“The lost key of love”
Jiddu Krishnamurti was a philosopher, speaker and writer. In his early life, he was groomed to be the new World Teacher, but later rejected this mantle and withdrew from the Theosophy organization behind it.
A spiritual man who has believed in no difference between religions, caste or philosophy but the self.
… woke up early with that strong feeling of otherness, of another world that is beyond all thought … there is a heightening of sensitivity. Sensitivity, not only to beauty but also to all other things. The blade of grass was astonishingly green; that one blade of grass contained the whole spectrum of colour; it was intense, dazzling and such a small thing, so easy to destroy …
This experience of the otherness would be present with him in daily events:
It is strange how during one or two interviews that strength, that power filled the room. It seemed to be in one’s eyes and breath. It comes into being, suddenly and most unexpectedly, with a force and intensity that is quite overpowering and at other times it’s there, quietly and serenely. But it’s there, whether one wants it or not. There is no possibility of getting used to it for it has never been nor will it ever be ..Krishnamurti’s Notebook
Here are three poems with or among Krishnamurti’s descriptions about love. I translated it from Greek, and I don’t know if these poems are from him. I couldn’t find them on the web.
Anyhow, all a wonderful lesson and enjoyable mind. 🤗💖
By http://SearchingTheMeaningOfLife With Thanks 🙏💖🙏
1. IN MY HEART In my heart they fight for you:
love with love;
desire with affection;
jealousy with goodness;
tenderness with violence;
lust with purity;
care with indifference;
the serious with the ridiculous;
joy with sorrow;
compassion with anger;
anxiety with peace;
fear with himself;
yesterday with today;
tomorrow with now.
My only weapon –
despite all this – is
In my heart,
I fight for you
with centuries of human sorrow,
with centuries of infinite human pain,
with centuries of dependence,
with centuries of loneliness,
with centuries of despair,
with centuries of need for love,
with centuries of pursuit of pleasure ,
with centuries of fear of death.
Inside my heart you
sink slowly like poison
and pass into my veins,
flooding everything inside me,
before passing through the door
behind it waiting patiently
the Freedom that has no name,
the Love that is there for everyone.
The kind of love we feel now is something full of sadness; the love we know has sadness, bitterness, frustration; the pain of this love is martyrdom; in it, we know fear and bitterness. And we can not escape this love, even though it is martyrdom. The fool blames love, without understanding the cause of pain; if you do not know its conflict there is no pain beyond reason. If you do not become aware of the source of the conflict, of the feeling of dissatisfaction, then love brings pain. It is the feeling of dissatisfaction that brings pain and not love. It is the feeling of dissatisfaction and not the love that creates the addiction and all the sad issues that are born.
2. THE END
That morning, he
visited his love story.
It was there,
with the incredible quality of beauty
that has something old, worked overtime.
It was there,
like an old huge house,
with many rooms,
closed windows and empty.
People had left
Taking the furniture with them,
to take it to another house,
to another story.
But the house still had
the atmosphere of
those people’s story
and you could feel it,
whole story deeply
– without emotions –
with a strange sense of peace.
In the morning he had entered the house
and was walking around the empty rooms,
sucking all the feeling that was in them.
He wanted to see and learn.
And then it would come out forever.
If you want to understand the issue of sexual intercourse, do not try to solve it separately away from other human problems. It’s all one. The act of love becomes a problem when there are frustrations. When our work, which should be the true expression of our existence, becomes merely mechanical and becomes stupid and useless, then there is frustration; when our emotional life, which should be rich and complete, is torpedoed by the phobias, then there is frustration; when the mind that should be awake, flexible, unrestricted, bends under the weight of tradition, self-defence memory, ideals, beliefs, then there is frustration. Thus, the act of love becomes an overemphasized and unnatural problem. When there is fullness, there are no problems. When you are fragile in love, the act of love is not a problem. For, the man for whom the act of love is a simple sensual pleasure, it becomes a pressing problem that devours his mind and heart….
Suddenly the room looked very dark.
You opened the shutters and the sun swept everything.
It took you a while until your eyes got used to it.
The mourning was over.
As they stood at the window, you took a deep breath
and were flooded with life and gratitude.
You may have learned to accept death.
Maybe you ‘learn to stay with what happens to you,
what if it’ is,
to learn deeply about it with him.
What tremendous freedom not to run away!
Maybe you learned to look inside, quietly,
without blaming anyone for what is happening to you.
Maybe you have learned to look inside you with compassion and care and so,
without trying, leave the window open to divine Denial, without putting it running on your feet. The blessed “crisis” that for the first time you were not afraid
to come whenever She wants to end.
Now the mourning is over. What a strange discovery:
even after the death of love there is mourning!
Just like when someone you love dearly dies
and every now and then you take a few flowers to his grave
and “tell” him a word.
Yes, there is mourning after the death of love.
And then nothing. Vacuum.
Only something shines at one end of your heart.
The holy pain that you sat and felt, and looked inside her like in a mirror. The sadness that you felt all over, knowing now that it is not only yours. Love, his path to death, his death, mourning for him and then emptiness.
What an incredible beauty!
The sun comes in through the window
and refills the living room.
If only one could stay still with the vacuum, forever.
You are attached to someone and you see the whole history of attachment: what it includes, its whole structure, its nature, its consequences. And at some point, you finish it. What happens then? Go slowly, what happens; The person, of course, is still there. If you were attached to this person before and you are no longer, you are not complete, what happened? A change was made, right ?. What does that mean? Did the memory that you cling to you, fade away? Just the moment you completely gave up clinging? This is very important to see if you have done it. Why; What happens; When I was attached, the whole recording mechanism worked. So; Now that I am not at all attached, the recording mechanism has stopped. If it has not stopped, then it means that the attachment continues, perhaps in a different way. Now: When the mind was freed from attachment, what recorded, has been erased, right? This is the issue: There is no psychological memory. I tell you – if you do – there will be no memory. It is one thing to forget something and another to not have its psychological memory. Let’s take another example: suppose I have been hurt. The memory of this wound, the feeling of the wound is always there. If, now, I erase this wound, then with this erasure, with the cleansing, there is never again the feeling that I have been wounded. Yeah Al that sounds pretty crap to me, Looks like it ain’t for me either. You can’t even recall it – psychologically. You practically remember the fact, but if you want to put the emotion back there, you can not remember it, you can not recall the state of your mind or emotions are hurting…