The 'psychological preparation' of Satprem for his role as The Mother's confidant, as She narrated her experiences of the 'yoga of the cells' from 1951-1973.
This first volume is mostly what could be called the "psychological preparation" of Satprem. Mother's confidant had to be prepared, not only to understand the evolutionary meaning of Mother's discoveries, to follow the tenuous thread of man's great future unravelled through so many apparently disconcerting experiences - which certainly required a steady personal determination for more than 19 years! - but also, in a way, he had to share the battle against the many established forces that account for the present human mode of being and bear the onslaught of the New Force. Satprem - "True Love" - as Mother called him, was a reluctant disciple. Formed in the French Cartesian mold, a freedom fighter against the Nazis and in love with his freedom, he was always ready to run away, and always coming back, drawn by a love greater than his love for freedom. Slowly she conquered him, slowly he came to understand the poignant drama of this lone and indomitable woman, struggling in the midst of an all-too-human humanity in her attempt to open man's golden future. Week after week, privately, she confided to him her intimate experiences, the progress of her endeavour, the obstacles, the setbacks, as well as anecdotes of her life, her hopes, her conquests and laughter: she was able to be herself with him. He loved her and she trusted him. It is that simple.
(Letter to Mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, June 3, 1960
Sweet Mother,
I'm a bit discouraged. Every night I slip into a black abyss from which I wake up in the morning drained. Not one second of conscious sleep. It takes me an hour to recuperate from my 'sleep'. In fact, I am constantly 'on edge' and the least thing exhausts my body.
But that's nothing. I would bear all the exhaustion quite willingly if there were at least a touch of something conscious. But nothing, as if I were as thick as a Paris concierge!
Mother, there is hardly an instant of my conscious life that I am not aspiring for 'more consciousness'—but there's still this abyss I slip into at night, as if nothing existed!
Pardon my grumblings. If only at least I knew what I could do to change all this.
Your child,
Signed: Satprem
(Mother's reply)
Sunday afternoon
My dear child,
The best rest is to enter into the inner silence for a few moments.
Blessings.
Signed: Mother
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