I should like to talk about something which I think is very important; in the understanding of it we shall, perhaps, be able to have for ourselves a total perception of life without any fragmentation, so that we may act totally, freely, happily. We are always seeking some form of mystery because we are so dissatisfied with the life we lead, with the shallowness of our activities, which have very little meaning and to which we try to give significance, a meaning; but this is an intellectual act which therefore remains superficial, tricky and in the end meaningless. And yet knowing all this - knowing our pleasures are very soon over, our everyday activities are routine; knowing also that our problems, so many of them, can perhaps never be solved; not believing in anything, nor having faith in traditional values, in the teachers, in the gurus, in the sanctions of the Church or society - knowing all this, most of us are always probing or seeking, trying to find out something really worthwhile, something that is not touched by thought, something that really has an extraordinary sense of beauty and ecstasy. Most of us, I think, are trying to seek out something that is enduring, that is not easily made corrupt. We put aside the obvious and there is a deep longing - not emotional or sentimental - a deep inquiry which might open the door to something that is not measured by thought, something that cannot be put into any category of faith or belief. But is there any meaning to searching, to seeking? We are going to discuss the question of meditation; it is a rather complex question and before we go into it, we have to be very clear about this searching, this seeking for experience, trying to find out a reality. We have to understand the meaning of seeking and the searching out of truth, the intellectual groping after something new, which is not of time, which is not brought about by one's demands, compulsions and despair. Is truth ever to be found by seeking? Is it recognizable when one has found it? If one has, can one say, `This the truth' - `This is the real'? Has search any meaning at all? Most religious people are always talking about seeking truth; and we are asking if truth can ever be sought after. In the idea of seeking, of finding,1 is there not also the idea of recognition - the idea that if I find something I must1 be able to recognize it? Does not recognition imply that I have already known it? Is truth1 `recognizable' - in the sense of its having already been experienced, so that one is able1 to say, `This is it'? So what is the value of seeking at all? Or, if there is no value1 in it, then is there value only in constant observation, constant listening? - which is1 not the same as seeking. When there is constant observation there is no movement of the past.1 `To observe' implies seeing very clearly; to see very clearly there must be freedom,1 freedom from resentment, freedom from enmity, from any prejudice or grudge, freedom from1 all those memories that one has stored up as knowledge, which interfere with seeing.1 When there is that quality, that kind of freedom with constant observation - not only of the1 things outside but also inwardly - of what is actually going on, what then is the need1 of seeking at all? - for it is all there, the fact, the `what is, it is observed. But1 the moment we want to change `what is' into something else, the process of distortion1 takes place. Observing freely, without any distortion, without any evaluation, without1 any desire for pleasure, in just observing, we see that `what is' undergoes an extraordinary1 change. Most 1 of us try to fill our life with knowledge, with entertainment, with spiritual aspirations1 and beliefs, which, as we observe, have very little value; we want to experience something1 transcendental, something beyond all worldly things, we want to experience something immense,1 that has no borders, that has no time. To `experience' something immeasurable one must understand the implications of 'experience.'1 Why do we want `experience' at all? Please do not accept or deny what the speaker1 is saying, just examine it. The speaker - let us again be definite about that matter - has1 no value whatsoever. (It's like the telephone, you do not obey what the telephone says. The1 telephone has no authority, but you listen to it.) If you listen with care. there is1 in that, affection, not agreement or disagreement, but a quality of mind that says, `Let's see1 what you're talking about, let us see if it has any value at all, let us see what is true1 and what is false.' Do not accept or deny, but observe and listen, not only to what is1 being said, but also to your reactions, to your distortions, as you are listening; see1 your prejudices, your opinions, your images, your experiences, see how they are going to1 prevent you from listening. We are askin hat is the significance of1 experience? Has it any significance? Can experience wake up a mind that is asleep, that has come1 to certain conclusions and is held and conditioned by beliefs? Can experience wake it up, shatter2 all that structure? Can such a mind - so conditioned, so burdened by its own innumerable problems2 and despairs and sorrows - respond to any challenge? - can it? And if it does respond,2 must not the response be inadequate and therefore lead to more conflict? Always to seek for2 wider, deeper, transcendental experience, is a form of escape from the actual reality2 of `what is,' which is ourselves, our own conditioned mind. A mind that is extraordinarily2 awake, intelligent, free, why should it need, why should it have, any `experience' at all?2 Light is light, it does not ask for more light. The desire for more `experience' is escape2 from the actual, the `what is'. If one is free from this everlasting search,2 free from the demand and the desire to experience something extraordinary, then we can proceed2 to find out what meditation is. That word - like the words `love,' `death,' `beauty,'2 `happiness' - is so loaded. There are so many schools which teach you how to meditate. But2 to understand what meditation is, one must lay the foundation of righteous behaviour.2 Without that foundation, meditation is really a form of self-hypnosis; without being free2 from anger, jealousy, envy, greed, acquisitiveness, hate, competition, the desire for success2 - all the moral, respectable forms of what is considered righteous - without laying the2 right foundation, without actually living a daily life free of the distortion of personal2 fear, anxiety, greed and so on, meditation has very little meaning. The laying of that2 foundation is all-important. So one ask hat is virtue? What is morality? Please do2 not say that this question is bourgeois, that is has no meaning in a society which is permissive,2 which allows anything. We are not concerned with that kind of society; we are concerned2 with a life completely free from fear, a life which is capable of deep, abiding love. Without2 that, meditation becomes a deviation; it is like taking a drug - as so many have done2 - to have an extraordinary experience and yet leading a shoddy little life. Those who2 take drugs do have some strange experiences, they see perhaps a little more colour, they2 become perhaps a little more sensitive, and being sensitive, in that chemical state, they2 do perhaps see things without space between the `observer' and the thing observed; but2 when the chemical effect is over, they are back to where they were with fear, with boredom,2 back again in the old routine - so they have to take the drug again.2 Unless one lays the foundation of virtue, meditation becomes a trick to control the2 mind, to make the mind quiet, to force the mind to conform to the pattern of a system2 that says, `Do these things and you will have great reward.' But such a mind - do what you will with all3 the methods and the systems that are offered - will remain small, petty, conditioned, and3 therefore worthless. One has to inquire into what virtue is, what behaviour is. Is behaviour3 the result of environ- mental conditioning, of a society, of a culture, in which one has3 been brought up? - you behave according to that. Is that virtue? Or does virtue lie in3 freedom from the social morality of greed, envy and all the rest of it? - which is considered3 highly respectable. Can virtue be cultivated? - and if it can be cultivated then does it3 not become a mechanical thing and therefore have no virtue at all? Virtue is something that is living, flowing, that3 is constantly renewing itself, it cannot possibly be put together in time; it is like suggesting3 that you can cultivate humility. Can you cultivate humility? It is only the vain man that `cultivates'3 humility; whatever he may cultivate he will still remain vain. But in seeing very clearly3 the nature of vanity and pride, in that very seeing there is freedom from that vanity and3 pride - and in that there is humility. When this is very clear then we can proceed to3 find out what meditation is. If one cannot do this very deeply, in a most real and serious3 way - not just for one or two days then drop it - please do not talk about meditation.3 Meditation, if you understand what it is, is one of the most extraordinary things; but3 you cannot possibly understand it unless you have come to the end of seeking, groping,3 wanting, greedily clutching at something which you consider truth - which is your own projection.3 You cannot come to it unless you are no longer demanding `experience' at all, but are understanding3 the confusion in which one lives, the disorder of one's own life. In the observation of that3 disorder, order comes - which is not a blueprint. When you have done this - which in itself3 is meditation - then we can ask, not only what meditation is, but also what meditation3 is not, because in the denial of that which is false, the truth is.3 Any system, any method, that teaches you how to meditate is obviously false. One can see3 why, intellectually, logically, for if you practice something according to a method - however3 noble, however ancient, however modern, however popular - you are making yourself mechanical,3 you are doing something over and over again in order to achieve something. In meditation3 the end is not different from the means. But the method promises you something; it is a3 means to an end. If the means is mechanical, then the end is also something brought about3 by the machine; the mechanical minds says, `I'll get something.' One has to be completely3 free from all methods, all systems; that is already the beginning of meditation; you are3 already denying something which is utterly false and meaningless. And again, there are3 those who practice 'awareness.' Can you practice awareness? - if you are `practicing' awareness,3 then you are all the time being inattentive. So, be aware of inattention, not practice3 how to be attentive; if you are aware of your inattention, out of that awareness there is3 attention, you do not have to practice it. Do please understand this, it is so clear3 and so simple. You do not have to go to Burma, China, India, places which are romantic but3 not factual. I remember once travelling in a car, in India, with a group of people. I3 was sitting in front with the driver, there were three behind who were talking about awareness,3 wanting to discuss with me what awareness is. The car was going very fast. A goat was3 in the road and the driver did not pay much attention and ran over the poor animal. The3 gentlemen behind were discussing what is awareness; they never knew what had happened! You laugh;3 but that is what we are all doing, we are intellectually concerned with the idea of3 awareness, the verbal, dialectical investigation of opinion, yet not actually aware of what4 is taking place. There is no practice, only the living thing.4 And there comes the questio ow is thought to be controlled? Thought wanders all over4 the place; you want to think about something, it is off on something else. They say practice,4 control; think about a picture, a sentence, or whatever it is, concentrate; thought buzzes4 off in another direction, so you pull it back and this battle goes on, backward and forward.4 So one ask hat is the need for control of thought at all and who is the entity that4 is going to control thought? Please follow this closely. Unless one understands this4 real question, one will not be able to see what meditation means. When one says, 'I must4 control thought,' who is the controller, the censor? Is the censor different from the thing4 he wants to control, shape or change into a different quality? - are they not both the4 same? What happens when the `thinker' sees that he is the thought - which he is - that4 the `experiencer' is the experience? Then what is one to do? Are you following the question?4 The thinker is the thought and thought wanders off; then the thinker, thinking he is separate,4 says, `I must control it.' Is the thinker different from the thing called thought? If4 there is no thought, is there a thinker? What takes place when the thinker sees he4 is the thought What actually takes place when the `thinker' is the thought as the `observer'4 is the observed? What takes place? In that there is no separation, no division and therefore4 no conflict therefore thought is no longer to be controlled, shaped; then what 4 takes place? Is there then any wandering of thought at all? Before, there was control4 of thought, there was concentration of thought, there was the conflict between the `thinker'4 who wanted to control thought, and thought wandering off. That goes on all the time with4 all of us. Then there is the sudden realization that the `thinker' is the thought - a realization,4 not a verbal statement, but an actuality. Then what takes place? Is there such a thing4 as thought wandering? It is only when the `observer' is different from thought that4 he censors it; then he can say, `This is right or this is wrong thought,' or `Thought is4 wandering away I must control it,` But when the thinker realizes that he is the thought,4 is there a wandering at all? Go into it, sirs, don't accept it, you will see it for yourself.4 It is only when there is a resistance that there is conflict; the resistance is created4 by the thinker who thinks he is separate from the thought; but when the thinker realizes4 that he is the thought, there is no resistance - which does not mean that thought goes all4 over the place and does what it likes, on the contrary.4 The whole concept of control and concentration undergoes a tremendous change; it becomes4 attention, something entirely different. If one understands the nature of attention, that4 attention can be focused, one understands that it is quite different from concentration,4 which is exclusion. Then you will ask, `Can I do anything without concentration?' `Do4 I not need concentration in order to do anything?' But can you not do something with attention?4 - which is not concentration. `Attention' implies to attend, that is to listen, hear,4 see, with all the totality of your being, with your body, with your nerves, with your5 eyes, with your ears, with your mind, with your heart, completely. In that total attention5 - in which there is no division - you can do anything; and in such attention is no resistance.5 So then, the next thing is, can the mind in which is included the brain - the brain being5 conditioned, the brain being the result of thousands of thousands of years of evolution,5 the brain which is the storehouse of memory - can that become quiet? Because it is only5 when the total mind is silent, quiet, that there is perception, seeing clearly, with5 a mind that is not confused. How can the mind be quiet, be still? I do not know if you have5 seen for yourself that to look at a beautiful tree, or a cloud full of light and glory,5 you must look completely, silently, otherwise you are not looking directly at it, you are5 looking at it with some image of pleasure, or the memory of yesterday, you are not actually5 looking at it, you are looking at the image rather than at the fact.5 So, one asks, can the totality of the mind, the brain included, be completely still? People5 have asked this question - really very serious people - they have not been able to solve5 it, they have tried tricks, they have said that the mind can be made still through the5 repetition of words. Have you ever tried it - repeating `Ave Maria,' or those Sanskrit5 words that some people bring over from India, mantras - repeating certain- words to make5 the mind still? It does not matter what word it is, make it rhythmic-Coca Cola, any word5 - repeat it often and you will see that your mind becomes quiet; but it is a dull mind,5 it is not a sensitive mind, alert, active, vital, passionate, intense. A dull mind though5 it may say, `I have had tremendous transcendental experience,' is deceiving itself.5 So it is not in the repetition of words, nor in trying to force it; too many tricks have5 been played upon the mind for it to be quiet; yet one knows deeply within oneself that when5 the mind is quiet then the whole thing is over, that then there is true perception.5 How is the mind, the brain included, to be completely quiet? Some say breathe properly,5 take deep breaths, that is, get more oxygen into your blood; a shoddy little mind breathing5 very deeply, day after day, can be fairly quiet; but it is still what it is, a shoddy5 little mind. Or practice yoga? - again, so many things are involved in this. Yoga means5 skill in action, not merely the practice of certain exercises which are necessary to keep5 the body healthy, strong, sensitive - which includes eating the right food, not stuffing5 it with a lot of meat and so on (we won't go into all that, you are all probably meat5 eaters). Skill in action demands great sensitivity of the body, a lightness of the body, eating5 the right food, not what your tongue dictates, or what 5 you are used to. Then what is one to do? Who puts this question?5 One sees very clearly that our lives are in disorder, inwardly and outwardly; and yet5 order is necessary, as orderly as mathematical order and that can come about only by observing5 the disorder, not by trying to conform to the blueprint of what others may consider,5 or you yourself may consider, order. By seeing, by being aware of the disorder, out of that5 comes order. One also sees that the mind must be extraordinarily quiet, sensitive, alert,5 not caught in any habit, physical or psychological; how is that to come about? Who puts this question?6 Is the question put by the mind that chatters, the mind that has so much knowledge? Has it6 learned a new thing? - which is, `I can see very clearly only when I am quiet, therefore,6 I must be quiet.' Then it says, `How am I to be quiet?' Surely such a question is wrong6 in itself; the moment it asks `how' it is looking for a system, therefore destroying6 the very thing that is being inquired into, which i ow can the mind be completely still?6 - not mechanically, not forced, not compelled to be still. A mind that is not compelled6 to be still is extraordinarily active, sensitive, alert. But when you ask `how' then there is6 the division between the observer and the thing observed.6 When you realize that there is no method, no system, that no mantram, no teacher, nothing6 in the world that is going to help you to be quiet, when you realize the truth that6 it is only the quiet mind that sees, then the mind becomes extraordinarily quiet. It6 is like seeing danger and avoiding it; in the same way, seeing that the mind must be6 completely quiet, it is quiet. Now the quality of silence matters. A very6 small mind can be very quiet, it has its little space in which to be quiet; that little space,6 with its little quietness, is the deadest thing - you know what it is. But a mind that6 has limitless space and that quietness, that stillness, has no centre as the `me', the6 `observer,' is quite different. In that silence there is no `observer' at all; that quality6 of silence has vast space, it is without border and intensely active; the activity of that6 silence is entirely different from the activity which is self-centred. If the mind has gone6 that far (and really it is not that far, it is always there if you know how to look),6 then perhaps that which man has sought throughout the centuries, God, truth, the immeasurable,6 the nameless, the timeless, is there - without your invitation, it is there. Such a man is6 blessed, there is truth for him and ecstasy. Shall we talk this over, ask questions? You6 might say to me, `What value has all this in daily life? I've got to live, go to the6 office; there is the family, there is the boss, competition - what has all this got6 to do with it?' Do you not ask that question? If you ask it, then you have not followed all that has been said6 this morning. Meditation is not something different from daily life; do not go off into6 the corner of a room and meditate for ten minutes, then come out of it and be a butcher6 - both metaphorically and actually. Meditation is one of the most serious things; you do6 it all day, in the office, with the family, when you say to somebody, `I love you" when6 you are considering your children, when you educate them to become soldiers, to kill,6 to be nationalized, worshipping the flag, educating them to enter into this trap of6 the modern world; watching all that, realizing your part in it, all that is part of meditation.6 And when you so meditate you will find in it an extraordinary beauty; you will act rightly6 at every moment; and if you do not act rightly at a given moment it does not matter, you6 will pick it up again - you will not waste time in regret. Meditation is part of life,6 not something different from life. Questione an you say something about laziness?6 Krishnamurt aziness - first of all, what is wrong with laziness? Do not let us confuse6 laziness with leisure. Most of us, unfortunately, are lazy and inclined to be indolent, so we6 whip ourselves to be active therefore we become more lazy. The more I resist laziness the6 more I become lazy. But look at laziness, in the morning when I get up feeling terribly6 lazy, not wanting to do so many things. Why has the body become lazy? - probably one has6 overeaten, overindulged sexually, one has done everything the previous day and night6 to make the body heavy, dull; and the body says for God's sake leave me alone for a little6 while; and one wants to whip it, make it active; but one does not correct the way of one's6 life, so one takes a pill to be active. But if one observes, one will see that the body6 has its own intelligence; it requires a great deal of intelligence to observe the intelligence6 of the body. One forces it, one drives it; one is used to meat, one drinks, smokes, you6 know all the rest of it and therefore the body itself loses its own intrinsic organic6 intelligence. To allow the body to act intelligently, the mind has to become intelligent and not6 allow itself to interfere with the body. You try it and you will see that laziness undergoes6 a tremendous change. There is also the question of leisure. People6 are having more and more leisure, especially in the well-to-do societies. What does one6 do with the leisure? - that is becoming the proble ore amusement, more cinemas, more6 television, more books, more chatter, more boating, more cricke ou know up and out,6 filling the leisure time with all kinds of activity. The Church says fill it with God,6 go to church, pray - all those tricks which they have done before, which is but another6 form of entertainment. Or one talks endlessly about this and that. You have leisure; will6 you use it to turn outwardly or inwardly? Life is not just the inward life; life is6 a movement, it is like the tide going out and coming in. What will you do with leisure?6 Become more learned, more able to quote books? Will you go out lecturing (which I do unfortunately),6 or go inwardly very deeply? To go inward very deeply, the outer must also be understood.6 The more you understand the outer - not merely the fact of the distance between here and6 the moon, technological knowledge, but the outward movements of society, of nations,6 the wars, the hate that there is - when you understand the outer then you can go very6 deeply inwardly and that inward depth has no limit. You do not say, `I have reached6 the end, this is enlightenment.' Enlightenment cannot be given by another; enlightenment6 comes when there is the understanding of confusion; and to understand confusion one must look6 at it. Questione f you say that the thinker and6 the thought are not separate; and that if one thinks that the thinker is separate and6 thereby tries to control thought, that that merely bring back the struggle and the complexity6 of the mind; that there cannot be stillness that way, then I do not understand - if the6 thinker is the thought - how the separation arises in the first place. How can thought6 fight against itself? Krishnamurt ow does the separation between6 the thinker and the thought arise when they are actually one? Is that so with you? Is6 it actually a fact that the thinker is the thought - or do you think it should be that6 way, therefore it is not an actuality for you? To realize that, you have to have great6 energy; that is to say, when you see a tree you have to have the energy not to have this6 division as, me, and the tree. To realize that, you need tremendous energy; then there6 is no division and therefore no conflict between the two; there is no control. But as most6 of us are conditioned to this idea, that the thinker is different from thought - then the6 conflict arises. Questione hy do we find ourselves so difficult?6 Krishnamurt ecause we have very complex minds - have we not? We are not simple people6 who look at things simply we have complex minds. And society evolves, becoming more6 and more complex - like our own minds. To understand something very complex one has6 to be very simple. To understand something complex, a very complex problem, you must6 look at the problem itself without bringing into the investigation all the conclusions,6 answers, suppositions and theories. When you look at the problem - and knowing that the6 answer is in the problem - your mind becomes very simple; the simplicity is in the observation,6 not in the problem which may be complex. Questione ow can I see the whole thing,6 everything, as whole? Krishnamurt ne is used to looking at things fragmentarily, seeing6 the tree as something separate, the wife as separate, the office, the boss - everything6 in fragments. How can I see the world, of which I am a part, completely, totally, not6 in divisions? Now, just listen, Sir, just liste ho is going to answer that question?6 Who is going to tell you how to look - the speaker? You have put the question and you6 are waiting for an answer - from whom? If the question is really very serious - I am6 not saying your question is wrong - if the question is really serious, then what is the6 problem? The problem then i I can't see things totally, because I look at everything6 in fragments!' When does the mind look at things in fragments? Why? Love my wife and6 hate my boss! - You understand? If I love my wife I must also love everybody. No? Don't6 say yes, because you do not; you do not love your wife and children, you do not, although6 you may talk about it. If you love your wife and children, you will educate them differently,6 you will care, not financially, but in a different way. Only when there is love, is there no6 division. You understand, Sir? When you hate there is division, then you are anxious, greedy,6 envious, brutal, violent; but when you love - not love with your mind, love is not a word,6 love is not pleasure - when you really love, then pleasure, sex and so on have quite a6 different quality; in that love there is no division. Division arises when there is fear.6 When you love there is no `me' and `you,' `we' and `they.' But now you will say, `How6 am I to love? How am I to get that perfume?' There is only one answer to that; look at6 yourself, observe yourself; do not beat yourself, but observe, and out of this observation,6 seeing things as they are, then, perhaps you will have that love. But one has to work very6 hard at observation, not being lazy, not being inattentive.6 London, March 23, 1969