The Philosophy of Not Caring

Let's say you're 90 years old and wise. You've just been told you have cancer and you have about a month to live. For the last 60 years you've traveled the world spreading lessons of freedom, inner peace, and love. Today, you're giving what will be your final public speech. What feelings would you have to deal with? How would you feel at that moment?

This was the reality for the famous Indian philosopher and spiritual teacher Jiddu Krishnamurti. You can find his last speech on YouTube. Interestingly, the first time I encountered this man was during that very talk - his last. Even at 90, while discussing a complex subject and facing the end of his life's work, he remained peaceful, calm, and deeply reflective. Remarkably there was no sign of mental decline, fear, or emotional turmoil. For the first time, I was genuinely captivated by someone else's words.

I had heard many spiritual leaders speak before, but their words often felt empty to me; they didn't seem to fully embody the teachings they espoused, but this man was different. Death after all is real, something you cannot fake, so what was Krishnamurti's secret?

Krishnamurti referred to himself as the speaker in the third person. Unlike many spiritual teachers, he never spoke about his own experiences. He offered no solutions and never claimed to be an expert on the mind. Many people followed him for decades, yet few fully grasped what he was trying to teach as sadguru. One said Krishnamurti's mind was sharp as a blade cutting straight to the essence of things, but not many could keep up with him. Yet he held firm to his core principles and remained indifferent to whether others understood him or not.

There is no teacher and no student; there is no leader and no guru; there is no master and no savior. You are the master, the guru, the leader, and the student all at once. You are everything.

Near the end of his life he shocked his audience. “Do you want to know my secret?”, he suddenly asked. The room fell silent. Everyone became very attentive. He continued, “This is my secret: I don't mind what happens.” He elaborated, “I don't care whether I succeed or fail, whether I have money or not. I have no problem because I don't expect anything from life or others.” This echoes what the great Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius said: “It is fitting to love the hand that life deals you and play it as your own.”

But what does it really mean when someone says they don't mind what happens? It's about being fully aligned with the present moment and not resisting what is. It's a surrender to life's flow without resistance. It's soft, yet incredibly powerful, like water, that despite its softness erodes even the toughest rocks over time. Yet, how does this make sense?

Does not caring about what happens mean doing nothing at all? If I don't care about the result, why take action? Is this an existential viewpoint? Not at all.

The Bhagavad Gita, one of Hinduism's most important texts, provides insight. 'Abandon all attachment to success or failure and perform your duty.' This verse in Book 2:48 underscores the importance of detaching from the outcome of our actions.

Typically, every action we take is motivated by the desire for a reward. It's the promise of something in return that gives rise to ideas of good and bad, success and failure. For example, we attend school with the aim of getting good grades, which then allow us to get into a prestigious university. Then going to university is the pathway to securing a good job. A well-paying job is usually seen as a means to acquiring the comforts of life - a nice car, a big house, a partner, and a family.

When loneliness creeps in, the family becomes our refuge. This is our life. People constantly chase a perfect future that they believe will bring them happiness, yet the future doesn't exist, and happiness isn't found somewhere out there – it's always here in the present!

Moreover, when reality doesn't align with our idealized expectations, we experience disappointment, frustration, and suffering. The greater the gap between what we want and what is, the stronger our negative emotions become. But what if there's another way?

Focus on the action itself, not the reward. True mastery in action is about transcending ideas of success and failure; it's about releasing our deep attachment to outcomes. This detachment doesn't mean we stop acting or become indifferent to our responsibilities. Rather, it's about preventing our emotions and thoughts from being dictated by results.

As the stoic philosopher Epictetus said, “Do not seek for things to happen as you wish them to, but rather wish that what happens be as it is, and you will be okay.” This approach involves giving your best to every task and then letting go, trusting that whether you succeed or fail is part of a larger plan beyond your control. When I say divine, I don't necessarily mean a God or religious concept. I'm referring to anything beyond our control. Find what you love and let that be your driving force.

Your interests don't arise randomly. Follow them, give them life, let them consume you. Once you discover something you love, the act itself becomes the reward. After that, is there really success or failure?

In the words of Krishnamurti, “So you must do what is right without expecting anything in return; you must work without hoping to see the results; you must serve the world because you love it and cannot help but serve it in the future.”

AI will likely take over most of what people do. The only solution may be taxing technology and redistributing that wealth to people. As it stands, people in the west already live with comforts that surpass those of kings 300 years ago - safe homes, abundant food, and clean water. In time, many might not need to work anymore. What will we do then? What remains and what can't be replaced by a machine? What is the true purpose of being human?

Study what will help you help others the most. Work hard at your studies, not for the sake of being seen as smart or even for the pleasure of being intelligent. Do it because only someone who has cultivated intelligence can help others.

In the next ten years machines may handle most of what people currently do, except for one thing: loving and helping others. This is what Krishnamurti meant when he said, “I do not mind what happens”.

You see, only someone who doesn't care what happens next can truly love. Often, when we're with someone, we care too much about what happens. When we give, we expect something in return, and when we don't get what we feel we deserve, we experience deep pain. This is where most conflicts in relationships arise, showing that genuine unconditional love is lacking in this life.

All we really desire is to be loved and accepted unconditionally. Yet we carry so many conditions on ourselves, on others, and on life itself. We think that if those conditions are met we'll finally find peace and happiness. Yet we often overlook how futile this pursuit really is. These conditions lead us to constantly search outside ourselves for something to complete us, drawing our attention outward instead of inward. The true measure of life's value lies in our ability to act without expectation. That's what it means to not mind what happens, to be the pure embodiment of love.

from Scipio's Dossier, When Jiddu Krishnamurti Shocked His Audience, on YouTube