{"id":4269,"date":"2013-07-13T01:54:42","date_gmt":"2013-07-13T01:54:42","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/localhost\/?p=4269"},"modified":"2013-07-13T01:54:42","modified_gmt":"2013-07-13T01:54:42","slug":"04-06-march-1957-vol-09-questions-and-answers-volume-09","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/02-works-of-the-mother\/01-cwmce\/09-questions-and-answers-volume-09\/04-06-march-1957-vol-09-questions-and-answers-volume-09","title":{"rendered":"-04_06 March 1957.htm"},"content":{"rendered":"\n\n
\n
\n


\n
\n6
\nMarch 1957 <\/font> <\/span><\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

My eye won\u2019t allow me to read today.<\/span> \u00b9 <\/span>But I have been asked a
\nquestion on what I read to you last week. I am going to reply to it this
\nevening. Pavitra<\/span>, will you read, please? <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

(Pavitra<\/span> reads) What does this paragraph mean?: \u201cFreedom is the law of being in its
\nillimitable unity, secret master of all Nature: servitude is the law of love in
\nthe being voluntarily giving itself to serve the play of its other selves in
\nthe multiplicity.\u201d <\/i><\/span><\/p>\n

Thoughts and Glimpses, Cent. Vol. 16, p.
\n386 <\/font> <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

At a superficial glance these two things appear absolutely contradictory
\nand incompatible. Outwardly one cannot conceive how one can be at once in
\nfreedom and in servitude, but there is an attitude which reconciles the two and
\nmakes them one of the happiest states of material existence. <\/span><\/p>\n

Freedom is a sort of instinctive need, a necessity for the
\nintegral development of the being. In its essence it is a perfect realisation
\nof the highest consciousness, it is the expression of Unity and of union with
\nthe Divine, it is the very sense of the Origin and the fulfilment. But because
\nthis Unity has manifested in the many \u2013 in the multiplicity \u2013 something had to
\nserve as a link between the Origin and the manifestation, and the most perfect
\nlink one can conceive of is love. And what is the first gesture of love? To
\ngive oneself, to serve. What is its spontaneous, immediate, inevitable
\nmovement? To serve. To serve in a joyous, complete, total self-giving.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>So, in their purity,
\nin their truth, these two things \u2013 freedom and service \u2013 far from being
\ncontradictory, are comple<\/span><\/span>mentary<\/span><\/span>.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00b9 On the 27th February there was only a
\nreading followed by a meditation, no talk was given. Since the Darshan<\/span> of November 24, Mother had been having a slight
\nhaemorrhage in her left eye. <\/font> <\/span>
\n
\n\u00a0<\/font><\/span> <\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage \u2013 49<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

It is in
\nperfect union with the supreme Reality that perfect freedom is found, for all
\nignorance, all unconsciousness is a bondage which makes you inefficient,
\nlimited, powerless. The least ignorance in oneself is a limitation, one is no
\nlonger free. As long as there is an element of unconsciousness in the being, it
\nis a limitation, a bondage. Only in perfect union with the supreme Reality can
\nperfect freedom exist. And how to realise this union if not through a
\nspontaneous self-giving: the gift of love. And as I said, the first gesture, the
\nfirst expression of love is service. <\/span><\/p>\n

So the two are closely united in the Truth. But here on earth, in
\nthis world of ignorance and inconscience, this service which should have been
\nspontaneous, full of love, the very expression of love, has become something imposed,
\nan inevitable necessity, performed only for the maintenance of life, for the
\ncontinuation of existence, and thus it has become something ugly,
\nmiserable\u00a0 <\/span>\u2013 humiliating. What should
\nhave been a flowering, a joy, has become an ugliness, a weariness, a sordid
\nobligation. And this sense, this need for freedom has also been deformed and
\nhas become that kind of thirst for independence which leads straight to revolt,
\nto separation, isolation, the very opposite of true freedom. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Independence!\u2026I remember
\nhaving heard an old occultist and sage give a beautiful reply to someone who
\nsaid, \u201cI want to be independent! I am an independent being! I exist only when I
\nam independent!\u201d And the other answered him with a smile, \u201cThen that means that
\nnobody will love you, because if someone loves you, you immediately become
\ndependent on this love.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

It is a beautiful reply, for it is indeed love which leads to
\nUnity and it is Unity which is the true expression of freedom. And so those who
\nin the name of their right to freedom claim independence, turn their backs
\ncompletely on this true freedom, for they deny love.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The deformation comes
\nfrom constraint. <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage – 50<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

One cannot love through compulsion, you cannot be compelled to
\nlove, it is no longer love. Therefore, as soon as compulsion intervenes, it
\nbecomes a falsehood. All the movements of the inner being must be spontaneous
\nmovements, with that spontaneity which comes from an inner harmony, an
\nunderstanding \u2014 from a voluntary self-giving \u2014 from a return to the deeper
\ntruth, the reality of being, the Origin and the Goal. <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage \u2013 51<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n


\n8 March 1957<\/font><\/a><\/span><\/i><\/b> <\/font> <\/a> <\/span><\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

The following story was told by Mother during one of<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

the Friday classes, generally reserved for readings
\nto the children. <\/font><\/span> <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

A Buddhist Story<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

As I am still unable to read to you this evening, I am going to
\ntell you a story. It is a Buddhist story which perhaps you know, it is modern
\nbut has the merit of being authentic. I heard it from Madame Z who, as you
\nprobably know, is a well-known Buddhist, especially as she was the first
\nEuropean woman to enter <\/span>Lhasa<\/span><\/span>. Her journey to <\/span>Tibet<\/span> was very perilous and thrilling and she narrated one of the
\nincidents of this journey to me, which I am going to tell you this evening. <\/span><\/p>\n

She was with a certain number of fellow
\ntravellers forming a sort of caravan, and as the approach to <\/span>Tibet<\/span> was relatively easier through Indo-China, they were going from
\nthat side. Indo-China is covered with large forests, and these forests are
\ninfested with tigers, some of which become man-eaters\u2026and when that happens
\nthey are called: \u201cMr. Tiger.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Late one evening, when
\nthey were in the thick of the forest \u2013 a forest they had to cross in order to
\nbe able to camp safely \u2013 Madame Z realised that it was her meditation hour.
\nNow, she used to meditate at fixed times, very regularly, without ever missing
\none and as it was time for her meditation she told her companions, \u201cContinue
\nthe journey, I shall sit here and do my meditation, and when I have finished I
\nshall join you; meanwhile, go on to the next stage and prepare the camp.\u201d One
\nof the coolies told her, \u201cOh! no, Madam, this is impossible, quite impossible\u201d
\n\u2013 he spoke in his own language, naturally, but I must tell you Madame Z knew
\nTibetan like a Tibetan \u2013 \u201cit is quite impossible, Mr. Tiger is in the forest
\nand now is just the time for him to come and look for his dinner. We can\u2019t
\nleave <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage \u2013 52<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

\n\u00a0<\/span>you and you can\u2019t stop
\nhere!\u201d She answered that it did not bother her at all, that the meditation was
\nmuch more important than safety, that they could all withdraw and that she
\nwould stay there alone. <\/span><\/p>\n

Very reluctantly they started off, for it was impossible to reason
\nwith her \u2013 when she had decided to do something nothing could prevent her from
\ndoing it. They went away and she sat down comfortably at the foot of a tree and
\nentered into meditation. After a while she felt a rather unpleasant presence.
\nShe opened her eyes to see what it was\u2026and three or four steps away, right in
\nfront of her was Mr. Tiger! \u2013 with eyes full of greed. So, like a good
\nBuddhist, she said, \u201cWell, if this is the way by which I shall attain Nirvana,
\nvery good. I have only to prepare to leave my body in a suitable way, in the
\nproper spirit.\u201d And without moving, without even the least quiver, she closed
\nher eyes again and entered once more into meditation; a somewhat deeper, more
\nintense meditation, detaching herself completely from the illusion of the
\nworld, ready to pass into Nirvana.\u2026Five minutes went by, ten minutes, half an
\nhour \u2013 nothing happened. Then as it was time for the meditation to be over, she
\nopened her eyes\u2026and there was no tiger! Undoubtedly, seeing such a motionless
\nbody it must have thought it was not fit for eating! For tigers, like all wild
\nanimals, except the hyena, do not attack and eat a dead body. Impressed
\nprobably by this immobility \u2013 I dare not say by the intensity of the
\nmeditation! had withdrawn and she found herself quite alone and out of danger.
\nShe calmly went her way and on reaching camp said, \u201cHere I am.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>That\u2019s my story. Now
\nwe are going to meditate like her, not to prepare ourselves for Nirvana (laughter<\/i>), but to heighten our
\nconsciousness! <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage \u2013 53<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n


\n
\n13
\nMarch 1957 <\/font> <\/a> <\/span><\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>This evening, once
\nagain, no reading. But someone has asked me a question on something I have
\nwritten \u2013 Pavitra<\/span>, do you have it? Read it. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

(Pavitra<\/span> reads) \u201cOur best friend is he who loves us in our best part, and yet does not
\nask us to be different from what we are.\u201d <\/i><\/span><\/p>\n

Words of the Mother, Third Series, 1966
\ned., p. 66 <\/font><\/span><\/i>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

I am asked to explain what this means. I have a good mind to tell
\nyou all sorts of paradoxical things! But still\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

Anyway, I wrote this with something in mind which one usually
\nforgets: one asks one\u2019s friends and those around one to be not what they are
\nbut what one would like them to be \u2013 one can form an ideal for oneself and want
\nto apply it to everybody, but\u2026This reminds me of Tolstoy\u2019s son whom I met in
\nJapan and who was going round the world in the hope of bringing about unity
\namong men. His intentions were excellent, but his way of doing it seemed less
\nhappy! He said with an imperturbable seriousness that if everybody spoke the
\nsame language, if everybody dressed in the same way, ate in the same way and
\nbehaved in the same way, that would inevitably bring about unity! And when
\nasked how he planned to realise this he said it would be enough to go from land
\nto land preaching a new but universal language, a new but universal dress, and
\nnew but universal habits. That was all.\u2026And that was what he intended to do! <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>(Laughing)<\/i>
\nWell, everyone in his own little field is like that. He has an ideal, a
\nconception of what is true and beautiful and noble, and even divine, and this
\nconception of his he wants to impose on others. There are also many people who
\nhave a conception of the Divine and who try with all their might to impose
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage \u2013 54<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

their conception on the Divine\u2026and usually don\u2019t lose heart until
\nthey have lost their life! <\/span><\/p>\n

It is this spontaneous<\/i>
\nand almost unconscious attitude I had in mind, for if I were to tell one of
\nyou, \u201cThere! that\u2019s what you want to do\u201d, he would protest very vehemently and
\nsay, \u201cWhat! Never in my life!\u201d But when one has opinions about people and
\nespecially reactions to their way of life, it is because one blames them for not
\nbeing what one thinks they ought to be. If we never forget that there cannot
\nbe, should not be two things exactly alike in the universe, for the second
\nwould be useless since there would already be one of the same kind, and that
\nthe universe is constituted for the harmony of an infinite multiplicity in
\nwhich two movements \u2013 and even more, two consciousnesses \u2013 are never alike,
\nthen what right have we to intervene and want that somebody should conform to
\nour own thought?\u2026For if you think in a particular way, it is certain that the
\nother won\u2019t be able to think in the same way. And if you are a person of a
\ncertain type, it is absolutely certain that the other cannot be of the same
\ntype. And what you ought to learn is to harmonise, synthesise, combine all the
\ndisparate things in the universe by putting each one in its place. Total
\nharmony does not at all lie in an identity, but in a harmonisation which can
\ncome only by putting each thing in its place. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>And this must be at
\nthe basis of the reaction that one has the right to expect from a true friend,
\nwho should wish not that his friend should be like him, but that he may be what
\nhe is. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Now, at the beginning
\nof the sentence I said, \u201cHe loves you in the best part of yourself….\u201d To put
\nit a little more positively: Your friend is not one who encourages you to come
\ndown to your lowest level, encourages you to do foolish things along with him
\nor fall into bad ways with him or one who commends you for all the nasty things
\nyou do, that\u2019s quite clear. And yet, usually, very, very often, much too often,
\none makes friends with somebody with whom one doesn\u2019t feel uneasy when one has
\nsunk lower. One considers as one\u2019s best friend somebody who en<\/span>courages<\/span><\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage \u2013 55<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

one in
\none\u2019s follies: one mixes with others to roam about instead of going to school,
\nto go and steal fruit from gardens, to make fun of one\u2019s teachers and for all
\nkinds of things like that. I am not making any personal remarks, but indeed I
\ncould quote some examples, unhappily far too many. And perhaps this is why I
\nsaid, \u201cThey are not your true friends.\u201d But still, they are the most convenient
\nfriends, for they don\u2019t make you feel that you are in the wrong; while to one
\nwho comes and tells you, \u201cNow then, instead of roaming about and doing nothing
\nor doing stupid things, if you came to the class, don\u2019t you think it would be
\nbetter!\u201d usually one replies, \u201cDon\u2019t bother me! You are not my friend.\u201d This is
\nperhaps why I wrote this sentence. There you are. I repeat, I am not making any
\npersonal remarks, but still it is an opportunity to tell you something that
\nunfortunately happens much too often. <\/span><\/p>\n

There are children here who were full of promise, who were at the
\ntop of their class, who used to work seriously, from whom I expected much, and
\nwho have been completely ruined by this kind of friendship. Since we are
\nspeaking of this, I shall tell them today that I regret this very much and that
\nI do not call such people friends but mortal enemies against whom one should
\nprotect oneself as one would against a contagious disease. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>We don\u2019t like the
\ncompany of someone who has a contagious disease, and avoid him carefully;
\ngenerally he is segregated so that it does not spread. But the contagion of
\nvice and bad behaviour, the contagion of depravity, falsehood and what is base,
\nis infinitely more dangerous than the contagion of any disease, and this is
\nwhat must be very carefully avoided. You must consider as your best friend the
\none who tells you that he does not wish to participate in any bad or ugly act,
\nthe one who gives you courage to resist low temptations; he is a friend. He is
\nthe one you must associate with and not someone with whom you have fun and who
\nstrengthens your evil propensities. That\u2019s all.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Now, we won\u2019t labour
\nthe point and I hope that those I have
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage \u2013 56<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

in mind will understand what I have said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Indeed, you should
\nchoose as friends only those who are wiser than yourself, those whose company
\nennobles you and helps you to master yourself, to progress, to act in a better way
\nand see more clearly. And finally, the best friend one can have \u2013 isn\u2019t he the
\nDivine, to whom one can say everything, reveal everything? For there indeed is
\nthe source of all compassion, of all power to efface every error when it is not
\nrepeated,\u00b9 to open the road to true realisation; it is he who can understand
\nall, heal all, and always help on the path, help you not to fail, not to
\nfalter, not to fall, but to walk straight to the goal. He is the true friend,
\nthe friend of good and bad days, the one who can understand, can heal, and who
\nis always there when you need him. When you call him sincerely, he is always
\nthere to guide and uphold you \u2013 and to love you in the true way. <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00b9 In 1961 when this talk was first
\npublished, Mother commented on this phrase: \u201cSo long as one repeats one\u2019s
\nmistakes, nothing can be abolished, for one recreates them every minute. When
\nsomeone makes a mistake, serious or not, this mistake has consequences in his
\nlife, a \u2018Karma\u2019 which must be exhausted, but the Divine Grace, if one turns to
\nIt, has the power of cutting off the consequences; but for this the fault must
\nnot be repeated. One shouldn\u2019t think one can continue to commit the same
\nstupidities indefinitely and that indefinitely the Grace will cancel all the
\nconsequences, it does not happen like that! The past may be completely
\npurified, cleansed, to the point of having no effect on the future, but on
\ncondition that one doesn\u2019t change it again into a perpetual present; you
\nyourself must stop the bad vibration in yourself, you must not go on
\nreproducing the same vibration indefinitely.\u201d<\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage \u2013 57<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n


\n
\n15 March 1957<\/font><\/a><\/span><\/i><\/b>
\n<\/a>
\n<\/span><\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

The following talk was given on a Friday, the day Mother used to
\nread to the children. <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

Reminiscences
\nof Tlemcen<\/span><\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

Once again, this evening, I am not going to read, but I won\u2019t tell
\nyou a story; I am going to tell you about Madame X. <\/span><\/p>\n

Madame X was born on the <\/span>Isle of Wight<\/span> and she lived in Tlemcen<\/span> with her
\nhusband who was a great occultist. Madame X herself was an occultist of great
\npowers, a remarkable clairvoyant, and she had mediumistic qualities. Her powers
\nwere quite exceptional; she had received an extremely complete and rigorous
\ntraining and she could exteriorise herself, that is, bring out of her material
\nbody a subtle body, in full consciousness, and do it twelve times in
\nsuccession. That is, she could pass consciously from one state of being to
\nanother, live there as consciously as in her physical body, and then again put
\nthat subtler body into trance, exteriorise herself from it, and so on twelve
\ntimes successively, to the extreme limit of the world of forms.\u2026I shall speak
\nto you about that later, when you can understand better what I am talking
\nabout. But I am going to tell you about some small incidents I saw when I was
\nin Tlemcen\u00b9 myself, and a story she told me I shall also tell you.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The incidents are of a
\nmore external kind, but very funny. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She was almost always
\nin trance and she had trained her body so well that even when she was in trance,
\nthat is, when one or more parts of her being were exteriorised, the body had a
\nlife of its own and she could walk about and even attend to some small material
\noccupations.\u2026She did a great deal of work, for in her trances she could talk
\nfreely and she used to narrate what she saw, which was noted down and later
\nformed a teach<\/span>ing<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00b9 In 1907.<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage \u2013 58<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

 \u2014 which has
\neven been published. And because of all that and the occult work she was doing,
\nshe was often tired, in the sense that her body was tired and needed to
\nrecuperate its vitality in a very concrete way. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Now, one day when she
\nwas particularly tired, she told me, \u201cYou will see how I am going to recover my
\nstrength.\u201d She had plucked from her garden\\was not a garden, it was a vast
\nestate with ancient olive trees, and fig trees such as I have never seen
\nanywhere else, it was a real marvel, on a mountain-side, from the plain to
\nalmost half way up \u2013 and in this garden there were many lemon trees and orange
\ntrees\u2026and grapefruit. Grapefruit has flowers which have an even better
\nfragrance than orange blossoms \u2013 they are large flowers and she knew how to
\nmake an essence from them herself, she had given me a bottle \u2013 well, she had
\nplucked a huge grapefruit like this, (gesture<\/i>)
\nvery large and ripe, and she lay down on her bed and put the grapefruit on her
\nsolar plexus, here, (gesture)<\/i> like
\nthis, holding it with both hands. She lay down and rested. She did not sleep,
\nshe rested. She told me, \u201cCome back in an hour.\u201d An hour later I returned\u2026and
\nthe grapefruit was as flat as a pancake. That meant that she had such a power
\nto absorb vitality that she had absorbed all the life from the fruit and it had
\nbecome soft and completely flat. And I saw that myself! You may try, you won\u2019t
\nsucceed! (Laughter<\/i>) <\/span><\/p>\n

Another time \u2013 and this is even more amusing\u2026But first I shall
\ntell you a little about Tlemcen<\/span>, which you probably
\ndon\u2019t know. Tlemcen<\/span> is a small town in southern <\/span>Algeria<\/span>, almost on the borders of the <\/span>Sahara<\/span>. The town
\nitself is built in the valley which is surrounded by a circle of mountains, not
\nvery high but nevertheless higher than hills. And the valley is very fertile,
\nverdurous, magnificent. The population there is mainly Arabs and rich
\nmerchants; indeed, the city is very prosperous was], for I don\u2019t know what it
\nis like now; I am speaking to you about things that happened at the beginning
\nof this century \u2013 there were very prosperous merchants there and from time to
\ntime<\/span>\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage \u2013 59<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/span>these Arabs came to pay a visit
\nto Monsieur X. They knew nothing, understood nothing, but they were very
\ninterested.<\/span><\/p>\n

One day, towards evening, one of these people arrived and started
\nasking questions, ludicrous ones besides. Then Madame X said to me, \u201cYou will
\nsee, we are going to have a little fun.\u201d In the verandah<\/span>
\nof the house there was a big dining-table, a very large table, like that, quite
\nwide, with eight legs, four on each side. It was really massive, and heavy.
\nChairs had been arranged to receive this man, at a little distance from the
\ntable. He was at one end, Madame X at the other; I was seated on one side,
\nMonsieur X also. All four of us were there. Nobody was near the table, all of
\nus were at a distance from it. And so, he was asking questions, as I said
\nrather ludicrous ones, on the powers one could have and what could be done with
\nwhat he called \u201cmagic\u201d.\u2026She looked at me and said nothing but sat very still.
\nSuddenly I heard a cry, a cry of terror. The table started moving and with an
\nalmost heroic gesture went to attack the poor man seated at the other end! It
\nwent and bumped against him.\u2026Madame X had not touched it, nobody had touched
\nit. She had only concentrated on the table and by her vital power had made it
\nmove. At first the table had wobbled a little, then had started moving slowly,
\nthen suddenly, as in one bound, it flung itself on that man, who went away and
\nnever came back! <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She also had the power
\nto dematerialise and rematerialise<\/span> things. And she
\nnever said anything, she did not boast, she did not say, \u201cI am going to do
\nsomething\u201d, she did not speak of anything; she just did it quietly. She did not
\nattach much importance to these things, she knew they were just a proof that
\nthere are other forces than purely material ones. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>When I used to go out
\nin the evenings \u2013 towards the end of the afternoon I used to go for a walk with
\nMonsieur X to see the countryside, go walking in the mountains, the
\nneighbouring villages \u2013 I used to lock my door; it was a habit with me, I
\nalways locked my door. Madame X would rarely go out, for the reasons I have
\nalready mentioned, because she was in a
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage \u2013 60<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

trance most of the time and liked to stay at home. But when I
\nreturned from the walk and opened my door \u2013 which was locked, and therefore
\nnobody could have entered \u2013 I would always find a kind of little garland of
\nflowers on my pillow. They were flowers which grew in the garden, they are
\ncalled Belles de Nuit;\u00b9<\/i> we have them
\nhere, they open in the evening and have a wonderful fragrance. There was a
\nwhole alley of them, with big bushes as high as this; they are remarkable
\nflowers \u2013 I believe it\u2019s the same here \u2014 on the same bush there are different
\ncoloured flowers: yellow, red, mixed, violet. They are tiny flowers
\nlike\u2026bluebells; no, rather like the convolvulus, but these grow on bushes \u2013
\nconvolvulus is a creeper, these are bushes \u2013 we have some here in the garden.
\nShe always used to put some behind her ears, for they have a lovely smell, oh!
\ndelightfully beautiful. And so, she used to take a walk in the alley between
\nthese big bushes which were quite high, and she gathered flowers, and \u2013 when I
\ncame back, these flowers were in my room!\u2026She never told me how she did it, but
\nshe certainly did not go in there. Once she said to me, \u201cWere there no flowers
\nin your room?\u201d \u2013 \u201cAh! yes, indeed,\u201d I said. And that was all. Then I knew it
\nwas she who had put them there.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>I could tell you many
\nstories, but I shall finish with this one she had told me, which I did not see
\nmyself. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>As I was telling you, Tlemcen<\/span> is very near the <\/span>Sahara<\/span> and it has
\na desert climate except that in the valley a river flows which never dries up
\nand makes the whole country very fertile. But the mountains were absolutely
\narid. Only in the part occupied by farmers did something grow. Now, Monsieur
\nX\u2019s park \u2013 a large estate \u2013 was, as I said, a marvellous place\u2026everything grew
\nthere, everything one could imagine and to a magnificent size. Now, she told me
\n\u2013 they had been there a very long time \u2013 that about five or six years before, I
\nthink, they had felt that these barren mountains might one day cause the river
\nto dry up<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n


\n\u00b9Mirabilis,
\nMarvel of Peru; <\/font> <\/span><\/i>significance
\ngiven by Mother: R<\/i><\/span>\u00e9<\/span><\/i>confort<\/span><\/i><\/span>, <\/span><\/i><\/font>Solace<\/font>.<\/font><\/i><\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage \u2013 61<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

and that it would be better to plant trees there; and the
\nadministrator of Tlemcen<\/span> ordered trees to be planted
\non all the neighbouring hills; a wide amphitheatre, you know. He said that pine
\ntrees should be planted, for in <\/span>Algeria<\/span> the sea-pine grows very well. And they wanted to try it. Well,
\nfor some reason or other \u2013 forgetfulness or fantasy, heaven knows! \u2013 instead of
\nordering pine trees they ordered fir trees! Fir trees belong to Scandinavian
\ncountries, not at all to desert lands. And very conscientiously all these fir
\ntrees were planted. Now Madame X saw this and I believe she felt like making an
\nexperiment. So it happened that four or five years later these fir trees had
\nnot only grown but had become magnificent and when I went to Tlemcen<\/span> the mountains all around were absolutely green,
\nmagnificent with trees. She said to me, \u201cYou see, these are not pine trees,
\nthey are fir trees\u201d, and indeed they were \u2013 you know fir trees are Christmas
\ntrees, don\u2019t you? \u2013 they were fir trees. Then she told me how after three years
\nwhen the fir trees had grown, suddenly one day or rather one December night, as
\nshe had just gone to bed and put out her light, she was awakened by a tiny
\nlittle noise \u2013 she was very sensitive to noise; she opened her eyes and saw
\nsomething like a moonbeam \u2013 there was no moon that night \u2013 lighting up a corner
\nof her room. And she noticed that a little gnome was there, like the ones you
\nsee in the fairy-tales of <\/span>Norway<\/span> and <\/span>Sweden<\/span>, Scandinavian fairy-tales. He was a tiny little fellow with a big
\nhead, a pointed cap, pointed shoes of dark green, a long white beard, and all
\ncovered with snow. <\/span><\/p>\n

So she looked at him \u2013 her eyes were open \u2013 she looked at him and
\nsaid, \u201cBut\u2026Eh! what are you doing here?\u201d \u2013 she was a little worried, for in the
\nwarmth of her room the snow was melting and making a little pool on the floor
\nof her room. \u201cBut what are you doing here!\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Then he smiled at her,
\ngave her his sweetest smile and said, \u201cBut we were called by the fir trees! Fir
\ntrees call the snow. They are trees of the snow countries. I am the Lord of the
\nSnow, <\/span>
\n
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage \u2013 62<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

so I came to announce to you that\u2026we are coming. We have been
\ncalled, we are coming.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSnow?\u2026But we are near the Sahara!\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAh! then you
\nshouldn\u2019t have planted fir trees.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Finally she told him,
\n\u201cListen, I don\u2019t know if what you tell me is true, but you are spoiling my
\nfloor. Go away!\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>So he went away. The
\nmoonlight went with him. She lit a lamp \u2013 for there was no electricity \u2013 she
\nlit a lamp and saw\u2026a little pool of water in the place where he had stood. So
\nit was not a dream, there really was a little being whose snow had melted in
\nher room. And the next morning when the sun rose, it rose upon mountains
\ncovered with snow. It was the first time, it had never been seen before in that
\ncountry. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Since then, every
\nwinter \u2013 not for long, just for a little while \u2013 all the mountains are covered
\nwith snow. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>So that\u2019s my story. <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage \u2013 63<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n


\n
\n20 March 1957<\/font><\/a><\/span><\/i><\/b>
\n<\/a>
\n<\/span><\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe delight
\nof victory is sometimes less than the attraction of struggle and suffering; nevertheless
\nthe laurel and not the cross should be the aim of the conquering human soul.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>\u201cSouls that do not aspire are God\u2019s failures;
\nbut Nature is pleased and loves to multiply them because<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

they assure
\nher of stability and prolong her empire. <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cThose
\nwho are poor, ignorant, ill-born or ill-bred are not the common herd; the
\ncommon herd are all who are satisfied with pettiness and an average humanity.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cHelp
\nmen, but do not pauperise them of their energy; lead and instruct men, but see
\nthat their initiative and originality remain intact; take others into thyself,
\nbut give them in return the full godhead of their nature. He who can do this is
\nthe leader and the guru. <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cGod has made the world a field of battle and filled it with the
\ntrampling of combatants and the cries of a great wrestle and struggle. Would
\nyou filch His peace without paying the price He has fixed for it? <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>\u201cDistrust a perfect-seeming
\nsuccess, but when having succeeded thou findest<\/span> still
\nmuch to do, rejoice and go forward; for the labour is long before the real
\nperfection. <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0
\n<\/span>\u201cThere is no more benumbing error than to mistake a stage for the goal
\nor to linger too long in a resting place.\u201d <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Thoughts and Glimpses, Cent. Vol. 16, pp. 391-92<\/font><\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

All that Sri Aurobindo says here is aimed at fighting against
\nhuman nature with its inertia, its heaviness, laziness, easy satis<\/span>factions, <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage \u2013 64<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

hostility to all effort. How many times in life does one meet
\npeople who become pacifists because they are afraid to fight, who long for rest
\nbefore they have earned it, who are satisfied with a little progress and in
\ntheir imagination and desires make it into a marvellous realisation so as to
\njustify their stopping half-way. <\/span><\/p>\n

In ordinary life, already, this happens so much. Indeed, this is
\nthe bourgeois ideal, which has deadened mankind and made man into what he is
\nnow: \u201cWork while you are young, accumulate wealth, honour, position; be
\nprovident, have a little foresight, put something by, lay up a capital, become
\nan official \u2013 so that later when you are forty you \u201ccan sit down\u201d, enjoy your
\nincome and later your pension and, as they say, enjoy a well-earned rest.\u201d \u2013 To
\nsit down, to stop on the way, not to move forward, to go to sleep, to go
\ndownhill towards the grave before one\u2019s time, cease to live the purpose of life
\n\u2013 to sit down! <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The minute one stops
\ngoing forward, one falls back. The moment one is satisfied and no longer
\naspires, one begins to die. Life is movement, it is effort, it is a march forward,
\nthe scaling of a mountain, the climb towards new revelations, towards future
\nrealisations. Nothing is more dangerous than wanting to rest. It is in action,
\nin effort, in the march forward that repose must be found, the true repose of
\ncomplete trust in the divine Grace, of the absence of desires, of victory over
\negoism. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>True repose comes from
\nthe widening, the universalisation of the consciousness. Become as vast as the
\nworld and you will always be at rest. In the thick of action, in the very midst
\nof the battle, the effort, you will know the repose of infinity and eternity.<\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage \u2013 65<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n


\n
\nHome<\/a><\/font><\/span><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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