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?
(Mother listens to Satprem read a letter from Msgr. R., the friend of P.L., who is intently turning to Mother to start a new life. Mother concentrates on him for a quarter of an hour.)
Is he ill?
He had several very serious operations in a row, and I think he had a lung removed in the last one.
Ooh!
He's a man who has been severely stricken. He went through a record number of operations.
What's the time difference between here and France?
Five or five and a half hours.
Which means?
Which means, it is now five-thirty or six in the morning there.
Note the time it is now.
It's eleven o'clock.
Could you ask him if.... What's the date today?
The 29th.
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Ask him whether on the 29th at eleven o'clock (put it in local time there) he felt something.
And if he did feel something—whatever it is, an impression (I don't want to define it), something, a Force, some phenomenon—if he felt something at that hour, we could agree on a particular day and time, and try: I would do a special concentration on him.
If he could send a photo, it would be easier.
That's all I can do.
Send it registered.
(silence)
It would be better if he set a time when he can be free and quiet a little.
What did I say to ask him?
First, if he felt something ...
Better not say "felt": ask whether he was CONSCIOUS of something—because "felt" may suggest a vital or physical sensation—if he was conscious of something.
(Mother plunges in till the end, then Sujata approaches her)
Mother, I would like to tell you about a rather strange occurrence. The night before last, independently, Satprem, F. and I had similar dreams.
Ah! And what was it?
Violent attacks.
By whom?
I don't know, Mother. As for me, I was in a large group of Ashram people, and we were about to be executed. But I had a tremendous faith: "It's not possible," I thought, "a miracle is bound to happen at the last minute..."
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Yes.
"...to stop this." I was saying this to someone who was greatly worried and depressed.
Who?
I can't say. I don't remember. Someone who was also going to be executed. There were also many children. Then I heard a sort of great chant (many people were gathered there, it was time for the execution), like a mantra rising up from each of us, like this: OM Namo Bhagavate Sri Arabindaye.
Ah!
And everybody was chanting it—everybody was chanting. And the threat withdrew.
Who else had this dream?
Satprem saw himself heavily attacked by bombs and grenades.1 F.'s dream: she was trying to see you, but she was locked in a room. She wanted to feed you, and she was told, "No, no, Mother doesn't eat." She knew it was a lie, but she was denied access to you.
When was that?
Not last night, but the night before.
Yes, yes.
Your dream was the most complete of the three.
And you saw that the attack was averted.
No, Mother, it went away because we were chanting Sri Aurobindo's name. [Sujata sings:] OM Namo Bhagavate Sri Arabindaye....
Yes, exactly. Exactly. But it's true, mon petit!... That was good.
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Were we attacked?
Not physically, of course.
It's good—very good. It's true. It was the night before last.
Personally, I repeated the mantra all night long.
It's good, mon petit.
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