I think we said that we would talk over together this evening the question of confusion. Before we go into that, I think we should understand what we mean by freedom, and if there is such thing as freedom, and also what we mean by choice. Freedom from something, which is really a reaction, is not freedom at all. A revolt against a certain pattern of thought or a certain structure of society, a mere revolt, is not freedom. Freedom implies, doesn’t it really, a state of mind in which there is no imitation, conformity, and therefore no fear. One can revolt and yet conform, as is happening in the world now, and this revolt is generally called freedom. But that revolt inevitably, whether it is the communist revolution, or any other social revolution, must invariably create a pattern—maybe a different social order, but it’s still a pattern of conformity. And when we are talking about freedom, surely we mean a state in which there is no conformity at all, no imitation. And imitation and conformity must exist when there is fear; and fear invariably breeds authority: the authority of an experience of another, or the authority of a new drug, or the authority of one's own experience, one's own pattern of thinking.

So, I think we should be fairly clear when we talk about freedom. The politicians talk about freedom, and they really don't mean it at all. The religious people throughout the world have talked of freedom from bondage, freedom from sorrow, freedom from all the travails of human anxiety. And they’ve said, they’ve laid down a certain course, a certain pattern of behaviour, thought, action; and again that freedom is denied when there is conformity to the pattern, religious, or social, and so on. And, is there freedom? Is there freedom when there is choice? And choice, it seems to me, is an act of confusion. When I'm bewildered, confused, uncertain, then I choose; and I say to myself, “I choose out of my freedom; I am free to choose,” but choice—is it not the outcome of uncertainty? And out of my confusion, bewilderment, uncertainty, the feeling of being incapable of clarity, out of this confusion I act, I choose a leader, I choose a certain course of action; and I commit myself to a particular activity, but that activity, that pattern of action, a pursuit of a particular mode of thought is the result of my confusion. If I'm not confused, if there is no confusion whatsoever, then there is no choice; I see things as they are. I act not on choice.

So it seems to me that a mind capable of choosing is really a very confused mind. Perhaps you may not agree to this but, please, if I may suggest, just listen to the very end of it, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. As we said the other day, we're not doing any propaganda for any particular philosophy, for any particular course of action, or lay down certain principles—all those are the indications of the utter lack of freedom. And, when one is confused, bewildered, as most people are right throughout the world, we, out of this confusion, choose a political leader, a religious system, or the dictates of the latest craze.

So, one has to go into this question of what is clarity, whether the mind, which is so confused, uncertain, may discomfit inaction and, thinking that it is incapable of real clarity and therefore must choose. So, can a mind which is so conditioned in the various social influences, religious patterns, by the propaganda that goes on incessantly to force you to think this way or that way, the innumerable political and religious leaders that exist in the world, the sects—all these have brought about confusion in the mind. When I am dissatisfied with one particular pattern of activity, or a course of thought, or a particular philosophy, dogma, I move to another series; and so I’m always held, I’m always committed. And we think that there will be clarity, there will be freedom from confusion, when I'm committed to a particular course of action.

So it seems to me, a mind that is confused—and we know the various reasons of this confusion: the religious, political, the philosophies, the theologians with their particular patterns of thinking, what to believe and what not to believe, with their commitments—so we as ordinary human beings are lost, we don’t know what to do. So it seems to me, the first thing is not to be committed—to any organization, religious, political, sectarian, or to any latest drug—not to be committed. And that's very difficult because all the pressure around one says you must be committed, you must do something. Do this or do that, take the latest drug, or go to this particular philosophy, or to that particular teacher, or, you know, all the rest of it. And we, out of our confusion, because they assert so clearly, so positively, and with such clarity, that we accept, hoping out of this acceptance there’ll come about a certain clarity of thought, a feeling of certainty. So, can the mind be in a state of non-commitment?

Please, as we said the other day, a talk of this kind is only worthwhile if we can go beyond the word, because the explanation and the word is not the thing. There can be a hundred explanations for the reasons of confusion; but a mind that wants, that demands freedom from confusion, is not satisfied with explanations, with words, or with any authority. So, if we can this evening find out for ourselves whether it is possible for a mind—which realizes it is confused, realizes it is committed to a particular course of action, social, or religious, or all the rest of it—(to) cease to be committed not because someone tells it, but (because) the understanding that any commitment to any particular pattern of thought or action engenders more confusion. And a mind demanding clarity, a mind demanding that it must be free from all confusion because it understands the necessity of it—and that very understanding frees the mind from commitment. And that's one of the most difficult things to do. We are committed because we think that commitment will lead us to a certain clarity, to a certain facility of action, and so on and on and on. And if one is not committed, one feels lost because all around one, people are committed: you go to this group or to that group, to this teacher or to that teacher, you follow a certain leader. Everyone is caught in this. And, not to be committed demands the awareness of what is implied in commitment, and that very awareness frees the mind from commitment. If I am aware, if one is aware, of a danger, sees it very clearly, then you don't touch it, you don't go near it. But to see it clearly is very difficult because the mind says, “I must do, act. I can't wait. What am I to do?”

Surely, a mind that is confused, uncertain, disturbed, must first realize that it is disturbed, and also understand that any movement out of this disturbance only creates further disturbance. And not to be committed implies to stand completely alone, and that demands great understanding of fear, because you can see what's happening in the world. Nobody wants to be alone—alone in the sense: not with a radio, not with a book, not sitting under a tree by yourself, in a monastery with a different name or a different label. It implies an awareness of all the implications of the various forms of commitments of man out of his confusion, and because a mature human being demands freedom from confusion, and then when there is that awareness of the facts of confusion, then out of that, then one is alone, then one is not really afraid.

Then what is one to do? One sees very clearly that any action born of confusion only leads to more confusion. That's very simple and very clear. And, when one sees clearly that any action born of confusion only leads to further confusion, when you see that very clearly, then what is the right action? I don’t know if I’m making myself clear. We live by action, we cannot but act. The whole process of living is action. So one has to again go into this question of what is action. We know, one knows very clearly the action born of confusion, hoping through that act to achieve certainty, clarity. And if I see that, then, being not committed to any course of thought, philosophy, or ideals, then what is action? This is a legitimate question after we have said all these things.

The only action that we know is the action of conformity. I have had certain experiences, certain pleasures, certain knowledge, and that has set the course of my action. I believe in certain things, and according to that belief I act, conform. I've had certain pleasures in my experience, and pleasure dictates the course of my action, sexual or non-sexual, ideological, and so on. So most of our action—if one observes very closely; action being the doing—is always the outcome of the past. So action is never in the present; it is always the result of the past, isn’t it? And that action is what we call the positive, because it is always following what has been in the present and creating the future, bene?

Please, we're not talking any deep philosophy, we're just observing the facts. And after observing the facts, we can go very, very, very deeply. But first one must clear the field.

So, the word action implies an active present. Action is always action in the present, not I have acted or I will act. So, our action is an approximation of an idea, of a symbol, of an ideology, or a philosophy, or of an experience which we have had, the knowledge, the accumulated experiences, traditions, and so on and so on and so on. Now, is there an action which is not conforming?

Are you interested in all this?

Audience: Yes. (Laughter)
Krishnamurti (K): Because you see, a mind that demands freedom, and it’s only in freedom you have passion, not lust—I'm not talking of that—not that it has not its right place, but I’m talking of freedom in which there is intense energy and passion. Otherwise you can't act, otherwise you are merely a repetitive, mechanical machine, the machines set up by the society, by the particular culture in which one has grown, or by the religious organizational machine. If one wants—not wants—if one see the urgency of freedom, and in that freedom there is passion. And passion is always in the present, not something that’s passed and that you will have tomorrow, which is the passion created by thought as pleasure. Surely there is a difference between the passion of pleasure and the passion which comes when there is complete freedom from confusion, when there is total clarity. And that clarity is only possible, with its intensity, with its passion, with its timeless quality, is only possible when we understand what is action, whether action can ever be freed from imitation, conformity, from the dictates either of society, or of our own fears, or of our own inherent laziness. Because we like to repeat, repeat, repeat, especially anything that gives us great pleasure: the sexual act, and all the rest of it. And that becomes much more important when society becomes more and more superficial, which is what is happening in the world. When progress is technological, outward, when prosperity is self-centred, then pleasure becomes the highest importance, whether it's the pleasure of sex, the pleasure of a religious … (Some laughter)

Please don't laugh, because it’s much too serious, all these things, because we are facing a tremendous crisis in life. And some know this crisis, which is not economic, social, but a crisis in consciousness itself. And to break through that, to answer to that crisis as a challenge, demands great seriousness.

So, one has to go into this question of action because life is a movement in action. You can't just sit still, and that’s what we are doing. We are not in a movement, we are in the movement of what has been; and the young people say, “We are the new generation,” but they are not. And to understand all this, one must go into this question of what is action in freedom—if there is such thing as freedom, first; whether the mind can be free from its conditioning, whether the brain cells themselves, which have been so heavily conditioned for so many million years, which has its own responsive patterns?

So, what is action? Action according to an idea we know very well, according to a formula, a formula imposed outwardly on the mind or the formula the mind itself creates for itself, and according to that—act. The formula of knowledge, of experience, of tradition, and the fear of what the neighbour says, and so on and on, and that's the action we know, and therefore that action is always limited, always leads to more conditioning.

Now, is there any other action which is not? I think inevitably one must ask this question for oneself, knowing what is taking place in the world: the misery, the wars, the political divisions, the geographical divisions, the divisions created by religions, by beliefs, dogmas—you know what’s happening in the world. And, seeing all that, can there be an action which is not of that pattern? Surely, can we go on?

Please, as I said, as we said: to agree or to disagree has no meaning; you can turn your back on it, on the challenge, on the crisis, and amuse yourself, entertain yourself in different ways, but when you are confronted with the crisis—which each one of us is— because we are totally responsible for the whole structure of human society. We are responsible for these wars; we are responsible for these national, geographical divisions; we are responsible for the divisions of religion, with their dogmas, with their fears, with their superstitions, because we have committed ourselves to these. And we cannot avoid them—there they are. So how will one answer?

(Sound of a baby. Laughter)

So, is there any other action which is not creating its own bondage? (Long Pause)

I think there is, and I'm going to go into it. Please, again, we're not accepting any authority. The speaker has no authority whatsoever, because there is no follower, nor is there any teacher. The follower destroys the teacher, and the teacher destroys the follower. But what we are trying to do is to examine, and in the process of examination discover what is true for oneself. Really it is not a process: process implies time, a gradual step-by-step. But there is no step-by-step, there is no gradual process of understanding. When you see something very clearly, you act. And clarity of perception doesn't come about through gradual process and time.

We said, there is the positive action with which we are all familiar, and we are trying to find out if there is an action which is not positive at all, in the sense as we have understood it being positive, which is conformity. That is, to put it differently, one is confused—of that there is no doubt. In our relationships with each other, in our activities, which God to worship—if we worship at all—and so and so on, we are confused. And, out of that confusion any action is still confusing, therefore that understanding brings about—if you observe it very carefully, and I hope you are doing it now—brings about a negation of the positive—right?—and therefore there is an action which is not positive. It is the very denying of the positive is the negative action.

Look, sir, let me put it around differently, the question is: Is there an action—I'm not talking of spontaneous action; there is no such thing as spontaneous action, except perhaps when you see some dangerous thing, or when a child is drowning, and so on, we are not facing that every day. We are trying to find out an action which is not based on a mechanical process? And one must find it, otherwise one is a mere machine, which most human beings are: the daily routine of going to the office for the next forty years, the repetitive action of pleasure, and so on and so on.

Now, we're trying to find out if there is an action which is not at all conforming. And to find out, the positive action must come to an end, right?—surely. And is it possible for the positive action to come to an end without any assertion of the will? If there is any assertion of the will, decision that all positive action must come to an end, that decision will create the new pattern, which will be an action of conformity. I don’t know if you?

When I say to myself, “I will not do that,” the assertion of will is the outcome of my desire to find something new; but the old pattern, the old activity, is created by desire, by fear, by pleasure. By denying the old pattern through an action of will, I have created the same pattern in a different field. Is this fairly clear?

Audience: Yes.

K: Ah, no, please—not verbally clear; explanation is never the thing. The word is not the real, the symbol is never the real. What is real is to see this thing very clearly, and when you see it, then the positive action comes to an end. You see, freedom is total negation of the positive, but the positive is not opposite of the negative but is something entirely different, at a different dimension altogether.

Sir, look: death is the ultimate negation of life, isn’t it?—ending. And the ending we resist through positive assertion of the known, right?—my family, my house, my character, my this and this, all the rest of it. We're not discussing, we are not going into the question of death now; that we'll have to do another evening then, immense question.

And, what we're trying to find out is: is there an action in total negation, because we have to negate totally all the structure of fear, all the structure that demands security, certainty, because there is no certainty. There is no certainty in Vietnam. A man killed there is a man—is you.

So can we, in the very denying of the total positive fragmentary approach to life, denying that totally, not through any ideal or through any pleasure, because you see the absurdity of the whole of the structure? Not belonging to any nation, to any group, to any society, to any philosophy, to any activity—completely denying all that, because you see that it is the product of a confused mind. Then in the very denial is the action which is not conforming; therefore that is freedom.

Look, I believe since recorded history, man has chosen the way of war: fourteen thousand five hundred or more, fifteen thousand wars, two and a half wars every year, and we haven't denied wars. We have favourite wars and not-favourite wars. We haven't denied violence, which indicates man does not want peace. Peace is something not between two wars, or the peace of a politician—peace is something entirely different. Peace comes when there is freedom from the positive. I hope you understand the word, when we use the word positive. And when you deny totally war, or totally the division of the religious absurdities, because you understand the whole nature of it, the structure of it—not because you don't like this or that: it has nothing to do with like or dislike—then in the very denial of that is the negation, and out of that negation there is an action which is never conforming.

So a mind that is confused, seeking clarity will only further confuse itself, because a confused mind can't seek clarity. It's confused; what can it do? Any search on its part will only lead to further confusion. I think we don't realize that. When it's confused, one has to stop—stop pursuing any activity, and the very stopping is the beginning of the new, which is the most positive action—positive in a different sense altogether. And all this implies, does it not, that there must be profound self-knowing. To know the whole structure of your thinking-feeling, the motives, the fears, the anxieties, the guilt, the despair, the fear, and to know the whole content of one's mind, one has to be aware—aware in the sense observe, not with resistance or with condemnation, with approval or disapproval, with pleasure or non-pleasure—just to observe. And that observation is the negation of the psychological structure of a society which says, “You must; you must not.”

Therefore self-knowledge is the beginning of wisdom; and also self-knowledge is the beginning and the ending of sorrow. And the self-knowing is not to be bought in a book, or going to a psychologist and being examined analytically. Self-knowledge is the understanding actually what is in oneself: the pains, the anxieties, seeing them without any distortion. Then out of this awareness clarity comes into being. Right.

Can we talk over together the question what we have said this afternoon?

Questioner (Q): How can one start to learn to know oneself.

K: How can—I’m sorry I’m not stopping you from asking questions, but I have to repeat the question, therefore it has to be brief—how can one start knowing oneself?
I wonder why we make everything so difficult. First of all, we don't know ourselves. We are all second-hand people. We don’t know ourselves at all. And, we are at the mercy of all the analysts, philosophers, teachers. And to know oneself, one must understand what is learning.
This is …please just give a little attention to what we are going to talk about.

Learning is something entirely different from accumulating knowledge. Learning is always active present, knowledge is always in the past. A mind that learns a language is accumulating words, storing it up, any technique, and so on, and from that accumulation it acts. And, learning is something entirely different, learning is never accumulating. I have to accumulate if I have to learn a technique; and from that technique, from that skill which I have learned, I operate and add more to that skill—surely that’s not learning. Learning is a movement, is a flow, and there is no flow moment there is a static state of knowledge, which is essential when we function technologically. But life isn't technological accumulation, life is a movement. And to learn it and to follow it, one has to learn each moment, and therefore to learn, there is no accumulation. I wonder if I’m making myself clear.

Voices from audience: Yes, yes.

K: So, that's the first thing one has to observe that if there is to be self-knowledge, there must be an act of learning each minute. Not: having learned, I look at myself and then add more to that knowledge after having looked at myself. Which means what?—that the division between the observer and the observed is sustained. I wonder if you follow all this.

Look, sir; I want to know about myself. First of all, I've been told so many things about myself: that I am the soul, that I am the eternal flame, God knows what else, dozens of philosophies, ideas: the higher self, the lower self, the permanent reality, and so on and so on and so on. I want to learn about myself, so I have to discard all that, obviously. So I have to discard by observing how tremendously the mind has been influenced. We are the slaves of propaganda, whether it’s religious, military, or business; and, we are that. And to understand all that I can't condemn it, I mustn't say, “This is good, this is bad, this I must keep, this I must not keep,”—I must observe.

So, to observe there must be no condemnation, no justification, no acceptance. Then I begin to learn. Learning is not accumulation. Then I watch—please follow all this—I watch; I watch to see what I am, not what I should like to be, what actually is. I'm not in misery, or say, “How terrible what I am,”—it is so. I neither condemn nor accept. So, I observe, I see the way, the pattern of my thinking, my feeling, my motives, my fears, anxieties.

Now then: who is the observer? Please, this is not deep philosophy, just ordinary, daily occurrence. Who is the observer, who is the I that says, “I look”? The I which is looking is the accumulated experiences, condemnations, observations, experiences, knowledge, and so on—who is the centre, the censor, the observer. He separates himself from the observed; he says, “I am observing my fear, my guilt, my despair.” But the observer is the observed; if he is not, he wouldn’t recognize his despair. You’re following all this?

I know what despair is, what loneliness is—and that memory remains. The next time it arises, I say I see that something different from me, right? So, this division between the observer and the observed creates a conflict, and then I go off at a tangent how to resolve that conflict. But the fact is the observer is the observed—not an intellectual concept but the fact. Then, when the observer is the observed, then learning is acting. I don't learn and then act; but the action takes place only when the observer is the observed, and that action is the denial of what has been, the mechanical process. So I hope …it sounds very complex; it isn’t. Yes, sir?

Q2: Sir, is there a state of awareness where the past does not continually re-assert itself?

K: Is there a state of awareness where the past does not continually assert itself? If there is an awareness of the total process of time—total process, not the fragmentary process of yesterday, today and tomorrow? Again, we have to go into the whole question of time, but it’s not he occasion, the moment, now. If there is a total awareness of time, then there is no continuity as I am aware, or I have been aware, or I will be aware.

Sir, when one is completely attentive—attentive, that is, giving your mind, your heart, your nerves, your eyes, ears: everything attentive—there is no time at all. You don't then say, “I was attentive yesterday, and I'm not today.” Attention is not a continuous momentum of time: either you are attentive or you are not attentive. And as most of us are inattentive; and in that state of inattention we act and create misery for ourselves. And if you are attentive of what is taking place, totally, in the world: the starvation, the wars, the disease—you know, what is going in the world—totally attentive, then the whole division of man against man comes to an end.

Q3: Except, sir, there are moments almost like that, but one wakes up the next day and the attention is not maintained. If I do this I will not be able to …(inaudible)

K: Yes, sir, quite. The questioner says, “There are moments like this, but the next day it’s gone, the next moment it's gone. How am I to keep on to that memory which I’ve had?” It's a memory, and therefore it's a dead thing. Therefore it's not awareness, not attention. Attention is completely in the …. And when you are inattentive—that's the art of living, sir—when you are inattentive, don't act. That requires a great deal of intelligence, a great deal of self-observation, because it's the inattention that breeds mischief and misery. But when you are completely attentive with all your being, in that state action is instantaneous. But the mind remembers that action and wants to repeat it, and then you are lost.

Q4: Sir, can you speak about the relation of action, energy and attention?

K: I’m doing it, sir. Look, inattention is dissipation of energy, is wasted energy. And we are trained, through education, through all the social structure and the psychological structure of the world, we are trained to be inattentive. People think for us; they tell us what to do, what to believe, they tell us how to experience, the new drug, and we like sheep follow—all that is inattention. And when there is self-knowledge, when there is delving deeply into the whole structure and the nature of oneself, then attention becomes a natural thing. And there is great beauty in attention.