On Fear

by J. Krishnamurti

WHAT IS YOUR fundamental, lasting interest in life?

This craving for position, for prestige, for power, to be recognized by society as being outstanding in some way, is a wish to dominate others, and this wish to dominate is a form of aggression.

Fear is one of the greatest problems in life. A mind that is caught in fear lives in confusion, in conflict, and therefore must be violent, distorted, and aggressive.

of never knowing what love is or of not being loved,

You run away from them, don’t you, or invent ideas and images to cover them? But to run away from fear is only to increase it. One of the major causes of fear is that we do not want to face ourselves as we are. So, as well as the fears themselves, we have to examine the network of escapes we have developed to rid ourselves of them.

The movement from certainty to uncertainty is what I call fear.

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One of the functions of thought is to be occupied all the time with something. Most of us want to have our minds continually occupied so that we are prevented from seeing ourselves as we actually are. We are afraid to be empty. We are afraid to look at our fears.

There is only one desire; there is only desire. You desire. The objects of desire change, but desire is always the same.

If one looks at what is, at the fact, and not at the idea, one will see that it is only the idea, the concept of the future, of tomorrow, that is creating fear. It is not the fact that creates fear.

God—but that again is a word invented by human beings in their fear, in their misery, in their desire to escape from life.

When I say I know the effects of fear, what does that mean? Either I know it verbally, that is, intellectually, or I know it as a memory, as something that has happened in the past, and I say: ‘This did happen’. So the past tells me what the effects are. But I don’t see the effects of it at the actual moment. Therefore, it is something remembered and not real, whereas ‘knowing’ implies non-accumulative seeing—not recognition—but seeing the fact. Have I conveyed this? When I say ‘I am hungry’, is it the remembrance of having been hungry yesterday that tells me, or is it the actual fact of hunger now? The actual awareness that I am hungry now is entirely different from the response of a memory that tells me I have been hungry and therefore I may be hungry now. Is the past telling you the effects of fear, or are you aware of the actual happening of the effects of fear? The actions of the two are entirely different, aren’t they? The one, being completely aware of the effects of fear now, acts instantly. But if memory tells me these are the effects, then the action is different. Have I made myself clear? Now, which is it?

K: Aren’t we? Aren’t we afraid of change? Q: The new is the unknown. We are afraid of the unknown.

Thought breeds fear; thought also cultivates pleasure.

What is the relationship of thought to action where action is necessary? Why, when there is complete enjoyment of beauty, does thought come into existence at all? For if it did not, then it would not be carried over to tomorrow. I want to find out—when there is complete enjoyment of the beauty of a mountain, of a beautiful face, a sheet of water—why thought should come there and give a twist to it and say, ‘I must have that pleasure again tomorrow’. I have to find out what the relationship of thought is in action; and to find out if thought need interfere when there is no need of thought at all. I see a beautiful tree, without a single leaf, against the sky; it is extraordinarily beautiful and that is enough—finished.

If you have ever looked at a sunset with all your heart and brain and mind, it is an extraordinary sight, as is the sight of an early morning. The other day we saw the sun rise. There was the waning moon and the morning star, clear light on the waters, and the snow-covered hills, and there was great beauty, which no painter, no poet, could describe. There was a delight in that. That delight is recorded in the brain. Then that pleasure is remembered and we want that pleasure to be repeated. The repetition is no longer pleasure; it becomes memory as pleasure. It is not the original perception of that waning moon, the clear sky with that low, single star and the beauty of that light on the water. That remembrance is pleasure; it was not at the moment of perception. At the moment of seeing there was no pleasure; there was that. But it has been recorded, then there is the remembrance of that, and that pleasure is the remembrance. And there is the demand for that pleasure to be repeated. At the moment when you see the beauty of a mountain, with the snow, with the clear, blue sky, there is no pleasure, there is only that immensity, that grandeur, that majesty; later on pleasure begins when you want it to be repeated, which means the remembrance, thought, time; the same thing as fear. I have seen the whole movement of that thing that has happened yesterday morning and that I want it again. It is exactly the same movement as fear and pleasure.

THERE IS FEAR. Fear is never an actuality; it is either before or after the active present. When there is fear in the active present, is it fear? It is there and there is no escape from it, no evasion possible. There, at that actual moment, there is total attention at the moment of danger, physical or psychological. When there is complete attention there is no fear. But the actual fact of inattention breeds fear; fear arises when there is an avoidance of the fact, a flight; then the very escape itself is fear.

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There is fear in so many forms and at all the levels of our consciousness. Defence, resistance, and denial spring from fear. Fear of the dark and fear of light; fear of going and fear of coming. Fear begins and ends with the desire to be secure; inward and outward security, with the desire to be certain, to have permanency. The continuity of permanence is sought in every direction, in virtue, in relationship, in action, in experience, in knowledge, in outward and inward things. To find security and be secure is the everlasting cry. It is this insistent demand that breeds fear.

It was a lovely evening, the sky was clear and in spite of city light, the stars were brilliant; though the tower was flooded with light from all sides, one could see the distant horizon and down below patches of light were on the river; though there was the everlasting roar of traffic, it was a peaceful evening.

!! Nicely written

In complete attention there is no experiencing. In inattention there is; it is this inattention that gathers experience, multiplying memory, building walls of resistance; it is this inattention that builds up the self-centred activities. Inattention is concentration, which is exclusion, a cutting off; concentration knows distraction and the endless conflict of control and discipline. In the state of inattention, every response to any challenge is inadequate; this inadequacy is experience. Experience makes for insensitivity; dulls the mechanism of thought; thickens the walls of memory, and habit, routine, become the norm. Experience, inattention, is not liberating. Inattention is slow decay.

All change that comes through motive is no change at all.

The late afternoon sun was on the river and among the russet leaves of autumnal trees along the long avenue; the colours were burning intensely and of such variety; the narrow water was aflame.

Life is always the active present; time always belongs to the past and so to the future. And death to time is life in the present. It is this life that is immortal, not the life in consciousness.

Order comes only when you observe how disorderly your own life is during the waking hours. Through the observation of disorder, order comes.