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 reads a note she wrote in connection with a quarrel at the Ashram's handmade paper factory:)
The Employer to the Employee
"Nothing lasting can be established without a basis of trust. And this trust must be mutual.
"You must be convinced that it is not only my good that I am aiming at, but also yours. And on my side I must know and feel that you are here not merely to profit but also to serve.
"The welfare of the whole is dependent on the welfare of each part, and the harmonious growth of the whole is dependent on the progress of every part.
"If you feel you are exploited, then I too will feel you are seeking to exploit me. If you fear that you may be deceived, then I too will feel you are seeking to deceive me.
"It is only in honesty, sincerity and trust that human society can progress."
It's just the opposite of the Communist theory—all the Communists preach to them: "If you have the least trust in your employer, you are sure to be deceived and to become miserable; doubt, lack of trust and aggression must be the basis of your relationship." It's just the opposite of what I am saying.
Then Mother takes up the translation of a letter from English to French.
To translate I go to the place where things are crystallized and formulated. Nowadays my translations are not exactly an amalgamation, but they are under the influence of both languages: my English is a little French and my French is a little English—it's a mixture of the two. And I see that from the standpoint of expression, it's
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rather beneficial, for a certain subtlety comes from it.
I don't "translate" at all, I never try to translate: I simply go back to the "place" where it came from, and instead of receiving this way (gesture above the head, like scales tipping to the right for French) I receive that way (the scales tip to the left for English), and I see that it doesn't make much difference: the origin is a sort of amalgamation of the two languages. Perhaps it could give birth to a somewhat more supple form in both languages: a little more precise in English, a little more supple in French.
I don't find our present language satisfactory. But I don't find the other thing [Franglais] satisfactory either—it hasn't been found yet.
It's being worked out.
Each time, something in me grates a little.
It's on the way.
But it's my method for Savitri, too, it's a long time since I stopped translating: I follow the thought up to a point, and then, instead of thinking this way (same gesture of tipping to the right), I think that way (to the left), that's all. So it's not pure English, not pure French either.
Personally I would like it to be neither English nor French, to be something else! But for the moment, what words are to be used?... I clearly feel that to me, both in English and French (and maybe in other languages if I knew any), words have another meaning, a slightly unusual and far more PRECISE meaning than they do in languages as we know them—far more precise. Because, to me, a word means exactly a certain experience, and I clearly see that people understand quite differently; so I feel their understanding as something hazy and imprecise. Every word corresponds to an experience, to a particular vibration.
I don't say I have reached the satisfactory expression—it's taking shape.
And the method is always the same: I never translate—never, never—I go up above, to the place where one thinks beyond words, where one experiences the idea or the thought of a thing, or the movement or the feeling (whatever), and when it's in a particular language, it goes like this (same gesture as before), while in another language, it goes like that: it's as if something up above tipped
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over. I don't translate on the same level at all, I never translate on the level of languages. And sometimes, I notice that for me the quality of the words is very different from what it is for others, very different.
I have given up all hope of making myself understood.
(Mother makes some remarks on the disciples' "understanding," then adds:)
Do you know the story?
It's a story told by the Muslims, I think (but I am not sure). Jesus is said to have raised people from the dead, made the dumb speak, restored sight to the blind... until he was brought an idiot to be made intelligent—and Jesus ran away!
Afterwards, people asked him, "Why did you run away?" He answered, "I can do anything—except give intelligence to an idiot." (laughter)
It was Théon who told me the story.
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