Agenda de l’action Supramentale sur la Terre. The 'psychological preparation' of Satprem for his role as The Mother's confidant, as She narrated her experiences of the 'yoga of the cells' from 1951-1973.
This first volume is mostly what could be called the "psychological preparation" of Satprem. Mother's confidant had to be prepared, not only to understand the evolutionary meaning of Mother's discoveries, to follow the tenuous thread of man's great future unravelled through so many apparently disconcerting experiences - which certainly required a steady personal determination for more than 19 years! - but also, in a way, he had to share the battle against the many established forces that account for the present human mode of being and bear the onslaught of the New Force. Satprem - "True Love" - as Mother called him, was a reluctant disciple. Formed in the French Cartesian mold, a freedom fighter against the Nazis and in love with his freedom, he was always ready to run away, and always coming back, drawn by a love greater than his love for freedom. Slowly she conquered him, slowly he came to understand the poignant drama of this lone and indomitable woman, struggling in the midst of an all-too-human humanity in her attempt to open man's golden future. Week after week, privately, she confided to him her intimate experiences, the progress of her endeavour, the obstacles, the setbacks, as well as anecdotes of her life, her hopes, her conquests and laughter: she was able to be herself with him. He loved her and she trusted him. It is that simple.
(Lettre de Satprem à Mère)
Pondichéry, 26 mars 1955
Mère, à nouveau je viens demander l’intervention de Mahâ-kâli:1 après une période où tout semblait aller beaucoup mieux, je retrouve des matinées impossibles où je vis mal, très mal, loin de toi, incapable de t’appeler et à plus forte raison de sentir ta Présence ou ton aide.
Je ne sais quelle boue se remue en moi, mais tout est obscurci et je n’arrive pas à me dissocier de ces vagues vitales.
Mère, sans la grâce de Mahâkâli je n’arriverai jamais à sortir de cette ronde mécanique, à briser ces vieilles formations qui reviennent toujours les mêmes. Mère, je te prie, aide-moi à BRISER cette carapace dans laquelle j’étouffe, délivre-moi de moi-même, délivre-moi malgré moi-même. Tout seul je ne puis rien, parfois je ne puis même pas t’appeler! Que ta force vienne brûler toutes mes impuretés, briser mes résistances.
Signé: Bernard2
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