AGENDA 1965

June 1965


02. June 1965 – Senses: eyes, ears, smell, taste

It's rather strange, this eyesight. There always seems to be a veil between me and things, constantly; I am so used to it; I see everything very well, but as if there were a slight veil. Then all of a sudden, without any apparent reason (an outwardly logical reason, I mean), a thing becomes clear, precise, sharp (gesture: leaping to the eyes) — the next minute, it's over. Sometimes it's a word in a letter or written somewhere, sometimes it's an object. And it is a different quality of vision, a vision... (how can I explain it?) as if light were shining from within things instead of shining on them: it isn't a reflected light. It isn't luminous, it isn't like a candle, for instance, or a lamp, not that, but instead of being lit by a projected light, things have their own light, which doesn't radiate.

It's becoming more and more frequent, but with perfect illogic. Which means that I don't understand the logic of it at all; I don't know why this thing ["lights up"] rather than that thing, or that rather than this: suddenly something leaps to the eyes — and it's gone in a flash. And the vision is so precise Extraordinary, with the full understanding of the thing seen while you are seeing it. Otherwise, everything is as if behind... is it a veil? I don't know.

Sometimes (often), the same thing happens to me with speech. I feel as if I am speaking from very far away or from behind a woolly substance that blunts the precision of vibrations. In its extreme form, it's because of this that I sometimes don't hear — nothing: when some people speak to me, I hear absolutely nothing. With others, I hear the drone of a sound devoid of meaning. And with other people, I hear EVERYTHING they say. But it's a different way of hearing: what I hear is the vibration of their thought and that's what makes it very clear.

I have the same thing with hearing, the same thing with sight.

It begins with taste, but that doesn't interest me much, so I don't take notice, I don't pay attention. But a few days ago I had the experience that the quality of tastes had changed: certain things had an artificial taste (the usual taste is an artificial taste) while others carried in themselves a TRUE taste; so this is very clear — very clear and very precise. But it's not so interesting a subject, so I am not occupied with it so much.

What struck me the most is sight. Hearing... for a very, very long time — years — I've had the feeling that when people don't think very clearly, I can't hear. But that's not quite the point: it's when their consciousness isn't ALIVE in what they're saying — it's not so much a question of "thought," it's their consciousness that isn't ALIVE in what they're saying; it's a mental machine; then I don't understand anything at all — nothing. When their consciousness is alive, it reaches me. And I have noticed, for instance, that people whom I don't hear think it's because I am deaf in the ordinary way, so they start shouting — which is even worse! Then it's as if they were throwing stones in my face.

There must be an action on the organs.

But it's my eyes that I find the most interesting. For instance, I noticed this while washing early in the morning: I go into the bathroom before turning the light on, because I turn it on from inside; but I see just as clearly as when the light is on. It makes no difference. And then everything was as if behind a kind of veil " And I started thinking (not thinking, but becoming aware of one thing or another), and suddenly, I saw that phenomenon of a bottle in the cupboard becoming so clear, so... with an inner life (gesture as if the bottle lit up from inside). "Oh!" I said — the next minute, it was over.

But I seemed to be told, "Yes, you can. You no longer see this way, but you can see that way; you no longer see the ordinary way, but you can see..." (inward gesture). I have been left with enough vision to be able to move around freely, but this is clearly the preparation for a vision through the inner light rather than projected light. And it is... oh, it's warm, living, intense — and of such precision! You see everything at the same time, not only the color and shape, but the character of the vibration: in a liquid, the character of its vibration — it's marvelous. Only, it lasts a moment, it's like promises that come and tell you (like when you make a promise to someone to comfort him and give him heart), "It will be like this." Very well. (Mother laughs) In how many centuries, I don't know!

But when I used to use this magnifying glass, I could read very well (I stopped because of those hemorrhages, though my eyes seem to be well again), but now it's absolutely no use! (Mother looks at a file with the magnifying glass) It doesn't grow any clearer, there is always the same cloudiness. It's bigger, that's all. (Mother looks again) Strange, it's bigger but it's the same thing, there is the same veil... of unreality.

As for the sense of smell, the nature of my sense of smell changed long, long ago. To begin with, I practiced this (a long time ago, years, many years ago): being able to smell only when I wanted to and only what I wanted to. And it was perfectly mastered. It already prepared the instrument a great deal. I can see it was already a preparation. I can smell things... I can smell the vibratory quality of things rather than simply their odor. There is a whole classification of odors: there are odors that lighten you, as if they opened up horizons to you — they lighten you, make you lighter, more joyful; there are odors that excite you (those belong to the category of odors I learnt not to smell); as for all the odors that disgust you, I smell them only when I want to — when I want to know, I smell them, but when I don't want to know, I don't. Now it's automatic. But my sense of smell was very much cultivated even when I was just a child, very long ago: at that time I cultivated the eyes and the sense of smell, both. But my eyes have been used for everything, for all the visions, so it's something much more complex, while the sense of smell has remained as it was: I can smell people's psychological state when I come near them; I can smell it, it has an odor — there are very special odors... a whole gamut. I've had that for a very, very long time, it's something that's quite dominated, mastered. I am able not to smell anything at all: when, for instance, there are bad odors that upset the body's system, I can cut off the connection completely.

But I don't notice a great change in this domain because it had already been cultivated very much, while my eyes are much more... (how can I put it?) ahead, in the sense that there is already a much greater difference between the old habit of seeing and the present one. I seem to be behind a veil — that's really the feeling: a veil; and then, suddenly, something lives with the true vibration. But that's rare, it's still rare.... Probably (laughing) there aren't many things worth seeing!

And for me that's how it is, I don't see people, I no longer see (but that has been going on for a long time), I no longer see the way people do, the way they are used to seeing. At times someone tells me, "Have you noticed, so-and-so is like this or like that?" I answer, "No, I haven't seen anything." And at other times I see things no one else sees! It's a much more complete development than simply switching from one vision to the other.

But my senses of smell and vision were developed a lot between the ages of twenty and twenty-four. It was a conscious, willed, methodical education, which had interesting results. And which did a great deal to prepare the instrument for now.

05. June 1965 – About World Union

If you want peace in the world or upon earth, first establish peace in your heart.

If you want union in the world, first unify the different parts of your own being.

09. June 1965 – Mother’s Mantras

I had a rather interesting experience.

You know, there is always an impression that if you let someone else know the Mantra, it will lose some of its force, but I said to myself, "Never mind, I will do it," and the minute the decision was made, naturally I stopped thinking about it — it was gone. And in the evening of the day when I told you the Mantra, towards the end of the day, suddenly the words came with a warmth and intensity, as if... (how can I put it?) they were rounded out with force. Then, at the same time, I remembered I had told you the Mantra, so I looked, and I saw it was what your consciousness had added to it — I was very glad.

I told you there was a great power in it, but it has become (how can I explain?) warmer (Mother laughs). I don't know how to put it... yes, it's as if a warmth of richness had entered into it — like a potential power (not yet manifested, that is, but potential), a very warm power of joy that had come into it. So I was very happy.

(silence)

I have a whole mantra [besides the main Mantra], I told you, for years now, and it is extremely complete: it applies to all necessities and all occasions, it's a long series. But for some time it has become very spontaneous, too, and very self-living: when I want to see quite concretely where someone stands (someone meditating in front of me, for instance), I recite the mantra (within, of course) and I watch the reactions, because the mantra deals with the surrender of all the parts of the being and all the modes of life: it's very complete. So according to the reactions [in Mother's centers], I see very clearly. The other day, when X came, I did it (it was the first time I had done it with him), I did it, and when I came to a certain point... (Mother smiles) he couldn't bear it! He sort of stiffened, bowed to me and got up. Before that, he had remained very silent, very quiet. But that... (Mother laughs) You see, I invoke the Lord and ask Him to manifest His various ways of being or realizations (it's not taken in a mental sense, not at all), but when I said — I say many things, but up to that point he had been quiet, silent, still, and at one point (because it comes in a logical succession), I said, "Manifest Your Knowledge" — he felt uneasy, as if he felt he was being thrown out of himself! So I tried to calm that down, but he couldn't bear it — after five minutes, he got up and left. A real unease; because, as for me, I am inside people (I am everywhere, of course), I feel just as if it took place in my own body.

12. June 1965 – Savitri B10C3

(Mother then takes up the translation of "Savitri": The Debate of Love and Death.)

(Mother reads the text) Aha! What a joker!

...Then will I give thee all thy soul desires

He's a joker.

All the brief joys earth keeps for mortal hearts

But I don't want them! — He is a real joker.

And what happens to him?

...My will once wrought remains unchanged through Time

Oho, that's what you think!

And Satyavan can never again be thine.

X.III.636

Not true, old chap!

(Mother translates)

Alors je te donnerai tout ce que ton âme désire...

[Then will I give thee all thy soul desires]

The soul doesn't desire anything! It's easy to say, "I will give thee all thy soul desires," the soul desires nothing. So he doesn't commit himself to much!

He's a joker — he made him quite a joker.

14. June 1965 – Symbols

Generally, fish in the sea mean Multitude. But there must be many meanings; I have told you that Buddhism often uses the image of fish as a symbol.

Symbolisms, there are hundreds and hundreds of them. And people always oppose them, but ultimately they are just different ways of seeing one and the same thing. According to my experience, everyone has his own symbolism.

For snakes, for instance, it's quite remarkable. Some, when they dream of snakes, have the feeling they're going to meet with catastrophes; I myself have had all sorts of dreams with snakes: I had to go through gardens full of snakes everywhere — on the ground, in the trees, everywhere — and not kindly snakes! But I knew very well what it meant; during the dream itself I knew it: it depended on certain mental conditions around me and ill will — mental ill will. But if you have mental control and power, you can go through, they cannot touch you. And other people, when they see a snake, think it is the universal consciousness. So we can't say. Théon used to say that the serpent is the symbol of evolution, and those who were with him always saw rainbow-colored serpents, with all the colors, and it was the symbol of universal evolution. Basically, to tell the truth, everyone has his own symbolism And for myself, I have seen that it depended on the periods in my life, on the activities, on the degree of development. There are things I see again now in which I see another meaning, which was behind the meaning I had seen.

It's very interesting, but it belongs entirely to the domain of relativity.

It's very mental.

I remember, for instance, there was a time when I used to see people in the form of animals!... It was the indication of the type of nature they belonged to. And I remember, when I was still in France, having one day seen (I was sitting in a large room) hosts of small animals coming, especially rabbits, cats, dogs, all kinds of animals, birds; they kept coming and coming, all of them onto my knees! And there were hosts and hosts of them.... And there suddenly entered the room a big tiger, which rushed at them all and vrff! sent them scurrying off in all directions! (Mother laughs) But the animals were people... and the tiger, too, was someone.

It's amusing.

But now I see that there are superimposed depths: you have one symbolism, then deeper, there's another symbolism. And ultimately, all form is a symbol. All forms: our form is a symbol — not a very brilliant one, I admit!

Oh, if I had nothing to do and spent my time just writing down my activities of the night, what I see and hear and do in the night with everybody... oh, all kinds of people, in all kinds of countries. And things, hosts of things, so many, many things I never saw physically and never thought of — totally unexpected things.

It's more interesting than novels, and how! It just requires a lot of time.

14. June 1965 – Savitri B10C3

(Mother takes up "Savitri" again):

My will once wrought remains unchanged through Time

And Satyavan can never again be shine.

He made him a bit stupid, because even if Satyavan doesn't come back in this body, what prevents him from taking another!

He's bragging!

And Savitri (or "the Voice") afterwards tells him, you remember, "Ah, we'll keep you all the same, we still need you for a while." When he has been beaten hollow, when he is finished, she tells him, "We'll still keep you because we still need you," don't you remember?

A nice gift.... Oh, it is true that in many cases it's indispensable.

I remember having read a story, at the time when I used to receive... I think it was Le Matin, the newspaper Le Matin. There were novels in it and I used to read the novels to see the state of mind of people. And there was an extraordinary novel in which the main character was a woman who was immortal (she had been condemned to immortality by God knows which deity), and she tried her best to die, without success! It was stupid, the whole thing was stupid, but the standpoint was reversed: she was compelled to be immortal and... she said, "Oh! When will I be allowed to die?", with the ordinary idea that death is the end, that everything is over and one rests. And she had been told, "You will be able to die only when you meet true love...." Everything was topsy-turvy. But when I read that, it set me thinking a lot — sometimes it's the most stupid things that set you thinking the most. And to complete the story... you see, she had been someone, then someone else, a priestess in Egypt, anyway all kinds of things, and finally (I don't remember), it was in modern times: she met a young married couple; the husband was a remarkable man, intelligent (I think he was an inventor); his wife, whom he loved passionately, was a stupid and wicked fool who spoilt all his work, who ruined his whole life... and he went on loving her. And that's what (laughing) they gave as example of perfect love!

I read that maybe more than fifty years ago, and I still remember it! Because it set me thinking for a long time. I read that and I said to myself, "Here's how people understand things!"

It was, oh, certainly more than fifty years ago, because I had already come upon the "Cosmic," Théon's teaching and the inner divine Presence, and I knew that the new creation would be a creation of immortality — I immediately felt it was true (that it was a way of expressing something true). So then, when I read that, I thought, "Here's how people make everything topsy-turvy! Head and feet upside down." And I pondered for a long, long time over the problem: "How to bring this to the true position?" And I set to work.... Already at the time, I used to practice adopting that standpoint, looking at things from that standpoint, understanding how that standpoint could exist. And those two things made me ponder: the will to die, and what that man considered to be "perfect love" — two idiotic things.

But I discovered what was true in it; that's what was interesting: I tried and tried to find, and suddenly I felt that aspiration towards the immutable, immutable peace. Well, it was upside down: only immutable peace can give you eternal existence. There, it was all upside down, the idea was to cease existence in order to find immutable peace. But it's immutable peace one is after and that's what compels the cessation of existence, in order to allow the transformation to take place.

And love, which is unconditioned: it doesn't depend on whether you are loved or not, whether you are intelligent or not, whether you are wicked or not — that goes without saying. But it was put in a ridiculous way. But it goes without saying, love is unconditioned, otherwise it isn't love, it's what I call bargaining: "I give you my affection so you give me yours; I am nice to you so you are nice to me"! That's how people understand it, but it's stupid, it's meaningless. That's something I understood when I was quite small, I used to say, "No! You may wish others to be nice to you if you are nice to them, but that has nothing to do with love, no, nothing, absolutely nothing." The very essence of love is unconditioned.

14. June 1965 – No principles

So I put as first condition (I wrote it in English): the sole aim of life is to dedicate oneself to the divine realization (I didn't put it in these terms, but that's the idea). You must first (you may deceive yourself, but that doesn't make any difference), first be convinced that this is what you want and you want this alone — primo. Then Nolini told me that the second condition should be that my absolute authority had to be recognized. I said, "Not like that!", we should put that "Sri Aurobindo's absolute authority is recognized" (we can add [laughing], "represented by me," because he cannot speak, of course, except to me — to me he speaks very clearly, but others don't hear!). Then there are many other things, I don't remember, and finally a last paragraph that goes like this (Mother looks for a note).... Previously, I remember, Sri Aurobindo had also put together a little paper to give people, but it's outdated (it was about not quarreling with the police! And what else, I don't remember — it's outdated). But I didn't want to put prohibitions in, because prohibitions... first of all, it's an encouragement to revolt, always, and then there is a good proportion of characters who, when they are forbidden to do something, immediately feel an urge to do it — they might not even have thought of it otherwise, but they just have to be told about it to... "Ah, but I do as I like." All right.

(Mother starts reading) To those ... I am making a distinction: there are people who come here and want to dedicate themselves to divine life, but they come to do work and they will work (they won't do an intensive yoga because not one in fifty is capable of doing it, but they are capable of dedicating their life and of working and doing good work disinterestedly, as a service to the Divine — that's very good), but in particular, To those who want to practice the integral yoga, it is strongly advised to abstain from three things.... So, the three things ([laughing] you put your fingers in your ears): sexual intercourse (it comes third) and drinking alcohol and... whispering smoking.

I must tell you that I was born in a family in which nobody smoked: my father had never smoked and neither had his brothers — anyway, no one smoked. So since my early childhood, I hadn't been used to others smoking. Later, when I lived with artists... Artists smoke, of course (it seems it gives them "inspiration"!), but I detested the smell. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to be unpleasant, but I detested it. Then I came here — Sri Aurobindo smoked. He smoked deliberately, he smoked in order to say: one can do the yoga while smoking, I say one can smoke and do the yoga, and I smoke. And he smoked. And naturally all the disciples smoked, since Sri Aurobindo smoked. For some time, I even gave them pocket money so they could buy cigars (they smoked cigars — it was ghastly!). Then I came to live in Sri Aurobindo's house, we spoke freely, and one day I told him, "How awful the smell of smoke is! (laughing) It's disgusting!" So he said to me, "Oh, you don't like the smell?" "Oh, no!" I said, "Not only that, but I had to make a yogic effort to stop it from making me feel sick!" The next day, he had stopped. It was over, he never smoked again.... That was kind. It wasn't on principle, it was because he didn't want to impose the smell on me. But I had never said anything: it was simply because he asked me just like that, while talking, so I told him. And when he stopped smoking, everyone had to stop too — smoking wasn't allowed anymore, since he didn't smoke anymore.

No, for those who don't smoke (laughing), others' smoke is very...

But it was the same thing for food, meat and so on. For a long time we ate meat; it was even very funny. Pavitra was a strict vegetarian when he came, and at the time, not only were we not vegetarian but the chickens were killed in the courtyard (!) and... (laughing) Pavitra had the room right next to the kitchen — the chickens used to be killed under his nose! Oh, poor Pavitra! Then it stopped for a very simple reason (not at all on principle): feeding people with meat is far costlier than being vegetarian! It meant complications. I was personally vegetarian out of taste — everything is out of taste, not on principle. I became vegetarian at the beginning of the century, oh, a long time ago... (yes, it must have been more than sixty years ago), because in my childhood I was forced to eat meat, and it disgusted me (not the idea: it was the taste I didn't like, it disgusted me!) and the doctor said I should be given pickles and all sorts of things to mask the taste. So as soon as I was independent and free, I said, "Finished! (laughing) Ah, no! I won't eat meat anymore" — not as a rule, since now and then I still take foie gras (that's not vegetarian!) and for a long time I went on eating crayfish or lobster, things like that — no rules, oh, for heaven's sake no rules, but taste. But as you said earlier,4 it's "complications," that's exactly how I felt. And when I moved to this room (you know that they stuck me in bed for I don't know how long — I can't manage to find out how long, no one wants to tell me), and when I started eating again, the doctor made me take chicken bouillon; but for that chicken bouillon they had to assassinate one chicken a day — they assassinated one chicken every day for me to have my chicken bouillon. Then, when the hot season came, they told me that the chickens were sick (the heat make them sick) and that, after all, maybe it wasn't so good to eat sick-chicken soup! So I said, "Stop it, do stop it!" And once I had stopped, ah, my heart was glad: "Now (laughing) we don't assassinate chickens anymore!" So I said, "Finished, we won't do it again." But as it happens, it's precisely during that time that I put on two kilos (at the time the doctor used to take my weight), and he said, "See, you have put on weight!" I told him, "But I am not keen to put on weight!"

Not on principle — no principles: out of taste.

18. June 1965 – Sri Aurobindo in the subtle physical

You remember what I had said? That it would be an improved physical body that would make the transition between the human body and the supramental body?... Last night Sri Aurobindo told me in his own way that it was correct, that it was true. It was very interesting.

Very interesting.

Last night, for a long time, we went to all sorts of places unknown to me: towns, countrysides, forests, etc. It lasted a very long time. And once, we were there, near a forest (near a road that crossed the forest) and we were busy and "talking" when all of a sudden, he leaped to his feet.... You know, he never wears any clothes, so to speak; when I saw him the first time in his house (his supramental house), in the subtle physical, he was without clothes; but it's a kind of vibrant matter: it's very material, very concrete, and it has a sort of color that isn't a color, which is a bit golden and radiant — it doesn't send out rays, but it vibrates with a radiant light. And at least nine times out of ten he is that way; generally, when we are together for some work, he is that way. Last night he was that way. So then I was busy (we had arranged something and I was busy) when, suddenly, I see him leap to his feet and run a hundred-meter sprint. At first I was shocked, I said to myself, "What's this?!" And with great ease, you know: he darted off, then stopped a few minutes, and then ran back. Then he stopped again, and went off a third time on a sprint: like the 100-meter race they run. But the third time, he had grown tall, with a slim body. Grown tall as if to demonstrate to me: this is the way the body will be transformed. He had grown very tall, very strong.

It was very interesting and absolutely unexpected.

The second time, he was stronger than the first; and the third time, he was magnificent: a tall, superb being with that vibrant, radiant substance. And what a sprint! What leaps! It was fantastic. The last time, it was fantastic, as if he skimmed over the ground.

We "speak" very, very rarely. Sometimes he tells me something, but it's with a special import and a special aim — we understand each other without words. There he didn't say anything, but I understood.

It was part of a very long activity, but that thing struck me very much because it was like the answer [to what I said some time ago]. He said, "Yes, it's true, you are right, it is like that." And that change in his body over the three times: the first time he was as I knew him, but younger and more agile; the second time, he was already stronger; and the third time, he was magnificent.

18. June 1965 – A new “denser” substance

Ah, I had another experience about that a few days ago.... You know that they are speaking of a substance "denser" than physical substance.... What do they call it?... (Mother cannot remember) Théon had already spoken about it, but I thought it was his imagination. But I have been told that it has been scientifically discovered and that the amount of that "denser matter" seems to be INCREASING.

What do they call it? There is a name. I don't remember now, but some time ago, a month or two, someone who came from France told me that in scientific circles they now seem to be saying that matter denser than physical matter appears to be increasing in amount on earth — this would be extremely interesting.

As for Théon, he used to say that the glorified body would be made of a matter denser than physical matter, but with qualities that physical matter doesn't have. And this substance does have qualities, they say, that Matter doesn't have, like for instance elasticity. Well, a few nights ago (I don't remember when), I was in a place in which a sort of pale gray substance had been collected, which looked like diluted clay (a paste, that is). And elastic, (laughing) glutinous! It was like diluted cement, but very pale, a really lovely pearl gray, and sticky: it could be stretched like chewing gum! And then there were a number of people who had gathered there to bathe in that substance. Some were crawling in it with delight! They were smearing themselves all over with it, and it was sticky! And I myself... Once you were there, you were inevitably plunged in it to some extent: it seemed to be there even in the air; you couldn't avoid it. But there was a lady who took great care of me so it wouldn't be too inconvenient: I remember that I had a sort of luminous dress, white and red (white with red decorations) in which I wrapped myself so that substance wouldn't stick to me. But I watched the whole thing, and I saw, for instance, our Purani wallowing in it, sliding with delight, dripping with that mud all over! And everybody was in that mud. Only, it was a mud of a very lovely pearl gray, but was it sticky! And in the morning when I woke up, I said to myself it must be the new substance in preparation — it's not yet fully ready but it's in preparation.

There were some highly amusing details: it was arranged like the establishments, you know, in those big stylish spas. It was like that. And people came there to take baths in that substance.

What do they call it?... Pavitra would know the name. I used to know it: Théon had given it the name they give it today. But I don't remember. A matter denser than physical Matter. But elastic.

And probably a matter that will undergo some transformations, I don't know. That cloak I put on was perhaps the symbol of... It was white with golden threads and red embroidery designs (it was very beautiful), and I wrapped myself in it so that the mud wasn't bothersome.

The symbol of the force that will transform that into an acceptable substance.

The consciousness that will learn to use that substance (just as there was a consciousness that learned to use the body's substance) will probably know how to turn it into something that can be used. Because we have grown accustomed to it, but obviously it's a sort of super-chemistry that made this corporeal substance. We find it perfectly natural, but it hasn't always been this way — there is a long way from the jellyfish, for example, to this body.

I had the impression of a substance that has to undergo a work of adaptation, transformation, utilization, and that would serve as an outer form for the supramental being.

My impression is that Sri Aurobindo already has his subtle supramental form. For instance, when he has to move, he doesn't give the impression of being subject to the same laws as we are; but as it's subtle, it doesn't appear surprising. And also a sort of ubiquity: he is in several places at the same time. And a plasticity, an adaptability according to the work he wants to do, the people he meets. In those activities I am quite aware that I see him in a certain way, but I think others don't see him the same way — they see him differently, probably wearing clothes. When he ran in the forest, we were all alone, and it was a large forest without anyone there; then a few minutes later, we were somewhere else and there were people, other people to whom he spoke, and I didn't at all feel that the others were seeing him without clothes: they were certainly seeing him wearing clothes.

I saw him once, rather long ago: I told you the story of his boat, made also of clay.

Yes, it was a sort of clay, it was pink clay. Well, at the time he seemed to be wearing clothes. You see, it doesn't have the fixity of our matter.

It was like that vision of the "supramental ship," in which everyone was dressed by his own will.

But in my night activities, it's perfectly natural, I don't give it a thought — I don't stand there, observing with the petty idiotic understanding of habit: it's all perfectly natural.

(silence)

Last night, at one point we prepared a certain number of things that were at the same time like food, medicine, and a way to transform Matter. It had different colors, it was in test tubes, and he explained it all to me. But that wasn't the first time: it has happened very often. But then, the best part of it is that when I wake up, all the precise details are immediately swept away! I seem to feel a hand that comes and takes it all away — on purpose.

But I remember, I still have the image in which he is demonstrating things with his test tubes. There was a man... who looked like a scientist (a man about forty years old, between forty and fifty, young but not very young) and very thoughtful-looking. He was sitting. I don't know what his nationality was, I don't remember, but he was modern; he was modern, with modern clothes, and Sri Aurobindo showed him his test tubes with things in them and the effect on a totality of matter. I was there, looking on (I was looking with great interest), and I understood everything then. And I still see the image, but the mental knowledge, the mental translation that would have enabled me to say, "Now I know," prrt! taken away. It's the same thing every time.

Which means it must be given to people other than me for them to use it, because they have a brain better prepared than mine, and better conditions of research.

It's clear that the work is getting done.

(silence)

Another thing, yesterday... Something being prepared.... In the past, when Sri Aurobindo was there and I lived in that house which is now the "dormitory annex," there was a large verandah, and I used to walk up and down on the verandah (Sri Aurobindo was in his room, working), and I would walk alone; but I was never alone: Krishna was always there — Krishna, the god Krishna as he is known, but taller, more beautiful, and not with that ridiculous blue, you know, that slate blue! Not like that. And always, we always walked up and down together — we would walk together. He was just a little behind (gesture behind, almost against the nape of the neck and the shoulders); I was a little in front, as if my head was on his shoulder, and he would walk (I didn't have the feeling of my head resting on his shoulder, but that's how it was), and we would walk, we would communicate. That lasted more than a year, you know, every day. Then it ended. Afterwards I saw him from time to time (when we moved to the new house I saw him); sometimes at night when I was very tired, he would come and I would sleep on his shoulder. But I knew very well that it was a way Sri Aurobindo had of showing himself. Then when I came here [to Mother's present room], Sri Aurobindo had left, and I began walking up and down while reciting my mantra. Sri Aurobindo came, and he was at exactly the same place as Krishna was (same gesture, just behind the head); I would walk, and he was there, and we would walk together day after day, day after day. And it was becoming so concrete, so marvelous that I started thinking, "Why look after people and things, I want to remain like this for ever!" He caught my thought, and he said, "I am not coming anymore." And he stopped. I said, "Very well," and I started my mantra to the supreme Lord, and I tried a lot to have Him come and walk with me, but in no other form but Himself. And the Force, the Presence, everything was there, and I would feel Him more and more clearly, staying like that, just behind me, impersonal. For a few days, I've had a sort of feeling that I was close to something; and yesterday, for half an hour: THE Presence — a Presence... An absolutely concrete presence. And it is He who told me, "First Krishna, then Sri Aurobindo, then I."

Only (laughing), He doesn't want the effect to be the same and me to say, "Now I am fed up with people!"

18. June 1965 – America, England, Russia, China, Japan

"One" is wondering if, really, it won't be necessary to have an American occupation here, which would have the double effect of converting the Americans and making the Indians make some progress.... Practical progress is what they would make, as the Japanese did. And the Americans are now the disciples of the Japanese: from the point of view of Beauty they have made wonderful and absolutely unexpected progress. If the Americans came here, they would be converted, they would become... oh, they would understand spiritual life. Only, of course, it wouldn't be too pleasant (!) But it's the surest method — it's always the dominator that learns the lesson from the dominated. The Americans might become the most militant spiritualists in the world if they occupied India. Only, the Indians would have a bad time.... But they would become very practical, they would learn to put order in what they do — which they quite lack (just see, I didn't make you say that for that typewriter).

It's troublesome. It's something in suspense [the American occupation]. In my active consciousness, I don't want it. First, it would take a long time — it always takes a long time. A lot of time wasted, a lot of suffering, a lot of humiliation. But it's a very radical method.

At any rate, if a new domination is indispensable, it would be INFINITELY better for it to be by the Americans than by the Russians because what would be learned from the Russians is an UNNECESSARY lesson: it's community, the truth of community — the Indians knew it before the Russians (the Sannyasins were the ideal community); they knew it before the Russians, so they have nothing to learn there, it would be perfectly unnecessary. And to tell the truth, I am completely indifferent as to whether or not the Russians become spiritualists, because the Russians, in their soul, are mystics — they are AT LEAST (at least) as mystical as the Indians. So all their community and Communism is pretentiousness. It would be no use — no use at all.

An American occupation is a drastic method, but... Oh, when I see here the extent to which they can be imbued with the English spirit, oh, it's hideous — I don't like the English. And the English... the English have learned the maximum from the Indians, but for them the maximum is nothing much. The Americans want to learn. They are young and they want to learn; the English are old, stale, hardened and... oh, so conceited — they know everything better than everyone else. So they learned very little. They benefited the maximum, but that's very little; their maximum is very little. The English... (gesture of sinking) they are destined to sink underwater.

Oh, but the Chinese... The Chinese come from the moon, what are they doing on earth! The origin of the Chinese isn't earthly: it is lunar.

No, the Americans can come here to "save" India from China.

(silence)

To be under Chinese domination... it's better to die first. They are... from the point of view of sensitivity, they are monsters. They are monsters.

They are lunar — lunar, that is, cold, icy.

No, there's no wavering between the two. The Chinese, the Chinese domination over the earth is... it means the earth hardening, the earth growing cold like the moon. Oh, that would be dreadful.

23. June 1965 – Plan of Auroville

For a long time, I had had a plan of the "ideal city," but that was during Sri Aurobindo's lifetime, with Sri Aurobindo living at its center. Afterwards... I was no longer interested. Then, we took up the idea of Auroville again (I was the one who called it "Auroville"), but from the other end: instead of the formation having to find the place, it was the place (near the Lake) that caused the formation to be born; and up to now I took a very secondary interest in it because I hadn't received anything direct. Then that little H. took it into her head to have a house there, near the Lake, and have a house for me next to hers to offer me. And she wrote to me all her dreams; one or two sentences suddenly awakened an old, old memory of something that had tried to manifest — a creation — when I was very small (I don't remember what age), and that had again tried to manifest at the very beginning of the century when I was with Théon. Then I had forgotten all about it. And it came back with that letter: suddenly I had my plan of Auroville. Now I have my general plan; I am waiting for R. to make the detailed plans because since the beginning I have said, "R. will be the architect," and I have written to R.

When he came here last year he went to see Chandigarh, the city built by Le Corbusier up there in Punjab, and he wasn't very happy (it seems to me rather mediocre — I don't know, I haven't seen it; I only saw photographs that were dreadful). And when he spoke to me, I saw that he was feeling, "Oh, if I had a city to build!..." So I wrote to him, "If you want, I have a city to build." He is so very glad, he is coming. And when he comes, I'll show him my plan, then he will build the city.

My plan is very simple.

It will be up there, off the Madras road, on top of the hill. (Mother takes a piece of paper and starts drawing) Here we have (naturally in Nature it's not like this: we'll have to adapt — it's like this up there, in the ideal), here, a central point. This central point is a park I had seen when I was a little girl (perhaps the most beautiful thing in the world with regard to physical, material Nature), a park with water and trees like all parks, and flowers, but not too many (flowers in the form of creepers), palm trees and ferns (all species of palm trees), water (if possible, running water) and, if possible, a small waterfall. From a practical point of view, it would be very good: at the edge, outside the park, we could build reservoirs that would provide water to the residents.

So in that park I had seen the "Pavilion of Love" (but I don't like to use that word because men have turned it into something ludicrous); I am referring to the principle of divine Love. But it has been changed: it will be the "Pavilion of the Mother"; but not this (Mother points to herself): the Mother, the true Mother, the principle of the Mother. (I say "Mother" because Sri Aurobindo used the word, otherwise I would have put something else — I would have put "creative principle" or "realizing principle" or... something of that sort.) And it will be a small building, not a big one, with just a meditation room downstairs, with columns and probably a circular shape (I say "probably" because I am leaving it for R. to decide). Upstairs, the top floor will be a room, and the roof will be a covered terrace. Do you know the old Indian Mogul miniatures with palaces in which there are terraces and small roofs supported by columns? Do you know those old miniatures? I've had hundreds of them in my hands.... But this pavilion is very, very lovely: a small pavilion like this, with a roof over a terrace, and low walls against which there will be divans where people can sit and meditate in the open air in the evening or at night. And downstairs, at the very bottom, on the ground floor, simply a meditation room — a place with nothing in it. There would probably be, at the far end, something that would be a living light (perhaps the symbol made of living light), a constant light. Otherwise, a very calm, very silent place.

Adjoining it would be a small dwelling (well, a dwelling that would still have three floors), but not of large dimensions, and it would be the house of H., who would act as keeper — she would be the keeper of the pavilion (she wrote me a very nice letter, but she didn't understand all this, of course).

This is the center.

All around, there is a circular road that separates the park from the rest of the city. There would probably be an entrance gate (there has to be one) into the park. An entrance gate with a keeper of the gate. The keeper of the gate is a new girl who has come from Africa and has written me a letter saying she wanted to be the "keeper of Auroville" to let in only the "servants of the Truth".... (laughing) It's a very nice plan (!) So I will probably put her as keeper of the park, with a little house on the road, at the entrance.

But the interesting thing is that around this central point, there are four large sections, like four large petals (Mother draws), but the corners of the petals are rounded and there are small intermediate zones: four large sections and four zones.... Of course, this is only in the air: on the ground it will be an approximation.

We have four large sections: the cultural section in the north, that is, in the direction of Madras; in the east, the industrial section; in the south, the international section; and in the west, that is, towards the Lake, the residential section.

I will explain myself: the residential section, where there will be the houses of people who will have already subscribed, and all the others who come in their numbers to have a plot in Auroville. That will be towards the Lake.

The international section... We have already approached a number of ambassadors and countries so each country would have its pavilion there: a pavilion for every country (that was my old idea); some have already accepted, anyhow it's under way. Each pavilion has its own garden with, as far as possible, a selection of the plants and produce of the country represented. If they have enough money and space, they can also have a sort of small museum or permanent exhibition of the achievements of the country. And the pavilion should be built according to the architecture of the country represented: it should be like a document of information. Then depending on the amount of money they want to put in, they can also have quarters for students, conference rooms, etc., the country's cuisine, a restaurant of the country — they can have all sorts of developments.

Then the industrial section... Already many people, including the Madras government (the Madras government is lending money) want to set up industries, which will be on a special basis. This industrial section is in the east, and it's very large: there is plenty of space; and it must slope down to the sea. North of Pondicherry, there is indeed a rather large expanse which is totally uninhabited and uncultivated; it's by the sea, going northward along the coast. So this industrial section would slope down to the sea, and, if possible, there would be a sort of wharf (not exactly a harbor, but a place where boats can berth), and all those industries with the necessary internal means of transport would have a direct possibility of export. And here, there would be a big hotel, the plan of which R. has already done (we wanted to build the hotel here, in the place of the "Shipping Company," but the owner, after saying yes, said no — that's very good, it will be better there), a big hotel to receive visitors from outside. Quite a few industries have already signed up for this section; I don't know if there will be enough space, but we'll manage.

Then in the north (that's where there is the most space, naturally), in the direction of Madras: the cultural zone. There, an auditorium (the auditorium I have dreamed of doing for a long time: plans had already been made), an auditorium with a concert hall and grand organ, the best you find now (it seems they make wonderful things). I want a grand organ. There will also be a theater stage with wings (a revolving stage and so on, the very best you can find). So, here, a magnificent auditorium. There will be a library, there will be a museum, exhibition rooms (not in the auditorium: in addition to it), there will be a cinema studio, a cinema school; there will be a gliding club: already we almost have the government's authorization and promise — anyway it's already at a very advanced stage. Then, towards Madras, where there is plenty of space, a stadium. And a stadium that we want to be the most modern and the most perfect possible, with the idea (an idea I've had for a long time) that twelve years (the Olympic games take place every four years), twelve years after 1968 (in 1968, the Olympiad will be held in Mexico), twelve years after, we would have the Olympic games in India, here. So we need space.

In between these sections, there are intermediary zones, four intermediary zones: one for public services (the post, etc.), a zone for transportation (railway station and, if possible, an airfield), a zone for food supplies (that one would be towards the Lake and would include dairies, poultry farms, orchards, cultivation, etc. — it would spread to incorporate the Lake estate: what they wanted to do separately will be done as a part of Auroville); then a fourth zone (I've said public services, transportation, food supplies), and the fourth zone: shops. We don't need many shops, but a few are necessary to get what we don't produce. These zones are like quarters, you see.

And you will be there, in the center?

H. hopes so! (Mother laughs) I didn't say either yes or no to her, I told her, "The Lord will decide." It depends on my "health." Moving from here — no: I am here because of the Samadhi, I remain here, that's quite certain; but I can go there on a visit (it's not so far away, it takes five minutes by car). Only, H. wants to be in peace, silence, far from the world, and it's quite possible in her park with a road around it and someone to stop people from entering — one can be really in peace — but if I am there, that's an end to it! There will be collective meditations and so on. So if I have signs (physical signs, first), then the inner command to go out, I will go there in a car and spend an hour in the afternoon — I can do it from time to time.... We still have time, because it will take years before everything is ready.

Ah, the Ashram remains here — the Ashram stays here, I stay here, that's quite clear: Auroville is...

A satellite.

Yes, it's the contact with the outside world. The center in my drawing is a symbolic center.

But that's H.'s hope: she wants a house where she would be all alone, and next to it a house where I would be all alone — the second part is a dream because for me to be "all alone"... you just have to see what goes on! It's a fact, isn't it, so it doesn't go well with the "all alone." Solitude must be found within, it's the only way. But on the level of life, I will certainly not go and live there, because the Samadhi is here; but I can go there on a visit. For instance, I can go for an opening or certain ceremonies — we'll have to see, it won't be for years. It's going to take years to be realized.

So, Auroville is meant more for the outside.

Oh, yes! It's a town, so it is the whole contact with the outside. And an attempt to achieve on earth a slightly more ideal life.

In the old formation I had made, there had to be a hill and a river. A hill was necessary because Sri Aurobindo's house was on top of the hill. But Sri Aurobindo was there, in the center. It was arranged according to the plan of my symbol, that is to say, a central point with Sri Aurobindo and all that concerns Sri Aurobindo's life, then four large petals (which weren't the same as in this drawing, they were something different), then twelve petals around (the city proper), then around that, there were the disciples' residential quarters (you know my symbol: instead of partition lines, there are strips; well, the last circular strip formed the residential place of the disciples), and everyone had his house and his garden: a little house and a garden for everyone. And there were means of communication; I wasn't sure if it was individual transportation or collective transportation (like those small open trams in the mountains, you know) that crossed the city in all directions to bring the disciples back to the center of the city. And around all that, there was a wall with entrance gates and guards at each gate, so people entered only with permission. And there was no money: within the walls, no money; at the various entrance gates, people found banks and counters where they deposited their money and received in exchange tickets with which they could have lodging, food, this and that. But no money. And inside, absolutely nothing, no one had any money — the tickets were only for visitors, who entered only with a permit. It was a fantastic organization.... No money, I didn't want money!

Oh, I've forgotten one thing in my plan: I wanted to build a workers' housing estate. But it should be part of the industrial section (perhaps an extension on the edge of the industrial section).

Outside the walls, in my first formation there was on one side the industrial estate, and on the other the fields, farms, etc., that were to supply the city. But that really meant a country — not a large one, but a country. Now it's much more limited; it's not my symbol anymore, there are only four zones, and no walls. And there will be money. The other formation, you know, was really an ideal attempt.... But I reckoned it would take many years before we began: at the time, I expected to begin only after twenty-four years. But now, it's much more modest, it's a transitional experiment, and it's much more realizable — the other plan was... I nearly had the land: it was at the time of Sir Akbar (you remember?) of Hyderabad. They sent me photographs of Hyderabad State, and there, among those photos, I found my ideal place: an isolated hill (a rather large hill), below which a big river flowed. I told him, "I would like to have this place," and he arranged the whole thing (it was all arranged, they had sent me the plans, and the papers and everything declaring it to be donated to the Ashram). But they set a condition (the area was a virgin forest and uncultivated lands): they would give the place on condition, naturally, that we would cultivate it, but the products had to be used on the spot; for instance the crops, the timber had to be used on the spot, not transported away, we weren't allowed to take anything out of Hyderabad State. There was even N. who was a sailor and who said he would obtain a sailing boat from England to sail up the river, collect all the products and bring them back to us here — everything was very well seen to! Then they set that condition. I asked if it was possible to remove it, then Sir Akbar died and it was over, the whole thing fell through. Afterwards I was glad it hadn't worked out because, with Sri Aurobindo gone, I could no longer leave Pondicherry — I could leave Pondicherry only with him (provided he agreed to go and live in his ideal city). At the time I told Antonin Raymond, who built "Golconde," about the project, and he was enthusiastic, he told me, "As soon as you start building, call me and I will come." I showed him my plan (it was on the model of my symbol, enlarged), and he was quite enthusiastic, he found it magnificent.

It fell through. But the other project, which is just a small intermediate attempt, we can try.

I am under no illusion that it will retain its purity, but... we will try something.

The financial organization, for the moment, is looked after by N., because he is the one who receives the money through that "Sri Aurobindo Society" and who has bought the lands — there is already a good amount of land bought. That's going well. Naturally the difficulty is to find enough money, but for example, for the pavilions, it's each country that will meet the expenses for its pavilion; for the industries, it's each industry that puts its money into the business; for the residents, each will give the money necessary for his land. And the government (Madras has already promised it to us) gives between 60% and 80% (partly a grant, which means it's given, and partly a loan, free of interest and repayable over ten years, twenty years, forty years — a long-term repayment). N. knows his way about,4 he has already got results. But depending on whether money comes in fast or only little by little, it will go faster or slower.

As regards the construction, it will depend on R.'s plasticity.... I am not concerned about the details at all, there is only that pavilion that I would like to be very pretty — I see it. Because I saw it, I had a vision of it, so I'll try to make him understand what I saw. The park, too, I saw — those are old visions I had repeatedly. But that's not difficult.

The biggest difficulty is water, because there is no nearby river up there; but they are already trying to harness rivers. There is even a project to divert water from the Himalayas and bring it across the whole of India (L. had made a plan and discussed it in Delhi; of course, they objected that it would be a little costly!). But anyway, without going into such grandiose things, something has to be done to bring water; that will be the biggest difficulty, that's what will take the longest time. As for the rest — light, power — it will be made on the spot in the industrial section — but you can't manufacture water! The Americans have given serious thought to a way of using sea water, because the earth no longer has enough drinking water for people (the water they call "fresh"5... it's ironical); the amount of water is insufficient for people's use, so they have already started chemical experiments on a big scale to transform sea water and make it usable — obviously that would be the solution to the problem.

They do it in Israel? They use sea water? Obviously, that would be the solution — the sea is there.

It has to be studied.

Then the water would have to be sent uphill.

It won't be a "harbor," but anyway. Yes, the hotel for visitors with a yacht club next to it, that's an idea. I'll add it (Mother makes a note).

Oh, you know, there's a flood of letters! From everywhere, every country, people write to me, "At last the project I have been waiting for!" and so on. It's a flood.

There is also a gliding club. We have already been promised an instructor and a glider — that's promised. It will be in the cultural section, on top of the hill. Naturally the yacht club will be by the sea, not on the lake; but I thought (because there is a lot of talk of deepening the lake, it has almost silted up), I thought of a seaplane station there.

There could also be sailing on the lake.

Not if there are seaplanes. It's not quite large enough for sailing. But it would be very nice for a seaplane station. But it will depend: if we have an airfield, it won't be necessary; if we don't have an airfield... But in the Lake estate project, there was already an airfield. S., who has become a Squadron Leader, also sent me a plan for an airfield, but for small planes, while we want an airfield that can provide a Madras service regularly: an airfield for passengers. There has already been a lot of talk about this, there have been talks between Air India and another company, but then they didn't agree — all sorts of silly little difficulties. But all that will fall off naturally with Auroville's growth — people will be only too glad to have an airfield.

No, there are two difficulties. The small sums of money, we have them (as I said, what the government can lend, what people give to have a plot — all that is coming), but the problem is the massive sums: because it takes billions to build a city!...

A few weeks later, on September 7, Mother was led to put the project of Auroville in perspective:

Auroville wants to be a universal town...

A universal town — not international: universal.

...where men and women of all countries will be able to live in peace and progressive harmony above all creed, all politics and all nationalities, straining to realize human unity.

26. June 1965 – Limitation of the German language

I have a little problem I'd like to put to you. I would like you to give me an indication or ask Sri Aurobindo for an indication. It's about the translation into German of certain words: the word "mind" and the word "spirit."

So?

All the German translators are quarreling with each other, not one agrees with the other.

Yes, I know!

For a long time I have been in touch with C.S. about the German translation of the book [The Adventure of Consciousness]. He has thought about it a lot (so have I), and finally P. has made a suggestion. The word for "spirit" in German, "Geist," is used indifferently, and of course especially to denote the mind — as in French "esprit" is used very vaguely. So P. suggested we keep the word "Geist" for the mind and qualify it: thinking mind, illuminated mind, etc. But the word "spirit" would still have to be translated, and there is no word for it in German. There exist a few adjectives that derive from the Latin word "spiritus," but nothing for "spirit." P. suggested we use "der Spirit," derived from Latin. C.S. hesitates. So I wanted to ask you if you had some impression or other. Can we introduce "der Spirit" in German? That's the sort of thing that brings all the German translators into conflict.

But there's no guarantee of their accepting a suggestion.

If the word goes into the translation of this book as a first step and the book is read widely enough, it will provide a basis for them to accept it. I don't know.

What's the Sanskrit for "spirit"?

It's Purusha, in opposition to Prakriti, Nature.

But you say that C.S. doesn't want this "Spirit"?

He's reluctant. He objects that its a Latin word and not a German one.

What is the word they use? The same as for "mind"?

Yes: "Geist."

That won't do. "Geist" won't do at all. For the mind, it's all right.

Yes, that's what I felt, and also it would be very good to say "Übergeist" for the supermind.

(Mother nods her head) What language will future people speak!... All this is very poor. All these languages are poor. In India alone, from one region to another they don't understand each other — without English they wouldn't understand each other at all.

Is there nothing better than this "Spirit"?... Purusha won't do at all, it's too long, three syllables.... Let's just say that to C.S. But if he doesn't like it, it's going to give him a lot of trouble.

It's a stopgap.

But in French, too, everything we say is an approximation! Which means that if you adopt your own language, it's quite all right, but you are the only one to understand it truly.

If we take a new word, it should be a word with force, that's the important point.

Words like Tat, Sat, Chit are strong, but Purusha...

Let's just propose "Spirit."

30. June 1965 – A vision with Sri Aurobindo

Oh, something curious happened two nights ago. I was with Sri Aurobindo, it was in a room... oh, what a room.... Well, it was magnificent, very high-ceilinged, very large, and without anything at all in it; but it was a very large room, and there were kinds of French windows opening out on a balcony or a terrace (it overlooked a town), and those windows, from top to bottom, were a single pane of glass: it gave a magnificent light. He was there. Then for some reason or other I felt he wanted a cup of tea. So I set out in search of his cup of tea, and went through rooms, halls, even construction sites (!), looking for a cup of tea for him; and they were all large rooms — all the rooms were large — but contrary to the one in which he was, which was so clear, the others were dark. And there was a large hall which was like a dining hall, with a table and everything needed to serve meals, but dark — and also there wasn't anything left. There were people (people I know) who said, "Ah, (in a sorry tone) it's all finished" — they had finished everything, they had eaten up everything! (Mother laughs) They had swallowed up everything, there was nothing left. Finally, I found someone in a sort of kitchen down below (someone whom I won't name, I know her), who told me, "Yes, yes, I'll bring you that right now, right now!" And she brought me a pot, saying, "Here." I went off with my pot, then I felt somewhat suspicious, and once outside, I lifted the lid... and the first thing I see is earth! Red earth. I scratched off the red earth with my fingers, and underneath (laughing), there was a slice of bread!

Anyway, there was a lot like that, I had all sorts of adventures. Then I looked to see if Sri Aurobindo really needed his cup of tea... because it seemed so difficult! I saw him, there was that wonderful French window, so clear, and then as if recessed into the wall (I don't know) a sort of platform couch, a place to sit, but it was very pretty, and he was seated or half-reclining on it, and very comfortable. And there was a boy (or a boy had come to ask him something), and there were kinds of stairs leading up to the couch; the boy was reclining on the stairs, asking questions, and Sri Aurobindo was explaining something. I recognized the boy.... I thought, "Ah, (laughing) he's no longer thinking of his cup of tea, fortunately!" Then I woke up. But I thought, "If this is how he sees us..." having gobbled up everything, you understand.

But it was very concrete, very material, and there was a feeling that there HAD BEEN a plenitude — everything was sumptuous — but nothing was left. Everything had been eaten up. I met someone (I am not naming them, but I know them) who told me, "Oh, yes, it was a fine feast, but we have eaten everything up; there's nothing left, we have eaten everything up."

I woke up — not "woke up," anyway when I came out of the vision and pondered over it in the morning, I said to myself, "Oh, if he really sees us like that, having eaten everything up!..." And I brought him a little earth in a pot!

It left me pensive for several hours.

(silence)

But he seemed to be enveloped in a very supple fabric (you know, those things peculiar to the vital, it's a special fabric that isn't woven), and it was a beautiful violet — the violet of a great power.

But the room in which he was... I still remember that sense of light, such a clear, clear light, so PURE, through the window — you could see nothing but light.

(silence)

So we've gobbled up everything.

I didn't even know there had been feasts; I knew it only when I came into the halls. Besides I wasn't hungry and didn't want anything; I didn't feel I was lacking anything: I didn't need anything, I was happy as I was.

And it wasn't bad will at all, oh, there was a great desire to serve... (Mother laughs) but, "There's nothing left."

I spoke [in the vision] to two people (who are in the Ashram) and to a few people from outside (one or two), and they really had a complete goodwill, they wanted to serve, you see, but there was nothing left. And the one who gave me the pot didn't hesitate, she said, "Yes, yes! I'll give it to you," and she came back with that! Probably unconscious herself that what she was giving me as tea was only earth — bread and red earth.

My tea, as I pictured it, was very golden — clear and golden; and I wanted to give him something with it, I don't remember what.

All this is symbolic, probably.

30. June 1965 – A trick for the cells

You know, the trick (there is a trick) is to tell the cells that that's not at all what is expected of them; that, as I told you the other day, what is expected of them isn't at all to gather there into a bundle like that; that it isn't their duty to do that — you must convince them.

It's rather peculiar. It is the origin of habits, of course; they are under the impression that "This is what we have to do, this is what we have to do, this is..." (Mother turns a finger in a circle).

It's the same thing with me, but I told them. Only, one should be conscious of the movement, and then, very quietly but very, very confidently, very confidently, you tell them as you would children, "No, it's not your duty to do this; this isn't your duty."

All chronic illnesses come from that. There may be an accident (something happens, an accident) and then there is a sort of submissive and unconscious goodwill that causes the effect of the accident to be repeated: "We must repeat, we must repeat, we must repeat that..." (gesture in a circle). And it stops only if a consciousness is in contact with the cells and can make them understand that "No, in this case, you mustn't go on repeating!" (Mother laughs)

There are cases in which this power of repetition is extremely useful. I even think that this is what gives stability to the form, otherwise we would change form or appearance, or we would liquefy.

That's what works for durability.

There is this habit of repetition, and then the sense of a fatality. For instance, if you receive a blow or something goes wrong, immediately there is that sense of fatality: "Ah, now it's like that, now it's like that..." (same circular gesture). So here also (all this is going on in the consciousness of the cells), here also you must tell them: "No! It's not irremediable: if you do like this (for instance, something that has been accidentally twisted), if you have the movement in the opposite direction, it will be remediable."

It's not brilliant displays of will or powers at all, it's not that: it's a very, very quiet persuasive power — exerted very gently but very confidently and very persistently.

None of the vital things work — they have a momentary effect, then it's over.

Oh, it's very interesting.

But one has to be very modest to do this work, with no liking for brilliant displays — very modest. And very quiet.