S p i r i t ua l i t y S t u d i e s 8 - 1 S p r i n g 2 0 2 2 7 Shai Tubali strates is, again, justified, since many people have verified extremely unsound and even damaging “truths” within themselves. Thus, both logic, as the measure that is supposed to safeguard us from unstable subjective truths, and one’s most intimate truths are rejected. In the same way, Krishnamurti regards one’s ability to trust the truthfulness of the speaker’s words based on a solid relationship of love and affection as a “very dangerous thing too” (Krishnamurti 1996, 231). And when a discussant suggests that it is the sense of silence that permeates the teacher’s presence that evidences where the teaching comes from, Krishnamurti alerts them to the fact that even a silent mind can be self-created rather than genuinely spontaneous, as a result of great discipline (Krishnamurti 1996, 231). Last, even mystical direct perception, an insight into the teacher’s transmission, is denied, since devout Christians and disciples of gurus would also testify to the very same truthfulness (Krishnamurti 1996, 233). Having relentlessly negated all these options, Krishnamurti keeps on asking: “How do you in your heart of hearts… know that he is speaking the truth?” (1996, 232). It is a tremendous question, he says, not “just a dramatic or intellectual question,” and it must be answered urgently, even though he deems all answers futile and all the familiar tools of investigation useless (Krishnamurti 1996, 232). Clearly, his aim is to keep the discussants’ minds in a state of unusual pressure. When, overwhelmed by the paradoxical situation, a discussant asks whether “one can ever get an answer” or whether perhaps this is a “false question,” Krishnamurti compels the questioner to resolve even this puzzlement by themselves (Krishnamurti 1996, 233). At certain points he seems to adopt an approach that resembles Socratic irony [6], pretending to be guided by the other’s more confident wisdom and even helping to develop the other’s answer only to refute the statement even more sharply (Krishnamurti 1996, 233). And the way that the discussion finally reaches a “positive” conclusion – ironic in nature, as we shall see – is Socratic as well, since Krishnamurti extricates the answer from one of the questioners, thus making it their answer (Krishnamurti 1996, 234): K Isn’t there a terrible danger in this? Q I am sure there is a danger. K So you are now saying that one has to walk in danger. Q Yes. K Now I begin to understand what you are saying. We also realize at this stage what Krishnamurti was endeavoring to achieve. Having negated the entire range of epistemological instruments, one is left to conclude that Krishnamurti’s teaching offers no security – as opposed to the confident reliance on gurus and priests (Krishnamurti 1996, 235). It is, Krishnamurti says, a path “full of mines, the razor’s edge path” (Krishnamurti 1996, 234). This is strikingly similar to the Lord of Death’s words to Nachiketa in the Katha Upanishad: “Sharp like a razor’s edge, the sages say, is the path, difficult to traverse” (Upanishads 2007, 82). What Krishnamurti advocates is a dynamic state of total awareness without ever settling into any comfortably permanent position; again, a quality of mind rather than an answer. Since the answer is the unfolding probing itself, the dialogical process serves as an existential demonstration of the “answer” to the question. This dialogue shows both the discussants and the reader what it is like to be in an energetic, ceaselessly flowing state of inquiry. This is demonstrated even more clearly by the fact that after the probing into the primary question has “ended,” the dialogue, very much like some of the anti-climactic endings of Plato’s dialogues, moves on to a secondary question: “Is perception continuous so that there is no collection of the debris?” and, once again, the question is, in itself, a reflection of a dialogue that never accumulates debris (Krishnamurti 1996, 236). Krishnamurti’s insight, therefore, is not a final state, since “final” indicates time; rather, it is a state that is completely outside of time. Krishnamurti confirms a remark suggesting that the way of inquiry practiced by him is “the way all science works,” in that “every statement must be in danger of being false” (Krishnamurti 1996, 234). This is partly true: science is indeed a tireless exploration that strives to transcend belief, subjective perception, and absolute or final truths. In this sense, it can be proposed that Krishnamurti blends elements of scientific inquiry into his mystical exploration. However, whereas the Krishnamurti dialogue ambitiously declares that it is an anti-accumulative project, scientific paradigms constructively evolve throughout the centuries, building upon those discoveries that have survived a great deal of scrutiny while discarding those that have not withstood the test of time. Even the great leaps of insight taken by science every now and then have all been deeply rooted in the evolution of knowledge. Furthermore, the scientific way of inquiry not only negates what others have said but also consciously and positively communicates with previous and contemporary discussions. It also heavily relies on epistemological devices, such as logic and evidence, that Krishnamurti is willing to use only to a very limited degree (Krishnamurti 1996, 235).
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