

S: In this energy is...

K: This energy is.

B: Compassion.

S: That's different.

K. Of course.

S: This energy is compassion. You see that is different from saying the source.

K: You see, beyond that there is something more.

S: Beyond that?

K: Of course.

B: Why do you say of course? What could it be that is more?

K: Sir, let us put it, approach it, differently. Everything thought has created is not sacred, is not holy.

B: Because it is fragmented.

K: It is fragmented. We know that putting up an image and worshipping it is a creation of thought.

S: That's right.

K: Made by the hand, or by the mind, it is still an image. So in that there is nothing sacred. Because, as Dr Bohm pointed out, thought is fragmented, limited, finite; it is the product of memory and so on.

B: Is the sacred, therefore, that which is without limit?

K: That's it. There is something beyond compassion.

B: Beyond compassion.

K: Which is sacred.

B: Is it beyond movement?

K: Sacred. You can't say movement, or non-movement. A living thing - you can only examine a dead thing.

S: Right.

K: A living thing you can't examine. What we are trying to do is to examine that living thing which we call sacred, which is beyond compassion.

B: What is our relation to the sacred then?

K: To the man who is ignorant there is no relationship - right? Which is true. To the man who is free of the image and the image-maker, it has no meaning yet - right? It has meaning only when he goes beyond everything, dies to everything. Dying means never for a single second accumulating anything psychologically.

S: But he asked the question: What is the relationship to the sacred? Is there ever a relationship to the sacred?

K: No, no. He is asking what is the relationship between that which is sacred, holy, and reality.

B: Well, that is implicit anyway. I mean that is implied.

K: Of course. We have talked about this question some time ago. Reality, which is the product of thought, has no relationship to that because thought is an empty little affair.

S: Right.

K: Relationship comes through insight, intelligence and compassion.

S: What is intelligence, I suppose we are asking. I mean, how does intelligence act?

K: Wait, wait. You have had an insight into the image. You have had an insight into the movement of thought - the movement of thought which is self-pity, which creates sorrow. You have had a real insight into that. Haven't you? It is not a verbal agreement or disagreement or a logical conclusion. You have had a real insight into that, into the waves of the river.

S: Right.

K: Now isn't that insight intelligence?

S: Right.

K: Which is not the intelligence of a clever man, we are not talking about that. Now work with that intelligence, which is not yours or mine, not Dr Shainberg's or Dr Bohm's, or somebody's. That insight is universal intelligence, global or cosmic intelligence. Now move further into it. Have an insight into sorrow, which is not the sorrow of thought. Then out of that insight compassion. Now have insight into compassion. Is compassion the end of all life? End of all death? It seems so because the mind throws out all the burdens which man has imposed upon himself - right? So you have that tremendous feeling, that tremendous thing inside. Now that compassion, delve into it. And there is something sacred, untouched by man - in the sense of being untouched by his mind, by his cravings, by his demands, by his prayers, by his everlasting chicanery. And that may be the origin of everything, which man has misused - you follow?

B: If you say it is the origin of all matter, all nature...

K: Everything, all matter, all nature.

B: All of mankind.

K: Yes. That's right, sir. So at the end of these dialogues, what have you, what has the viewer got, what has he captured?

S: What would we hope he has got? Would you say what we hope he has captured, or what he has actually captured?

K: What he has actually, not hope. What has he actually captured? Has his bowl filled?

S: Filled with the sacred.

K: Or does he say, "Well I have got a lot of ashes left, very kind of you, but I can get that anywhere". Any logical, rational, human being would say, "They are discussing my part in all this and I am left with nothing".

S: What has he got?

K: He has come to you - I have come to you three wanting to find out, wanting to transform my life, because I feel that is absolutely necessary, not just to get rid of my ambitions and all the silly stuff mankind has collected - I have emptied myself of all that - the I has died to all that. Now have I got anything out of all this? Have you given me the perfume of that thing?

S: Can I give you the perfume?

K: Or share it with me.

S: Has the viewer shared with us the experience we have had being together?

K: Have you two shared this thing with this man?

S: Have we shared this with this man?

K: If not, then what? A clever discussion - oh, we are fed up with that. You can only share when you are really hungry - burning with hunger. Otherwise you share words. So I have come to the point, we have come to the point, when we see that life has an extraordinary meaning.

B: Yes, it has a meaning far beyond what we usually think.

K: Yes, that is so shallow and empty.

B: So would you say this sacred is also life?

K: Yes, that's what I was getting at. Life is sacred.

B: And the sacred is life.

S: Have we shared that?

K: Have you shared that? So we mustn't misuse life. We mustn't waste it because our life is so short.

B: You feel that each of our lives has a part to play in this sacred which you talked about? It is a part of the whole, and to use it rightly has a tremendous significance?

K: Yes, quite right. But to accept it as a theory is as good as any other theory.

S: Right. But somehow I feel troubled. Have we shared it? That burns, that question burns. Have we shared the sacred?

K: Which really means that all these discussions, dialogues, have been a process of meditation. Not a clever argument, but a real penetrating meditation which brings insight into everything that is being said.

B: Well, I should say we have been doing that.

K: I think we have been doing that.

S: And have we shared that?

B: With whom?

S: With the viewer?

K: Ah, are you considering the viewer? Or is there no viewer at all? Are you speaking to the viewer, or only to that thing in which the viewer, you and I, and everything is? You understand what I am saying?

S: You said we have been in a meditation, and I say we have been in a meditation - but how far have we shared our meditation?

K: No. I mean has it been a meditation?

S: Yes.

K: Meditation is not just argument.

S: No, we have shared in that.

K: Seeing the truth of every statement.

S: Right.

K: Or the falseness of every statement. Or seeing in the false the truth.

S: Right. Then being aware of the false in each of us as it comes out and is clarified.

K: Seeing it all, and therefore we are in a state of meditation. And whatever we say must then lead to that ultimate thing. Then you are not sharing.

S: Where are you?

K: There is no sharing. It is only that.

S: The act of meditation is that.

K: There is only that.

Part II

Chapter 1
6th Public Talk Ojai California
17th April 1977
Meditation Is the Emptying of The Content of Consciousness

Meditation is one of the most important things in life; not how to meditate; not meditation according to a system; not the practice of meditation; but rather that which meditation is. If one can find out, very deeply, the significance, the necessity and the importance of it for oneself, then one puts aside all systems, methods, gurus, together with all the peculiar things that are involved in the Eastern type of meditation.

It is very important to uncover for oneself what one actually is; not according to the theories and the assertions and experiences of psychologists, philosophers and the gurus, but rather by investigating the whole nature and movement of oneself; by seeing what one actually is.

One does not seem to be able to understand how extraordinarily important it is to see what one is, actually, as though one is looking at oneself in a mirror, psychologically; thereby bringing about a transformation in the very structure of oneself. When one fundamentally, deeply, brings about such a transformation, or mutation, then that mutation affects the whole consciousness of man. This is an absolute fact, a reality. To bring about a fundamental transformation becomes very important, if one is at all serious, if one is concerned with the world as it is, with all its appalling misery, confusion and uncertainty, with all the divisions of religions and nationalities, with their wars, with their accumulation of armaments, spending enormous sums to prepare for war, to kill people, in the name of nationality and so on and so on.

To see what one actually is, it is vital that there be freedom, freedom from the whole content of one's consciousness; the content of consciousness being all the things put together by thought. Freedom from the content of one's consciousness, from one's angers and brutalities, from one's vanities and arrogance, from all the things that one is caught up in, is meditation. The very seeing of what one is, is the beginning of the transformation. Meditation implies the ending of all strife, of all conflict, inwardly and therefore outwardly. Actually, there is no inward or outward, it is like the sea, there is the ebb and flow.

In uncovering what one actually is, one asks: Is the observer, oneself, different from that which one observes - psychologically that is. I am angry, I am greedy, I am violent; is that I different from the thing observed, which is anger, greed, violence? Is one different? Obviously not. When I am angry there is no I that is angry, there is only anger. So anger is me; the observer is the observed. The division is eliminated altogether. The observer is the observed and therefore conflict ends.

Part of meditation is to eliminate totally all conflict, inwardly and therefore outwardly. To eliminate conflict one has to understand this basic principle; the observer is not different from the observed, psychologically. When there is anger, there is no I, but a second later thought creates the I and says: "I have been angry" and brings in the idea that I should not be angry. So there is anger and then the I who should not be angry; the division brings conflict. When there is no division between the observer and the observed, and therefore only the thing that is, which is anger, then what takes place? Does anger go on? Or is there a total ending of anger? When anger occurs and there is no observer, no division, it blossoms and then ends - like a flower, it blooms, withers and dies away. But as long as one is fighting it, as long as one is resisting it, or rationalizing it, one is giving life to it. When the observer is the observed, then anger blossoms, grows and naturally dies - therefore there is no psychological conflict in it.

One lives by action; action according to a motive, according to an ideal, according to a pattern, or habitual and traditional action, all without any investigation. A mind that is in meditation must find out what action is. One of the major problems in one's life is conflict and from conflict all kinds of neurotic activities arise. To end conflict and therefore to end neurotic action, is very important, so that one has a sane mind, a mind that is healthy, a mind that is not neurotically caught in beliefs and fears and so on.

How does one act, according to what principle, according to what quality or state of mind does one act? Generally one acts from memory, the memory which is set in a pattern, which has become habit, routine. One acts according to that which is remembered as pleasant; or one acts according to an ideal one has determined to carry out in daily life; or one has an ambition which one tries to fulfil. There are various types of action and each of them is incomplete, fragmented; none is holistic - "I'm a business man and I come home and I love my children, but when I'm at business, there, I do not love anybody, I want profit, etc. etc; I may be a scholar, a painter, but my life - though I am an excellent painter - is shoddy, I'm vicious, greedy, wanting money, position, recognition, fame."

One's actions are divided, fragmentary and when there is fragmentary action it must inevitably bring conflict, psychologically. Is there an action which is without conflict in which there are no regrets, no failures, no sense of frustration; is there an action which is whole, harmonious, complete, an action not in a particular field contrary to another field? One has to see what one is actually doing, how one is actually living a contradictory life, acting contradictorily and therefore in conflict. One must become aware of it. And if one is completely aware, then what takes place?

Suppose I live in contradictory actions and you tell me, "Beware of it". What do you mean by being aware of it? - I ask. Awareness is not possible when you choose, when you say: "I like that particular action, I would like to keep that; please help me to avoid all other action." That is not awareness; that is choosing a particular action which appears most satisfactory, most comforting most gratifying, rewarding and so on. Where there is choice there is no complete awareness. If one is completely aware, there is no problem. There is then an action which is continuous, without any break and therefore holistic. It is to have a mind that is sane, which implies not being committed to any particular form of belief, dogma, or ideal, nothing. It is to have a mind able to think clearly, directly, objectively. In the process of meditation one comes to find that action.

To find out what meditation is, all previous knowledge of what meditation is thought to be blocks the exploration. Freedom from psychological authority is absolutely necessary. What is necessary in the investigation? Is it concentration; is it attention or is it awareness? When one concentrates, one's whole energy is focused on something particular, one resists and puts aside all interfering thoughts. In concentration one is resisting. But to be aware of one's thought there is no concentration; one does not choose in awareness which thought one would like; one is just aware. From that awareness comes attention. In attention there is no centre from which one is attending. This is really important to understand, it is the essence of meditation. In concentration there is a centre from which one is concentrating, on a picture or on an idea or on some image, etc; one is exercising energy in concentration, in resisting building a wall, so that no other thought comes in and there must be conflict. To totally eliminate that conflict become choicelessly aware of thought; then there is no contradiction, no resistance about any thought. From that arises awareness; awareness of all the movement of one's thought. Out of that awareness comes attention. When one is attending to something, really deeply, there is no centre; there is no me.

In attention - if one has gone that far - one is free from all the travails of thought, its fears, agonies and despairs; that is the foundation. The content of one's consciousness is being emptied; it is being freed. Meditation is the emptying of the content of consciousness. That is the meaning and the depth of meditation, the emptying of all the content - thought coming to an end.

Meditation is the attention in which there is no registration. Normally the brain is registering almost everything, the noise, the words which are being used - it is registering like a tape. Now is it possible for the brain not to register except that which is absolutely necessary? Why should I register an insult? Why? Why should I register flattery? It is unnecessary. Why should I register any hurts? Unnecessary. Therefore, register only that which is necessary in order to operate in daily life - as a technician, a writer and so on - but psychologically, do not register anything. In meditation there is no registration psychologically, no registration except the practical facts of living, going to the office, working in a factory and so on - nothing else. Out of that comes complete silence, because thought has come to an end - except to function only where it is absolutely necessary. Time has come to an end and there is a totally different kind of movement, in silence.

Religion then has a totally different meaning, whereas before it was a matter of thought. Thought made the various religions and therefore each religion is fragmented and in each fragment there are multiple subdivisions. All that is called religion, including the beliefs, the hopes, the fears and the desire to be secure in another world and so on, is the result of thought. It is not religion, it is merely the movement of thought, in fear, in hope, in trying to find security - a material process.

Then what is religion? It is the investigation, with all one's attention, with the summation of all one's energy, to find that which is sacred, to come upon that which is holy. That can only take place when there is freedom from the noise of thought - the ending of thought and time, psychologically, inwardly - but not the ending of knowledge in the world where you have to function with knowledge. That which is holy, that which is sacred, which is truth, can only be when there is complete silence, when the brain itself has put thought in its right place. Out of that immense silence there is that which is sacred.

Silence demands space, space in the whole structure of consciousness. There is no space in the structure of one's consciousness as it is, because it is crowded with fears - crowded, chattering, chattering. When there is silence, there is immense, timeless space; then only is there a possibility of coming upon that which is the eternal, sacred.

Chapter 2
2nd Public Talk Saanen
12th July 1977
The Ending of Conflict Is the Gathering of Supreme Energy Which Is a Form of Intelligence

There is the theory of old, that god, divinity, descends on man and helps him to grow, to evolve and to live nobly. That is the old tradition of the countries in the East and also in a different way, in the West. In belief in such theories there is great comfort; a feeling that one is at least secure in something; that there is somebody that is looking after you and the world. That is a very old theory and it has no meaning whatsoever. That theory and teaching gives some kind of hope in a Utopia in the future as made by the present; a hope arising from the limits of what one is now. Unless there is a radical transformation, such a future is the modified continuity of "what is".

One realizes that there is no security whatsoever in the things that thought has put together if one has gone into it sufficiently intelligently, rationally and sanely to find out; one sees that there is really no structure, either in the future, or in the past, or in the present, philosophical, religious, or ideological, which can give any kind of security whatsoever.

One accepts very easily the path that is the most satisfying, the most convenient, the most pleasurable. It is very easy to move into that groove. And authority dictates, lays down, in a religious or a psychological system, a method by which, or through which, you are told you will find security. But if one sees that there is no security in any such authority, then one can find out whether it is possible to live without any guidance, without any control, without any effort psychologically. So, one is going to investigate, to see, whether the mind can be free to find the truth of this matter, so that one will never, under any circumstance, conform to any pattern of authority, psychologically. When one is conforming to a pattern, religious, psychological, or the pattern which one has set for oneself, there is always a contradiction between what one actually is and the pattern. There is always a conflict and this conflict is endless. If one has finished with one pattern one goes to another. One is educated to live in this field of conflict because of these ideals, patterns, conclusions, beliefs and so on. Conforming to a pattern one is never free; one does not know what compassion is and one is always battling and therefore giving importance to oneself; the self becomes extraordinarily important with the idea of self-improvement.

So, is it possible to live without a pattern? Now, how is one, as a human being, the total representative of all mankind, how is one going to find out the truth of this matter? Because if one's consciousness is changed radically, profoundly - no, revolutionized rather than changed - then one affects the consciousness of the whole of mankind.

How is one going to go into this problem; with what capacity does one investigate? To investigate there must be freedom from motive. If one wants to investigate the question of authority, one's background says: I must obey, I must follow; and in the process one's background is always projecting, is always distorting one's investigation. Can one be free of one's background so that it does not interfere in any way with one's investigation? One's urgency to find the truth, one's immediacy, one's demand, puts the background in abeyance; one's intensity to find out is so strong that the background ceases to interfere. Although the background, one's education, one's conditioning, is so strong - it has accumulated for centuries; consciously one cannot fight it, one cannot push it aside; one cannot battle with it and one sees that to fight the background only intensifies the background - yet one's very intensity to find out the truth of authority puts that background much further away; it is no longer impinging on one's mind.

One needs to have tremendous energy to find out the truth of this matter. Mostly, this energy is dissipated in the conflict between "what is" and "what should be". One sees that "what should be" is an escape from, or an avoidance of, the fact of "what is". Or thought, incapable of meeting "what is", projects "what should be" and uses that as a lever to try to remove "what is". So is it possible to look at, to observe, "what is", without any motive to change or to transform it, or to make it conform to a particular pattern that you or another has established - whatever may happen at the end of it? If one does, the background fades away. If one is very intense to understand, one forgets oneself, forgets one is a Hindu, a Christian, a Buddhist, one forgets all one's background; therefore the whole thing disappears, the background, the motive, everything, because there is the present necessity and the urgency to find out.

The intensity that is necessary can only come into being when there is no cause and no effect and therefore no reaction. It implies that one must be completely alone in one's investigation. Aloneness does not mean isolation, it does not mean one is withdrawn and has built a wall around oneself. Alone means that one is all one. Then one is a total human being representing all humanity, one's consciousness has undergone a change through perception, which is the awakening of intelligence. That intelligence finishes forever with psychological authority; it profoundly affects one's consciousness.

Is it possible to live a life without any pattern, without any goal, without any idea of the future, a life without conflict? It is only possible when one lives completely with "what is". With "what is" means with that which is actually taking place. Live with it; do not try to transform it, do not try to go beyond it, do not try to control it, do not try to escape from it, just look at it, live with it. If you are envious, or greedy, jealous, or you have problems, sex, fear, whatever they are, live with them without any movement of thought that wants to move away from them. Which means what? One is not wasting one's energy in control, in suppression, in conflict, in resistance, in escape. All that energy was being wasted; now one has gathered it up. Because one sees the absurdity of it, the falseness of it, the unreality of it, one has now the energy to live with "what is"; one has that energy to observe without any movement of thought. It is the thought that has created jealousy and thought that says: "I must run away from it, I must escape from it, I must suppress it." If one sees that falseness of escape, resistance, suppression, then that energy which has gone into escape, resistance and suppression is gathered to observe. Then what takes place?

One is not escaping, not resisting and then one is envious, the envy being the result of the movement of thought. The envy arises from comparison, measurement - I have not, you have. And thought, because it has been educated to run away, runs away from this thing. Now because one sees the falseness of it one stops and one has the energy to observe this envy. That very word "envy" is its own condemnation. When one says "I am envious", there is already a sense of pushing it away. So, one must be free of the influence of the word to observe. And this demands tremendous alertness, tremendous watchfulness, awareness, so as not to escape and so as to see that the word envy has created the feeling; for without the word, is there the feeling? If there is no word and therefore no movement of thought, then is there envy?

The word has created the feeling because the word is associated with the feeling, it is dictating the feeling. Can one observe without the word? Now, words are the movement of thought used to communicate - communicate with oneself, or with another - when there are no words there is no communication between the fact and the observer. Therefore the movement of thought as envy has come to an end; come to an end completely, not temporarily - one can look at a beautiful car and observe the beauty of its lines and that is the end of it.

To live with "what is" completely, implies no conflict whatsoever. Therefore there is no future as transforming it into something else. The very ending of it is the gathering of supreme energy which is a form of intelligence.

Chapter 3
5th Public Talk Ojai California
16th April 1977
Out of Negation Comes the Positive Called Love

Throughout the world human beings are always seeking security, both physiological and psychological. Physical security is denied when psychological security - which does not really exist - is sought in various forms of illusion and in divisive beliefs, dogmas, religious sanctions and so on. Where there are these psychological divisions, there must inevitably be physiological division with all its conflicts, wars and the suffering and the tragedy and the inhumanity of man to man. Wherever one goes in the world, it does not matter whether it is in India, Europe, Russia, China or America, human beings, psychologically, are more or less the same; they suffer, they are anxious, uncertain, confused, often in great pain, ambitious, fighting each other everlastingly.

Basically, psychologically, as all human beings are the same one can with reason say that the world is oneself and one is the world. That is an absolute fact, as one can see when one goes into it very deeply. And the content of human consciousness is the whole movement of thought and the desire for power, position, security and the pursuit of pleasure in which there is fear. Fear and pleasure are the two sides of the same coin. Without understanding the whole structure and nature of pleasure, based on desire, one will never understand and live a life in which there is love.

Fear and the pursuit of pleasure are part of consciousness. But is love also a part of consciousness? When there is fear, is there love? When there is the mere pursuit of pleasure, is there love? Is love pleasure and desire, or has it nothing whatsoever to do with pleasure and desire?

One's brain, through the constant habit of seeking security has become mechanical; mechanical in the sense of following certain definite patterns, repeating these patterns over and over again in the routine of daily life. There is the repetition of pleasure and the burden of fear and the inability to resolve it. So, gradually, the brain, or part of the brain, has become mechanical, repetitive, biologically as well as psychologically; one is caught in certain patterns of belief, dogma, ideology - the American ideology, the Russian ideology, the ideology of India and so on. There is the direction, the pursuit, and the mind and the brain deteriorate.

However pleasant, the life one lives is a life that is repetitive; however desirable, however complex, it is a repetitive life - the same belief from childhood to death, the same rituals, whether it is church or temple, there is the tradition of it, over and over again. There is the repetition of pleasure, sexual pleasure or the pleasure of achievement, the pleasure of possession, the pleasure of attachment, all these cause the brain to deteriorate because they are repetitive. So long as there is the pursuit of pleasure as a repetitive process and the burden of fear which it brings and which man has not resolved - he has run away from it, escaped from it, rationalized it, but still it remains - the brain deteriorates.

What is love? Is it pleasure - pleasure in the repetitive sexual act, which is generally called love? The love of one's neighbour, the love of one's wife, in which there is great pleasure, possession and comfort, based on desire - is that love? Where there is possessive attachment to another, there must be jealousy, there must be fear and antagonism. These are obvious facts - nothing extraordinary or ideological - they are facts, "what is". So is attachment love? And what is the basis of attachment? Why is one attached to something, to property, to an idea, to an ideology, to a person, to a symbol, to a concept which is called God? If one does not fully understand the significance of attachment, then one will never be able to find the truth of love. Is not the basis of attachment the fear of being alone, the fear of being isolated, the emptiness, the sense of insufficiency in oneself?

We are attached to people, to ideas, to symbols, or to concepts, because in them we think there is security. Is there security in any relationship? Is there security - which is really the essence of attachment - in one's wife, or husband? And if one seeks security in the wife or the husband and so on, then what takes place? One possesses, legally or not legally. And where there is possession there must be fear of losing - therefore jealousy, hatred, divorce and aIl the rest of it. Is love attachment? Can there be love when there is attachment; with all the implications of that word which include fear, jealousy, guilt, irritation leading to hatred - all that is implied when one uses the word "attachment"? Where there is attachment can there be love? These are factual, not theoretical, questions. One is dealing with daily life, not with some extraordinary life. One can only go very deeply and very far if one begins very near, which is oneself. If one does not understand oneself one cannot move far. One is delving into problems which are tremendously important in one's daily life.

Although one has to go into this question logically, rationally, sanely, one has to go beyond it; because logic is not love, reason is not love. The desire to be loved and to love is not love. Out of the negation of what is not love, every moment of one's life, out of the putting aside of what is not love, comes the positive thing called love.

Thought is fragmentary, limited; thought cannot solve the problem of what love is and thought cannot cultivate love. When one makes an abstraction in thought, one moves away from "what is". That movement of abstraction becomes a condition according to which one lives, therefore one no longer lives according to facts. This is what one has done all one's life; but one will never know what love is through abstraction, will not know the enormous beauty, depth and significance of love.

Why does man put up with this suffering? Why worship suffering, which the Christians do, apparently? What is the meaning of suffering? What is it that suffers? When one says "I suffer," who is it that suffers? What is the centre that says "I am in an agony of jealousy, of fear, of loss"? What is that centre, that "essence", of a human being who says "I suffer"? Is it the movement of thought, as time, which creates the centre? How does that I come into being, which, having come into being says, "I suffer, I am anxious, I am frightened, I am jealous, I am lonely". That I is never stationary,it is always moving: "I desire this, I desire that and then I desire something else", it is in constant movement. That movement is time, that movement is thought.

There is a concept in the Asiatic world that the I is something which is beyond time; and further, the concept that there is a higher I still. In the Western world the I has never been thoroughly examined. Qualities have been attributed to it, Freud and Jung and other psychologists have given attributes to it but have never gone into this question of the nature and the structure of the I which says "I suffer".

The I, as one observes, says "I must have that", a few days later it wants something else. There is the constant movement of desire; the constant movement of pleasure; the constant movement of what one wants to be and so on. This movement is thought as psychological time. The I who says "I suffer" is put together by thought. Thought says, "I am John, I am this, I am that". Thought identifies itself with the name and with the form and is the I in all the content of consciousness; it is the essence of fear, hurt, despair, anxiety, guilt, the pursuit of pleasure, the sense of loneliness, all the content of consciousness. When one says "I suffer", it is the image that thought has built about itself, the form, the name, that is in sorrow.

The more intense the challenge is, the greater is the energy demanded to meet it. Sorrow is this challenge. To that challenge one has to respond. But if one responds to it by escaping from it, by seeking comfort from it, then one is dissipating the energy that one needs to meet this thing.

There is no escape - there is no escape because if one tries to escape, sorrow is always there, like one's shadow, like one's face, it is always with one - so remain with it, without any movement of thought. If one runs away from it, one has not solved it; but if one remains with it, not identifying oneself with it - because one is that suffering - then all your energy is present to meet this extraordinary thing that happens. Out of that suffering comes passion.

There is a solution, there is an ending to sorrow - as there is an ending to fear - completely. Then only is there a possibility to know what love is. One thinks that one will learn something from suffering, that there is a lesson to be learnt from suffering. But when one observes suffering in oneself, not escaping from it, but remaining with it totally, completely, without any movement of thought, without any alleviation, comfort, but just completely holding to it, then one will see a strange psychological transformation take place.

Love is passion, which is compassion. Without that passion and compassion, with its intelligence, one acts in a very limited sense; all one's actions are limited. Where there is compassion that action is total, complete, irrevocable.