J. Krishnamurti’s Freedom From The Known

“Turning back is how the way moves;
Weakness is the means the way employs.
The myriad creatures in the world are born from Something,
and Something from Nothing.”
– Lao Tzu

Does necessity breed conditioning? Or does conditioning breed necessity?

Our whole understanding of life is akin to a piece of glass; it melts into shape, it solidifies, it serves a purpose, and it breaks. All these functions do not invalidate the fact that the object, by itself, is glass.

It would have existed just as corporeally, without a name, without a function, without limitations.

Perhaps we should extend the courtesy of viewing ourselves as glass. Or the things that we build around ourselves, giving these vague abstractions names like love, desire, ambition, happiness. And melt them into shape, watch them solidify, serve a purpose, and destroy itself.

The emptiness caused by such destruction is yet another glass we mold into being; despair, anger, sadness, and loneliness. How long before they break too?

Krishnamurti’s Freedom From The Known is about finding the intelligence in the things we know. The knowledge of which is already so fragmented and conditioned.

If sorrow – when it manifests on its own or by something or somebody else – is painful, Krishnamurti’s lucid reflections bring you closer to how that pain isn’t a destination. This also translates to moments of happiness.

Why deny the transitoriness of such emotions that have no real precedence in reality? So much so that Krishnamurti even questions the concept of reality itself.

It is also possible to view life a bit differently without memories and time. Krishnamurti defines time as “the interval between idea and action.” The rest of it, which holds memories and thoughts in a chronological cage, is void.

So whatever you are right now, you are held together by a continuous force in a psychological dimension, driven toward a merely physical existence that dictates the things you love and hate. So pleasure, agonies, longing – they’re all conditions that pardon your necessity.

To which there is no end, no destination. There’s only living, the kind that you manifest as if today “were the only day.”