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 is very late, she has Satprem and Sujata called in before the other disciples. She immediately takes Satprem's hands. It is heartrending.)
Something's wrong. Something's wrong. I see you....
Something's wrong.
What's wrong, Mother?
I feel like screaming.... But....
(silence)
I am eating less and less, so I am constantly uncomfortable—and so weak!1 Yet, I feel so strong!... But there's.... That's how it is.
When I am still, I have such a power—an almost limitless power.
Yes. Yes, it's very tangible.
Like that.
But when I am in my body, I feel so uncomfortable....
Yes, Mother, I understand.
And then everything takes up so much time! I haven't seen anybody this morning. They're all here [waiting at the door]. What can I do, mon petit?
Oh, Mother.... We love you, Mother.
Eh?
We love you.
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What?
We love you, we have much love for you.
I don't even know what you're saying!
I'm saying that I love you.
Oh, mon petit....
(Mother plunges in holding Satprem's hands.2 Then Champaklal's bell rings, twice, three times.)
What is the time?
Eleven o'clock, Mother.
Ten o'clock?
No, it's, eleven.
Thank you, mon petit.
Oh, Mother....
We need you, Mother.
Thank you.
Oh!... Oh, thank you, mon petit....
Ah, Mother, what Grace to be here with you.
(Satprem rests his forehead on Mother's lap)
Good-bye, Mother.
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