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?
(This conversation took place in the music room. Mother had asked Sunil, the musician disciple, and Sujata to come.)
Can anybody play the harmonica? (laughter) I've just been given a harmonica! It comes from Germany. (To Sunil:) Don't you know how to play it?... No?
(Sujata:) Satprem would very much like to learn to play some instrument, Mother, you know.
(Satprem:) But not the harmonica!
(To Sunil:) Did they tell you why I called you? No? Don't you know French anymore, tell me?—He doesn't dare speak.
Here is the thing: I like your music, and as for me, I no longer play!—I don't have the time. I never have an opportunity, I haven't played for the last twelve months; except when Sujata comes, then I run a finger over the keys. So it's quite impossible for me to play on January 1st, but I thought we could perhaps arrange something.... Today, I'll read you the message for the 1st (it isn't a "message"), I'll read it to you and then we'll try to do something with it.
Do you know this instrument (the organ)? Can you play it?...
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There are pedals, mon petit, enough to make your head swim! I can't play that! (laughter) So Sujata will play the pedals, and I'll play the keys!
If something comes, you can use it and do me some music for the 1st. And then, instead of recording here, we'll record your affair for everybody!
(Sunil:) What you are going to play now I'll keep.
No! I'm not playing—I'll just pretend to! With that you will do something. You understand?
Maybe nothing at all will come! I can't say. This morning... This morning, I don't know, did you think of your visit here? Yes?... I heard magnificent music—magnificent! But it was music... it took at least four hands to play it, or several instruments. If that came...
Wait.... The message (it isn't a "message"!)... There is a photo of me in which I have my hands folded and I look happy (!), so I wrote underneath, Salut à Toi, Vérité. Then I was asked to put it into English—I said, Salute to the advent of the Truth.
So this is the theme.
We'll see now if we find something. This morning, it was magnificent.... But even if that were there, I wouldn't be able to play it: it would take almost an entire orchestra! And moreover, it's no longer there. It lasted ten or fifteen minutes... I don't even remember what it was—it's gone.
We'll try, we'll see.
(music)
There, enough!
But what I heard wasn't that—it wasn't that at all! But it's absolutely gone....
(Mother starts playing the organ again)
It's really a pity I don't remember at all. That was really fine. It was "the hymn to the Truth." It resembled a certain symphony of Beethoven's (oh, I am going to say something dreadful)... without the padding!
All human music always has padding. They have an inspiration, and in between there's a gap, so they fill it up with their "musical knowledge." But this morning, it came straight from above and there was no padding. It was very fine.
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Only, I didn't even make an effort to remember; I thought, "It will come," but it didn't!
(To Sunil:) Didn't you hear some music this morning?
(Sunil:) What you have just played was very lovely.
It's nothing! Anyway, you'll do something with it.
What this morning's music expressed was a sort of ascent of aspiration, like a conquest, and then it suddenly climaxed in a dazzling flash of light—an explosion. An explosion of light. And the explosion of light CASCADED over the world. It was very fine (!)
I still see it, but I can no longer hear it.
But that's how it will be: first the salute, "Salute to You, O Light." You understand, the Light is there, like this: it announces itself. And we salute it. Then the whole aspiration rises in conquest of this Light through successive ascents; that is, one sound rises, climbs, and establishes itself; then another climbs and establishes itself. And then, when we have come before the Light, it makes a sort of explosion, like a bomb exploding, an explosion of light. And afterwards, it falls back onto the world—with sparkles.
And then, I would like at the end the great calm of the Truth.
That will need something very vast and very calm—very vast. Very simple. A few very simple great notes.
Voilà.
Organ notes would be fine.
The organ is fine for aspiration.
The explosion of light?... I don't know which instrument.
And for aspiration, a few human voices, too.
But don't try to imitate what I've just played: it's worthless! You will do something as I said: first the salute—we're happy to see You, you understand: Salute to You, O Light! Salute to You, O Truth!...
You play the ascent in stages, accompanied by and finishing off with a gust of aspiration: a soaring, a great soaring. Then, we touch the Light, it makes an explosion. We touch the Truth, we touch the Light.... That will have to be very beautiful. Then that Light falls back onto the world in a rain, and it's joyous, light, very graceful (gesture like a waterfall). And then the world becomes blissful under the Truth—very calm and blissful.
What time is it?
Seven to eleven.
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I've played as long as that!
I've been chattering away.
You came late.
Ah, Nolini should be scolded for that—not me! (laughter)
(To Satprem:) I'll see you Saturday—Saturday is Mademoiselle's birthday. How old will you be?
(Sujata:) Thirty-nine.
And he?
(Satprem:) Forty-one.
Already...
Well, au revoir, my children.1
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