{"id":5779,"date":"2013-07-13T02:04:07","date_gmt":"2013-07-13T02:04:07","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/localhost\/?p=5779"},"modified":"2013-07-13T02:04:07","modified_gmt":"2013-07-13T02:04:07","slug":"059-may-17-1972-vol-13-volume-13","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/02-works-of-the-mother\/03-agenda\/13-volume-13\/059-may-17-1972-vol-13-volume-13","title":{"rendered":"-059_May 17_1972.htm"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><H3>May 17, 1972<\/H3><br \/>\n<P>How are you?<br \/>\n<P>How about you? You haven&#8217;t been well lately?<br \/>\n<P>It&#8217;s strange, luckily &#8211; luckily &#8211; one thing happens after another, one after another, but every single bodily function is changing &#8230; (what&#8217;s the right word?), I have it, &quot;changing government.&quot; Functions that worked naturally &#8211; that is, in accord with the laws of Nature &#8211; all of a sudden, brrm, finished! They stop. Then &#8230; something &#8230; which I call the Divine &#8211; perhaps Sri Aurobindo called it the Supramental, I don&#8217;t know; it&#8217;s something like that, something that is plainly concerned with Matter, with this Manifestation, and which is tomorrow&#8217;s realization (I don&#8217;t know how to name it); so when everything is thoroughly upset and I feel really awful, then &quot;That&quot; consents to intervene.<br \/>\n<P>The transition isn&#8217;t pleasant. That&#8217;s all.<br \/>\n<P align=\"right\"><i>(Mother gives some flowers to Sujata)<\/i><br \/>\n<P>Here, mon petit.<br \/>\n<P>Along with sharp pains, and &#8230; impossible to take any food, etc. etc.<br \/>\n<P>Evidently someone had to do it. When Sri Aurobindo left, he told me that I<br \/>\nalone could do it. I said all right&#8230;. So, I don&#8217;t do it out of ambition &#8211; I<br \/>\njust accepted, that&#8217;s all.<P>Possibly it&#8217;s due to the stupidity of my body that I suffer the way I do. If it were more receptive and more &#8230;<i> (Mother opens <\/i><br \/>\n<P align=\"center\"><font size=\"2\">Page 183<\/font><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P><i>her hands), <\/i>yes, more receptive, there would be less friction. I can see, I see clearly that pain, conflict, incapacity are all a product of our own stupidity. There&#8217;s no doubt about it. We have only ourselves to blame. Every time &#8211; EVERY single time and in whatever circumstances &#8211; every time we take the right attitude, that is, when we are like this <i>(Mother opens her hands): <\/i>let Your Will be done &#8211; honestly, sincerely, integrally &#8211; everything is fine.<br \/>\n<P>Therefore it&#8217;s entirely our fault, we can only blame ourselves. And our complaints are childish &#8211; oh, personally I don&#8217;t complain but &#8230; abruptly I can&#8217;t do anything anymore.<br \/>\n<P>There.<br \/>\n<P>And what about you, what do you have to say?<\/p>\n<p><i>Nothing, Mother.<\/i><\/p>\n<p><P>Nothing happened to you? &#8230; I was hoping it would have helped you at least a little!<br \/>\n<P>Nothing happened?<\/p>\n<p><i>No.<\/i><\/p>\n<p><P>Well, never mind.<br \/>\n<P>Still too mental.<br \/>\n<P align=\"right\"><i>(silence)<\/i><br \/>\n<P>So if you like, we can go into silence. Don&#8217;t you have anything to ask? No news?<\/p>\n<p><i>You said &quot;still too mental,&quot; do you mean &#8230; ?<\/i><\/p>\n<p><P>It means that instead of receiving directly, you see, without thinking, thoughts come in and disturb the process &#8211; they limit the receptivity and disturb. That&#8217;s the point. I see it in myself, you know; I&#8217;ve had to struggle so hard with this, in order to&#8230;. The need to understand things, the need to find explanations is simply a return to the old habitual movements. We must consent to be imbecile &#8211; for as long as necessary. Personally, as soon as I consent to be imbecile &#8230; beatitude. But the old habits return.<br \/>\n<P>The foremost realization for man is understanding &#8211; under- standing things. For the Supermind, realization means Power <i>(Mother stretches out her arms in a sovereign gesture), <\/i>the creative willpower.<br \/>\n<P align=\"center\"><font size=\"2\">Page 184<\/font><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P>But naturally, it would be quite disastrous if human intellectual capacities, mental capacities, were to gain control of that power &#8211; it would be terrifying! It would cause terrible havoc. Hence the need to consent in all humility to become imbecile before being able to acquire it.<br \/>\n<P align=\"right\"><i>(silence)<\/i><br \/>\n<P>But I must tell you that you were all the time in my consciousness &#8211; and there are only very few <i>(Mother counts on her fingers), <\/i>perhaps two or three. Otherwise, ohh, they are far, far away&#8230;. You were continually present, that&#8217;s why I was hoping you would feel a change. You were all the time in my consciousness.<\/p>\n<p><i>I saw you last night.<\/i><\/p>\n<p><P>Ahh! You see! Then?<\/p>\n<p><i>Then I don&#8217;t know, I looked at you and&#8230;. How to put it into<\/i><\/p>\n<p><i>&nbsp;words?<br \/>\n  At first I was a little afraid, then I don&#8217;t know, it all <\/i><\/p>\n<p><i>melted and I lost consciousness in a kind of deep sleep. And I<\/i><\/p>\n<p><i>&nbsp;had a feeling you were smiling.<\/i><\/p>\n<\/p>\n<p><P><i>(Mother smiles) <\/i>But that&#8217;s very good! What you call your consciousness is your intellectual consciousness.<\/p>\n<p><i>Afterwards I had great difficulty coming out of that so-called<\/i><\/p>\n<p><i>&nbsp;sleep.<br \/>\n  I had to exert a great effort to come out of it.<\/i><\/p>\n<\/p>\n<p><P>But why did you want to come out of it!<\/p>\n<p><i>I suppose it was time to wake up.<\/i><\/p>\n<p><P><i>(Mother laughs)<\/i> It doesn&#8217;t matter.<br \/>\n<P align=\"right\"><i>(Mother goes into contemplation<\/i><P align=\"right\"><i>&nbsp;till the end<br \/>\nand opens her eyes<\/i><P align=\"right\"><i>&nbsp;just as the clock strikes eleven)<\/i><br \/>\n<P>What&#8217;s the time?<\/p>\n<p><i>Eleven o&#8217;clock, Mother.<\/i><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><font size=\"2\">Page 185<\/font><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P>So you see, when I went in, I told myself: I will come out of the meditation (not &quot;meditation,&quot; but anyway &#8230; ), I&#8217;ll speak at eleven o&#8217;clock! <i>(laughter) <\/i>That&#8217;s why I asked you the time. Interesting!<br \/>\n<P>When you become simple, you know, like a child &#8230; all goes well.<br \/>\n<P>But you mustn&#8217;t be afraid. Neither afraid of falling ill, nor of becoming imbecile, nor even &#8230; of dying &#8211; you must be like this <i>(vast and quiet gesture, like the sea).<\/i><br \/>\n<P>If we could only have (I have it from time to time, it comes: it&#8217;s on its way) a feeling of smiling trust. But to get that the consciousness must be as vast as the creation itself. You are as vast as the creation, and totally trusting&#8230;. Ultimately, it always boils down to this (which can be put in a very childlike manner): He knows better than we what has to be done.<br \/>\n<P>There.<br \/>\n<P>He knows better than we what has to be done.<br \/>\n<P>That&#8217;s my own method. I find it the easiest; there may be other methods (I am sure there are), but for me it&#8217;s the easiest. Whenever something is apprehensive or balks: &quot;He knows better than you what&#8217;s necessary.&quot; That&#8217;s all.<br \/>\n<P><i>(Holding Satprem&#8217;s hands) <\/i>If we could smile, it would be so much easier.<br \/>\n<P align=\"right\"><i>(Satprem rests his forehead on Mother&#8217;s knees)<\/i><br \/>\n<P>Au revoir, mon petit&#8230;. But truly (it&#8217;s not mere words), I am always with you. It&#8217;s a fact. The kind of fact, you know <i>(Mother feels the air between her fingers), <\/i>palpable.<br \/>\n<P>It has reorganized the environment in a most interesting way. Most interesting.<br \/>\n<P>As much as possible, as much as it can, the body tries to be nonexistent: just letting That pass through, That pass through all the time, like this <i>(gesture with her hands). <\/i>Let the body be only a point of concentration and diffusion, like this <i>(gesture of something flowing through Mother). <\/i>As supple, as impersonal, as &#8230; (how to term it?) without any personal will. Without any personal will, just like that, like a transmitter: let That pass through &#8211; untainted.<br \/>\n<P>Untainted, undiminished&#8230;. Just as it is.<br \/>\n<P align=\"right\"><i>(Satprem gets ready to leave,<br \/>Sujata approaches Mother)<\/i><br \/>\n<P align=\"center\"><font size=\"2\">Page 186<\/font><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><i>You know, Mother, I had an odd dream yesterday morning&#8230;.<\/i><\/p>\n<p><i>&nbsp;In my dream I saw Satprem&#8217;s<br \/>\n  garden. I was walking in the <\/i><\/p>\n<p><i>street, passing by his garden, and I glimpsed an &quot;Adoration&quot;<\/i><\/p>\n<p><i>&nbsp;tree [[Geiger tree. ]] covered with adoration flowers. I was<br \/>\n  filled with such<\/i><\/p>\n<p><i>&nbsp;joy. Then, a little farther on, behind this tree, I glimpsed<\/i><\/p>\n<p><i>&nbsp;another plant &#8211; it was very tall and it was the &quot;Mind&quot; &#8230;<\/i><\/p>\n<\/p>\n<p><P align=\"right\"><i>(Mother nods her head)<\/i><\/p>\n<p><i>Then, I really looked, and on the branch of a tree (a coconut<\/i><\/p>\n<p><i>&nbsp;tree,<br \/>\n  I think, or a palm tree), I saw a bird &#8230; it was mostly<\/i><\/p>\n<p><i>&nbsp;white, a bird much like a pigeon but with a very long tail and a<\/i><\/p>\n<p><i>&nbsp;kind of golden circle on its breast, I think.<\/i><\/p>\n<\/p>\n<p><P>Oh!<\/p>\n<p><i>Its head was a little &#8230; not quite orange, a little gerua [[Gerua: ocher color of the sannyasins.<br \/>\n  ]] (you<\/i><\/p>\n<p><i>&nbsp;know, like the earth), like that, and it was perched on<br \/>\n  a<\/i><\/p>\n<p><i>&nbsp;branch.<\/i><\/p>\n<\/p>\n<p><P><i>(Pointing to Satprem)<\/i> It was him.<\/p>\n<p><i>(Sujata, surprised) Him, Mother!? I don&#8217;t know.<\/i><\/p>\n<p><P>Yes, I am telling you, it was him! <i>(laughter) <\/i>It&#8217;s good.<br \/>\n<P align=\"center\"><font size=\"2\">Page 187<\/font><\/p>\n<p><\/b><\/p>\n<p align=\"right\" style=\"margin-top: 0;margin-bottom: 0\">&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>May 17, 1972 How are you? How about you? You haven&#8217;t been well lately? It&#8217;s strange, luckily &#8211; luckily &#8211; one thing happens after another,&#8230;<\/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-5779","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\/5779","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=5779"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5779\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5779"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5779"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5779"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}