Years later, when we began a family in Sydney, I had to face the fact that I was no closer to transforming the world than I was before. But the thought that it may be possible to spare our children some of the confusion we all experience lured me on. If only I could explain what went on at our schools! What had happened there was unknown to the rest of the world, but the words that best describe it were not easy to come by. Also, one has to be completely honest with oneself to describe the way in which the mind processes things. A task I did not always enjoy.

From childhood we were asked to observe ourselves. In order to face oneself, I find, the mind has to be very resilient. It is a capacity that is nurtured by the environment and fostered by the quality of relationships within it. With this in mind, a group of people came together in the middle of the last century and sought to create an environment that would provide the opportunities required to liberate intelligence. They were concerned that, when it is left un-addressed, fear accumulates over the course of psychological development until gradually it overwhelms intelligence.

The main emphasis during our childhood was on ‘preparing the ground to liberate intelligence from the authority of the known’. I was intrigued because, from the moment I heard our teacher say ‘the word is not the thing’, the world had ceased to be a bewildering place. Rather, it became a place of great interest. So from then on I gave it my whole attention, watching the mind as it shaped and fathomed ideas. Although there were times when I let my imagination run wild and carve out a world of its own, I was always concerned with the nature of thought, with words and with being aware.

The unique thing about our teacher, Jiddu Krishnamurti, was that he denied all authority and addressed us directly, providing us with room to develop psychologically. Rather than informing us of what to think, he inquired into the nature of our thoughts by exploring them with us. This, I found, was a refreshing change from our ‘everyday’experience of school. Given the opportunity to explore my thoughts from childhood, I have found that I have often walked free from the limitations of my own thinking; thinking which would have tethered me to the universal drive for fulfillment consuming people everywhere.

Having been through this, I wonder: do the conventional forces of education actually condition the mind so as to bring on this burning desire for fulfillment? If children are raised as we were, to observe the nature of their own thinking and appreciate the use of language, surely this desire for the inexplicable will cease to haunt people? Rather than being taken for granted as it is today, this desire for fulfillment will be regarded as a lack of psychological maturity, for which students can then watch out.