Can the mind see the truth of its own incapacity to know the

Hear now the voice of Jiddu Krishnamurti, the sage who wandered without allegiance to sect or scripture, who stood alone and declared that truth is a pathless land. He asked: “Can the mind see the truth of its own incapacity to know the unknown? Surely if I see very clearly that my mind cannot know the unknown, there is absolute quietness.” These words are not mere philosophy, but an arrow aimed at the restless heart of man, forever grasping at what cannot be grasped. They call us to a humility so deep, so luminous, that it becomes liberation itself.

The mind, proud in its reasoning and cleverness, believes it can conquer all mysteries. It builds temples of knowledge, towers of science, and palaces of philosophy. Yet in its pride it forgets that there lies an unknown, vast and boundless, into which no thought can enter. The mind, trying to measure the infinite, is like a child cupping the ocean in its hands: no matter how tightly it holds, the waters slip away. To see this truth clearly—not as an idea, not as a doctrine, but as a living realization—is to be stilled, as a bird is stilled in the air when the storm has passed. This stillness is what Krishnamurti calls absolute quietness.

History gives us examples of men who glimpsed this boundary and were transformed by it. Consider Isaac Newton, who after charting the laws of motion and unlocking the mysteries of gravity, confessed in his later years: “I seem to myself only like a boy playing on the seashore… whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.” Here was a mind of immense power, yet it bowed before the immensity of the unknown. In that humility there was peace, for Newton did not imagine he had captured the whole truth, but recognized the vastness beyond his reach.

In contrast, those who cannot accept the incapacity of the mind fall into torment. They demand answers to every riddle, explanations for every silence, certainty in a world woven with mystery. Their minds rage like a storm against the cliffs of the infinite, only to be shattered again and again. The ancients called this hubris, the arrogance that tempts mortals to think themselves equal to gods. From such arrogance came the fall of Icarus, who flew too near the sun. To accept the limits of the mind is not weakness; it is wisdom.

And yet, Krishnamurti’s words are not urging us to despair, but to freedom. For when the mind acknowledges its incapacity, when it no longer strains to possess the unknown, then a new thing occurs: silence. In that silence, there is no fear, for fear is born of the demand to know what lies ahead. In that silence, there is no anxiety, for anxiety feeds on the mind’s frantic search for control. In that silence, there is peace—the peace of being, not of knowing.

The lesson, O seeker, is this: cease to wrestle with the unknown, and let your mind rest in its proper place. Use knowledge where it serves, but do not worship it as a god. When mystery arises, do not force it into words or theories. Instead, observe it with reverence, as one might gaze upon the stars. Recognize that there are realms where thought cannot go, and let that recognition bring stillness rather than struggle.

Practical action must follow. Each day, sit quietly and allow your thoughts to settle. When the restless mind demands answers to questions unanswerable—“What is beyond death? What is the origin of the universe? What lies in the heart of eternity?”—do not fight nor fabricate. Simply see the incapacity of thought to know the unknown, and in that seeing, let stillness arise. Practice this not as a ritual, but as an awakening. In time, you will find that silence blossoms where once there was only noise.

Thus, let Krishnamurti’s wisdom be etched in the scroll of your life: the mind cannot know the unknown, and in knowing this truth, it becomes quiet. And in that quietness, perhaps the eternal whispers—not as thought, not as knowledge, but as a presence beyond measure. That is the peace of the ancients, the rest of the soul, the freedom of the spirit.