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?
(Two days earlier, as Pranab was leaving Mother's room late, he had remarked to Sujata, "Usual trouble. Heart, giddiness.")
The work is going on with increasing clarity. But it's difficult.... On its own, the physical is terribly pessimistic. It is steeped in atavistic habits of helplessness, contradiction, and also catastrophe—it is terribly pessimistic. What a work it is.... Only gradually, by constantly turning to the Divine, can it start to hope things will improve a little.
Can't eat, you know, not a morsel.... This physical world is terrible, terrible, terrible.
It's the mind and vital that make it bearable and permit us to go on, but once they're gone—awful!
(silence)
Yesterday was detestable all day; this morning it started to get a little better... but then I don't know how things work out, I don't understand .... The body feels it has lost all control over time.1
(Mother plunges in)
(Then Mother proceeds to sort out some papers.)
There's a great need to file, to put things in order.... Perhaps it's simply the Force pressing down, that wants everything to be in order (I think that's what it is)... or else it may be that the body knows it is going to leave.
No, no! No, no, no—that is not possible!
(Laughing) No, of course not!
It does feel a process of transformation taking place. But sometimes it feels it's impossible—it's impossible, you simply can't go on existing like this—but then, just at the last minute, something comes, and then it's... it's a Harmony totally unknown to this
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physical world. A Harmony—the physical world seems appalling in comparison. But that doesn't last.
(Mother touches her chest, she is always short of breath when she speaks)
I am finding it more and more difficult to speak.
But my perceptions are clearer and clearer (Mother draws a sort of picture in front of her), clear, luminous. My perceptions are getting clearer and clearer, more and more luminous—vaster and vaster.
It's really like a new world that wants to manifest itself.
In silence, I am comfortable.
(Mother goes into contemplation. After a few moments, a blissful smile spreads over her face.)
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