Mother discovers the 'mind of the cells', a new cellular memory, not of death or the 'real' world, and a marvel of physical freedom hidden within our cells.
"A whole world is opening up." It is the year when Mother reaches "the mind of the cells", buried under the old genetic coding that seems to want to keep men forever harnessed to death: "There, there is such a concentration of power.... as if you had caught the tail of the solution." Another power of consciousness in matter capable of undoing the old program: "A kind of memory being elaborated from below" - a new cellular memory which is no longer the memory of decay, illness, death, gravity and all our "real" world? At the same time, at that cellular level, freed from the old laws, Mother discovers "two worlds one inside the other: a world of truth and a world of falsehood, and that world of Truth is PHYSICAL; it is not up above: it's MATERIAL. And that's what must come to the forefront and replace the other: the true physical." Mother called that replacement the "transfer of power". Is it really conceivable that a marvel of physical freedom lies concealed within our cells, while we strive and toil outside with illusory panaceas: "If even a tiny aggregate of cells were to succeed in experiencing the total transformation, all the way, that would be more effective than any big upheaval. But it's more difficult.... You must overcome death! Death must cease to exist, it's very clear." Is the entire earth not in the process of living through this "transfer of power", just as one day it passed from the reign of the animal to the reign of the mind? "Everything is escaping, there's nothing left to lean on, it is the passage to the new movement.... and for the old, that always means a dangerous disruption of equilibrium."
(Before going into the music room where Mother will play the organ for the birthday of Sunil, a disciple who is a musician.)
The other day I told you about that comet, and something amusing has happened. Just for fun I said to myself, "Oh, it would be quite interesting to see this comet as it can be seen through the most powerful telescope ever invented." And barely had the thought come (it was last night) when I heard, "Look." So I opened my eyes, and I saw the comet, big like this, very big, as it could be seen with the most powerful telescope, quite bright, with its tail! And the interesting thing was that just beside it (not like the comet's tail, but just next to it), there was a star, a sort of star, but quite small, and very bright, which seemed to me of a very peculiar interest.
And the effect is going on. That substance I told you about is still acting in the earth atmosphere. Don't you feel it? You don't have the sensation of being more comfortable, no?
A little later, after the music:
Living is a little complicated! (Mother laughs) You will agree with that!
Yes. But you look tired.
No, I am not tired—I am not tired.
There is an inner, perfectly harmonious rhythm, and when I can live according to that rhythm everything is quite fine, marvelously fine, even, like the story of my comet; that is, you feel you just have to say, "Oh, I would like that," and instantly things are like that; and at the same time, you live in a totality of things that have their usefulness, their necessity, and that don't even clash with the deep Principle, but that outwardly impose their rhythm on this Rhythm. So at times it's difficult.
Today, for instance, my intention was to have finished by ten
Page 285
'clock and to see you quietly, then to go to the music room; I even expressed my intention, but nothing doing! It's not bad will, it's a sort of coalition of circumstances.
They leave later and later each time.1
So it seems to me. And there's no reason for it not to get later still. See, I have all this (Mother shows a stack of letters), which is work yet to be done, and it was supposed to be done this morning. Every day it's like that. Now it's a mountain of letters, and some letters haven't even been opened. So some write to me (but that frees me), "I have already sent you two letters and you haven't answered, I am unlucky"—too bad for them. But there are those who are very patient, who ask for things that are important to them, and whom I don't have time to answer. When I hear the letter (there are some letters I haven't even opened, I don't know what they have written), but when I hear, I answer inwardly; if they had the mental perception they would receive my answer; unfortunately they don't have it. Some letters are important, from people who ask for something reasonable, and a word or a gesture would greatly help them to move on—it's not possible. And it keeps increasing and increasing. Previously, I used to rest ("rest," that is to say, "concentrate") regularly, at a fixed time, but now that's finished, I can't do it anymore. It cuts into the rest, too, and that's bad.
It's the world in a rush. It's not just from a small number of individuals, it's from everywhere: from the United Nations, the Government of India, from people here, there and everywhere who ask for a directive, an indication. They ought to be able to receive mentally; that way I could do all the work, because it doesn't take any time, it's immediate, but they aren't there yet, they can't. You know, requests for "messages," for something to start an action—there are dozens of them every day. And it's a good sign, I can't complain. It's a good sign, it means the world is growing receptive. But...
Page 286
Home
The Mother
Books
Agenda
Share your feedback. Help us improve. Or ask a question.