An account of Huta's sadhana & the grace showered on her by The Mother - especially how Mother prepared her for painting the series: 'Meditations on Savitri'.
The Mother : Contact On Savitri
This book tells the story of how Huta came to the Ashram and began her work with the Mother. It presents a detailed account of how the Mother prepared and encouraged her to learn painting and helped her to create two series of paintings: the 472 pictures comprising Meditations on Savitri and the 116 pictures that accompanied the Mother's comments titled About Savitri. During their meetings, where the Mother revealed her visions for each painting by drawing sketches and explaining which colours should be used, the unique importance of Savitri and the Mother's own experiences connected to the poem come clearly into view. The book is also a representation of Huta's sadhana, her struggles and her progress, and the solicitude and grace showered on her by the Mother.
THEME/S
The Mother sent me the message of the 24th April which I took to our spiritual meeting at Doris's flat. She read it out to us:
The Formless and the Formed were joined in her:
Immensity was exceeded by a look, A Face revealed the crowded Infinite. ||81.19|| Incarnating inexpressibly in her limbs The boundless joy the blind world-forces seek, Her body of beauty mooned the seas of bliss. ||81.20|| At the head she stands of birth and toil and fate, In their slow round the cycles turn to her call; Alone her hands can change Time's dragon base. ||81.21|| Hers is the mystery the Night conceals; The spirit's alchemist energy is hers; She is the golden bridge, the wonderful fire. ||81.22|| The luminous heart of the Unknown is she, A power of silence in the depths of God; She is the Force, the inevitable Word, The magnet of our difficult ascent, The Sun from which we kindle all our suns, The Light that leans from the unrealised Pasts, The joy that beckons from the impossible, The Might of all that never yet came down. ||81.23|| All Nature dumbly calls to her alone To heal with her feet the aching throb of life And break the seals on the dim soul of man And kindle her fire in the closed heart of things. ||81.24|| All here shall be one day her sweetness' home, All contraries prepare her harmony; Towards her our knowledge climbs, our passion gropes, In her miraculous rapture we shall dwell, Her clasp shall turn to ecstasy our pain. ||81.25||
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