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?
How are you?
Not so well.
Why?
I don't know.
What's wrong?... The head or the body?
No, it's rather within.
Ohh! That HAS to be all right. Within, we're the masters—we want to be well, we are well. It's only this (Mother points to her body) that doesn't quite obey.
(long silence Mother holds Satprem's hand)
In the subconscient there is an accumulation of defeatism. That's what keeps rising to the surface. As we ABSOLUTELY need to change that, the subconscient must be clarified so that the new race can come. We must clarify the subconscient. It's a mire. It's full of defeatism—defeatism, the first reaction is always defeatist. It's absolutely disgusting, mon petit, I've seen it, I am working there... a disgusting place. We absolutely must... we must be categorical and vigorous—fearless, you know. Change it MUST.
It's nasty.
And it keeps rising to the surface... (gesture from below).
(silence)
A fantastic energy is checked by that, by that foul thing.
(Mother gives flowers to Sujata)
Here. Do you want a garland?
We must.... (To Satprem) You have the capacity to... (Mother drives her fist down into Matter). Defeatism belongs to the
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subconscient—it MUST change, it must. Defeatism is anti-divine.
There's but one way: to want what the Supreme Consciousness wants—whatever the consequences in terms of our silly little conception.
Like this (Mother opens her hands): to want what You want.
Do I have a relationship with that Supreme Consciousness?
Oh, mon petit! That goes without saying!
You do have a relationship—and even a conscious one; not only do you have a relationship, but you have a conscious relationship.
I have gone through all sorts of terrible things in my life....
Yes, so does everyone.
Yes, but I think I've had a... special share.
Don't you think I've had my share too?
Oh, certainly, I think so.
So?
But I had (even when I didn't know you, when I didn't know the Ashram, I mean), I had the feeling there was something behind me....
Yes.
Something that was helping me.
Of course! But of course there was! Of course there was: THAT.
Personally, I call it the "Supreme Consciousness" because I don't want to say "God"....
Ah, no!
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It's full of... the very word is full of deception. It's not that way, it's.... WE ARE—We are the Divine who has forgotten Himself. And our task, the task is to reestablish the connection—call it by any name you like, it doesn't matter. It's the Perfection we must become, that's all.
The Perfection, the Power, the Knowledge we must become, that's all. Call it what you like, it doesn't matter to me. That's the aspiration we must have. We must get out of this mire, this stupidity, this unconsciousness, this disgusting defeatism that crushes us because we allow ourselves to be crushed.
And we fear. We fear for its life (Mother touches the skin of her hands), for this thing, as if it were precious, because we want to stay conscious. But let's unite with the Supreme Consciousness, and we'll stay conscious forever! That's IT, that's exactly it.
I could put it this way: we unite our consciousness with what is perishable and we're afraid to perish!1 I Well, I say: let's unite our consciousness with the eternal Consciousness and we will enjoy eternal consciousness.
How stupid can one be!
But, you see, when you are here, I can express these things because your atmosphere is conducive to expressing them.
We must... we must put this at the service of the Divine—always. Always. With faith, an absolute faith: whatever happens is what the Divine wants to see happen. The Divine—I say "Divine" because I know what I mean by that word, I mean supreme Knowledge, supreme Beauty, supreme Goodness, supreme Will—all... all that must be manifested in order to express... what must be expressed.
(long silence)
We are disgusted with the world as it is—and we have the POWER to change it. But we are such fools that we can't bring ourselves to abdicate our silly little personality to... to let the Marvel unfold.
And that's all accumulated in the subconscient: everything we have rejected is there, and now it must be brought in contact with the transforming Force... so that this unconsciousness may come to an end.
(Mother plunges in for half an hour)
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Mon petit....
(The following has already been the subject of several conversations the past year and will unfortunately come up again. It concerns the sales of my books abroad and a subsequent traffic in foreign currencies to which I was impudent or imprudent enough to call attention. But the real problem was that certain people were outrightly and openly robbing Mother. My books were in fact only a small part of a vaster racket that involved all of Sri Aurobindo's works. Much like Don Quixote, then, I was pitching headlong into a battle whose outcome was foreseeable. It may be recalled that the head of SABDA, the book business, is the brother of the man who tried to appropriate Auroville. In reality I was taking on a well-organized mafia. But I was still unaware of it. This anecdote is reported here only insofar as it is symbolic of a larger whole.)
You have nothing to ask?
I had a practical problem, Mother, but it's perhaps too late?
What time is it?
Ten past eleven.
No; what is it?
Oh, that problem really bothers me. It's about my books with All India Press.
Then, mon petit, you should discuss it with André.2
Yes, I did speak to André. I don't know what they're doing with my books. You see, they don't give me any statements and don't tell me anything about what they're doing. I don't know what they're doing with my books in Europe—in Switzerland in particular—they don't inform me of anything nor have I any control
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over what's happening. I wrote a letter to M. [the director of All India Press], a nice, polite letter in which I asked him to keep me posted up with what they're doing with my books—he never replied. So I thought something should be written to M. and that none but you could do it.
It isn't M., it's... (Mother tries to remember a name).
SABDA?
I thought of drafting a short note, and André approves of the note. Could I read it to you?
What is it?
I put: "To All India Press."
No, you must put SABDA.
Good. [Satprem reads:]
"Satprem's books will not be translated, reprinted or subject to any commitment without his formal consent...."
That's obvious. Self-evident!
Well, yes, "self-evident," but.... To continue:
"A yearly statement of the sales must be sent to him at the end of each year, and meanwhile a statement from the beginning up to date."
In other words: in such and such a year we sold so many copies, in such and such a year so many—so I know how many copies they sell.
Very good.
I had already asked—they never replied So the only solution is
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for you yourself to send them the....
Yes, you're right. But I'll send it through André.
Good. If you sign it, I'll give it to André. So should I put SABDA instead of All India Press?
Just add "SABDA" after, below the other.
I simply want to be kept informed, you know! They do all sorts of things without telling me.
(Mother remains absorbed)
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