Mother’s Agenda 1965

July 10, 1965

(About an "idiotic" tuberculosis:)

How are you?

Not too well.

Where aren't you well?

Here, there [gestures].

Oh, mon petit, all sensations are false! That's an experience I have dozens of times every day, in every detail. We feel we need this, we feel we need that, we feel pain here, pain there... but it's all false. In reality, it means we have left the state of Harmony, that Harmony which is always there; but we have left it, so we need this, need that, have pain here, pain there. Something is lacking, and That is what is lacking.

There are three states, we could say: the state of Harmony—that is the one we reach towards all the time, and sometimes we catch it for a few seconds, then everything works out as if by miracle; then the usual state of Disorder, in which we are constantly on the verge of something unpleasant, in a precarious balance; and when

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the disorder grows more visible, there is what they call an "illness," but it isn't real. You see, we think the body is in good health, that it's balanced, and that "something is introduced from outside, which causes you to fall ill," but it's not like that! We are ALWAYS off balance, the body is always off balance (more or less), and it is something else, above, a Will or a Consciousness, that holds it up and makes it work. So if we can call on that Will—that Will for Harmony—and if we can have the Flame within, that Flame of aspiration, and make contact, we emerge from so-called illness, which is unreal, an unreal and false sensation and just one way of being of the general Disorder, and we enter into Harmony, and then everything is fine. Last night I experienced this again, and that's why I can assert with certainty: all sensations are false.

But when there are obvious external signs, bleeding, for instance [hemoptysis]?

Well, yes, it's a disorder. But disorder is everywhere! If it's any consolation to you, my body too is in disorder.... It isn't clearly a disorder but an almost total lack of harmony—it's the constant condition of life; it's the result of effort, of resistance, of enduring, and also of that tension of being in search of something you hope to reach, but which always eludes you—the something that eludes you is That, it's that Harmony (a Harmony which, in its perfection, is Ananda, that's obvious). And the constant state is like that. In fact, that's what causes fatigue, tension and so on. Last night, I spent the whole night looking at that, and I was wondering, "Why is that so?... We are constantly in that state, straining after something that eludes us." And then the senses, the whole realm of the senses seems to be in a constantly false state, and they use that state of tension to give you the feeling that this is going wrong, that is going wrong, and this and that.... And if by ill luck there is a vague hint of mental collaboration (from that famous physical mind), then things go awry, they become something really unpleasant.

But it's not inescapable. It's not inescapable and it's not real—what I call "real" is something that comes from the supreme Will directly. That is true; the rest isn't true, it's the product of all the confusion (zigzag gesture downward) and of all the disorder of the human consciousness—illness isn't true. I don't think that one illness in a hundred (oh, maybe in a thousand) is true. Some are the expression of a Will for something wrong to be well shaken,

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demolished, so that, in that chaos, something truer may take form—but that's an exceptional state.

I have a very extensive field of experience. I receive a flood of letters from just about everyone, writing about their little disorder, their little illness, their little trouble, and naturally asking for all that to be set right. So that puts me in contact with the vibration (all the people here: that makes a lot), and, well, I can truly say that there isn't, oh, there isn't one case in a hundred that is the expression of the direct Will—it's something... (gesture of a zigzag fall) which goes like this and which in the human consciousness gets into a tangle like a wire that's so twisted that you can't untangle it anymore. And because of that state, you are on the verge, yes, of a discomfort (that's almost constant), of an illness, a disorder. And it is the defeatist mental collaboration (because a special characteristic of this mind is to be defeatist), the collaboration of the defeatist mind and the false senses that make for us the life we live, which is no fun.

For two hours last night I saw that, with proof to back it up, examples. I looked, and I was almost horrified to see the extent to which senses distort—and they distort... (I don't know, there may be people who distort for the better, [laughing] I'm not one of them! But they must be marvelous optimists), the senses distort all the vibrations and constantly turn them into disagreeable things, unpleasant ones at any rate, or even "indications of danger," "warnings of catastrophe." It was fairly repugnant. But I gave free rein to that whole movement in order to see clearly, and all the cellular and other organizations started moaning and groaning, as if saying, "But this life is in-tol-er-a-ble, it's intolerable." And I listened to that a little while to see; and here, there and everywhere, there was a general groan. And in the end (gesture of descent of the Will), in one second it all went away!... It was a whole act those senses were putting on for themselves. We are ri-dic-u-lous beings, that's all (Mother laughs). That was my observation of last night.

Naturally, people aren't openly and constantly like that because another consciousness is there a little and controls things, but if you leave them on their own... I did the experiment, you see, of leaving that field of cellular consciousness fully free, and then there was moaning and groaning. But there was behind, in the background, deep down in the cells, that sort of faith, of absolute need for the Ananda; so they were complaining: "We have been deceived; we are for That alone, why aren't we given it?" (I am adding words to it, but there were no words: there were sensations.)

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Of course, we don't take notice, because in the stream of life that's not what governs—fortunately! We look at it from a certain height and don't want to see it—but IT IS THERE. And it is terribly defeatist.

You don't know... Me too, if I had been told that some time ago, I would have said no!

Yes, but when day after day certain disorders repeat themselves, you say to yourself that there is something wrong.

But it isn't "something" that's wrong! Nothing is right—everything is going wrong.

You know the play by Jules Romains in which the doctor declares that a healthy man is a man who doesn't know he is sick? Well, that's the feeling it gives; the disorder is constant, and just because we live in another consciousness we don't see it, but if we observe we are sure to find it. You know, if I observe from that angle, there is absolutely nothing anywhere that is normal, that works harmoniously—nothing. Everything is like this (same zigzag gesture) and it's chaos, and it keeps on working simply because it isn't left to itself, because there is a higher Will that uses all that, making the best of a bad job. But it is a bad job.

I have looked at all the cases (because it interests me a lot), I have looked at your case, I have looked at her case, I have looked at every case, but there isn't one case in which one can say it is a true illness. The idea of illness is: a body (a physical being, anyway) that lives according to certain laws, till suddenly a disorder, something works its way into the body, establishes itself and upsets it; but it's not that! It's not that: it's something that isn't in order—the body isn't in order; only, something predominates in the consciousness, something which is in contact with the disorder, but isn't bothered by it and keeps going. And I have done the same study with supposedly healthy people: it's the same thing. So the conclusion is that the full power should be released, which means that all that sort of disorderly muddle must be made to be governed by a higher Will that imposes itself—it imposes itself. Then, if order isn't completely restored, at least it's kept within certain limits and the body can go on being used as an instrument for the Will that seeks to manifest.

I see this very clearly, not only for this body—for the others too; but for this body, it is seen in the minutest details, because the observation is more constant: it would already have had at least a

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hundred reasons to die, and if it hasn't died, it's not to blame. It's not to blame, it's because there was something (which fortunately isn't a personal will) that said, "No, go on! Go on, carry on, don't pay attention to yourself." Otherwise, it's falling to pieces.

Now, all this isn't to tell you to do as I do; if you want to tackle the thing from the ordinary angle and to consider it as an "illness," go and show yourself to the doctor and take medicines; I am not opposed to it, but it's just one way of seeing things.

Now, tell me what your grievances are! Yes, what do you observe that's not working?

(Satprem gestures to his chest, here and there)

I can tell you that doctors' mental distortions are frightful: they stick in your brain, remain there, and return after ten years. I know it from personal experience, it comes back all the time: "The doctor said it was this, the doctor said it was that, the doctor said..." Not with words, but it comes.

But that doesn't matter, we can tackle the disorder from that angle and then see.

But I don't believe in their medicines! Their medicines have had no effect on me.

They have had no effect? They haven't on me either! But that makes no difference, I still take them!

I am following a course of treatment.

Oh, you're following a course of treatment.

Yes, tablets.

Oh, that's useless!

That's how I feel. Well, I don't know.

You don't know. Like poor Pavitra, who has tried all sorts of treatments, and then...

So what's wrong? Do you have difficulty breathing?

It's a bit like that. And also hot, very hot.

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Yes, (laughing) it's hot!

Yes, that also! In the evening especially, the body is something of a boiler. A little blood comes out, too.

Haven't you tried this? You must get hold of the contact with the body's cells and tell them it's not necessary that blood should come out—(laughing) it's not part of the game! You can make fun of them a little: "You don't need to do that!" Believe me, it's so ludicrous that the only way to deal with it is to laugh at it.

Yes, we shouldn't take any notice.

No, not that! If you don't take any notice, the cells will go on with their dance and will on the contrary think you approve of their way of being. You must pull the Will, you must get hold of the Will—the Will, I am putting it into you, mon petit! I am not asking you to use something illusory: I am putting it into you, a for-mi-da-ble Will. And peaceful, you know, something which doesn't use violence, which is like this (gesture of massive, imperturbable descent).

I can tell you at any rate that it's as effective as medicines! And it doesn't have the drawbacks of medicines, which cure you of one thing and give you another.

How long have you been taking medicines?

Since Vellore. The treatment takes two years.

They said two years? Then you should go on for two years! You should do as they say. They have, oh... they have a hypnotic power over the material consciousness, which is a bit... disturbing.

I could tell you all sorts of stories, but anyway, stories about doctors aren't amusing; there are always ridiculous details. And it comes back: you throw their suggestion out of the window, you don't bother about it, you think it's all over, and it's gone into the subconscient; and suddenly, one fine day, a tiny little incident, and it comes back, formidable: "The doctor said this... such and such a doctor said this—the Doctor with a capital D said this," or "Medical Science said this," and the cells begin to panic—a frightful hypnotic power.

No, it's an interesting subject... (laughing) I seem not to be taking your misfortune seriously (!), but it's a very interesting subject, I assure you. To me, it belongs entirely to the world of

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Disorder, it doesn't have any deep truth—it doesn't. So if one lets the power of Truth act, it must give way. I am not saying it gives way willingly, I am not saying it goes away as if by miracle, no, but it MUST give way.

Oh, I could keep talking for hours!

You should sit down [Mother has been standing all the time].

No. I am not particularly keen to sit down!

(silence)

What is that treatment?

It's the treatment prescribed in those cases.

Yes, yes, the classic thing...

I can tell you (if it helps your physical mind) that in Japan I had a sort of measles (which had its own rather deep reasons) and that the Japanese doctor (who, besides, had studied in Germany, anyway he was a doctor through and through) told me very gravely that I should take care, that I was in the early stages of this wonderful disease, that above all I should never live in a cold climate, and this and that.... I was losing weight and so on. That was in Japan. Then I came here and I said that to Sri Aurobindo, who looked at me and smiled; and it was over, we didn't talk about it anymore. We didn't talk about it anymore and it wasn't there anymore! (laughing) It was all over. When I met Dr. S., years later, I asked him. "Nothing at all," he said, "everything is fine, there is absolutely nothing, not a trace." And I hadn't done anything, I hadn't taken any medicine or any precaution. Only, I had told Sri Aurobindo about it, who had looked at me and smiled.

Well, I am convinced that's how it is, that's all. But the physical mind doesn't believe in that. It believes that that's all very well in the higher realms, but when we are in Matter things follow a law of Matter and are material and mechanical, and there is a mechanism, and when the mechanism... and so on and so forth (not with these words, but with this thought). And one has to keep forever working on that, forever saying, "Oh, put a stop to all your difficulties, keep quiet!"

Only, the Flame must be there—the Flame within, the flame of aspiration and the flame of faith; and then the something that truly

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wants it to stop. You understand, whether things are this way or that, there is no need for me to present them to my thought and for my thought to accept them; because that's a very dangerous game: when you seek equanimity, you say to yourself, "Well, if this and that happens, what will my reaction be?" And you go on with the little game, till you say, "It's all the same to me." It is a very dangerous game. It's still a way of circling around the goal instead of heading straight for it.

There is only one thing: a sort of flame—a sort of flame that burns all this falsehood.

I have nothing to boast about, you know! I am preaching to this body as much as to others. I should be upright, strong, solid.... Why am I stooped like this? I know why, but it's not a compliment. I know why, it's because all this is still subject to all those suggestions from the world, all the medical thought and all that derives from it and all the suggestions from life. And habits. And all these people here... So there's nothing to boast about. Only, I know (the advantage is that I know it), I know it should be otherwise. I know it and the cells also know it, and I told you, yesterday evening they were crying over it, there on my bed; they kept moaning and groaning: "I was not made for this life of darkness and disorder, I was made for Light, for Strength and Love." And the answer: "Ah! Take it, then!" And they were moaning, "Why am I compelled to be like this?..." And all of a sudden, instead of giving them free play: the full Presence—in one second it was all gone. But the collective suggestion, the collective atmosphere is so... rotten, I may say, that it acts all the time.

But you (speaking to Sujata) are one of those who can say that when I come at night, I am tall and strong. And at night, I work, I am tall, I am strong. And it goes on moaning! It's idiotic. Not only idiotic, but there is still that sort of self-pity (Mother strokes her cheek), which of all things is the most repugnant: "Oh, poor little thing, how tired you are. Oh, poor little thing, how people tire you, how hard life is, how difficult things are...." And then moaning and groaning like an idiot. If it were just for me, I would give them a good thrashing! But I am asked not to do it, so I don't do it. But I do feel that before the eyes of this wonderful Grace—of this resplendent divine Love and this omnipotent Power—we are deeply ridiculous, that's all.

(silence)

There are also mischievous spirits. Mischievous spirits that come

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and suggest all kinds of things. There is a zone there, very near the physical, very near—a zone infested with worms, mon petit! All the bad suggestions of all possible catastrophes, of all malicious ill wills, of all desires.... It's sickening. All that swarms as if you plunged your nose into a vase full of worms. That's troublesome.

Well, yes! I will try to make a cocoon for you. Before you go to sleep, when you lie down, you must summon the white Light, my white light, and then I will be listening. Wrapped like that: a cocoon, a nice little cocoon, all white. That way you can sleep peacefully.

Nights are horrible.

Yes, aren't they? That's why I am telling you to call my light. Yes, they are horrible. Do you have nightmares?

It's not even nightmares—it's disgusting. Three quarters of the things I remember are kinds of sewers, loathsome places. It's... it's terrible.

Yes, that's right. If you knew what I am shown!...

Two or three nights ago also, I had a symbolic dream. You know that it's your old mosquito netting that was installed in my room?

Yes.

Well, a little being had made a hole in it. A being intimate enough because I caught it as you would a child and told him, "But if you make a hole, all the mosquitoes will come in." Then I noticed there was a big tear.

Oh!

And I thought, "All the enemies will come in," or "all the mosquitoes will come in." A big tear.

Did you mend it?

No, I was very annoyed and so it woke me up.

(Mother sits concentrating, then asks:) Did your brother, the

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physician, tell you anything? Did he give you any advice?

Yes, indications on the number of tablets to be taken, that's all.

Does he believe in tablets?

He says, "If one is going to follow a course of treatment, it should be followed in the best possible way."

Ah, yes, I fully agree, and scrupulously, because it represents a formation. At least ninety percent of the doctors have goodwill, they want to cure you (some don't care one bit, but not many—ninety percent of them want to cure you), so their formation should be given full power. It shouldn't be contradicted because it loses all its effect and then it's no use.

(the hour strikes)

Have I talked for an hour? Isn't that disgraceful!

Wait, I had a flower I put aside for you, it's pretty.

The will for victory, mon petit, that's the whole thing! Not a will here or there or here (gesture to various spots of the body), not that, not the personal victory over disease: the victory over the world. After all, we are here for that; I don't know if it will be for this time, but at any rate that's what is expected of us. We are here for that—to fight. So we are made to fight, and as it is the most (how can I put it?) intimate way, it is the body that is affected.

(silence)

I think that's enough for today!

Do you eat well?

Yes, yes!

Really well or do you just pretend to?

I eat well.

Is what you are given to eat good? I mean, is it nourishing?

Oh, yes, it's very nourishing.

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You have digestive troubles, but do you assimilate?

I think so.

Then that'll do. Digestive troubles, mon petit, don't stop one from living eighty-six or eighty-seven years. They don't. Since André was born, it has been like that; that means (I was just twenty), that means sixty-seven years. Well (laughing), I give you sixty-seven years to live!

And also, you know, as I have always said, with the enemies that want to scare you or want to sadden you or want to worry you, the only thing to do is laugh in their faces, that's all. You get angry? They're happy, they say, "He's angry"—no, no. You hit out? They escape, they're like jelly, it doesn't affect them. But when you laugh in their faces, they are really annoyed! That's the only thing: to make fun of them. Their stories may scare babies, but not us.

As for us, we live in eternity.

And I tell you (it's the normal, natural state of consciousness), it didn't take a minute last night: it took one second, brrf! finished. Then I entered a sort of peaceful joy, like that, which lasted three hours without a break. After that, the work was resumed.

But before you go to sleep, do this: you picture (picture it if you don't see it), you picture a white light. It isn't a crystalline light, mind you, it isn't transparent: it's white—absolutely white, a very bright white, a white light that looks solid. Picture it like that (and it is indeed like that, but you picture it): a white light. It is the light of the Creation, what is she called?... Maheshwari? (Laughing) The supreme Lady up there.

Yes, Maheshwari.

Maheshwari's light. But it seems I always had it, because when Madame Théon saw me, it's the first thing she told me; she didn't speak of "Maheshwari," but she said, "You have the white light" that automatically dissolves all ill will. And I did experience it: I saw beings crumble into dust. So you take that, picture that, and you build a cocoon around yourself—you know, just as insects build their own cocoons—you build a cocoon before falling asleep. I will do it here, but your "picturing" is to help it be better adapted, better adjusted. You build a cocoon, and when you are quite wrapped in that white cocoon, when the enemies cannot get

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through it, you let yourself go into sleep. Then all that comes from outside with a manifest ill will cannot get in. That's certain. Naturally, there is what one carries in one's subconscient... one must eliminate that by one's own will, little by little.

But this Light is all-powerful, mon petit! (Speaking to Sujata:) You too can do the same thing if you have enemies at night.

(Sujata:) I have seen it, you know, that white light.

Have you?

Yes, I have.

Well, that's very good. You are a good clairvoyant, so of course you have seen it. But I myself saw it, you know, as if it were someone else's light—it's my nature. I was using it even before meeting Théon: I knew nothing, of course, nothing, but I used to see it. And it was Madame Théon who told me, "It is your light." Madame Théon was the first to tell me what I was, what she saw: the crown of twelve pearls over the head. As for me, I had the experience of it, after which I could simply use it at will: I just had to summon it. And I would see it just as I see you, in a perfectly objective way.

But did I tell you the story of I. who was with Dilip? Before meeting Dilip, she had been with a guru, a sannyasin or whatever, and he was absolutely furious at her leaving him, so he cursed her. His curse gave her a sort of thrombosis (you know, when the blood stops flowing and coagulates), anyway it was here, in the neck, near the right arm, I think, and it was very painful—it was even dangerous. She told me about it. I in turn told Sri Aurobindo about it and Sri Aurobindo told me to protect her. I sent my light to the gentleman. That man, frightful things happened to him! He died of a horrible disease. I. went and saw him at that time, a little before he died, and the man (who was conscious) told her, "Here is what your Mother has done with me." He had been conscious. Then I saw that my affair was perfectly objective, because I had never said a word about it to anyone, nothing. And above all, that light had gone through Sri Aurobindo.... I quite simply did that, I put the light, and the gentleman left... for the curse to stop. And as he wasn't too pure, it resulted in a horrible disease.

Now, my children, good-bye.

So if you want to sleep peacefully, you make a little cocoon before going to sleep. Au revoir, mon petit.

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And to you I recommend: the unreality of human notions of disease.