Posted in -13-Volume-13

-066_June 3_1972.htm

June 3, 1972 Constantly, but constantly, I have things I would like you to know, but I don’t have a chance to tell them. The…

Continue Reading

Posted in -13-Volume-13

-019_February 11_1972.htm

February 11, 1972 (A note from Mother) Supreme Lord, teach us to be silent, that in this  silence we may receive Your force and understand…

Continue Reading

Posted in -13-Volume-13

-012_February 1_1972.htm

February 1, 1972 (Notes from Mother) Auroville is intended to hasten the advent of the supramental reality upon earth. The help of all those who…

Continue Reading

Posted in -13-Volume-13

-002_January 2_1972.htm

January 2, 1972 (Message from Mother) When Sri Aurobindo left his body he said that he would not abandon us. And in truth, during these…

Continue Reading

Posted in -13-Volume-13

-114_November 22_1972.htm

November 22, 1972 What do you wish? Well, you know, I always wish to ask you how things stand. Oh! Better not speak about that.Page…

Continue Reading

Posted in -13-Volume-13

-079_July 8_1972.htm

July 8, 1972 Any questions? I always wonder what you do when you plunge in, like now? (after a silence) It’s not always the same….

Continue Reading

Posted in -13-Volume-13

-145_March 7_1973.htm

March 7, 1973 How are you getting on? Well, I really can’t say…. You must know better than I. (Mother laughs) Personally, I keep hearing:…

Continue Reading

Posted in -13-Volume-13

-087_August 5_1972.htm

August 5, 1972 People know I don’t eat anymore, so they’ve stopped sending anything. I’ve got all I need! Page 258 Yet I didn’t tell…

Continue Reading

Posted in -13-Volume-13

-083_July 22_1972.htm

July 22, 1972 I have some things for you. (Mother gropes for something on the table beside her and hands Satprem a note in English) Man…

Continue Reading

Posted in -13-Volume-13

-028_March 8_1972.htm

March 8, 1972 (Mother holds a "Transformation" flower in her hand) For whom? (she looks for another flower to give Satprem and Sujata one each) Ten…

Continue Reading