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.
(Mother comes in with a rolled-up paper.)
Here's my original manuscript—although it's not very 'original.'
It's a message for the first of January.
One day... (I'm translating the last section of The Synthesis of Yoga, 'The Yoga of Self-Perfection'—it plunges you into bottomless gulfs...) and one day (I think I've told you this), I had a vision of the gap between... not even what ought to be, because we probably haven't the slightest idea of that, but between our concept of what we would like to be and what is. And it was so dreadful that the body was thrown into, oh... an anguish, a horror; and along with it an intensity of aspiration, a prayer. The gap seemed so tremendous: 'Is it possible?'
That's how it felt.
So to calm the body I took a pencil and wrote: 'My being thirsts.' (to tell the truth, I wanted to write 'this body thirsts...') '... for perfection, not this human perfection...'(I should tell you that all the things I am translating are simultaneously accompanied by a set of external circumstances OBVIOUSLY arranged in detail to illustrate the translation: a whole set of quite unpleasant circumstances, besides, serving simultaneously as backdrop and illustration. That's what brought on the anguish...). 'This body thirsts for perfection, not this human perfection which is the perfection of the ego...' (it was so clear to me that everything human beings conceive of as perfection is simply the ego wanting to magnify itself for its own greater glory) '... not this human perfection which is the perfection of the ego and bars the way to the divine Perfection, but that one perfection...' (these repeated 'perfections' are deliberate: it's like a litany) '...but that one perfection which has the POWER to manifest upon earth the eternal Truth.'
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It was this need, this need.... All the body's cells began to vibrate with a more and more intense vibration—it was much more than a need; it was a necessity, a necessity to vibrate in unison with Truth. The cells seemed to be sensing the vibration of Truth, and so the entire body was in a state of total tension—not 'tension' in the ordinary sense, but... it was like trying to find a note that rings true. That's what it was: to make the cells' vibration ring true to the Vibration of Truth.
But you can't get that down on paper!
The experience was extremely intense, so I didn't do anything with my note, I put it aside. Then recently someone mentioned the first of January. 'What the devil am I going to read to them?' I wondered... (I usually read them a message). And I thought of this text: 'I'll change this scribble a bit, "humanize" it and bring it down a few rungs (smiling); then it will do.' So I wrote: 'WE thirst for perfection..., etc.' In the experience it was only the BODY, you understand (the other part of the being is quite all right)—the body is in this state. All the rest is very happy—very happy, in perpetual joy and eurythmy (gesture of great waves), feeling divine Love (not Love as such... I don't know how to say it): this Love without object, this Love which is neither 'originated' nor 'received'—without object, without cause or origin. It's the feeling of floating in something.
That's all very fine. But the body remains miserable.
And if I tell that to people, they go wide-eyed. It makes no sense to them—to even have the idea of a perfection existing somewhere, an attainable perfection, is already quite a lot for them! So I wrote:
We thirst for perfection, not this human perfection which is the perfection of the ego and bars the way to the divine Perfection, but that ONE perfection which has the power to manifest upon Earth the eternal Truth.1
The English version is stronger than the French. That's because it first came in English and then I made a patch-up job in French!
(silence)
I continue to be incredibly lazy!
There, mon petit... we haven't done anything!
There's the next 'Bulletin.'
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Did you bring something?
The 'Bulletin,' if you like.
Wouldn't you like a little music?
(In a low voice) Yes.
Ah, let's see—we'll play 'preferences'! Which do you prefer? Frankly, quite frankly.
From what point of view?
(Laughing) Bulletin or music.
Ah! Which do I prefer?
Yes!
Well, obviously... dutifully, the 'Bulletin'; spontaneously, the music.
Ah, so that's it! But 'dutifully' doesn't count! The sense of duty is not what I call 'preference'!
(Mother gets up to go to the organ) Between you and me, what I call preference is... a kind of very... very tranquil inclination of the soul: 'this would be best.' But I believe... I ask you but I can sense that it's music! (laughter)
The Bulletin is a bit boring, isn't it?
No, it's not boring! It's something else. (Laughter)
The sense of duty.... There is nothing more irksome than the sense of duty!
(Mother sits at the organ, plays, then turns halfway around on her stool and says:)
I shut my eyes (that's how I hear best) but then sometimes my fingers make mistakes; they slip. Because I see... with other eyes; and when I do see with those other eyes, the music comes much better. When I open my eyes it doesn't come. It's always with eyes
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closed that I hear clearly, clearly. But then my fingers sometimes slip.
All the time, it comes and it comes, all the time (Mother shapes great waves). Someone is playing to me; so if my hands are ABSOLUTELY docile, it goes well.
But the slightest hesitation can make my fingers slip and hit a false note.
Right now it's wide open and flowing (gesture of waves streaming in).
And it's saying something all the while.
I don't know WHO comes.
Last year there was a conflict between Krishna on one side (he came, I saw him), and some kind of spirit coming from Shiva; Krishna was playing, and the two of them were constantly quarreling! One wanted it to be like this, with roseate colorations, and the other wanted it all in blues and silvers. And then suddenly, as I was playing (in fact, it was the last time I played and it had started off entirely with Krishna and was going quite well) but suddenly something came like the blow of a fist (gesture of a blow to the arm), wham! I completely lost my balance—really I almost....
But then here I am, watching it all, enjoying myself immensely! It's very interesting.
(To Sujata) Look, I almost have a bruise on my arm!
My hands are a little too conscious—from time to time their own consciousness creeps in and wreaks havoc! I'm not much of a medium—it would be a lot better if I were!
(Mother runs her hands over the keyboard)
There was a hand there... and two kinds of trumpets going O-Oh! (Mother plays)
It's quite interesting.
(Mother seems about to get up...)
Well, then. Now we haven't done anything—but there's nothing more pleasant than doing nothing!
(.. then she plays again for a long while, until....)
There. Enough.
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When is our next idle moment? (laughter)
Oh, there's nothing wrong with a bit of fun, is there?
It's so monotonous out there (gesture beyond the door where people are waiting).
We have to have a little fun.
I don't know if you enjoy it, but I do!
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