When I was sixteen, I found the book that changed my life, on the small bookshelf of an admired older cousin. My eye was drawn to The Flight of the Eagle, a collection of talks by Krishnamurti. What I read thrilled me. It was an entry into a world whose existence I had sensed but had not verified until that moment. As I read this book, I saw that there must be other people out there who were as interested in the inner life as I was. I felt a sense of belonging as never before. Even though the book was so hard to understand, it was nevertheless so compelling that I felt an imperative to learn its new language. Hearing about Krishnamurti’s steadfast exploration of the value of investigating the mind gave me the confidence to follow my own exploration. A few years later I discovered the Buddha’s teachings, and I have never looked back. But Krishnamurti’s teachings were my first encounter with the possibility of living a liberated life. Although I am devoted to the Buddha’s path, I’m not attached to it, and that is because of Krishnamurti.
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