Mother or The New Species - II

18. The Changing of Time

For years, Mother was going to move from life to death and from death to life in an infinitesimal, vertiginous pendulum—death at every minute, one could say—in an attempt to learn the secret of the transition, the tiny little second when life goes out and one enters death, and there is not a single second to lose.... Now we more or less understand the process, and it may seem rational enough, but go tell a dying body that its death is "rational"! She really had to have solid nerves. When you do not know that it is a process, you simply ask yourself: is it "old age," the signs of the "end"? Precisely what all the specimens around her were beginning to mutter under their breath—except that the specimens were no longer "around her," they were perfectly within, in Mother, and it was "as if" her own body had all their reactions. So then what? Of course I had noticed Mother's little "tiltings" into the "difficult" (!) state, as it were, and I had also observed that they coincided with a condition in myself, like a suppressed hurricane: everything grated. And finally I mentioned it to Mother: "It's strange how each time you are in difficulty, it grates inside me." Oh, mon petit, I was about to tell you: don't be in a bad mood, it makes me sick! And that is how it is. There were all the illnesses of the little specimens around her (or at a distance: thousands of specimens—they were everywhere). She had indeed to traverse each one's death. Every moment I catch myself being like this, being like that, doing this, doing that—all the things one shouldn't be! Everything comes to me in that form: as if it took place within me. I'll catch myself being like that....¹ Then something complains (all this is in the body's consciousness), the body says, "Oh, I haven't got beyond that, what a wretched shame I" And the immediate answer: "But don't you see, don't you see the usefulness of it?" Then I am shown a whole tangled web of movements, vibrations, reactions, actions.... everything becomes clear, everything falls into place! You see so clearly it is egoism; egoism which wants personal, individual perfection: instead of wanting overall progress, it wants personal progress, it still makes breaks where there are none, separations where they do not exist. And you see how a movement going through [the body] should be accepted... so that EVERYTHING can follow its road—it's very, very interesting.² Mother would say that very coolly just a few minutes after having "tilted" into something that would terrify anybody else. And She added: The whole must go forward together and you can't separate a piece of it to perfect it—it can't be done! It's impossible. It's not that it shouldn't be done—it CANNOT be done. Everything goes together.²

But it's an incalculable work....³

We can understand, now, the reason for that terrible pendulum; but Mother herself did not quite understand where it was all leading. There must be certain laws—laws expressing a Wisdom far beyond us—for the experience seems to follow a sort of curve which, because I am in it, I don' t understand. And it won't be understood till the end is reached; but I am right in the middle of it, or maybe at the very beginning...⁴ Mother was never to "understand" (it is in some way up to us to understand): She was hewing the path. She was living the phenomenon. And the end?... We shall really understand the phenomenon only when everything is done. Perhaps we are just trying to tame it to make it reveal itself sooner.

The Other Room

All the same, the "curve" seemed each time to hit against a very precise point: There's a strange thing that happens to me all the time, at least fifty times a day (and it's particularly clear at night)... it's like moving from one room to another, or from one house to another, and you go through the door or the wall almost without noticing it, automatically...⁵ And Sri Aurobindo's "Wall" of is suddenly before us, luminous with meaning. Being in one room is reflected outwardly by quite a comfortable condition, a state where there's no pain at all, no pain anywhere, and a great peace—a joyous peace, a state of perfect calm... an ideal condition, at any rate, which sometimes lasts a long, long time. And then suddenly, with no perceptible or apparent reason (I haven't yet discovered the why or the wherefore of it), you seem to... FALL into the other room, or into the other house, as though you had made a false step—and then you have a pain here, an ache there, you're uncomfortable.... I mean the two states are now distinct—noticeably distinct; but so far I haven't found either the why or the wherefore.... Is it something coming from outside or just an old rut: yes, it really feels like an old rut, like a wrinkle in a piece of cloth; you know, you iron it out again and again, and the wrinkle comes back. And so, when I am in the state of the old crease...⁵ All the world's pain in an old crease. But where is that "crease"? And Mother came back to that experience again and again as if to tear out its secret, as if death were nothing other than the tiny little thing that makes you tilt into the "other room"—catching death in the raw, we could say. I am in a state where everything flows... flows like a river of tranquil peace.... Truly, it's marvelous—all creation, all life, all movements, all things, and everything LIKE A SINGLE MASS, with the body in the midst of it all, blending homogeneously with the whole... and it all flows on like a river of peace, peaceful and smiling, on to infinity. And then oops! You trip and once again find yourself SITUATED—you are somewhere, in any moment of time whatever; and then there's a pain here, a pain there, a pain...⁵ This "situated" actually brings back the memory of the cage. And this cage seems also linked to a certain perception of time. If only the mechanism could be found!... Mother exclaimed.... It is plainly something hooked up to other people and reacting to them. But this hook-up is something I cannot undo—I don't want to find anything for myself alone; I have no personal interest whatsoever. I haven't stayed on for that. I have to find the mechanism.⁵

Then, all of a sudden, Mother was able to give a name to the culprit—but a formidable culprit, perhaps the very one that causes death and certainly all our pains. To name is already to begin to exorcise. An amusing "visual" experience. I was going to see some people who were on the other side of a river. Ordinarily the river water wasn't clean and you needed a boat or something to cross; but yesterday I was in a special state—I just sat down on the water and said, "I am going there." And then, quite naturally, a current of pure, crystal clear water simply took me where I wanted to go. It was a very pleasant sensation—I was sitting on the water, all smiles, and... prrt! I was taken to the other side. "Oh, very good I" I thought. "Will it continue?..." And so once again I said, "I am going there" (that is, back to this side) and... prrt! Back I came. Then someone came.... There are symbolic people in these "dreams"; they seem to be made up of various parts of the beings of those around me, I can't say it's this person or that person, but rather that something IN this or that person is represented in these characters. And one of them is like a "big brother"—he helps out in certain circumstances; if there's a boat, for instance, the big brother steers it. So he came up to me and said, "Yes, I know the method, "and began to try. "Stop, for heaven's sake!" I said. "You'll spoil everything; to make it work I have to say: I WANT TO GO THERE." When he began trying to bring me across with his own methods, the water grew muddy again and I started to sink! "No-no-no!" I protested. "Don't do that, that's not it at all! THAT..." (a certain will) "THAT has to say: I WANT TO GO THERE; then it works." And the water was so real! Clear, crystal clear, transparent, rippled with tiny waves; the depths were dark blue, but the surface was perfectly clear, transparent, almost colorless. The experience was so real that I could feel the coolness of the water; I had the pleasant sensation of sitting on something very soft and cool and swift, carrying me along. Then when the "big brother" came, boasting that he knew how to do it too, and would take me across, the water began to get muddy, as river water always is—a dirty grayish yellow. And Mother remained pensive.... It must be the continuation of that experience the other day [of going from one room to the other]. I was beginning to find the key.⁶ Indeed it depicts the whole mechanism from a clear life to a muddy life, from a simple and direct life to a painful and complicated.., and mortal life. Life in the web and out of the web.

Who is this "big brother"?

After musing awhile, Mother suddenly said: Material knowledge, I think—I mean the higher use of the physical Mind, which keeps you from entering the true room. Because I simply kept repeating, "I WANT TO GO THERE" (in other words, it was a crystal clear, imperative will).... "I have to say: I WANT TO GO—not that, not your methods!"⁶

The physical Mind that makes you tilt into the mortal room.

And immediately I was reminded of the story Madame Alexandra David-Neel told Mother at the turn of the century: about this little river in Indochina she had crossed in meditation (she used to meditate while walking) without knowing how, and in front of which she found herself again when she returned from her meditation, and had, this time, to swim across. It is crystal clear, like Mother's vision! The physical Mind sleeps (dozing in meditation) and is not aware of the river, and you cross it perfectly. You wake up (or come out of your meditation) and you become aware of the river—and you have to swim across it, or take a boat, a device: the millions of devices and gadgets that the physical Mind has built in its cage. It is the physical Mind that is aware of the difficulty, aware of the illness, aware of death, aware of the muddy water—it is the catastrophic "big brother." The big brother who is so very clever at undoing the catastrophes he has invented. He has invented everything!... He has even invented death—invented pain, invented heaviness, gravity, medicine (the most serious evil spell of all humanity) and jet planes to conquer his own mirage.

He is the one who initially became aware of the world. He is the opaque periphery around the cells, like an octopus.

So now, the "one must die to death" makes perfectly good sense—all this must cease to have any meaning. But the meaning has to be undone in the body, this sort of hypnotism of the physical Mind that imprisons the free and clear consciousness of the cellular Mind for which all this simply does not exist. One goes into the other room, and it no longer exists.

Another life in life.

We must be aware of what is.

There is an "I wish" to be discovered in the body.

Then, truly, it will be a "new phase in the life of the earth."

And simple, simple! Natural.

The Joy of the Cells

The pretty river was getting murky. Yet it was the same river....

We are beginning to uncover the mechanism by which man could free himself of a number of laws and cumbersome devices and live a more "direct" life, as it were; but flying in the air or walking on water is of course not the crux of the problem and can be left to acrobats—it is everything that must change, the very principle of life. A much more obscure operation, a slow underground labor, invisible, almost imperceptible,⁷ in order to go back to the root of the Evil and find what it is that makes the pretty river of life murky—to undo the evil Spell, that is what Mother was after. Finding the when and the wherefore of the Evil is a long, interminable physical operation. There was clear water, for sure—there is a clear water of life. But how did it become this Falsehood and Death... of artificial nature, you could say? Sometimes Mother seemed to find a key, and perhaps each time it was indeed the key, but it seemed as if one had to find many keys and go around many points before coming to the central point where all those keys would work at the same time and perhaps all at one go. I was in that Muddle of Falsehood, Mother told me after another of those innumerable vertiginous "tilts," it was really painful, and I was tracking it down to the most tenuous vibrations, those that go back to the origin, to the moment when Truth could turn into Falsehood—how it all happened. And it is so tenuous, almost imperceptible, that deformation, the original deformation, that you tend to lose heart and you think, "It's still really quite easy to topple over... the slightest thing and you can still topple over into Falsehood, into Deformation." And I recall Sri Aurobindo: "A deformation's spell." Because it is really exactly like a deformation—yes, a certain index of refraction, and everything becomes distorted, blurred, mortal. It's like something gluey surrounding you, touching you all over; you can't go forward, you can't do anything without encountering those black and gluey fingers of Falsehood. It was a very painful impression. And last night, there was the Answer, as it were... I was as if made to live the WAY of turning that Falsehood into Truth, and it was so joyful!... In the sense that it's a vibration similar to joy that is capable of dissolving and overcoming the vibration of Falsehood. That was very clear: it isn't effort, it isn't righteousness, or scruples or rigidity, none of that, none of that has any effect on that sadness (it is a sadness) of Falsehood—it's something so sad, so HELPLESS, so miserable... so miserable. The terrible underlying helplessness of the enormous Mechanism that has enveloped the world, much like a paralytic ceaselessly devising new arms and new legs to replace what he has lost—he even tries to create improved genetic codes. It is sad and ridiculous everywhere. And only a vibration of Joy can change it. It was a vibration that flowed like silvery water. Which means that austerity, asceticism, even an intense and stern aspiration, all sternness, all that: no action. No action—Falsehood stays put in the background.... But it cannot resist the sparkling of Joy. And Mother continued: There was even the vision of how the vibrations were in the cells: vibrations that were silvery, sparkling, rippling, but very regular, and precise... (how can I put it?). It was the contradiction of Falsehood in the cells; like little flashes of silvery light.

We are always brought back to the cell. We shall be told that joy is not made to order—but it is not necessary, the cells are joy! There is a joy there, as if all lived very naturally (at long last). As if the root of existence were this Joy and Love. If one can be there, live there, most certainly everything is resolved; it is the clear life, the true life, the "life divine"—but can one live there alone? The little cell is exactly what cannot be cut off from the rest of the world. It is the whole world, the universe. The passage must be found for everybody, and what provokes the tilting into the old room? That little borderline or border-wall between the two rooms, between Deformation and the non deformed state? We have given it a nice label, "the Physical Mind"; it is very convenient, like the doctor who says: this is tetanus. Mother was not creating a new dictionary for the super scientists of tomorrow. She was feeling her way in the mechanism. Up there in the Mind and above, everything is fine—everything is fine; but the big difficulty is to change the Physical, to change Matter.... You get a feeling that you have touched—touched a secret, found a key—and the next minute, pfft! it no longer works, it's inadequate.... And suddenly suddenly —[it is the suddenness of the phenomenon that struck Mother every time]—an almost stupefying Response: all disorder disappears, not only inside but around (around, sometimes over a rather vast extent), and everything becomes automatically organized, harmonized, without the least effort, and it starts... moving within an extraordinary progressive Harmony; then, with no apparent reason, without anything having changed in the consciousness and any outer circumstances making a difference, pfft! it reverts to what it was before: disorder, conflict, chaos, things that grate.⁹ And let us note that the "things that grate" ranged from a little painful neuritis to the borders of Turkestan where the Chinese were preparing to invade India—it all was one single movement; everything was always one single movement, a sort of general body: There's a keen struggle against the constant Negation [in the body] of all inner life—higher life, rather.... But outwardly, difficulties are coming back, in the sense that the Chinese seem to be seized again with a zeal to conquer—they are massing troops at the border. At bottom, it may be really a rather acute conflict between the Yes and the No, that is to say, between all that struggles to hasten the coming of new things and all that refuses—refuses with increasing violence. ¹⁰ This was 1963, the year of John Kennedy's assassination.... As you aren't conscious of the why, you don't have the key!... Which means that the further you go, the nearer you draw to the Goal, the more... inexplicable it appears to be.¹¹

And the nearer She got to the Goal, to the mechanism of the little tilt, the more furious the fury in her body as well as "outside"—something that says NO. We always seem to be brought back to that something at the root of life for which life was a sort of catastrophe. Something in the depths of the body's substance that refuses, that says no—that wants to die, as if Death meant the end of all its pains. The blissful immobility of the stone. Something that is irreparably catastrophe-ridden in the body's depths and that tirelessly continues its little spasm, its little fatal tremor, in order to freeze and arrest everything, to seal life up at last in an unchangeable position. The great paralysis of the Mechanism. And just beneath (beneath what?) there is the joy of the cells. The sparkling of the cells, the free universal flow like a silvery little river.... There is a NO in the body of the world, and a YES just underneath. Two bodies in one. And what is it that keeps them apart?

The Fatal Tremor

Mother was following the phenomenon "down to the minutest vibrations." In the transparency She had become—inconceivable to us—the tiniest vibrations were perceived with a kind of micrometric accuracy: It's like an extremely delicate receiving set, but without any reaction¹² [everything went through her without the least quiver of reaction—and that is how everything could go through, from the towering supramental Power which I personally felt as a sort of crushing experience, to the smallest breath of air, imperceptible to us, even the odor of an atomic explosion]. Physical reality has become nothing but a field of vibrations mingling together and, unfortunately, clashing together too, in conflict with one another. And the clash, the conflict, is the climax of that kind of turmoil, of disorder and confusion created by certain vibrations, which are ultimately vibrations of ignorance (they come because people don't know, they are vibrations of ignorance), and are too small, too narrow, too limited—too short. The problem isn't seen from a psychological standpoint at all: it's nothing but vibrations.¹³ This vibratory knowledge, which was... I can't say a "coldly scientific knowledge" because that introduces mental notions, but it was of such a wisdom!... A knowledge so wise, so calm, so imperturbably quiet, absolutely free from any notion of good and evil, of divine, of positive and negative, absolutely independent of all of that—purely material...¹⁴ And Mother added with such a charming smile: But it is so much more marvelous when one knows it is You!... Perhaps the modern scientific mind that has studied atoms would understand better. It's the same kind of understanding as that of the scientist who analyzes the constitution of Matter. Any psychological explanation is meaningless." But all problems, whether psychological or purely material or chemical, all problems boil down to this: they are nothing but questions of vibrations. ²⁰⁰ And there is the perception of that totality of vibrations and of what we could call (in a very rough and approximative way) the difference between the constructive and the destructive vibrations. We can say (to put it very simply) that all the vibrations that come from the ONE and express Oneness are constructive, while all the complications of the ordinary, separative consciousness lead to destruction. So, from the smallest thing to even terrestrial things...¹⁵ Once, I even recall having been very struck by a remark Mother made about someone who had dropped something: there is a constant quivering, when you notice it it's frightful! It's a sort of tiny tremor, oh, how horrible!... And it's THE SAME WITH EVERYTHING: earthquakes and tidal waves, volcanic eruptions, floods, or else wars, revolutions, people killing each other without even knowing why...¹⁶ The same thing, the same vibration, that makes you stumble on the sidewalk or unleashes mobs. So we really can catch Death in a little gesture—the Death She had been pursuing everywhere, each minute, since Sri Aurobindo's departure. We are utterly fooled by the grandiose or tiny appearance of things. To understand sodium chloride, a chemist does not need all the salt marshes of Brittany—a pinch of salt is enough. A pinch of death. A tiny vibration somewhere. It is all the same.

Mother was encountering this tiny destructive vibration everywhere, mingled with everything in this inextricable "porridge of Falsehood," but even more perceptible, more distinct because of its separateness from all the other mixtures, at the threshold of... the true body, we could say. A narrow threshold, which represents perhaps the primal insertion of Mind into Matter, just where the Mind connects with the cells: the subtlest form of the physical Mind, just when it is born, so to speak. A kind of minute tremor. I am now studying the way in which Matter, the body, can be in constant Harmony with the divine Presence. And its so interesting: it's not at all an opposition, it's a tiny little microscopic distortion.¹⁷ Using words that greatly exaggerate the phenomenon (for it is very minute), we could call it a haste ingrained in Matter (in a certain type of Matter). Impatience to get out of the present moment to the immediately next one, and at the same time uncertainty as to what that immediately next moment is going to bring. The whole thing makes a vibration of restlessness.... I constantly catch my cells being like that. Naturally I react, but for them it's a very normal state: always straining for the next moment, never the quietude of the present moment. The result (the words I use give a very concrete character to something rather fluid), the result is the feeling that you have to bear or endure, and the haste to get out of that enduring, along with the hope (a very faint and inconsistent hope) that the next moment will be better. That's how it is from moment to moment, from moment to moment....¹⁸ Naturally She was not talking here of the kind of restlessness inherent in our disjointed lives, but of the origin of it: the pinch of death. Basically, it is a kind of haste to be done with everything, to halt that fray and breathe a little. But in the depths of Matter, at that threshold, it is far more radical than that: breathing a little is still restlessness. It aspires for a radical rest: death. The full stop: the state of the stone (and even more than that). Perhaps it is one of the origins of the NO in the depths of Matter (or in any case, at that particular threshold).

Now, the supramental Vibration has one peculiar property, among many others... (but what is it we call the "supramental" after all, if not the Vibration of true Matter, the natural, divine state of Matter, the little luminous pulsation of the pure cells, on the other side of the web): it stops the tremor. It is an extraordinary Vibration in that it combines two opposing qualities in our apparent Matter: boundless and absolute Movement, and absolute Immobility. And very curiously, that Vibration creates another type of time. Entering into it is like entering a time frame (without a frame!) in which the past, the present and the future are as if side by side, or simultaneous! Indeed, it is timeless. And everything is there. It is instantaneous. All space is there also, instantaneously: there is no over there, no tomorrow. And yet it is not still! It is what carries the whole universe at breakneck speed and without moving, as it were. It has nothing to do with the great static Supreme one finds with eyes closed in the "infinitudes" of consciousness above: it is something that is at once the vastness of the cosmic onrush and the immobility of "Brahman," as they say in India. And that is life, the true life. Metaphysics becomes physiological. It is something which is right here, with open eyes, but not very easy to live (not yet) because we are not at all accustomed to it: it is the annihilation of our tremor and of all that gives us the sense of "I'm alive"—in fact, it is the bursting apart of the cage. Birds live it quite well without attaching any philosophy to it, and that is probably why they go straight to a Siberia which is not "over there" but entirely contained in them, and which unfolds all by itself. Only they do not know it. Such is cellular life: it is everywhere at once, without division, and it never feels tired; everything flows without friction. In short, everything works as if it were in perfect immobility. Mother was to make many discoveries, which we shall speak of later, with what She called the "ubiquity of the cells." And since it is everywhere, time is obviously no longer the same. It is a kind of timelessness that creates, or is, all times. When the body rests and enters the static state of pure Existence.... Before [the experience of 1962] when the body rested and entered the static state of pure Existence, it was (or gave) a sense of total immobility, I don't know... not the opposition between something motionless and something in motion, not that—the absence of any possibility of movement. [And it is like that that one feels the whole universe sinking into a sort of illusion]. But now, as it happens, the body has the sense not only of a terrestrial movement, but of a universal movement so fantastically rapid that it is imperceptible, beyond perception. As if beyond Being and Non-Being, there were a "something" that doesn't move WITHIN a space but is both beyond immobility and beyond movement, in the sense that it's so rapid as to be absolutely imperceptible to all the senses (I don't mean merely the physical senses), all the senses in all the worlds.¹⁹ Such a lightning-like speed that it appears as if immobile.

Mother was beginning to experience with great caution this tremendous Movement without movement, and here something singular was taking place (many things, in fact) at that threshold of Matter: For the ordinary consciousness I seem to be in a stupor, a coma, a state of imbecility, of... yes, of torpor. It has all those appearances. Something which becomes immobile, unresponsive, stopped short; one can no longer think, one can no longer observe, one can no longer react, one can no longer do anything.... [Mother was not afraid; the trouble was that some of the specimens around her would increasingly regard this as a higher form of decay or senility, or else as a slow retreat from Matter, whereas on the contrary it was a plunge into the very heart of Matter.] But all people's thoughts keep coming from outside, things that come and try to interrupt that state; yet if I manage to prevent this, if I can keep this condition, after a while it becomes something so MASSIVE! So concrete in its power, so massive in its immobility, ohh!... It must lead somewhere.²⁰ And in fact, it led cautiously to the state of the other species. Indeed all the difficulty is nothing really; it is only the novelty for the body that makes for the difficulty. For the body, anything new is like death: a state it has never experienced before, hence it is "death." Yet that state of massive immobility (and of stunning Movement which in fact made for the "massiveness") was truly the beginning of a state that could be considered miraculous, in which not only illness and death were impossible but wear and tear disappeared and a kind of rejuvenation or very radical modification seemed to occur (provided the state could be kept) in all the rhythms of the old body and perhaps, given time, even in its substance. What we call sleep is a sort of caricature of this state (that stiff and stony and stagnant²¹ sleep, Mother would say); all the toxins that are burned while sleeping, giving us the feeling of rest at the end of six or eight hours, are automatically and instantly burned up in that other state. And it is not sleep either: it is a fully wakened state, even a super wakefulness—multifarious and extending everywhere—and a multifarious action, in absolute rest. And we recall Sri Aurobindo motionless in his big green armchair. As if I were lying upon a carpet of Force, so rapid that it is immobile, Mother said. And all the tiny tremors of the material Mind are frozen there—as if the NO of Matter were entirely engulfed there in its absolute YES, in its Rest at last. But not a rest of Death: a rest of supreme Life. Basically, the aspiration for Death is the dark search for the true life, it is life seeking Life. Death is the caricature of eternal Life; it can be undone only in the Life supreme... on earth. And we are cast back down here again and again until we find the Secret.

Mother was knocking at the door of the infinitesimal Secret.

You know, you are in considerable discomfort, out of sorts, unable to breathe, you have a feeling of nausea, of helplessness, you can't even move, or think or do anything... and then suddenly... the Consciousness—the bodily consciousness of the Vibration of Love, which is the very essence of the creation, just one second: everything lights up, pfft! gone, it's all gone. Then you look at yourself amazed—it's all gone. You were in considerable discomfort—it's all gone.²²

One has crossed the web.

But the old body, or the old habit of the body, keeps its stupid habit for a long time: From time to time—two, three times a day—I am given a few minutes of it. It's a marvelous relaxation. But I always come out of it (I mean the BODY comes out of it) with an anxiety, in the sense that it says, "Oh, I've forgotten to live! " Very odd. Only one second, but a second of anxiety: "Oh, I've forgotten to live! "—and the drama starts all over again.²³ The little mortal tremor that gives the body the sense of "I'm alive." One has fallen back into the cage. This little tremor is probably what helped Matter awaken to life—to the catastrophe of life. But I believe it is only the catastrophe of an individual life enclosed in an individual body, in which the Vibration cannot flow, in which we are trapped in false time, which is a false space divided by distances of not-I. It is the "I" that creates all distances because it places everything else outside itself. It is life far away, divided, separated, out of breath—abrasive, mortal.

Only a tiny tremor at the threshold.

But instead of falling into the spiritual illusionism of the universe, we come upon the overwhelming Truth of the universe. Instead of cosmic evasion, we rediscover the cosmic invasion in a new time, a new space, at the very heart of Matter and in the absolute repose, absolute extension and absolute knowledge of a little ubiquitous cell.

Another Life in life, just behind this little mortal tremor.

Another species behind the web.