Jiddu Krishnamurti - Tell me of God

 

pic Gregory Colber

 

 O friend, Tell me of God. Where is He, by what manner do I find Him, Among what climes, in what abodes? Tell me, I am weary.

Read the Vedas, Do tapas, meditate, Perform rites and ceremonies, Practice austerities and renounce, Pray at His temple, among flowers and incense, Bathe in the sacred rivers, Visit the holy places, Be a devotee and pure of intelligence, In Kailas is His abode - - There you will find Him, cried many.

Obey the Law, Take refuge in the Order, Kill not, steal not and commit no sin, Go to the shrine, Enter Nirvana - - There you will find Him, cried many.

Read the Holy Book, pray at His church - -there be many - - This church will lead you to Him but beware of that.

Serve, sacrifice, Do not judge, be merciful,

In Heaven is His throne - - There you will find Him, cried many.

Read the only Book Of the only God, Visit His abode on earth, pray at the mosque, At the setting of the sun worship Him, Bahisht is his abode - - There you will find Him, cried many.

Work, work for humanity, Serve, serve your fellow-creatures, Follow this but beware of that path, Do the will of God, Follow blindly for I hold the key to His abode. Grasp this opportunity He offers you, Sorrow and happiness lead to Him, If you do this, your search will end - - Then you will find Him, shouted many.

I am weary, tired by the passage of time. Traveling on no path, I have come to Thee, Thou hast revealed Thyself to me.

Oh! Thou art the round stone That grinds the rice in the peaceful village Amidst songs and laughter. Thou art the graven image That men worship in temples, With chants and solemn music. Thou art the dead leaf That lies torn on the dusty road Trodden by the weary traveller. Thou art the solitary pine That stands majestic On the lonely hill.

Thou art the lame and mangy creature That comes to my door with a haunted look, hungry, That men abhor.

Thou art the mighty elephant That is gaily robed, Carrying the nobles of the land. Thou art the naked beggar That wanders from house to house Wearily crying for alms. Thou art the great of the land That are rich in possessions and books, That are well-fed and satisfied. Thou art the priests of all temples That are learned, proud and certain. Thou art the harlot, the sinner, the saint and the heretic.

My search is at an end, In Thee I behold all things. I myself, am God.

 

 

 

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