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Chapter 7: Of the Stillest Hour

Just three days before J. Krishnamurti died, one of my friends was with him; and he reported to me that his words to him were very strange. Krishnamurti was very sad and he simply said one thing: “I have wasted my life. People were listening to me as if I am an entertainment.”

The mystic is a revolution; he is not entertainment.

If you hear him, if you allow him, if you open your doors to him, he is pure fire. He will burn all that is rubbish in you, all that is old in you, and he will purify you into a new human being. It is risky to allow fire into your being - rather than opening the doors, you immediately close all the doors.

But entertainment is another thing. It does not change you. It does not make you more conscious; on the contrary, it helps you to remain unconscious for two, three hours, so that you can forget all your worries, concerns, anxieties - so that you can get lost in the entertainment. You can note it: as man has passed through the centuries, he has managed to create more and more entertainments, because he needs more and more to be unconscious. He is afraid of being conscious, because being conscious means to go through a metamorphosis.

The hand moved, the clock of my life held its breath - I had never heard such stillness about me: so that my heart was terrified.
Then, voicelessly, something said to me: “You know, Zarathustra?”
And I cried out for terror at this whisper, and the blood drained from my face; but I kept silent.

Knowing is not something terrible - but he is talking to the disciples and he is creating this whole monologue in such a way that they can be entertained, that they can listen to it just as a parable, or just as a dream.

“You know, Zarathustra?”

a voiceless something said to me.

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