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?
KRISHNA IN GOLD
(A vision of Sujata's on the afternoon of May 15)
(original English)
A place similar to the Playground. A few people, here and there, are talking or going about.
I am standing somewhere in the middle of the ground, in front of Mother's door.
From the main gate enters a vehicle—half-cart half-cab—drawn by two bullocks. It comes to a stop a few feet away from me. The driver makes the bullocks kneel down. Out steps a gentleman. The cart is driven away.
The gentleman is dressed in white, Indian-fashion (dhoti, punjabi). He is round-faced and fair-skinned. Reminds me of a Zamindar [landlord] from the North. In fact he is the new Proprietor coming to take possession.
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The doors behind me are locked He has the keys.
But he is not supposed to open one particular room: the one I thought was Mother's. But he goes straight there and unlocks that door.
He enters. I too, as if I had the right to do so.
We weave our way to the bottom of this room. I have a vague impression of a small window on the end wall. And in the left corner, is a richly decorated high throne. Seated in it is a Divinity.
He is quite small in that huge throne (about two feet or so).
He is made of solid gold.
At his feet are signs and objects of worship.
As we approach him, a sort of intense prayer or aspiration takes hold of me. We stand in front looking at him—my whole being is one intense prayer or invocation. The Divinity comes alive. He smiles slightly, then steps down.
He barely reaches my breast and seems to me like a little boy of eight or ten.
The three of us come out of the room. The scene has changed Now it is a countryside. A vast, unlimited expanse stretches in front. A few plots are cultivated, but most of the land is untended.
We walk. We walk on a narrow ridge by the side of a cultivated rice-field, which is to the right of us. It is green. I am nearest to it. The gentleman is the farthest. The Divinity is between us. He has a funny walk. He is so heavy (being made of solid gold) that he seems to lurch from side to side. I feel concerned and hold his arm to help him. I feel a tenderness also as for a child.
Then I turn my face towards him to reassure him. But instead of me looking down it is he who looks down on me! I am really astonished to see how tall he has grown during this short walk of but a few steps! Now it is I who reach hardly his shoulder. He seems to have grown to a lad of 13 or 14.
As I took up, he looks down at me and smiles. Ohh, what a smile! Utterly sweet and full of mischief. It contained a world: "You see, I am quite all right. Now you will see what fun we have!"
We walk on. To our left, sitting cross-legged, head bent, is M. [a disciple very learned in Sanskrit texts]. As we advance, I think, "What a pity, we shall pass right in front of him, but he would not even know WHO passed by!" But as we near, he raises his head and sees. I feel glad for M.
We walk on. Now the scenes change fast. We meet more and more people. Trees. Roads. Still more people. Wherever we go there is trouble, disturbance, confusion. As if the Godhead were sowing disruption
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everywhere. The Zamindar gets annoyed. He had brought out the Divinity to show people what a fine fellow he was! Everybody should have great respect for him, obey him, for is he not the Proprietor? But the God had just the opposite effect! He should no longer be abroad. He must be put back where he belonged, and relocked.
So we return to the sanctuary. This time I remain outside. The Zamindar takes the God inside. And tries to shut the door.
But the Godhead will not be shut in.
I can see the gold God growing, growing.
The ceiling falls in. The god's head and chest go through the ceiling. He rips oft the walls and throws bricks everywhere. The Zamindar has disappeared under the debris.
The gold God grows. Taller and mightier. And will brook no resistance. With His mighty hands, He pulls down the walls of His old sanctuary.
When I woke up, I called Him "Krishna in gold."
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