Topic 1:
Contemplation and Philosophy
J. Krishnamurti
When the mind is still, tranquil, not seeking any answer or solution even, neither resisting nor avoiding, it is only then that there can be a regeneration, because then the mind is capable of perceiving what is true, and it is the truth that liberates, not our effort to be free.
Sextus Empiritus, Outlines of Pyrrhonism, Book 1
Jason Saunders, Greek and Roman Philosophy after Aristotle, New York: Free Press,1966, p.153-158
From Chapter 4
Skepticism is an ability, or mental attitude, which opposes appearances to judgments in any way whatsoever, with the result that, owing to the equipollence of the objects and reasons thus opposed, we are brought firstly to a state of mental suspense, and next to state of "unperturbedness" or quietude.
(…) "Equipollence" we use of equality in respect to probability and improbability, to indicate that no one of the conflicting judgments takes precedence of any other as being more probable. "Suspense" is a state of mental rest owing to which we neither deny nor affirm anything. "Quietude" is untroubled and tranquil condition of the soul.
From Chapter 12
We assert still that the Skeptic's end is quietude in respect of matters of opinion, and moderate feeling in respect to things unavoidable. For the Skeptic, having set out to philosophize with the object of passing judgment on the sense impressions, and ascertaining which of them are true and which false, so as to attain quietude thereby, found himself involved in contradictions of equal weight, and being unable to decide between them suspended judgment; and as he was thus in suspense there followed, as it happened, the state of quietude in respect of matter of opinion. For the man who opines that anything is by nature good or bad is for ever being disquieted: when he is without the things which he deems good he is tormented by things naturally bad and he pursues after the things which are, as he thinks, good; which when he has obtained he keeps falling into still more perturbations because of his irrational and immoderate elation, and in his dread of change of fortune he uses every endeavor to avoid losing the things which he deems good. On the other hand, the man who determines nothing as to what is naturally good or bad neither shuns nor pursues anything eagerly; and, in consequence, he is unperturbed.
Karl Jaspers,Way to Wisdom
New Haven: Yale University Press, 1960, p. 120-125
The desire to lead a philosophical life springs from the darkness in which the individual finds himself, from his sense of forlornness when he stares without love into the void, from his self-forgetfulness when he feels that he is being consumed by the busy-ness of the world, when he suddenly wakes up in terror and asks himself: What am I, what am I failing to do, what should I do?
The self-forgetfulness has been aggravated by the machine age. With its time clocks, its jobs, whether absorbing or purely mechanical, which less and less fulfill man as man, it may even lead man to feel that he is part of the machine, interchangeably shunted in here and there, and when left free, to feel that he is nothing and can do nothing with himself. And just as he begins to recover himself, the colossus of this world draws him back again into the all-consuming machinery of empty labour and empty leisure.
But man as such inclines to self-forgetfulness. He must snatch himself out of it if he is not to lose himself to the world, to habits, to thoughtless banalities, to the beaten track.
Philosophy is the decision to awaken our primal source, to find our way back to ourselves, and to help ourselves by inner action.
True, our first duty in life is to perform our practical tasks, to meet the demands of the day. But if we desire to lead a philosophical life we shall not content ourselves with practical tasks; we shall look upon the mere work in whose aims we immerse ourselves as in itself a road to self-forgetfulness, omission, and guilt. And to lead a philosophical life means also to take seriously our experience of men, of happiness and hurt, of success and failure, of the obscure and the confused. It means not to forget but to possess ourselves inwardly of our experience, not to let ourselves distracted but to think of problems through, not to take things for granted but to elucidate them.
There are two paths of philosophical life: the path of solitary meditation in all its ramification and the path of communication with men, of mutual understanding through acting, speaking and keeping silence together.
We men cannot do without daily moment of profound reflection. In them we recapture our self-awareness, lest the presence of the primal source be lost entirely amid the inevitable distractions of daily life.
What the religions accomplish in prayer and worship has its philosophical analogy in explicit immersion, in inner communion with being itself. This can take place only in times and moments (regardless whether at the beginning or end of the day or in between) when we are not occupied in the world with worldly aims and yet are not left empty but are in contact with what is most essential.
Unlike religious contemplation, philosophical contemplation has no holy object, no sacred place, no fixed form. The order which we give to it does not become a rule, it remains potentially in free motion. This contemplation, unlike religious worship, demands solitude.
What is the possible content of such contemplation?
First, self-reflection. I call to mind what I have done, thought, done during the day. I ask myself wherein I have erred, wherein I have been dishonest with myself, wherein I have evaded my responsibilities, wherein I have been insincere; I also try to discern what good qualities I have displayed and seek ways in which to enhance them. I reflect on the degree of conscious control over my actions that I have exerted in the course of the day. I judge myself—with regard to my particular conduct, not with regard to the whole man that I am, for that is inaccessible to me—I find principles in accordance with which I resolve to judge myself, perhaps I fix in my mind words that I plan to address to myself in anger, in despair, in boredom, and in other states in which the self is lost, magic words as it were, reminders (such as: observe moderation, think of the other, be patient, God is). I learn from the tradition that runs from the Pythagoreans through the Stoics and Christians to Kierkegaard and Nietzsche, with its injunction to self-reflection; I realize that such reflection can never be conclusive and that it is infinitely susceptible to error.
Second, transcending reflection. Guided by philosophical methods, I gain awareness of authentic being, of the godhead. I read the symbols of being with the help of literature and art. I gain understanding of them by philosophical scrutiny. I seek to ascertain that which is independent of time, seek to touch upon the source of my freedom and through it upon being itself; I seek as it were to partake in creation.
Third, I reflect on what should be done in the present. Remembrance of my own life with men is the background against which I clarify my present task down to the details of this particular day, when in the inevitable intensity of practical thinking I lose my awareness of the Comprehensive meaning.
What I gain for myself alone in reflection would—if it were all—be as nothing gained.
What is not realized in communication is not yet, what is not ultimately grounded in it is without ultimate foundation. The Truth begins with two.
Consequently philosophy demands: seek constant communication, risk it without reserve, renounce the defiant self-assertion which forces itself upon you in ever new disguises, live in your hope that in your very renunciation you will in some incalculable way be given back to yourself.
Hence I must constantly draw myself into doubt, I must not grow secure, I must not fasten on to any ostensible light within myself, in the belief that it will illumine me reliably and judge me truly. Such an attitude toward the self is the most seductive form of inauthentic self-assertion.
If I meditate in three forms—self-reflection, transcending meditation, contemplation of my task—and open myself to unlimited communication, an imponderable presence which can never be forced may come to me: the clarity of my love, the hidden and always uncertain imperative of the godhead, the revelation of being—perhaps bringing with it peace of mind amid life's constant turmoil, a trust in the foundation of things despite the most terrible catastrophes, unswerving resolve amid the vacillations of passion, a firm loyalty amid the momentary lures of the world.
If in my meditation I achieve awareness of the Comprehensive out of which I live and can live better, meditation will provide the dominant tone that carries me through the day in its countless activities, even while I am being swept along by the technical machine. For in these moments when I return home as it were to myself I acquire an underlying harmony which persists behind the moods and movements of the day, which sustains me and in all my derailment, confusion, emotional upheaval does not let me sink into the abyss. For these moments give to the present both memory and future, they give my life cohesion and continuity.
To philosophize is then at once to learn how to live and to know how to die. Because of he uncertainty of temporal existence life is always an experiment.
Abraham Heschel, Man is Not Alone: A Philosophy of Religion
New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1994, p. 13
A philosophy that begins with radical doubt ends in radical despair. It was the principle of dubito ut intelligam that prepared the soil for modern gospels of despair. "Philosophy begins in wonder" (Plato, Theatetus 155D), in a state of mind which we should like to call thaumatism (from thaumazein—to doubt) as distinguished from skepticism.
Even before we conceptualize what we perceive, we are amazed beyond words, beyond doubts. We may doubt anything, except that we are struck with amazement. When in doubt, we raise questions; when in wonder, we do not even know how to ask a question. Doubts may be resolved, radical amazement can never be erased. There is no answer in the world to man's radical wonder. Under the running sea of our theories and scientific explanations lies the aboriginal abyss of radical amazement.
Radical amazement has a wider scope than any other act of man. While any act of perception or cognition has as its object a selected segment of reality, radical amazement refers to all of reality, not only to what we see, but also to the very act of seeing as well as to our own selves that see and are amazed at their ability to see.
J. Krishnamurti, Think of These Things
New York: HarperPerennial, 1964, p. 27-28
Have you ever sat very silently, not with your attention fixed on anything, not making an effort to concentrate, but with the mind very quiet, really still? Then you hear everything, don't you? You hear the far-off noises as well as those that are nearer and those that are very close by, the immediate sounds—which means, really, that you are listening to everything. Your mind is not confined to one narrow little channel. If you can listen in this way, listen with ease, without strain, you will find an extraordinary change taking place within you, a change which comes without your volition, without your asking; and in that change there is a great beauty and depth and insight.
(…)
If you can listen in this way with ease, with a certain felicity, you will find an astonishing transformation taking place in your heart, in your mind—a transformation which you have not thought of, or in any way produced.
Thought is a very strange thing, is it not? Do you know what thought is? Thought or thinking for most people is something put together by the mind, and they battle over their thoughts. But if you can really listen to everything—to the lapping of the water on the bank of a river, to the song of the birds, to the crying of a child, to your mother scolding you, to a friend bullying you, to your wife or husband nagging you—then you will find that you go beyond the words, beyond the mere verbal expressions which so tear one's being.
