“To meditate is to transcend time. Time is the distance that thought travels in its achievements. The travelling is always along the old path covered over with a new coating, new sights, but it is always the same road, leading nowhere except to pain and sorrow. It is only when the mind transcends time that truth ceases to be an abstraction. Then bliss is not an idea derived from pleasure but an actuality that is not verbal…On every table there were daffodils, young, fresh, just out of the garden, with the bloom of spring on them still. On a side table there were lilies, creamy-white with sharp yellow centres. To see this creamy-white and the brilliant yellow of those many daffodils was to see the blue sky, ever expanding, limitless, silent. Almost all the tables were taken by people talking very loudly and laughing. … And there they were, the yellow daffodils, and nobody seemed to care. They were there for decorative purposes that had no meaning at all; and as you watched them their yellow brilliance filled the noisy room. Colour has this strange effect upon the eye. It wasn’t so much that the eye absorbed the colour, as that the colour seemed to fill your being. You were that colour; you didn’t become that colour – you were of it, without identification or name: the anonymity which is innocence. … those shapely daffodils seemed to take you beyond all time. Love is like that. In it there is no time, space or identity.”
In this introductory series of four articles in the New Statesman, David Skitt writes about Krishnamurti in a personal and accessible way. He ends his last article with a question: “So is Krishnamurti’s case for a radical shift in human consciousness … what life now demands? Good question. One to plant like a seed.”
David Skitt was educated at Cambridge. From 1955 to 1985 he worked as an editor for the OECD and the European Space Agency in Paris. He is a emeritus trustee of the Krishnamurti Foundation Trust and an editor of several recent books including “To Be Human.” The articles were published in 2007.
In Ommen, Holland, a train has been named after Krishnamurti, to honor the important role he played in the town’s history. People used to come from all over the world to listen to Krishnamurti speak at the Star camps, held in the forests near Castle Eerde. From the railway station of Ommen one can even go on a guided walking tour to explore “Krishnamurti’s Ommen”. Go here to read more (in Dutch): http://www.spoor7.nl/krishna.html. Brochures are available at the railway station.
Rare footage of the young Jiddu Krishnamurti in New York (1928) and Ojai (1930). In the Ojai footage he is reading parts of his “Truth is a Pathless Land” speech, which he first delivered at the Ommen Star Camp on August 3, 1929. There, he dissolved The Order of the Star in the East, the organization set up around him.
“The mind has to be empty to see clearly.”
Krishnamurti, The Little Book on Living
This past Sunday during Inquiry time, BP students and staff went on a trust walk. Students Ara and Jing-Yi had arranged everyone into partners. Each person was blindfolded and then guided through a 30-minute walk by their partner. The purpose of this exercise was to be able to see and feel some of nature’s beauty while being blindfolded, only to be guided by the direction of your partner.
These were the instructions Krishnamurti cabled to England when it was thought a suitable house had been found in which to start a school. Shortly afterwards Brockwood was found and hundreds, if not thousands, of daffodil bulbs were planted during the following years. Now they are flowering in profusion and at their peak, as this bevy of photographs show.
In her biography of Krishnamurti’s life ‘The Years of Fulfilment’ Mary Lutyens beautifully describes the lead up to and the discovery of Brockwood and mentions the instruction from Krishnamurti:
“In their absence the trustees of the new Foundation in England had been looking for a house for the school. It had to be fairly close to London and with enough land to ensure complete privacy. Ayot Place having been turned down, a second house near Horsham, called Nore, belonging to Dirk Bogarde, was considered sufficiently promising for K to cable, ‘Plant 2,000 daffodil bulbs immediately’, and for Alain to fly over from New York for the night on September 24 to inspect it. I went with him to see it and we came to the conclusion that it was too small. While K was giving talks in New York at the New School for Social Research, a third property was found which seemed ideal—Brockwood Park, Bramdean, in Hampshire, midway between Petersfield and Winchester about sixty-four miles from London, belonging to Lord Chesham. It was a large, low, white, late-Georgian house, set in thirty-six acres of park and garden, surrounded by farm land in some of the most beautiful country in England, with extensive views to the south of rolling hills and woodlands. It had a small swimming pool, a hard tennis court and a vast derelict walled kitchen garden (ideal for vegetarians when brought under cultivation), and a little way from the house, an enclosed grove full of azaleas and rare trees, including a great ‘handkerchief’ tree and some of K’s favourite sequoias. A beautiful beech avenue led from the Winchester road to the park lodge, and a further avenue of copper beeches curled round to the back entrance.”
This video shows The Krishnamurti Centre, a retreat centre in the UK Hampshire countryside, about an hour and a half south from London. The extract in this video, “Can I be a light to myself?” by J. Krishnamurti, is taken from a question and answer meeting at Brockwood Park in 1979. To arrange a visit or make a booking please go to www.krishnamurticentre.org.uk. (Filmed by Brockwood Park School student Ewan Benoit and edited by mature student Ohm Ungsriwong.)