Division between man and man

Flags are separate symbols that blow and wave, unfurl, express our pretensions that we, too, are separate, country from country body from body, mind from mind. Our bars of belief and superstition have bound us and in thrall to habit we are ready to kill in the name of a priest, an imam, a language, a symbol that flutters in the wind. We must belong, see ourselves as having kinship with others to protect from the draw of the jungle, the real division from our true selves that lies deep down in our true nature. Why is there, one must ask, this division—the Russian, the American, the British, the French, the German, and so on—why is there this division between man and man, between race and race, culture against culture, one series of ideologies against another? Why? Where is there this separation? Man has divided the earth as yours and mine—why? Is it that we try to find security, self-protection, in a particular group, or in a particular belief, faith? For religions also have divided man, put man against man—the Hindus, the Muslims, the Christians, the Jews and so on. Nationalism, with its unfortunate patriotism, is really a glorified form, an ennobled form, of tribalism. In a small tribe or in a very large tribe there is a sense of being together, having the same language, the same superstitions, the same kind of political, religious system. And one feels safe, protected, happy, comforted. And for that safety, comfort, we are willing to kill others who have the same kind of desire to be safe, to feel protected, to belong to something. This terrible desire to identify oneself with a group, with a flag, with a religious ritual and so on gives us the feeling that we have roots, that we are not homeless wanderers. - Krishnamurti, Krishnamurti to Himself, pp 59-60

FRAGMENTS

I first met Elisabeth Fraser at a meeting in the Theosophical Society in great King Street in Edinburgh. What the meeting was about and who the speaker was I can't recall clearly, but what I do remember is that I was seated next to a tall bookcase; and as the talk was droning on my attention was drawn to the spines of the books on the shelves. Having read many of his books in the past, a set of books by Krishnamurti caught my attention and I pulled one from the shelf. Immediately, Elisabeth turned to me and whispered, "I'm a follower of Krishnamurti. We used to go down to Brockwood Park to hear his talks every year."

What impressed me about Elisabeth was that although she was born in 1918 at the end of the First World War, there was a vibrancy about her and a young sparkle in her eyes. Her hair was white and lay in thick, healthy waves with no sign of thinning. In fact, Elisabeth gave me the impression of someone who has in some way defied the process of ageing both mentally and physically.

Now, having just read her book, FRAGMENTS MY LIFE AND DEATH IN A CULT, I am impressed by the variety of events in her life as well as the extent to which she investigated her capacity to understand herself. But what drew my attention in relation to my own experience was her capacity for second sight. Throughout the book she relates incidents that she intuitively foresees. She calls the skill her 'psychic abilities'. One incident is when she suddenly wakes up in her camper with a start and:

"It felt as if I had hardly been asleep when I was conscious of a voice in my head saying, 'We are very worried for your safety. I heard it over and over again before I became consciously aware of the urgency of the voice. I shot up in my bunk, banging my head on the roof. As I began to feel the significance of those words I became very worried. Completely mystified I climbed wearily out of my sleeping bag and slipped to the floor of the van ...My first thought was to check the calor gas."

It turns out that she drives to a shop and the owner checks the system for a leak which he finds. he says, "My God! You have a leak that could have blown you and your van to smithereens had you put a match to any of your gas rings!"

Elisabeth recalls, "The voice had said 'we' so there must have been more than one kind friend."

There are several other incidents in the book which tell of Elisabeth's ability to foresee a future event. This brings to mind an episode told to me by my mother and concerning my father's mother at a time when she was bedridden and dying. During her last days my mother was tending to her.

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My grandmother, at my parents' wedding, second from left

The incident really spooked me out when she told me of it. My cousin David was 12-years old at the time, I think, and he was suffering from a brain tumour, although no one knew about it at the time. I recall my father saying that poking the fire was an unbearable noise for him. David was the first-born grandson amongst over 30-cousins and a favourite of Grandma Harris.

Sadly for everyone, he died within a six-week period of the onset of his ailment and, of course, was a blow to all the family. Because of Grandma Harris's condition, everyone decided that it would be best to keep the news of David's illness from her. However, one day, as my mother was attending to her, she said, "David's dead, isn't he?" My mother was shocked as she knew that David had been critically ill and she stopped whatever she was doing. I have a clear image of my mother looking with amazed eyes at my grandmother, although I wasn't there.

My mother asked, "How do you know?"

To which my grandmother replied, "I saw him standing at the end of my bed with my husband.

Shortly after saying this, my Grandmother passed away, I don't know how many people knew of this story. In memory of him, my uncle Morris, Grandma Harris's son. named his son after him.