The Book of Yourself Newsletter
Issue 43: June 2025
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It would seem that humanity, at least in the sociopolitical and economic scene, has plunged into a veritable season of anomie. Anomie literally means ‘normlessness’, and it stands for the breakdown of moral values and standards in society, leading to chaos and anarchy. We are currently witnessing the breakdown of the moral and legal international order. This rule-based order, or the semblance of it, has collapsed under the willful and self-interested abuses of power. What supposedly stood for a universal consensus on justice and human rights has yielded to the law of the jungle. While history has amply shown that ‘might is right’ is a recipe for disaster, the current levels of ignorance and moral turpitude among the ruling elites are exposing the savage underbelly not only of our Western civilisation but of all societies and power structures worldwide. This is a tremendous crisis. When the common people and those in high places display such blatant and brazen disregard for the most basic norms of civility and compassion, then we know we are on the edge of darkness. This darkness, with its partisanship, fear and violence, is now palpable. Although it may not be new in terms of the cyclical rise and fall of civilizations – and we are clearly heading for a fall – the present challenge of these darkling times is for us to turn our faces to the light, to be a light to ourselves.
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“One has to be a light to oneself; this light is the law. There is no other law. All other laws are made by thought and so fragmentary and contradictory. To be a light to oneself is not to follow the light of another, however reasonable, logical, historical, and however convincing. You cannot be a light to yourself if you are in the dark shadows of authority, of dogma, of conclusion. Morality is not put together by thought; it is not the outcome of environmental pressure, it is not of yesterday, of tradition. Morality is the child of love and love is not desire and pleasure. Sexual or sensory enjoyment is not love.”
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Krishnamurti’s Journal, pg. 35
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This short paragraph is a radical reply to the anomie and darkness of our times, of all times and, implicitly, of time itself. Being a light to oneself, K says, is the only law, not all the others, which are made by fragmentary and contradictory thought, which therefore is not the source of order but of disorder. The quality of being a light to oneself means not following another, not being in the shadow of authority, dogma and conclusions, no matter how logical, historical and convincing. Morality, like law – and in this context they appear to mean the same – is not put together by thought and is not the outcome of tradition or environmental pressure. He says, rather, that it is the child of love, which is not desire, pleasure or sensory enjoyment.
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As usual, K approaches this fundamental issue in a negative rather than a prescriptive way. He does assert that we have to be a light to ourselves, as this is the ground of law and morality. This moral law is the child of love, which implies that love is the light in oneself. But he approaches these deep qualities by stating what they are not and the central negation is that they are not the product of thought, which he views as necessarily contradictory on account of its inherent limitation as the response of experience and knowledge, of the past. Thought is therefore not the source of light but of darkness, for it can only cultivate memory and desire, which are not love. This is something they are not likely to teach in law or even in divinity school, for thought has become central to the human attempt to bring about an ordered and meaningful existence in the wide network of our relationship with nature, things, people and ideas. What K would seem to be saying is that the great legal and ethical libraries of this world, with their neatly ordered tomes and careful phraseology, might as well be a blank wall, for the means they employ can never achieve their end, which the present global disorder would seem to confirm.
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“We have no light within ourselves: we have the artificial light of others; the light of knowledge, the light that talent and capacity give. All this kind of light fades and becomes pain. The light of thought becomes its own shadow. But the light that never fades, the deep, inward brilliance which is not a thing of the marketplace, cannot be shown to another. You can’t seek it, you can’t cultivate it, you can’t possibly imagine it or speculate upon it, for it is not within the reach of the mind.”
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The Only Revolution, pg. 98
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K sees the light of knowledge, authority, talent and capacity as artificial, the light of thought that fades and becomes its own shadow. The light he is talking about cannot be shown to another, is not marketable and never fades. It cannot be sought, cultivated, imagined or speculated upon because it is not within the reach of the mind. I take it that in this context ‘mind’ means thought and consciousness, which implies such light can never be captured within the field of the known. This raises a tremendous question for humanity, for, as we said, thought has become our primary instrument in dealing with our practical and human affairs and K sees it as an artificial illumination that fades into its own shadow. So the mind as the field of thought is unable to capture and embody that other deep, unfading brilliance which is the light of true order and intelligence. This light emerges in the state of meditation.
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“There is the light that painters try to put on a canvas; there is the light that cameras capture; there is the light of a single lamp in a dark night, or the light that is on the face of another, the light that lies behind the eyes. The light that the eyes see is not the light on the water; that light is so different, so vast that it cannot enter into the narrow field of the eye. That light, like sound, moved endlessly – outward and inward – like the tide of the sea. And if you kept very still, you went with it, not in imagination or sensuously; you went with it unknowingly, without the measure of time.
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The beauty of that light, like love, is not to be touched, not to be put into a word. But there it was – in the shade, in the open, in the house, on the window across the way, and in the laughter of those children. Without that light what you see is of so little importance, for the light is everywhere; and the light of meditation was on the water. It would be there in the evening again, during the night, and when the sun rose over the trees, making the river golden. Meditation is that light in the mind which lights the way for action; and without that light there is no love.”
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The Only Revolution, pp. 68-69
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Light is an extraordinary phenomenon that has captivated humanity from its origins. The very metaphor of darkness and light has been with us since the beginning, with the darkness as the seat of ignorance and light as that of illumination. The varieties of light seen through different lenses or on different surfaces or environments in the stillness of the mind would seem to become, in their endless, timeless movement, something akin to a pure mystical vision of essence. This light of meditation is then all lights, maybe their original source. It is everywhere, permeating all things, so there is no longer an inner and an outer. But above all it is the flame in the mind that lights the way of action and without which there is no love.
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“It had been a cool day and the sky had been open and there was the light of a thousand winters; it was short, penetrating and expansive; it went with you everywhere, it wouldn’t leave you. Like perfume, it was in the most unexpected places; it seemed to have entered into the most secret corners of one’s being. It was a light that left no shadow and every shadow lost its depth; because of it, all substance lost its density; it was as though you looked through everything, through the trees on the other side of the wall, through your own self. Your self was as opaque as the sky and as open. It was intense and to be with it was to be passionate, not the passion of feeling or desire, but a passion that would never wither or die. It was a strange light, it exposed everything and made vulnerable, and what had no protection was love. You couldn’t be what you were, you were burnt out, without leaving any ashes and unexpectedly there was not a thing but that light.”
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Krishnamurti's Notebook, pg. 315
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K’s sensitivity to light must have been extreme, for it entered him and did not leave him, not even the pale light of winter. This penetrating quality of light did not stay on the retina but moved inwardly, into the most secret recesses of his being, flattening the shadows and casting none itself. Not only that, but this light caused all substance to lose its density, making everything transparent, translucent, permitting him to see not only the trees behind the wall but through the opaqueness of the self, leaving it as open as the sky. The self could not maintain its identity for it was burnt out without leaving any ashes. To be with that light was to be intense with a passion that would never wither or die. It exposed everything and made it vulnerable, which vulnerability was love. It dissolved all physical and psychological substance until there was nothing but light. Extraordinary! So apart from the meaning of light as insight into the nature of our psychological darkness, light would seem to have its own pervasive presence in the universe as that which sees through and maybe is all. But while this light cannot be pursued as an object of desire, for that is a projection of thought, perceiving it has its own requirements.
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“It was a marvellous moment of light, clear and incredibly rich. Far away there was the sound of a bugle and a motorcycle roared, but the blue sky remained and there were a thousand shadows. There is no space in light, no journey to be taken, nothing to be fulfilled and the pain of frustration; there was no death in that clear light nor time to gain; it was a marvellous moment and it is always there, not a thing to be remembered, to be pursued. It is there but you have to turn the corner, just beyond your property, your family, your work and responsibility. You have to be alone without loneliness.”
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Krishnamurti's Notebook, pg. 338
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This light is itself a negation of many things: of space, of time to gain or achieve, of death. It is always there but we will not see it unless, as he so poetically puts it, we turn the corner, just beyond our property, family, work and responsibility, i.e. beyond our occupations and attachments. It requires that we be alone without loneliness. To be lonely is to feel disconnected and to long for something or someone to fill our emptiness, whereas to be alone is, as the word itself implies, to be all-one, therefore complete in the embrace of our fundamental emptiness, which is the heart of meditation in which this light becomes manifest.
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Does this answer the challenge of the darkness engulfing the consciousness of our time? Perhaps it does, for all this darkness has its source in our separate identities, whose fictional substance is created by thought. Seeing through them and dissolving their substance is the way of meditation, in whose emptiness there is no division, which is the ground of freedom and love.
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Let’s turn some corners, amigos, and look beyond our projections into the heart of light,
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P.S.: apologies for the long delay in sending this issue of the newsletter. I am in the process of moving from The Netherlands to my native area of Spain, which is proving to be a very demanding and challenging process. So please bear with me.
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Photos by J. Gómez Rodríguez: 1. Fishing boat, Markemeer, Lelystad; 2. View of the marina, Amsterdam.
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