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?
(Satprem's eyes are still in poor condition.)
So, what about your eyes?
And you, how are you?
Me... the consciousness is progressing.
(Satprem rests his head on Mother's lap. She puts her left hand over his right eye.)
If you could stop everything for ten days... don't use your eyes to read or write—not look at anything, just use your eyes to see what's indispensable, to eat or move about. I don't know, there's a kind of automatic vision that isn't tiring. It's when you "look" at something that it tires you. I wish you had ten whole days of that automatic vision.
You are now my eyes for the work, you understand, so you must keep them in good condition. Myself, I see everything... through a sort of veil. But I've gained a new perception for it. I don't see in quite the same way; it's as if I saw more inside, I don't know how to explain it. That's increasing. Growing. But it takes long, so long....
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