If we depend for our happiness on another, on society or on

The great sage Jiddu Krishnamurti spoke words that cut through the illusions of the human heart: “If we depend for our happiness on another, on society or on environment, they become essential to us; we cling to them, and any alteration of these we violently oppose because we depend upon them for our psychological security and comfort.” These words, ancient in spirit and eternal in truth, speak not merely of relationships or society, but of the very bondage of the mind. When a man roots his joy in another, when his peace grows from the soil of external conditions, he becomes like a tree whose roots lie in shifting sand—strong for a moment, yet doomed when the winds of change begin to howl.

Krishnamurti’s teaching was born from his rejection of dependence—on gurus, systems, nations, and even religion. He saw how humanity, in its hunger for security and comfort, builds idols: of gods, lovers, possessions, and ideas. Yet these idols crumble, for they are fashioned from the impermanent. And when they fall, we tremble. Thus arises fear, jealousy, and anger, for we feel stripped of that which gave us meaning. The origin of this quote lies in his lifelong rebellion against the inner prisons men build for themselves—the belief that happiness can be given by another, rather than awakened within.

Consider the tale of Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-emperor of Rome. Surrounded by glory, power, and admiration, he saw that each external gift was also a shackle. He wrote in his Meditations, “You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” In war, in betrayal, in the death of his children, he did not curse the world, for he had trained his heart to rest upon itself. His serenity did not depend on the fickle tides of circumstance. In him, Krishnamurti’s wisdom lives centuries before it was spoken—a testament that the truth is timeless and reborn through those who seek it.

But most men do not live as emperors of their own minds. They cling, like ivy upon a crumbling wall, to the things that seem to give them life. A lover leaves, and despair consumes them. A job is lost, and they feel worthless. A nation falters, and they crumble with it. Yet what they do not see is that dependence breeds fear, and fear breeds violence—against others or against oneself. Thus, we defend our attachments with the fury of the desperate, not out of love but out of terror of loss. The very source of comfort becomes the root of suffering.

To live freely, one must learn to love without clinging, to act without expecting, and to exist without anchoring one’s joy in the fleeting. This is not the cold detachment of the ascetic, but the luminous freedom of the awakened heart. When a man finds contentment in the silence of his own being, the world becomes a reflection, not a master. He may enjoy its beauty, partake of its gifts, yet remain untouched when the storms pass through. This, Krishnamurti taught, is true psychological freedom—the state where one stands firm even as the world shifts beneath his feet.

There was once a woman named Viktorija, who lived through the fall of her homeland during the Second World War. She lost her family, her home, and all that she loved. Yet, when asked how she survived, she said, “They took my house, my people, my land—but they could not take my heart. I belong to no one and nothing but the spirit that moves within me.” Her story, like a living echo of Krishnamurti’s teaching, reminds us that liberation begins when we cease to seek shelter in what can be destroyed.

The lesson for those who listen is clear: happiness that depends on another is borrowed, not earned. Build instead the citadel within. Cultivate stillness through solitude, reflection, and truth. Observe your attachments—see how they whisper promises of peace, even as they bind you with invisible chains. Practice gratitude for what is given, but do not worship it. Love, but let your love be like the sunlight—nourishing all, yet clinging to none.

For in the end, all that changes will change again. Friends will leave, fortunes will fade, empires will fall. But if you have learned to stand upon the solid ground of your own consciousness—free from the tyranny of dependence—you will remain unmoved, serene amid the ruins. And when you speak of happiness, it will not be as one who seeks it, but as one who is it.