A change must take place at the atomic level..to undo the power of death. A new perception of life emerges with 'true matter', the matter of the next species.
"The only hope for the future is a change in man's consciousness. It is left to men to decide if they will collaborate to this change or if it will have to be imposed upon them by the power of crushing circumstances." As the new post gradually infiltrates Mother's body it is the earth one wonders about. How is the earth going to absorb "this vibration as intense as a superior kind of fire"? "I see very few bodies around me capable of bearing it.... So what's going to happen?" It is the year of the first Chinese atomic bomb. Mother is 86. "A tiny, infinitesimal, stippled infiltration - the miracle of the earth!" A catastrophic miracle? Isn't that butterfly some sort of catastrophe to the caterpillar? "Death is no solution, so we are here seeking another solution - there must be another solution." Imperturbably, Mother descends deeper into the cellular consciousness and deeper still: "A kind of certainty, deep in matter that the solution lies there.... It is at the atomic level that a change must take place; the question concerns the state of infinitesimal vibrations in matter." Time veers into something else: "Perhaps it is into the past that I go, perhaps the future, perhaps the present?...." And even the laws of matter change: "As soon as you reach the domain of the cells, that sort of heaviness of matter disappears. It becomes fluid and vibrant again. Which would tend to show that happiness, thickness, inertia have been added on - it's false matter, the one we think or feel, but not matter as it really is." So what, then, would true matter be, the matter of the next species? "I am on the threshold of a new perception of life, as if certain parts of my consciousness were changing from the caterpillar state to the butterfly state...." And the earth groans and protests.... at what? "The whole youth seems to be seized by a strange vertigo...." Are we going to move on to a next species or not?
Mother looks very tired
How are you?
I should be the one asking you. I was told you haven't been well.
It's not that.
There is too much confusion and disorder.... Very busy nights—too busy. And too much confusion here.
Maybe it's fatigue.
Page 167
It's especially (for me, for my consciousness) an avalanche of confusion on me, and not enough time to... (how can I put it?) transform it all as it falls on me. So it's a little too much.
And then, all that one reads... I've heard some things written about me, I've heard the stories people have been telling in their "seminars"1—there's enough to bury someone.
For sure! Their seminars are ridiculous, it's a tangle of paltriness—they're teaching people Sri Aurobindo!
That's right.
They use words without consciousness, without knowledge and without power, so it's just chatter, and unpleasant chatter.
Yes, that's right.
As Bharatidi puts it, they love the sound of their own voices.
But that's exactly the point, she is perfectly right.
I have myself never stopped telling them (you understand, I see the quality of the atmosphere [Mother fingers the air]), I told them that all those people who came worsened the stupidity of the atmosphere very seriously.
Then there are the others, that World-Union—as for them, from the first day (there were five members), from the first day, they have all been quarreling among themselves, they've never stopped quarreling! I told them it was a strange beginning for a "World-Union"—individually they all agreed with this, but they all went on quarreling! And it's still going on.
This time, they decided to name me president. I didn't ask them anything, naturally—they decided. And then, M. has withdrawn. She has written to me today to tell me, "I believe I cannot do anything more in World-Union." If you put the two things together, it's rather funny: the others write to ask me to be president, and M. withdraws—"I cannot work for World-Union anymore."
Anyway, it's a mishmash—you know, like mash for chickens.
But what makes it worse is that there were too many people, and too many people asking to see me—hundreds and hundreds of people who asked to see me. I said, "It's not possible, it's materially impossible." And a minuscule work consisting in signing and signing
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and giving "blessings".... So last night was difficult. This morning, it wasn't brilliant.
We just have to stay still and let the storm blow over.
(meditation)
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