Agenda de l’action Supramentale sur la Terre. It's neither life nor death.. BOTH are being changed.. into something still unknown.. dangerous and wonderful. On Nov 17, 1973, she left her body - why?
"Before dying falsehood rises in full swing. Still people understand only the lesson of catastrophe. Will it have to come before they open their eyes?" This is the year of Watergate, of Nixon's first trip to China, the assassination of the Israeli athletes in Munich, the first oil embargo. This is Mother's last lap. A lap strewn with heartrending little cries and stunning visions. The end of one world, the beginning of another.... whether we want it or not. "Sometimes, it is so new and unexpected, it's almost painful." And I would ask her, "But is it a state outside matter?" "I don't go outside of physical life, but.... it looks different. But it is strange. And it is PHYSICAL, that is the extraordinary thing! As if the physical had split in two.... A new state in matter. And it is ruled by something that is not the sun, I don't know what it is.... I am touching another world. Another way of being.... dangerous but wonderful." How I listened to her little breath as she gasped for air, a breath that seemed to come from another side of the world: "There is no difference between life and death. It's neither life nor death, it is.... something. It is not the disappearance of death you understand: BOTH are being changed.... into something still unknown, which seems at once extremely dangerous and absolutely wonderful." And what if "death" were merely the other, MATERIAL side of our human bowl, the sunlit shore for a species to come? A new condition on both sides of the world, in which life and death change into.... something else? "I am treading a very thin and narrow line...." And then this cry, this entreaty: "Let me do the work!" On November 17, 1973, she passed away - why?
(Mère caresse les fleurs que Sujata lui a apportées.)
Mon rhume continue...
(Satprem:) Mais tu as l’air mieux, douce Mère.
Oui. Ce n’est pas un «rhume».
Oui, je m’en doute... J’ai eu l’impression qu’il y avait un cyclone... un vrai cyclone au-dedans.
(Mère rit) Il y A EU un cyclone au-dedans.
(silence)
C’est évident. Tout est combiné pour qu’il n’y ait... (je ne sais pas comment dire en français) reliance, qu’il y ait le point d’appui seulement sur le Divin. Et le «Divin», on ne me dit pas ce que c’est – voilà! admirable!... Tout le reste s’écroule, seulement le... le... le quoi? Le Divin, quelque chose – quoi?...
On sent. Il n’est pas question de le décrire ni de le définir ni... rien de tout ça.
C’est comme une tentative pour vous faire sentir qu’il n’y a pas de différence entre la mort et la vie. Voilà. Que ce n’est ni la mort ni la vie – ni ce que nous appelons la mort, ni ce que nous appelons la vie –, c’est... quelque chose.
Et ça, c’est quelque chose de Divin.
Ou plutôt, c’est notre prochaine étape vers le Divin.1
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