Imagine you are at the venerable age of 90.
You have been diagnosed with terminal cancer, and you have around a month to live.
For the last 60 years or so, you have been traveling around the world, disseminating messages of freedom, inner peace, and love.
Today, you stand on the precipice of your final public discourse.
What emotions would you grapple with? What would your state of mind be in that moment?
Well, this was the reality for Jiddu Krishnamurti, the renowned Indian philosopher and spiritual teacher. His last talk was recorded, and you can watch it on YouTube. I remember when I first came across this man; it was through this talk — his last one ever. The peace this man had was unshakable. On the brink of death, bidding farewell to his life's mission — yet, there he was, present, peaceful, delving deep into a complex topic at the age of 90. Remarkably, there was no trace of mental decline, no shadow of fear, nor any hint of emotional turmoil.
For the first time, I found myself genuinely captivated by someone's words. I had listened to numerous spiritual leaders before, but their speeches often felt hollow, empty words to me. No one seemed to embody their teachings, to be in total alignment with the things they preached. This man was different, I could tell.
After all, death is the real deal; you can't fake that.
What was his secret?
Krishnamurti was someone who referred to himself in the third person, as 'the speaker.' Unlike many spiritual gurus, he never discussed any of his personal experiences. He refused to offer any methods and declined to be an authority in the realm of the psyche.
Many people followed him for decades yet still had no clear understanding of his teachings. As Sadhguru noted, "Krishnamurti's mind was sharp, like a blade, cutting to the very essence of reality." However, very few people could keep pace. But he didn't seem to mind; he remained true to his core philosophy:
'There is no teacher, no pupil; there is no leader; there is no guru; there is no Master, no Savior. You yourself are the teacher and the pupil; you are the Master; you are the guru; you are the leader; you are everything.'
Yet, towards the end of his life, he surprised his audience.
'Do you want to know my secret?' he asked out of the blue.
There was complete silence, and everyone became very alert.
'This is my secret,' he revealed,
'I do not mind what happens.'
He then elaborated, 'I don't mind if I fail or succeed, if I have money or not… I have no problem because I do not demand anything from anybody or life.'
This reflects the words of the great Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius:
"Love the hand that fate deals you and play it as your own, for what could be more fitting?
When I do not mind what happens, what does that imply?
It means being in complete alignment with the present moment, without any form of resistance to what is. It's about being open to life, without fighting against it. Just like water, which flows with ease, it is soft yet possesses great power, as even the mightiest boulders yield to its force.
But, then again how is that practical?
If one does not mind what happens, does that mean, one will never act at all? After all, if I am indifferent to outcomes, what is the point of acting in general? Is this a nihilist view of reality?
Not at all.
Using the present moment as a means to an end
In the Bhagavad Gita, one of the central texts of Hinduism, it is stated:
"Perform your duty equipoised, O Arjuna, abandoning all attachment to success or failure. Such equanimity is called yoga." — Chapter 2, Verse 48
This verse highlights the importance of renouncing attachment to the fruits of our actions.
In life, each action we undertake is typically motivated by the desire for some reward. This anticipation of reward gives birth to notions of good and bad, success and failure.
For example, we attend school with the goal of securing good grades, which in turn become the stepping stones to a prestigious university.
A university education then becomes the pathway to a rewarding career.
A rewarding career usually entails monetary gain.
Money then becomes the means to acquire life comforts: a nice car, a big house, attract a partner, build a family.
The family then becomes our refuge from loneliness.
That is our life.
There is always this self-centered movement towards an idealized future, believed to bring happiness. We fail to see that this future never arises, and that happiness is never out there, but right here.
On top of that, when reality falls short of these idealized expectations, we encounter disappointment, frustration, and anguish. The bigger the deviation of reality from the ideal, the stronger the negative emotions we tend to experience.
Yet, what if there is another way?
Focus on the action, not the reward
True mastery in action, is really about going beyond the concepts of success and failure.
It's about learning to let go of our deep-seated attachment to how things turn out.
This kind of detachment doesn't mean we stop acting or ignore our responsibilities. It's more about not letting our emotions and thoughts become enslaved by the outcomes of what we do.
Echoing the sentiments of Epictetus, the Stoic philosopher:
"Demand not that events should happen as you wish; but wish them to happen as they do happen, and you will go on well."
This is about doing our best in every task but then letting go, trusting that whether we succeed or fail, it's all part of a greater plan, a divine design that's beyond our control.
And when I say 'Divine' I do not necessarily mean a deity or a religious concept. I simply mean, anything outside the sphere of our control.
Find your passion and let it drive you
What grabs your attention is not random. Follow it. Give it energy. Allow it to take you over, to consume you. If you discover what you love doing, the action itself becomes the reward. Is there success or failure then?
In the words of J. Krishnamurti:
"So you must do right for the sake of the right, not in the hope of reward; you must work for the sake of the work, not in the hope of seeing the result; you must give yourself to the service of the world because you love it, and cannot help giving yourself to it."
Are you writing here on Medium primarily for attention or monetary rewards, or are you genuinely savoring every moment of it? Would you continue to do it even if nobody cared, even if you received nothing in return? If the answer to these questions is 'no,' then it's likely that your motivation isn't rooted in a true love for what you're doing. Instead, it may be driven by fear and survival rather than creative love.
I have been writing on Medium for the past 2–3 weeks, and I keep seeing articles about how to gain followers, how to make more money, and various other strategies to become successful. Instead of being a platform for creative expression, it has become a platform focused on teaching people how to monetize their efforts.
AI will take over everything. The only viable solution will be to tax the technology and then redistribute those resources back to the people. Those of us in the West already enjoy a level of comfort — secure housing, ample food, and clean water — that surpasses the living standards of kings from 300 years ago. In a future where work may no longer be a necessity for many, what will we choose to do?
What is that truly stays, what is that a machine cannot do?
The true purpose of a human being
Study then, but study first that which will most help you to help others. Work patiently at your studies, not that men may think you wise, not even that you may have the happiness of being wise, but because only the wise man can be wisely helpful. — Krishnamurti.
What is the purpose of a knife? What is the purpose of a pen? What would happen if you used a knife to write, or a pen to cut something?
Humans are no different than tools, they need to be of use to shine.
Machines will likely be capable of performing most human tasks in the next decade, except for one — the ability to help another, to love deeply. This encapsulates the essence of Krishnamurti's words: 'I do not mind what happens.'
You see, only a person who does not mind what happens next is capable of love.
In relationships, we often — do mind what happens. We give with the expectation of receiving in return. And when we don't receive what we believe we deserve, we experience great pain. That is the source of all conflict in human relationships. Expectations — that is, the absence of true, unconditional love.
All we ever desire in this life is to be loved and accepted unconditionally. However, we often carry a bag of conditions — conditions on ourselves, conditions on others, and conditions on life itself.
We believe that true happiness and peace can only be attained when these conditions are met. Yet, we often overlook the absurdity of this pursuit. It is these very conditions that drive us relentlessly in search of something external to complete us. These conditions keep us 'out there' rather than 'in here.'
In essence, the quality of our life is a direct reflection of our capacity to act selflessly, without imposing conditions and demands.
That's what it means to truly not mind what happens. To be the complete embodiment of love.