It’s curious, we always want to be perfect in or with something; this gives the means for achievement, and the pleasure of achievement, of course, is vanity. Pride in any form is brutal and leads to disaster. The desire for perfection outwardly or inwardly denies love and without love, do what you will, there’s always frustration and sorrow. Love is neither perfect nor imperfect; it’s only when there’s no love that perfection and imperfection arise. Love never strives after something; it does not make itself perfect. It’s the flame without the smoke; in striving to be perfect, there’s only greater volume of smoke; perfection, then, lies only in striving, which is mechanical, more and more perfect in habit, in imitation, in engendering more fear. Each one is educated to compete, to become successful; then the end becomes all important. Love for the thing itself disappears. Then the instrument is used not for the love of the sound but for what the instrument will bring, fame, money, prestige and so on.
Being is infinitely more significant than becoming. Being is not the opposite of becoming; if it’s the opposite or in opposition, then there is no being. When becoming dies completely, then there’s being. But this being is not static; it’s not acceptance nor is it mere denial; becoming involves time and space. All striving must cease; then only there is being.
J. Krishnamurti, Krishnamurti’s Notebook, August 26th, 1961