Krishnamurti

“Being nothing, being a desert in oneself, one hopes through another to find
water. Being empty, poor, wretched, insufficient, devoid of interest or
importance, one hopes through another to be enriched. Through the love of
another one hopes to forget oneself. Through the beauty of another one hopes to acquire beauty. Through the family, through the nation, through the lover, through some fantastic belief, one hopes to cover this desert with flowers. And God is the ultimate lover. So one puts hooks into all these things. In this there is pain and uncertainty, and the desert seems more arid than ever before. Of course it is neither more nor less arid; it is what it was, only one has avoided looking at it while escaping through some form of attachment with its pain, and then escaping from that pain into detachment. But one remains arid and empty as before. So instead of trying to escape, either through attachment or through detachment, can we not become aware of this fact, of this deep inward poverty and inadequacy, this dull, hollow isolation? That is the only thing that matters, not attachment or detachment. Can you look at it without any sense of condemnation or evaluation? When you do, are you looking at it as an observer who looks at the observed, or without the observer?”

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2 thoughts on “Krishnamurti

  1. Jiddu Krishnamurti y Nitya.Mi hermano ha muerto;éramos como dos estrellas en un cielo desnudo.Él era igual que yo:la piel tostada por el cálido Solen la tierra de suaves brisas,oscilantes palmeras,y ríos de agua fresca;donde son innumerables las sombras,y hay cotorras y papagayos de vivos colores.Donde las copas verdes de los árbolesdanzan bajo la refulgente luz del Sol;donde hay dorados arenalesy mares de color verde azulado:donde el mundo vive bajo el peso del Sol,y la tierra cocida es marrón mate;donde el arroz verdecentellea cautivador en las aguas limosas,y los cuerpos tostados, desnudos, brillanlibres en el resplandor deslumbrante.La tierrade la madre que amamanta a su hijo al borde de la carretera;del devoto amanteque trae en ofrenda vistosas flores;del santuario a la orilla del camino;de intenso silencio;de paz inmensa.Murió;lloré en soledad.Allá adonde iba, oía su vozy su risa alegre.Buscaba su rostroen cada caminantey a cada uno preguntaba si había visto a mi hermano;pero ninguno de ellos podía darme consuelo.Rogué,recé,mas los dioses guardaban silencio.No me quedaban ya lágrimas;no me quedaban sueños.Lo busqué en todas las cosas,en todos los países.Lo oía en el susurro unísono de los árbolesllamándome a su morada.Y luego,en mi búsqueda,apareciste Tú,Señor de mi corazón;sólo en Tivi el rostro de mi hermano.Sólo en ti,mi eterno Amor,veo los rostrosde todos los vivos y de todos los muertos.El Canto de la Vida, 1931.Krishnamurti 100 años de Sabiduría, Evelyne Blau. http://seaunaluzparaustedmismo.blogspot.com/

  2. Jiddu Krishnamurti telling a joke…“There are three monks, who had been sitting in deep meditation for many years amidst the Himalayan snow peaks, never speaking a word, in utter silence. One morning, one of the three suddenly speaks up and says, ‘What a lovely morning this is.’ And he falls silent again. Five years of silence pass, when all at once the second monk speaks up and says, ‘But we could do with some rain.’ There is silence among them for another five years, when suddenly the third monk says, ‘Why can’t you two stop chattering?”http://www.katinkahesselink.net/kr/jokes.htmlhttp://seaunaluzparaustedmismo.blogspot.com/

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