SEPARATING THE WHEAT FROM THE CHAFF: GRATITUDE TO KRISHNAMURTI

(This article was written by Alsibar, who has studied spiritual guides extensively, and the original text in Portuguese can be read at this link.)

I came to know Krishnamurti through books. When he died (in 1986) I was only thirteen years old. At sixteen, I bought a book about him published by Planeta. This was my first contact with someone who would touch and influence my life.

I didn't sense anything unusual about his appearance. I saw a man's yellowish face, gray hair, seemingly white skin, and a vague, sad gaze. He didn't look Indian, but European. Perhaps because, at that time, book printing technology was still very rudimentary, but since I had already bought other books from the same collection—Ramakrishna and Ramana Maharshi—I decided to buy this one as well. I still have it. Old, with edges eaten away by moths and time.

At first, his message didn't resonate with me. I read the book, but almost nothing stuck with me. Perhaps it was too profound for my immature mind at the time. However, I realized that he was someone who shared and confirmed many of my own opinions, so I wanted to learn more about him.

First I read his fascinating and intriguing biography: a poor Indian boy who had been recognized as the new messiah, the new World Teacher. He was being groomed and educated for that.

But what a surprise it was to realize that, as an adult, he had rejected that title, abdicating his messianic status!

I was moved by the courage, integrity, and wisdom of someone so young and without ambition. I thought, "And now, Krishnamurti. How will you live?"

But he placed his mission above any personal goal and persevered to the end. Only one thing mattered to him: "to make man absolutely and unconditionally free."

What did the thousands of followers with their flattery matter? Fame, money, and power?

I reflected on myself and my own condition. I remembered the men in our society. Many would give anything to be in his place and enjoy all that he willingly gave up.

After learning about Krishnamurti and his message, I became more interested in him.

Osho

At that time, I read everything related to occultism and spirituality. In particular, Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh (Osho) and Gurdjieff through his disciple Ouspensky, as well as Blavatsky, Trigueirinho, and others. But what I appreciated most back then was Osho.

I especially enjoyed reading his commentaries on Buddha, Christ, and Krishnamurti, and in that sense, the Indian guru was an encyclopedia.

Through him I learned about the main spiritualist currents of the time. That's how I experienced the fervor of the Rajneesh movement.

At that time, I and other like-minded colleagues bought his books and magazines, debated points of disagreement, visited meditation centers, attended conferences, and nurtured the dream of visiting him in India, and later in the United States where he subsequently moved.

Then came the scandals, the downfall, his imprisonment, the dissolution of the American commune, and finally his mysterious death.

After all these events, we felt somewhat orphaned. Even so, I continued to read Osho's books diligently and listen to his lectures.

How long did the admiration and enchantment last? How long did those beautiful, and to some extent, revolutionary words satisfy my restless and insatiable mind?

But time... ah, time... would take care of separating the wheat from the chaff.

Discernment

Time passed, and with it, much turned to ashes. Little by little, we learned to distinguish between trinkets and pure gold. What truly had substance and what was merely an embellished product displayed in the marketplace of deceptive spirituality.

That which is true, profound, and essential does not fail in the most difficult moments, nor does it die with time. That is why Christ, Buddha, Krishna, and Babaji are eternal and universal. And instead of dying, their teachings are reborn and strengthened over time. But that which lacks essence dies as soon as the initial excitement fades.

That was not the case for Krishnamurti.

Krishnamurti's message marked my life, not because it was beautiful, easy, and comforting, but because it clarified things for me, enlightened me, and helped me understand myself and my life. And that was no easy feat.

At first, it didn't console me. On the contrary, it shattered my soul. It destroyed my beliefs, my illusions, and my comfort zone, which I had so zealously tried to preserve.

His message—it's true—as a blogger friend once said, "his message destroyed everything and left me with nothing." But reflecting today: what would he leave behind? And how could he leave anything behind? Everything that was an illusion had to be demolished. And that's how the accumulated rubble of a life exploded in the blink of an eye.

From that inner cataclysm emerged a new person within me. A new being who was not, and is not, a follower of Krishnamurti, or of anyone else. Someone who recognizes and knows how to differentiate illusion from reality. Someone who neither seeks nor is satisfied with pretty words. Someone who doesn't cling to anything or anyone, not even to the one who contributed so much to their rebirth. A person who doesn't feel superior or better than anyone, but rather feels free and seeks to help those who also wish to be free.

Gratitude… perhaps that is the word that best expresses my feelings toward Krishnamurti. He was the culmination of a life of searching, struggles, mistakes, and illusions.

What would become of me and my life today if I hadn't grasped some of his teachings, which were crucial for me?

Today I know that teachers exist. Not because I've been told so, but because their messages of liberation and wisdom have significantly influenced my life. I know it because I verify the truth and usefulness of their words in my daily life. I know it because I see the concrete results, the positive changes, in my life and in those around me, whether family, relatives, or friends, even those who live far away.

I am deeply grateful to all teachers. However, I would like to express my special gratitude to Krishnamurti, who had the difficult task of revisiting the meaning of the fundamental principles of Dharma, or Universal Truth, which had been forgotten, abandoned, and corrupted by the ravages of time and the actions of unscrupulous people.

Krishnamurti adapted the Truth to the modern mindset, thus opening new paradigms for the spirituality of the New Millennium. But he did not abandon the past; rather, he reformulated it, revalidating and confirming the essence of the teachings of those who came before him.

I know that many do not understand or reject Krishnamurti's revolutionary vision, but it is worth reflecting on the following question:

The teachings are universal and timeless, but due to the hardness of our hearts, their essence is lost over time. This essence needs to be remembered, revitalized, and adapted to the era, context, and culture.

Were it not for beings like Buddha, Jesus, Babaji, Krishnamurti and others, humanity would be condemned to wander in darkness and suffering, lost in erroneous and obsolete teachings, corroded by time.