Good morning, Mother!<\/i><\/p>\n
(Mother hands a basket to Satprem)<\/i>
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This is mouthwash! And these are eggs.
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Now what do you have to tell me?<\/p>\n
Me, nothing.<\/i><\/p>\n
Nothing?<\/p>\n
No, it’s difficult. A difficult period …<\/i><\/p>\n
For me too.<\/p>\n
Yes.<\/i><\/p>\n
(silence)<\/i>
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So …<\/p>\n
Where does that come from?<\/i><\/p>\n
… we can go in the silence if you like?<\/p>\n
Yes, Mother, certainly! But I was asking where it comes from.<\/i><\/p>\n
(after a silence)<\/i>
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In my own case, I know: it’s because everything that needs to be transformed is rising from the subconscient, and it’s in-ter-mi-nable…. It keeps rising and rising and rising….
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And with each little thing looms the possibility of catastrophe. So you live in a constant suggestion of catastrophes – I know where it comes from, I know what it is, but it isn’t pleasant.<\/p>\n
No.<\/i><\/p>\n
And there’s a new kind of malaise. Something new. As I was
telling you, there’s a new and wonderful joy that comes! But it comes the way you disclose something, you know … (Mother dangles an imaginary lure between her fingers): <\/i>"See, this is what you could have." Exactly like that. "It could be like this," and brrrt, it’s gone! So really, I’d rather not talk about it.<\/p>\n Yes, Mother.<\/i><\/p>\n (Mother plunges in for twenty minutes,<\/i> then Would you like to stay a little more?<\/p>\n You’ll be late, Mother, no? It’s already eleven.<\/i><\/p>\n You were called in late.<\/p>\n That doesn’t matter!<\/i><\/p>\n Have you got some work to do?<\/p>\n No, Mother, not at all! But You have some work to do!<\/i><\/p>\n Oh, me … (Mother raises her arms).<\/i> I live in a constant contradiction – constant, constant … With all sorts of suggestions: "This way, you could die; that way, you could die…." So I simply reply, "I don’t care!" Then it calms down. My consolation was that I thought I was doing this for everybody; that once I had done it, it would be done – but evidently a lot of people are in the same difficulty.<\/p>\n Yes, but when you have finished, it’ll be finished for them too.<\/i><\/p>\n Let’s hope so…. (silence)<\/i> To comfort me, there is a kind of assurance from above, that if I reach my centenary, I will start going uphill again. But it’s still far off. How many years left?<\/p>\n Five years, Mother.<\/i><\/p>\n Oh, mon petit! Five more years in this hell! … We’ll try to go with you to the end.<\/i><\/p>\n Oh, you…. (After a silence)<\/i> You will go to the end.<\/p>\n Oh, Mother…. But I can go. to the end only if you go ther<\/i><\/p>\n also!<\/i><\/p>\n<\/p>\n (Mother laughs<\/i> silence)<\/i> But you know, at the same time, I am aware of the divine forces going through like this (gesture through the body).<\/i> I try to obstruct as little as I can. And it gives some extraordinary results: constantly, there are … what people call "miracles." But to me, things are not yet as they could be – as they SHOULD be. The possibility of suffering, for example – suffering from pain, suffering … a purely physical fact (all the nonphysical things are: Mother makes an immutable and peaceful gesture to indicate the inner states<\/i>), but something purely physical: really, the capacity for suffering must disappear. Not that I don’t want to suffer, but … it isn’t a nice gift to give people! Five years…. The years are long, long, long, long…. It’s like this: two or three hours can go by in a second, and half an hour can last for hours. Everything, but everything is upside down. (Mother gestures: what to do? silence)<\/i> And then – oh, I haven’t told you: yesterday or the day before, I don’t remember, all of a sudden, for two or three minutes, my body was seized by the horror of death – the idea of being put like this (gesture of being tossed into a hole) <\/i>in a tomb was so horrifying! Horrifying…. I couldn’t have stood that more than a few minutes. It was HORRIFYING. Not because I was buried alive, but because my body was conscious. It was considered "dead" by everybody for the heart had stopped beating – yet the body was conscious. (silence)<\/i> That … that … that was a horrible experience…. I was displaying all the working, nothing was working – but I was conscious. The body was (silence)<\/i> We must … we must warn people at least not to rush to … (gesture into a hole)<\/i>.<\/p>\n Yes, Mother.<\/i><\/p>\n Oh! …<\/p>\n No, we won’t let that happen, don’t worry. We just won’t let it happen.<\/i><\/p>\n (silence<\/i> Mother hold Satprem’s hands, <\/i> she smiles)<\/i> You are sweet.<\/p>\n Oh, Mother!<\/i><\/p>\n (Mother looks at the table beside her) I would like to give you something that you like.<\/p>\n I would like your presence with me, always.<\/i><\/p>\n Oh, that … more and more! (To Sujata:) <\/i>How are you, mon petit?<\/p>\n Quite well, little Mother.<\/i><\/p>\n Yes?<\/p>\n Yes, Mother<\/i><\/p>\n Yes, Mother<\/i><\/p>\n Yes, Mother.<\/i><\/p>\n Page 347<\/font><\/p>\n <\/b><\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" January 10, 1973 Good morning, Mother! (Mother hands a basket to Satprem) This is mouthwash! And these are eggs. Now what do you have to…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[140],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5656","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-13-volume-13","wpcat-140-id"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5656","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5656"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5656\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5656"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5656"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5656"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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\ngoes out of her room and comes back)<\/i>
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\nsigns of "death," you know, the heart wasn’t
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