The Urgency of Change An inquiry into suffering, conditioning, and the ending of escape

I cannot continue living like this anymore — something is fundamentally wrong with the way I have been living. I thought I knew myself, but I was only repeating what society told me I was. Name, religion, caste, identity — I accepted all of it without question. And that blind acceptance has cost me my freedom and shaped my suffering. I lived like this for years without even realizing it. These labels gave me a sense of identity, a sense of security. But slowly, they began to define how I saw others — not as human beings, but as categories, as labels. I never questioned it. I simply lived within it.

During COVID, something unexpected happened. I came across Osho by accident. For the first time, I saw who was actually suffering — it was me. By reading his books, watching videos, I began to realize that what I once thought was meaningful and valuable was actually a form of bondage. There were brief moments where I felt a sense of freedom, something real — something changed, but not deeply enough.

At that time, I didn’t understand something very important: Thinking I understand is not the same as truly understanding. It is often just another belief. This is what I had always done — I believed things without seeing their truth. And with time, those beliefs became part of my conditioning. I wasn’t serious. I turned to these ideas only after suffering forced me to. On the surface, it seemed like I was trying to end my suffering. But in reality, I was trying to escape it. Escaping suffering is not the same as ending it.

Life went on like this until I came across a unique person — Jiddu Krishnamurti. He rejects all methods, all systems, all practices. He asks us to look for ourselves, to take complete responsibility for our lives — without self-pity. He speaks about investigating our problems deeply and going beyond them. The moment I listened to him, I felt this was someone I needed to understand. But again, I was not serious. I still didn’t see the real problem.

Around this time, I decided not to go to college. That decision brought a deep sense of loneliness, as I stepped away from everything familiar and was left only with myself. I tried to escape that loneliness in many ways—but I failed every time. Nothing worked. At the same time, another realization began to grow: I will die. Death can come at any moment. There is nothing that can prevent it.

I also heard Krishnamurti say that loneliness cannot be escaped. It must be lived, fully, completely — and only then is there freedom. Looking at my life, I began to see a pattern: I was always escaping — from loneliness, from fear, from discomfort. And for the first time, I understood something clearly: escaping is not the way. If I continue like this, I will live and die in misery. I don’t want that.

I want to know what it means to truly live — to feel the vitality, the depth, the movement of life itself. I want to be free from all conditioning. Because only in freedom can life be experienced directly. Otherwise, I am just living through filters, through borrowed ideas. I see that my life has been full of suffering. And looking around, it seems that almost everyone is suffering — regardless of their background. But I also see something else: there seems to be a way out. So there will be no more escape — no matter how uncomfortable it gets. Because if I don’t change now, nothing will change. Life will go on the same way, and I will suffer until death. Escaping is the suffering.

I saw that believing or rejecting didn’t help—only observing and investigating did. I realized that blindly accepting or denying ideas was a trap; the only thing that actually worked was direct, immediate observation. I started questioning authority because I saw that the moment I followed someone, I stopped seeing for myself. By adopting their answers, I disconnected from reality—I stopped paying attention to what was actually happening inside me right then and there.

It became absolutely clear that no outside person or expert could save me. But I also realized the danger of simply replacing their conclusions with my own. A conclusion is a dead end; the moment my mind concludes, it stops observing. I saw that my suffering came from constantly measuring my messy, living reality against fixed, static ideals. That gap created an exhausting internal friction. Relief didn’t come from adopting a shiny new belief system, nor did it come from arriving at my own final, rigid answer. It came in those moments when I dropped the need for conclusions altogether.

When I simply observe the raw machinery of my own mind—without judging it or trying to freeze it into a final shape—the internal fighting subsides. It hasn’t stopped completely. I haven’t reached some permanent finish line, if there is one. But sometimes, I am able to see existence purely, without the interference of words. And in those moments of direct contact, the conflict simply isn’t there.

So the real question is: do you see the urgency of change?

If you are truly serious, then we can look together. We can inquire together into the vast and complex problems of life. These conversations between Krishnamurti, David Bohm, and David Shainberg are where I kept returning. Not for answers — but because watching three people inquire together, without conclusion, showed me something I couldn’t find anywhere else.

Watch the Inquiries on YouTube