Vertical time' - a sort of absoluteness in each second. As if Mother were experiencing her body at the level of subatomic physics. A new mode of life in matter.
The course of 1961, the year of the first American voyage in space, arrives at the heart of the great mystery– "It is double! It is the same world and yet it is.... what?" In one world, everything is harmonious, without the least possibility of illness, accident or death – "a miraculous harmony" – and in the other, everything goes wrong. Yet it is the same world of matter - separated by what? "More and more, I feel it’s a question of the vibration in matter." And then, what is this "vertical time" which suddenly opens up another way of living and being in the matter, in which causality ceases to exist – "A sort of absoluteness in each second"? A new world each second, ageless, leaving no trace or imprint. And this "massive immobility" in a lightning-fast movement, this "twinkling of vibrations," as if Mother were no longer experiencing her body at the macroscopic level, but at the level of subatomic physics. And sixty years of "spiritual life" crumble like a "far more serious illusion" before.... a new Divine... or a new mode of life in matter? The next mode? "I am in the midst of hewing a path through a virgin forest." Volume II records the opening up of this path.
(Regarding the book on Sri Aurobindo that Satprem was preparing to write.)
Again this morning, between 3 and 4 o'clock, Sri Aurobindo seemed to be showing me around the world of expression. I see a host of people I don't know (and some I do). There are immense rooms—not libraries (there are no books) yet everything is there, arranged and organized, in great open roofless rooms. And I walk along with Sri Aurobindo as he passes from one person to another, one group to another, one place to another, one room to another—and he coordinates it all. To some he says a few words; others show him things. And it's all for the background of your book, for it to be filled with all this—not explicitly, but potentially—for the Force to be there.
And the clarity! It is limpid-an atmosphere so transparent, so limpid, so clear! There are people of today, people of times past, people of forever. They are like living intelligences gathering together the earth's memories. Day after day, day after day, Sri Aurobindo has been showing this to me.
(A little later Mother begins to sign some 300 books. She remarks:)
I have a convenient signature....
Your signature takes wing!
Oh, yes—it's a bird!
It's the Bird of Grace descending from heaven. The dot at the end is very important. The dot is the seeing consciousness: the eye. There's a tail, a wing, another wing, and the eye-the seeing consciousness.
Mind you, I didn't think of it in advance! The awareness came later—I looked and said, 'Ah!...'
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Later
What shall we do?
There's some work if you like.
Oh no, nothing doing! What's marvelous is that I haven't a single idea in my head—nothing. Not 'idea'; I never have many of them! (laughing) No words, mon petit, nothing. I have two of T.'s notebooks here—I read them, said 'Ah!', and put them away. They've already stayed there for two weeks or... I don't know how long. NOTHING, completely blank. But on the lowest plane, some interesting things: suddenly (not from time to time, but all the time, or almost all the time), all the body's cells suddenly seem to participate in a movement of force, a sort of circular movement containing all the vibrations—physical vibrations—right from the most material sensation (Mother touches the skin of her hands) to all the feelings of strength, power and comprehension (especially from an active standpoint, the standpoint of actions, movements, influences). It's not at all limited to the body; it's like that, like that, like that... (Mother makes a gesture stretching to infinity). It has neither beginning nor end. The body itself is starting to feel how Energy behaves.
It's very interesting.
At any moment, if I just pay a little attention, it's like that. And then the body has no more limits—more and more, they seem to disappear.
And for the least little things, the least little things; and... all taking place within the Supreme, with the ecstasy of His Presence. For the tiniest, tiniest little things: how the Force behaves when you're arranging objects, when you're moving something... for everything, for food, for....
And it is strangely indifferent to any scale of values or circumstances. Sometimes when I am meeting and speaking with someone, when I am seeing someone, this great universal Light of a perfect whiteness comes streaming in. Well, I must admit, this also occurs for the merest trifles, when I'm tasting some cheese somebody has sent me, for example, or arranging objects in a cupboard, or deciding what things I'm going to use or have to organize. It doesn't come in the same massive way as when it comes directly. When it comes directly it's a mass, passing through and going out like that (Mother shows the Light descending directly from above
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like a mass and passing through her head in order to spread out everywhere). In these small things it's pulverized, as though it came through an atomizer, but it's that same sparkling white light, utterly white. Then, whatever I'm doing, there's a sensation in the body that's like lying on a sea of something very soft, very intimate, very deep and eternal, immutable: the Lord. And all the body's cells are joyously saying, 'You, You, You, You....'
That's my present condition.
The moments of forgetting are brief—plunk! A knock from someone or something—the shock of the ordinary vibration. It's unimportant, you turn your head and push it away. But I don't want that either, it [the movement of rejection] must go away entirely.
From a practical, concrete, effective standpoint, there are some results. Even when they don't write, people are beginning to receive my response very clearly, very precisely. People I don't know at all have written, and they receive my reply even before I write back (they tell this to intermediaries). I had another example only today. It's having results.
The earth is tiny.
(Mother gets up to leave)
That's all, petit. Once again I've bored you with my stories instead of speaking with you about your book....
Ah, no!
Perhaps it's better I don't talk to you about it....
You're the one who knows!
Because this kind of creative Power coming from on high, from up, up, up on the highest heights, beyond all forms of manifestation, mon petit, it's like... something tremendous... held behind a floodgate. And sometimes (Mother smiles) there's a temptation to open the floodgate a little.
When it pours out... that will be something.
I'm starting to say stupidities—I'm leaving!
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