It's neither life nor death.. BOTH are being changed.. into something still unknown.. dangerous and wonderful. On Nov 17, 1973, she left her body - why?
"Before dying falsehood rises in full swing. Still people understand only the lesson of catastrophe. Will it have to come before they open their eyes?" This is the year of Watergate, of Nixon's first trip to China, the assassination of the Israeli athletes in Munich, the first oil embargo. This is Mother's last lap. A lap strewn with heartrending little cries and stunning visions. The end of one world, the beginning of another.... whether we want it or not. "Sometimes, it is so new and unexpected, it's almost painful." And I would ask her, "But is it a state outside matter?" "I don't go outside of physical life, but.... it looks different. But it is strange. And it is PHYSICAL, that is the extraordinary thing! As if the physical had split in two.... A new state in matter. And it is ruled by something that is not the sun, I don't know what it is.... I am touching another world. Another way of being.... dangerous but wonderful." How I listened to her little breath as she gasped for air, a breath that seemed to come from another side of the world: "There is no difference between life and death. It's neither life nor death, it is.... something. It is not the disappearance of death you understand: BOTH are being changed.... into something still unknown, which seems at once extremely dangerous and absolutely wonderful." And what if "death" were merely the other, MATERIAL side of our human bowl, the sunlit shore for a species to come? A new condition on both sides of the world, in which life and death change into.... something else? "I am treading a very thin and narrow line...." And then this cry, this entreaty: "Let me do the work!" On November 17, 1973, she passed away - why?
(The night of the 5th, a violent cyclone struck Pondicherry. At Nandanam, in the middle of the devastated garden, a white hibiscus bloomed. Satprem places the flower on Mother's lap.)
A "Grace" flower bloomed in the thick of the cyclone, Mother.
(silence)
(One can hear the axes hacking away at the broken branches of the great yellow flame tree called "Service," which spreads its foliage above Sri Aurobindo's tomb.)
The tree that gave me all my "Transformation" flowers [from Satprem's garden] is broken. The "Service" tree also: some of its branches have been torn off.
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Usually it didn't come this way....
The consciousness must have sunk a lot... quite a lot.
Some curious things are happening: the consciousness is clearer and vaster than it has ever been—a vast, vast vision... and very precise: I know things happening at a distance (without thinking: they just come). But my memory is ab-so-lu-te-ly gone. I don't know—half an hour later, I've already forgotten what I did. Absolutely forgotten.
The consciousness of the Presence—the Presence everywhere, in everything....
(Mother plunges in then comes back to give Satprem the "Grace" flower)
Mon petit....
I would like the Grace of belonging exclusively to you.
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