Mother’s Agenda 1971

August 28, 1971

Well, what's new?

What do you want or have to tell me?... Nothing?

Nothing, or always the same thing, rather.

What's that?

I'm waiting.

Oh, you're waiting! So am I! (laughter)

(silence)

It's as if all the ways of seeing the world were passing by one after the other: the most detestable and the most marvelous—like this, like that, like this... (Mother turns her head like a kaleidoscope), and they all come to tell me: "See, you can look at it this way, you can look at it that way, you can...." But the Truth... what is true?... What is true?... There is all that (same kaleidoscopic gesture), and "something" we don't know.

First of all, I am convinced that the need to see things, to think them, is purely human and is a transitory device. It is a transitory phase, which seems terribly long to us, but in fact is rather short.

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Even our consciousness is an adaptation of the Consciousness—THE Consciousness, the true consciousness is something else.

And so the conclusion for my body is... (as best as I can translate it): to curl up in the Divine. Not to try to understand, not to try to know: try TO BE.... And to curl up. So I spend my time like that.

Not "try": only one minute like that is enough (gesture of stepping backward), and time doesn't matter anymore. It's very curious, I make experiments for every little movement of life, like meals, for example; well, when I curl up like this (gesture of interiorization), everything seems instantaneous. There isn't any time. When I am in the outer consciousness (what I call outer is a consciousness that witnesses the creation), then things take more or less time depending on the attention given it. And so everything, everything seems... nothing seems to be (what's the word?) absolute, in the sense of real—real, a concrete reality—nothing seems to be like that. Except unpleasant things in the body such as, for example, some functioning that goes wrong; that, you recognize as imperfection. The imperfection is what makes you feel the thing, otherwise it's like this (same gesture of interiorization, curled up in the Lord). And "like this," the Power is tremendous, in the sense that... for instance, for some people, a particular illness vanishes (without my doing anything outwardly in fact, without my even speaking to anyone, absolutely nothing—it's cured); for still another person... it's the end, he goes over to the other side. But then that other side has become both quite familiar to me and... totally unknown.

I remember a time when the memory of past lives, the memory of night activities was so very concrete; the so-called invisible world was totally concrete—now... now everything is like a dream—everything—everything is like a dream veiling a Reality... an unknown Reality, and yet appreciable. I seem to be talking nonsense.

No, no, not at all!

Because it can't be expressed.

You asked me the other day (your question has stayed with me), you asked me: when I am silent and motionless like this, what is happening?... In point of fact it's an attempt (I can't say an aspiration, I can't say effort—the word in English is urge): the truth as it is. That's it. That's it. Not trying to know or understand it (it is

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all one to me): to be—to be—to be.... And then.... (Mother has a smile full of sweetness.)

(silence)

Then curiously enough: at the same time—at the same time—not one in the other or one with the other, but one AND the other, at the same time (Mother slips the fingers of her right hand between the fingers of her left) it's marvelous and dreadful. Life as it is, as we feel it in our ordinary consciousness—as it is for men—seems something... but so dreadful that one wonders how it can be lived even a single minute; and the other, AT THE SAME TIME: a marvel. A marvel of light, consciousness, power—wondrous. And a power, a power!... And not the power of a particular person (Mother pinches the skin of her hands), it's something... it's something which is everything.... And you are left without words.

So, quite naturally, the most interesting thing is to find That. Quite naturally, whenever I have nothing to do... (gesture of interiorization, curled up in the Lord). That's why I am forever asking you if you have questions or something, because there is no longer any "person" to be active, it's only the things which... (gesture indicating the movements and vibrations of people or things triggering Mother's activity). So when that's not there, it's... (gesture in suspense, silence).... Very far, far off... quite close, quite close to the other Consciousness, there are moments (Mother speaks in a deep, solemn voice): OM Namo Bhagavateh.... That's the most material thing. It's already... it seems so... lifeless. It gives the impression that a piece of wood might give us. And yet it's.... So at one and the same time one can be in a painful and incomprehensible and absurd life and absolutely at the same time... unutterably marvelous.

So naturally I can't speak to anyone anymore, I can say it only to you, because people would think I am going nuts.

(long silence)

Only "You"—that's all.

And quite plainly the Creation has That as its goal, that marvelous joy... of feeling we are You.

(Mother goes off in a smile)

So.... So what do you want? Do you want That?

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Yes, Mother.

Or do you want to ask me questions?

No, no, That is good!

(Mother laughs)

(Mother takes Satprem's hands, sits with her eyes closed, then a smile spreads over her lips, she goes within.)

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