Mother’s Agenda 1967

July 15, 1967

There is someone here, whose name is S., a man over forty (oh, no, much older than that, I think he is approaching fifty), and he learned French, but so energetically that he writes French really remarkably. He regularly sends me questions in French, and because of the care with which he writes, I reply. The other day, he wrote to me (I forget

Page 208

his exact words, but it was very well put) that he had just realized that aspiration for progress and the result of the aspiration were both the divine Grace, the effect of the divine Grace.... So I thought, "Well, let me see if he knows French well enough to have a sense of humour." And I replied this:

"One could say humorously that we are all divine but scarcely know it, and it is just what in us does not know it or is unaware of being divine that we call ourselves!"

I'll see his reaction.

Afterwards something came, and I wrote it in its definitive form (in English it's better):

"For the Truth-vision all of us are divine, but we scarcely know it and in our being it is just what does not know it that we call ourselves."

(A little later, about a spelling mistake Satprem points out to Mother:)

It's the infinitive, here, Sweet Mother!

(Mother laughs) I've forgotten my grammar!

That I can quite understand! It's so artificial.

You know, I have no memory left at all, only the consciousness, and to the consciousness that's meaningless!

Lately, there came, oh, quite a number of such examples which unfolded before me, and I wondered, "But why is it this way? It's meaningless, it doesn't make any sense, it doesn't correspond to anything."

How did it take shape? Through habit? Or was it decided by minds?

By minds: grammarians.

There's a whole world of things people know out of force of habit, automatically, which have been completely erased (because all habits

Page 209

are increasingly being erased), so at times it's embarrassing! And it comes back, all those things come back like that, as if on a screen (but the screen of consciousness), and those that correspond to a reality come forward like an image, with the reality behind, so then it's very easy: you catch hold of the reality and it's over. But with many there's only the image and nothing behind! So how do you replace them?

When it comes to languages, it's very interesting.... Those are things that come, stay for an hour or two, then go away; they are like lessons, things to be learned. And so, one day, there came the question of languages, of the different languages. Those languages were formed progressively (probably through usage, until, as you said, one day someone took it into his head to fix it in a logical and grammatical way), but behind those languages, there are identical experiences—identical in their essence—and there are certainly sounds that correspond to those experiences; you find those sounds in all languages, the different sounds with minor differences. One day (for a long time, more than an hour), it unfolded with all the evidence to support it, for all languages. Unfortunately, I couldn't see clearly, it was at night, so I couldn't note it down and it went away. But it should be able to come back. It was really interesting ... (Mother tries to recall the experience.) There were even languages I had never heard: I've heard many European languages; in India, several Indian languages, chiefly Sanskrit; and then, Japanese. And there were languages I had never heard. It was all there. And there were sounds, certain sounds that come from all the way up, sounds ... (how can I explain?), sounds we might call "essential." And I saw how they took shape and were distorted in languages (Mother draws a sinuous descending line that branches out). Sounds like the affirmative and the negative—what, for us, is "yes" and "no"—and also the expression of certain relationships (Mother tries to remember). But the interesting point was that it came with all the words, lots of words I didn't know! And at that time I knew them (it comes from a subconscient somewhere), I knew all those words.

At the same time, there was a sort of capacity or possibility, a state in which one was able to understand all languages; that is, every language was understood because of its connection with that region (gesture to the heights, at the origin of sounds). There didn't seem to be any difficulty in understanding any language. There was a sort of almost graphic explanation (same sinuous descending line branching out) showing how the sound had been distorted to express this or that or...

It's a whole field of observation that's part of the study of vibrations:

Page 210

how essential vibrations are distorted as they spread out, and produce the different states—on the psychological level, on the level of thought, on the level of action, and also of languages, of expression.

Two or three days ago (this is part of the same field), I saw a baby girl who was born in America just while we were having the meditation here of 4.5.67. That child was born in America (of an Indian mother and an Indian father; the father was here, the mother there), and they brought her to me: a baby no bigger than this, microscopic! Her eyes were closed, a tiny thing: a little over two months old. The child was sleeping in her mother's arms, carried by her mother, her eyes closed, naturally. And—plop!—they put her in my lap without warning—a tiny little thing like this. At first I stayed put, giving her time to adapt to the new vibration. She began stirring as if something was waking her up, probably the difference in the atmosphere. Then (gesture of descent) I immediately put the consciousness: the Consciousness, the Presence. And the child opened her two arms like this (gesture like a Christ with arms outstretched), she opened her eyes and looked—such eyes! Magnificent with light, with consciousness, it was magnificent!... It lasted maybe a minute, not more, not even that long. Then she seemed to give a start, so I withdrew the Force because (laughing) I became wary. And she started wriggling and ... But that look and that gesture—a gesture of ... (same gesture like a Christ), with such aspiration, such light! ... It was magnificent.

I don't know who is there? ... We'll know one day. It gave me the impression of being a force or a principle rather than a person; it didn't have that ... that cramped character of personality.

The eyes were magnificent, with such consciousness! With the joy of conscious aspiration—it was magnificent. Then, afterwards, there was almost a sort of convulsion (it was too much, of course), so I withdrew the Force.

The matter (of the child) was of good quality, not heavy, only not very strong, not strong enough to bear "that."

Oh, and I should have shown you the photos of R., they were sent to me yesterday.... R. is a strapping fellow!

Is it simply the reproduction of the parents or something else?

The day the child was born, there came a telegram from America (dating from the day before) announcing the death of Paul Richard. The two things came together. I was surprised. I must admit I said, "Well, well!..." Because Paul Richard (unless he fell into complete stupor after I left him, I don't know!), I had given him much occult

Page 211

knowledge, including the ability to leave his body and enter another. So ... It's not impossible.

And for some time (for about a week), I'd been seeing his thought coming here and hovering about, like that. That is to say the news of his death was no surprise to me. But what I found interesting was this: the coincidence of the telegram and the birth.

The (child's) present form cannot reflect it (Richard): it's something that will develop in that direction little by little. We'll see. For the moment, he is really his father's and mother's son!

Interesting children, those that are born now.

(Then Mother listens to a reading from the notebook of a disciple who asks questions on the soul or "psychic being.")

He asks: "From life to life, the vibrations of the being develop, enrich and give form to the psychic personality behind the frontal personality. But then, how does the psychic, weighed down by those vibrations and memories, remain free?"

What? Do you understand what that means?

There are two rather unrelated things.

But why does he say "weighed down"?

All those vibrations that contribute to the development of the being "weigh the psychic down," he says.

No, it SIFTS them. That's precisely what happens: the psychic doesn't retain things in their totality: it sifts them—it sifts the vibrations as they come along.

The psychic memory is a sifted memory of events. In previous lives, for instance, there were moments when, for some reason or other, the psychic was present and took part, and so it keeps the memory of just one circumstance. But the memory it keeps is the PSYCHIC life of that moment; so even if it retains the memory of an image, it is a simplified image, translated in the psychic consciousness and according to the psychic vibration of all those present.

He wouldn't ask such a question if he had ever had a psychic memory, because when you have one it's perfectly obvious.

Page 212

Before I had the knowledge, before I met Théon and knew about those things, I had had memories that had always struck me because of their special character.... It was like having, not exactly an emotion, but a certain emotive vibration of a circumstance. And that's what is full, what remains and lasts. And along with that, you have a perception—a bit vague, a bit fuzzy—of the people who were there, of the circumstances, the events, and that makes up a psychic memory.

What remains often the events that the mind regards as the most memorable or the most important in a life, but the moments when the psychic took part—consciously took part in the occurrence. That's what remains.

I could have narrated many such memories, it's very interesting.

I had many in Italy. I travelled in Italy with my mother when I was fifteen, and I had lived a past life in Italy which was very conscious. Upon seeing the places, that (the psychic vibration of emotion) would spring up suddenly. And it would come along with the image.... What's in the foreground is the psychic movement (the word "emotion" isn't good, but anyway), it's the psychic movement which is in front and is important—that's what comes; the rest is like a background reflection: that is, forms, situations, circumstances.... I noted some down. Did you ever see something I wrote about a life in Italy? An old, old thing that I had written.... At fifteen—I had that experience when I was fifteen. I don't even know where I put it away, I don't think that paper is with me, I don't know where it is.... I narrated it a little later. When I met Théon, I understood my experience because it was explained to me (I didn't say the thing, but I understood afterwards, once I knew the states of being, their working and all that), so I understood that was what a psychic memory was.

Before I knew anything mentally, I had had a considerable number of memories from past lives, but in that way: real psychic memories, not mental fabrications. And what comes first is emotion ("emotion": the psychic feeling), it's vivid, strong, you know, very strong; then, as a sort of background setting, there are the forms, appearances, circumstances, with something like the quality of a nebulous memory, and they come along with the psychic feeling.

I had that experience in Italy when I was fifteen, while travelling with my mother, and it struck me very much—it was very striking indeed! It was the memory of having been strangled in the Doges' prison. Quite a story. Afterwards I enquired; I enquired about the names, the facts, the events (I was able to enquire in Italy about what had happened—it was in Venice—and it tallied marvellously). But the interesting thing, from an external point of view ... I was visiting the

Page 213

entire Palazzo ducale with my mother and a group of travellers shown about by a guide: they take you underground, where the prisons were located. Then the guide started telling a story (which didn't interest me) when, all of a sudden, I was seized by a kind of force that came into me, and then, without even—without even being aware of it, I went to a corner and saw a written word. It was ... But then, there came at the same time the memory that I had written it. And the whole scene came back: I was the one who had written that word on the wall (and I saw it, saw it with my physical eyes, the writing was still there; the guide said that all the walls with writings on them made by the Doges' prisoners had been kept intact). Then the scene went on: I saw, I had the sensation of people entering and catching hold of me (I was there with a prisoner—I wasn't the prisoner: I was visiting him). I was there, and then some people came and seized me and ... (gesture to the neck) tied me up. And then (I was with a whole group of about ten people listening to the guide, near a small aperture opening onto the canal), then, the sensation of being lifted and thrown through that aperture.... Well, you understand, I was fifteen, so naturally...! I told my mother, "Let's get out of here!" (Mother laughs)

It was hard to restrain myself. We left.

But afterwards I made enquiries, I questioned and researched (we had some family there,¹ I knew some people), and I found out it was absolutely true. It was a true story, with the names and all (now it's all gone). A doge² had imprisoned his predecessor's son as a living danger to him, as he had tried to take his father's place. So the doge, who had taken the father's place, sent the son to prison. But the daughter of this doge was in love with the son, and she found a way to go and visit him. Then the doge, in his rage, decided to have her drowned. The whole story was there. And it was really spontaneous: I knew nothing of it (it's the kind of story they don't teach you in another country, they're known only locally).

There you are, I found it very interesting.

But the very interesting part was that thing which told me, "Over there." I went and saw, and found written on the wall precisely what I remembered having myself written.

I've had many such memories, a great many, but that one was interesting, so that I know precisely the nature of the things that

Page 214

remain, that are part of the development of the psychic being.

There was another experience I had a little later (a little later, around eighteen or nineteen), in which I suddenly found myself riding a horse, dressed as a man, leading armies to a fantastic victory; and it was the glory of the sense of the presence of the Force of Victory that made me lead the entire army to victory. Afterwards, I remembered the costume I was wearing, the people's costumes, everything, and ... I saw it was Murat's famous victory.³ I was... (how can I put it?) the victorious spirit in Murat. And ONLY THAT. So when people tell you, "I was this person, that person," it's all tales: they are forces, states of consciousness that manifested in certain individuals at certain moments in their lives and which, at such moments, touched Matter concretely. And all that is gathered, collected together little by little, gradually, until it produces a conscious being.

Now, this (Mother's being) is a rather special conscious being.... The psychic of this life (laughing) was rather collective! Memories of Catherine the Great, memories of Elizabeth, memories of two lives at the same time (!) at the time of Francis I,⁴ memories ... innumerable memories, and quite diverse. Each one ... It's not that you were in such or such person for a whole life: you were the important psychic MOMENT in those existences.

I stopped taking any interest in all that when I came here—it was part of the occult knowledge, not of spiritual knowledge. I stopped taking any interest in it. But now that everything is being gathered together, it comes like that, like a part of the work, because ... the cells, when I had those visions, participated to some extent in the sense that they had the vibration in themselves; so all those vibrations have participated in the formation of all these cells, and now they relive it all. It gives them a possibility of breadth, of diversity, of synthesis and coordination of many, many things. And the sense of having thus lived for a long, long, long time.

(silence)

Before I came to India for the first time, I was twenty-two and knew nothing of spirituality or anything else, but I spent a month in Egypt, and for a month I lived in a state of extraordinary emotion, without knowing why.

Ah!

Page 215

I was in a state of constant emotion: everything held me spellbound. Egypt made an extraordinary impression on me.

Ah, but we lived together in Egypt. I've known you from the time of Egypt,⁵ I know that. You are one of those to whom I said in Egypt, "I promise you that you will be part ... that you will be on earth at the hour of realization." There are a few of them—not many (Mother makes a gesture of being scattered throughout the world).

But I know that! (Mother laughs)

I made that promise to a certain number of people—not all at the same times: at different stages.

Did you go to Thebes?

Yes, I went to Thebes.

Did you like it?

Oh, it was... that's where I had the most emotion.

Exactly.

(silence)

I don't generally talk about these things because it fastens people to the past: they try to relive what they lived, so you understand, that spoils everything.

But it's a sort of sensation I have: it doesn't correspond to anything here (gesture to the head), it's a sensation, the sensation of an atmosphere, or rather, of a kind of vibration which has already been felt, and so can easily be traced back to when and where.

Oh, there are amusing things.

Egypt was an extremely occult age, at that time they really had occult knowledge. So that gives you a power over the invisible, you can act there consciously.

There was one thing (which I told you, I think): at one moment (it didn't last long), but for a few days, there was a sort of need to know how people spoke, the sounds that were used.⁶ If I had insisted, it would probably have come: how I used to say things, how that consciousness used to express itself.... That hasn't been preserved.

Our age will be far more durable in memory... if things aren't

Page 216

destroyed—we'll just have to turn on a machine.

Unfortunately, there won't be much worth preserving from our age!

Oh!... That's a remarkable thing: in every age, and probably on the contrary, the farther you go into the past, there's a jumble, a clutter of quite uninteresting things—which disappear. They disappear, they are destroyed. There only remains what had an interesting inner life. So the past seems to us much more interesting than the present, but from our age all the clutter will also disappear and be dissolved in the same way, and only the best will remain, except if they use mechanical means to preserve lots of recordings of lots of stupidities. But otherwise....

I have, for instance, an impression (a strong impression) that in the Assyrian age they had a means, they had found a means to record and preserve sound. It must have been destroyed, it disappeared. But it's a very strong impression, linked to certain memories and (psychic) impressions like the ones I said: they aren't ideas, but ... [vibrations]. There was a capacity to make the invisible speak, you understand. They had a machine. It must have been destroyed with the rest?

The oldest memory that exists is the first Chinese attempts. It's in China that a machine to reproduce sound, to preserve and reproduce sound, was first found.

The Chinese were very inventive.

(silence)

I had a very strong impression, which, so to speak, crystallized when I went to China⁷ (I know nothing of China: a city or two, a port or two, that's nothing; but still you pick up a bit of the atmosphere): the origin of those people is lunar. There must have been life on the moon, and these beings (or a few of them, I don't know) took refuge on the earth when the moon was dying. And that was the origin of the Chinese race.

They are very peculiar.... They don't at all have the same kind of vital being as all the other human beings, not at all.

Theirs is a strange vital.

What kind of vital?

Page 217

Cold.

Cold: intellectual and cold. Cold. It's very insensitive. And the strange thing is that their sensitivity isn't the same at all, it's extremely dulled.