When Krishnamurti speaks of a mind that has no center and no periphery and therefore no space and no time I feel myself transported to an understanding of all of us, indeed all of existence, as one being. All of our concepts are false, are trickery of the mind. I am not ‘I’, you are not ‘you’, he/she is not… etc. I know that state in which all identities have been melted away by the vastness and power that is not of our language or our individual perception. Each of us knows of that power and yet we succumb to such trivial discrimination that creates this illusion of separation.Now could be the time when these illusions will no longer be able to propagate themselves through us. We are living right now in eternity and yet we persevere in distracting ourselves from this obvious fact. Perhaps, just perhaps, now is the time for us to finally ‘get real’. Why not?
So we are negating all those things that are considered important to bring about the quietness of the mind.
Thus we see it is not control that leads to quietness. Nor is the mind quiet when it has an object which is so absorbing that it gets lost in that object. This is like giving a child an interesting toy; he becomes very quiet, but remove the toy and he returns to his mischief-making. We all have our toys which absorb us and we think we are very quiet but if a man is dedicated to a certain form of activity, scientific, literary or whatever it is, the toy merely absorbs him and he is not really quiet at all.
The only silence we know is the silence when noise stops, the silence when thought stops – but that is not silence. Silence is something entirely different, like beauty, like love. And this silence is not the product of a quiet mind, it is not the product of the brain cells which have understood the whole structure and say, ‘For God’s sake be quiet;’ then the brain cells themselves produce the silence and that is not silence. Nor is silence the outcome of attention in which the observer is the observed; then there is no friction, but that is not silence.
You are waiting for me to describe what this silence is so that you can compare it, interpret it, carry it away and bury it. It cannot be described. What can be described is the known, and the freedom from the known can come into being only when there is a dying every day to the known, to the hurts, the flatteries, to all the images you have made, to all your experiences – dying every day so that the brain cells themselves become fresh, young, innocent. But that innocency, that freshness, that quality of tenderness and gentleness, does not produce love; it is not the quality of beauty or silence.
That silence which is not the silence of the ending of noise is only a small beginning. It is like going through a small hole to an enormous, wide, expansive ocean, to an immeasurable, timeless state.
But this you cannot understand verbally unless you have understood the whole structure of consciousness and the meaning of pleasure, sorrow and despair, and the brain cells themselves have become quiet. Then perhaps you may come upon that mystery which nobody can reveal to you and nothing can destroy.
A living mind is a still mind, a living mind is a mind that has no centre and therefore no space and time. Such a mind is limitless and that is the only truth, that is the only reality.