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's left eye is very bloodshot:
Does your eye hurt?
My eye?
It doesn't hurt??
I don't know.... Is there something?
Yes.
Oh! I didn't see.... It hurt this morning, and then... Strange, no one told me anything.
All right, that's all I needed! I won't be able to do anything at all. It hurt, but I didn't give it thought.
Is it very red?
Not as much as sometimes.... But here, when you look down, it's very red. When you lower your eyelid, there is an entire bloodshot area, up to the iris.
So it has started again.... All right.
It's such an avalanche, you know....
If one could do the work quietly, without having to rush... it wouldn't be a problem, it would be nothing. But one has to do in ten minutes a work that should normally take an hour, that's the bad thing.
(silence)
This week, you know, I should have remained quiet (meaning that I would have liked to), because the result of that intensity of aspiration [in the body] is to give me a crystal clear and almost constant perception of the extent to which the material substance is made of Falsehood and Ignorance—as soon as the consciousness is clear, at rest, peaceful, in a luminous vision, falsities seem to come up from all sides. It isn't an active perception, in the sense that I don't "try" to know: these are things that PRESENT themselves
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to the consciousness. And then you realize what it takes to clarify all that, to transform all that—what tremendous power of Truth-Force!... And you notice that the intensity of the aspiration—which hastens the transformation and brings the realization nearer—may well... (Mother touches her eye) yes, here's the result.
And I notice that, all around, those nearer to the center of descent are very shaken up—very. I see very few bodies around me capable of bearing it. But then, if that's how it is, necessarily the descent is so filtered and diminished that... how much will get through?
This morning, it hurt a little, but I said, "It's nothing, it MUST NOT be"—that it has come bothers me. It's a sign that the descent is too strong. So if we have to wait another four years—1968...
And what's going to come?... It'll be like a perfectly innocuous little rain! Which probably will not even be perceptible for the ordinary consciousness.
Maybe the work would go faster if instead of burdening me with such superficial chores—sending blessings, signing photographs...
Yes! Oh yes, indeed!...
And then receiving people. Receiving one after another, one after another, dozens of them.... Each one says, thinks, feels, "But I take just one minute!" But when you add up all the minutes, then...
But it also shows one thing: if I let too wide a gap grow between me and the people around, it isn't good either, in the sense that if others aren't able to bear what I might bring down, it will be another kind of catastrophe.
One must have patience.
Patience one has.
Much patience.
A little later:
I have a feeling that people didn't understand a thing in the last Bulletin1—they didn't dare to say anything, but they didn't understand
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a thing! Even those who, consciously, are supposed to understand: Nolini, Amrita, Pavitra, André... not to mention all the rest who are not as developed intellectually—understand nothing.
I have a feeling, a vague feeling that it will give someone, somewhere, very far away physically, a coup de grace, because I had that feeling while having the experience—what I told you and what you noted down was only the memory of the experience, but while I was having the experience and responding (gesture of mental communication), I had the feeling that, somewhere, someone was touched in a radical way, and that it was important for the intellectual atmosphere of the earth. Who is it? I don't know.
That's why I let that article be published, because otherwise... You see, when I read something or when, for instance, Nolini reads me a translation, I read with the others' consciousness—how flat it had become! Flat, flat: all the Power was gone.
I made some discoveries of this kind on the way people understand and read—very "cultured" people....
They don't know how to read, they read with their brains.
They read with a grammar book at the back of their minds!
Those are the scholars, that's awful, but I've never tried to convince a scholar!
They don't "hear" what's behind, they don't try to capture that sort of music—they just see sentences.
My article gives them a sense of something both very boring and very childish—both at once, so that crowns it all! Because the external form is very simple, of course, without literary pretensions; so it isn't exciting for the brain, not in the least (on the contrary I try to calm it down as much as possible!).
No, those who understand you best are the simple-hearted.
Yes, they are touched.
And their understanding is infinitely greater than that of "cultured" people—they understand better, they are more intelligent.
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More receptive. Yes, they feel.
They feel correctly, they mentalize less.
(Mother goes into contemplation)
Just before Satprem leaves
So, if by our next meeting you feel something or see something or think of something, or have a "dream," you will tell me.... I don't have much hope left... because these last few days there has been a great intensity, rather hard to bear—tremendous—and this morning when I got up, the intensity had lifted a little. The night was good (I perceive the general subconscient and the state of receptivity, the conditions—it wasn't bad, it was rather satisfying), but I noticed that the Pressure, the intensity of the Pressure, had lessened.
It was only during the work here [with the secretaries], that hour of work (labor, not work), I felt something here (gesture to the forehead and temple) that was a bit tired, like a fatigue coming from outside.... Anyway...
Well, now we have to hold on.
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