Mother’s Agenda 1972-1973

May 17, 1972

How are you?

How about you? You haven't been well lately?

It's strange, luckily—luckily—one thing happens after another, one after another, but every single bodily function is changing... (what's the right word?), I have it, "changing government." Functions that worked naturally—that is, in accord with the laws of Nature—all of a sudden, brrm, finished! They stop. Then... something... which I call the Divine—perhaps Sri Aurobindo called it the Supramental, I don't know; it's something like that, something that is plainly concerned with Matter, with this Manifestation, and which is tomorrow's realization (I don't know how to name it); so when everything is thoroughly upset and I feel really awful, then "That" consents to intervene.

The transition isn't pleasant. That's all.

(Mother gives some flowers to Sujata)

Here, mon petit.

Along with sharp pains, and... impossible to take any food, etc. etc.

Evidently someone had to do it. When Sri Aurobindo left, he told me that I alone could do it. I said all right.... So, I don't do it out of ambition—I just accepted, that's all.

Probably it's due to the stupidity of my body that I suffer the way I do. If it were more receptive and more ... (Mother opens

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her hands), yes, more receptive, there would be less friction. I can see, I see clearly that pain, conflict, incapacity are all a product of our own stupidity. There's no doubt about it. We have only ourselves to blame. At any moment—ANY moment and in whatever circumstances—whenever we take the right attitude, that is, when we are like this (Mother opens her hands): let Your Will be done—honestly, sincerely, integrally—everything is fine.

Therefore it's entirely our fault, we can only blame ourselves. We can only blame ourselves. We complain out of stupidity—oh, personally I don't complain but... all of a sudden, I can't do anything anymore.

There.

And what about you, what do you have to say?

Nothing, Mother.

Nothing happened to you?... I was hoping it would have helped you at least a little!

Nothing happened?

No.

Well, never mind.

Still too mental.

(silence)

So if you like, we can remain quiet. Don't you have anything to ask? No news?

You said "still too mental," do you mean...?

It means that instead of receiving directly, you see, without thinking, thoughts come in and unsettle—they limit the receptivity and disturb. That's the point. I see it in myself, you know; I've had to struggle so hard with this, in order to.... The need to understand things, the need to find explanations is simply a return to the old habitual movements. We must consent to be imbecile—for as long as necessary. Personally, as soon as I consent to be imbecile... beatitude. But the old habits return.

For man, the foremost realization for man is understanding—understanding things. For the Supermind, realization means Power (Mother stretches out her arms in a sovereign gesture), the creative willpower.

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But naturally, it would be quite disastrous if human intellectual capacities, mental capacities, were to gain control of that power—it would be terrifying! It would cause terrible havoc. Hence the need to consent in all humility to become imbecile before being able to acquire it.

(silence)

But I must tell you that you were all the time in my consciousness—and there are only very few (Mother counts on her fingers), perhaps two or three. Otherwise, ohh, they are far, far away.... You were continually present, that's why I was hoping you would feel a change. You were all the time in my consciousness.

I saw you last night.

Ahh! You see! Then?

Then I don't know, I looked at you and.... how to put it? At first I was a little afraid, then I don't know, it all melted and I lost consciousness in a kind of deep sleep. And I had a feeling you were smiling.

(Mother smiles) But that's very good! What you call your consciousness is your intellectual consciousness.

Afterwards I had great difficulty coming out of that "sleep." I had to exert a great effort to come out of it.

But why did you want to come out of it!

I suppose it was time to wake up.

(Mother laughs) It doesn't matter.

(Mother goes into contemplation till the end and opens her eyes just as the clock strikes eleven)

What's the time?

Eleven o'clock, Mother.

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So you see, when I went in, I told myself: I will come out of the meditation (not "meditation," but anyway...), I'll speak at eleven o'clock! (laughter) That's why I asked you the time. Interesting!

When you become simple, you know, like a child... all goes well.

But you mustn't be afraid. Neither afraid of falling ill, nor of becoming imbecile, nor even... of dying—you must be like this (vast and quiet gesture, like the sea).

If we could only have (I have it from time to time, it comes: it's on its way) a feeling of smiling trust. But to get that the consciousness must be as vast as the creation itself. You are as vast as the creation, and totally trusting.... Ultimately, it always boils down to this (which can be put in a very childlike manner): He knows better than we what has to be done.

There.

He knows better than we what has to be done.

That's my own method. I find it the easiest; there may be other methods (I am sure there are), but for me it's the easiest. Whenever something is apprehensive or balks: "He knows better than you what's necessary." That's all.

(Holding Satprem's hands) If we could smile, it would be so much easier.

(Satprem rests his forehead on Mother's lap)

Au revoir, mon petit.... But truly (it's not mere words), I am always with you. It's a fact. The kind of fact, you know (Mother feels the air between her fingers), palpable.

It has reorganized the environment in a most interesting way. Most interesting.

As much as possible, as much as it can, the body tries to be nonexistent: just letting That pass through, That pass through all the time, like this (gesture with her hands). Let the body be only a point of concentration and diffusion, like this (gesture of something flowing through Mother). As supple, as impersonal, as... (how to term it?) without any personal will. Without any personal will, just like that, like a transmitter: let That pass through—untainted.

Untainted, undiminished.... Voilà.

(Satprem gets ready to leave, Sujata approaches Mother)

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You know, Mother, I had an odd dream yesterday morning.... In my dream I saw Satprem's garden. I was walking in the street, passing by his garden, and I glimpsed an "Adoration" tree¹ covered with adoration flowers. I was filled with such joy. Then, a little farther on, behind this tree, I glimpsed another plant—it was very tall and it was the "Mind"²...

(Mother nods her head)

Then, I really looked, and on the branch of a tree (a coconut tree, I think, or a palm tree), I saw a bird... it was mostly white, a bird much like a pigeon but with a very long tail and a kind of golden circle on its breast, I think.

Oh!

Its head was a little... not quite orange, a little gerua³ (you know, like the earth), like that, and it was perched on a branch.

(Pointing to Satprem) It was him.

(Sujata, surprised) Him, Mother!? I don't know.

Yes, I am telling you, it was him! (laughter) It's good.

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