Mother or The Mutation Of Death - III

5: The Traveller

But the fundamental cage would still remain.

Even with that mortal spinning abolished along with all its causes of illness, distortion and sadness⎯all this human pain which is a kind of radical ill- health⎯even with life prolonged at will, as it were, with the disappearance of all friction and the flexibility of the great universal Rhythm, there would still remain that which creates fundamental death: the death of the bird, the beast, of all species until now. For death will remain until the evolutionary goal is fulfilled, because it is the evolutionary means of progress. If the evolutionary goal were to produce an enhanced and harmonious humanity, without clashes at any level, Death would probably vanish once that goal has been reached, since there would no longer be any reason to die. But evolution nonetheless causes little birds to die. So there is something more or something else to discover. Death still remains the door to the secret, the irrefutable sign that the one and only evolutionary Secret has not been found. And from stage to stage, we are led ever closer, ever deeper into the heart of that fundamental Matter that creates death because it cannot, at least not yet, do as it wants. Because it has not found itself. And finally, this body which seems an instrument, a mere material support for us to frolic intelligently around on this good earth’s surface might well in fact be the very essence of the story. A living heart of Matter, of each cell of Matter, of each atom. An original secret principle that appears only at the very end, when all of the Amazon and each particle of the Amazon uncover themselves. We believed that it was the small mental man who was to be the explorer and ultimate discoverer, but it could be that the “something” that created primal Matter so many thousands of millions of years ago also created ultimate Matter and that the traveller of this long journey was there with the first atom and the first molecule, or rather within that atom and that molecule. We knock at the old traveller’s door, every death knocks at his door, every life knocks at his door, we will keep dying until we find that traveller.

Thus Matter remains our enigma. What is it that lies therein?

No philosophy, of course, no religion either, thank “God”! But what?

The nearer we approach the cell, the more mysterious it becomes, one could say marvellous, but it is a marvel that is so “different,” so gaping, if one may say so, that it is rather frightening. It is truly the big “gap” or the big evolutionary rift through which one suddenly emerges into another country⎯not even a “country,” but like another being of ours. In any case, a “something” that is a bewildering possibility for all our physiological structures which quietly keep spinning their little enzymes, tissues and exquisite ready-made molecules. Suddenly, nothing is “made” anymore. Nothing works anymore or if it works, it works quite differently. We are reaching the very root of the fundamental cage, the one which created charming birds and could create charming little men, if such were the evolutionary goal. But it appears that we have gone through a first web only to have to traverse a second one as well. It is quite clear that we were not created to be exquisite prisoners, even of a molecule. We keep on knocking at the door of death.

Death is perhaps the traveller’s last mask.

And let’s finally just be simple, very simple, for what is it that matters in this whole damned or not so damned evolutionary business in which we are scarcely willing and painful pawns? What has all this been created for? To end up as superbirds … which will become tired of their small or big wings. To create marvellous and ubiquitous supermen, gorged with ubiquity, sated with marvels, enough! To create marvellous lands with coloured, fairylike superforests and seas beyond compare …? To create, to always create something else⎯but as long as there is a something else, it will never be that.

That, in its fullness.

That, simple and right here, without plus or minus.

A “that” which fills us at every second without the need of anything else. “That,” simply as one breathes, that’s all.

“That,” as one loves, and forever.

“That.”

“That”, yes, and if “that” is missing, nothing is there and thousands of paradises piled on each other, whether earthly or not, will never fill that hole.

Perhaps this is what the traveller is. Love is perhaps what the traveller is.

We knock at love’s door, and as long as we have not found that, we will have found nothing. This is perhaps the secret of Matter. And when we have touched that in every cell and atom, the doors of death will open⎯it was so simple.

It is what’s Simple.

That was why a little atom caught fire, one day.

It is to live “that” at every second and in all things that we put on this carapace, this feather mantle, this human mantle, but it was there, within, at all times⎯and now it wants to be what it is, and what will its mantle be?… This mantle of Matter, what is it? The rag we throw away after use or the traveller’s very body?⎯an unknown body, but which must have its means of fabrication in the cells. The traveller is not going to drop from heaven, he has always been here on the ground, crawling with us, moving with us, toiling with us. And now?

Where are you, traveller, what are you going to do with your little cells that have toiled for so long?⎯food for death, or for another, inconceivable life, another body yet to be built?

A body of your love which will be our sole love. And all will be full.

And all will be simple. It will be that.

In the wide eyes of the future, we see a golden flame arise.