Truth is a pathless land.

The words of Jiddu Krishnamurti—“Truth is a pathless land.”—resound like a trumpet-call of liberation to all seekers of wisdom. In this brief but thunderous utterance, he shatters the illusion that truth can be confined to any doctrine, creed, or system. For paths are made by men: they are cut through forests, paved upon earth, drawn in maps, and passed down as rigid routes for others to follow. But truth, says Krishnamurti, is not bound by roads. It is a vast and boundless wilderness, where each soul must walk alone, discovering its own steps. No guide, no priest, no philosopher can give you the trail, for the land itself is without path.

Krishnamurti spoke these words in 1929, when he dissolved the Order of the Star, a spiritual organization that had once proclaimed him the “World Teacher.” Standing before thousands who expected him to lead them, he renounced authority. He declared that truth cannot be organized, institutionalized, or possessed. It cannot be chained to temples or captured in rituals. The moment one says, “Here is the way,” one has already departed from the living reality of truth. It is as if he told the world: seek not to follow me, for the moment you follow, you are blind.

The ancients too knew this mystery. Did not the sage Laozi teach that the Tao which can be spoken is not the eternal Tao? The rivers flow, the mountains stand, the winds move, and all these are real—but the moment one tries to trap them in words, the essence slips away. So also with truth: once fixed into a rigid road, it ceases to be alive. To walk the pathless land is to be like the wanderer who trusts the stars above and the rhythm of his own steps, rather than a map drawn by another hand.

Consider the life of Galileo Galilei. He was born into a world where the “path” of truth was dictated by the Church: the sun must circle the earth, because so the tradition declared. Yet when Galileo gazed through his telescope, he beheld another order, a deeper truth. By following his own sight instead of the ordained road, he was condemned. Yet his lonely walk across the wilderness of discovery transformed humanity’s understanding of the heavens. Galileo’s courage proves Krishnamurti’s words: the great revelations of life are found not upon beaten paths, but in the wilderness of the unknown.

The pathless land demands courage, for it strips away the comfort of certainty. To walk it is to let go of the handrails of tradition, to abandon the safety of conformity. It is the hero’s journey of the soul, in which no external authority can guarantee the outcome. But this is also its gift: freedom. The one who dares to walk without a path discovers that the ground itself rises to meet their steps, and that truth is not something reached at the end of a road, but something encountered in every breath, in every moment of living.

Let us draw the lesson clearly: do not wait for another to hand you truth, for they cannot. Do not cling too tightly to the paths of religion, ideology, or tradition, though they may offer guidance, for they are but shadows of the living flame. Instead, cultivate your own direct perception, through silence, through observation, through honest inquiry into your own life. The truth will not be given—it must be discovered, freshly, eternally, by you.

Therefore, take these actions: question what you are told, but do not fall into cynicism. Walk bravely into the wilderness of your own heart. Listen to the whisper of your conscience, the quiet voice that arises when all dogma is silenced. Practice meditation, reflection, or solitude, not to escape the world but to see it without distortion. Trust that the truth is vast, boundless, and already here, awaiting the eyes that dare to see without a path. For as Krishnamurti teaches, truth is a pathless land, and only those who walk without roads will discover its infinite horizon.