Mâ, the Ancient One of evolution, leads Gringo on adventures through the past & future of the Earth, from the pre-human forest to the forest of tomorrow.
Un 'Livre de la Jungle' à l'envers. Non plus un petit d'homme qui revient à la vie animale, mais un autre petit d'homme dans une tribu sauvage de la forêt amazonienne, qui cherche comment on sort de la Tribu humaine et le passage de 'l'Homme après l'Homme'. C'est la légende de l'évolution et de l'Ancienne de l'évolution, figurée par la 'reine' de la tribu, qui entraîne Gringo à la découverte des aventures passées de la terre - en Egypte, dans l'Atlandide, en pays arctique -, et dans l'aventure de l'avenir de la terre, chaque fois forçant le barrage des défenseurs de la Loi établie, que ce soit celle des anciens initiés, celle de la Tribu amazonienne, celle des spiritualistes ou celle des biologistes du XXième siècle. Car chaque sommet atteint devient l'obstacle du prochain cycle. Successivement, Gringo passe par la 'porte de braise', la 'porte de jade', la 'porte bleu', la 'porte de neige', avant d'arriver à la 'porte noire' du XXIième siècle et à la 'minute nulle' où les hommes disent NON à leur loi suffocante et consentent à ouvrir 'les nouveaux yeux de la terre'. l'auteur évoque ici l'aventure qu'il a vécue dans la forêt vierge de Guyanne à l'âge de vingt-cinq ans, et l'aventure qu'il a vécue auprès de Sri Aurobindo et de Mère dans l'avenir de la terre : toute une courbe, de la forêt pré-humaine à la forêt mystérieuse de demain.
A 'Jungle Book' in reverse. No longer a young boy returning to animal life, but another young boy in a wild tribe of the Amazon rainforest, who seeks to discover how one escapes from the human Tribe and the passage of 'Man after Man.' This is the legend of evolution and of the Ancient One of evolution, represented by the 'queen' of the tribe, who leads Gringo on a journey of discovery through the past adventures of the earth — in Egypt, in Atlantis, in the Arctic lands — and into the adventure of the earth's future, each time forcing through the barrier of the defenders of the established Law, whether that of the ancient initiates, that of the Amazonian Tribe, that of the spiritualists, or that of the biologists of the 20th century. For every summit reached becomes the obstacle of the next cycle. Successively, Gringo passes through the 'gate of embers,' the 'gate of jade,' the 'gate of blue,' the 'gate of snow,' before arriving at the 'black gate' of the 21st century and at 'zero minute,' where men say NO to their suffocating law and consent to open 'the new eyes of the earth.' The author evokes here the adventure he lived in the virgin forest of Guyana at the age of twenty-five, and the adventure he experienced alongside Sri Aurobindo and 'Mother' in the future of the earth: an entire arc, from the pre-human forest to the mysterious forest of tomorrow.
IX
HE slid down the tree without a sound.
The forest was slumbering before dawn. A pale lattice was cut into the high vault, projecting black shadows in the thicker night below. One sensed the dense humus like a second night within the night. Gringo was motionless: he felt the great night. It entered him in small damp tongues like a brown tide swollen with smooth algae and centipedes. And suddenly he made out a lighter patch: a clearing.
Slowly, he began to move. His heart beat. Fear — he was no longer afraid, but these sleeping men were about to be stabbed without warning... Gringo could not understand. The animals, the night, the water, even the stones — he understood them so well. But this creature, which took more than its hunger... which also played the flute so beautifully — why did he hear Quiño's flute in this pale dawn?
He slipped into the undergrowth. Twenty meters ahead, a machete gleamed, abandoned. Gringo slid it into his belt: he was in the clearing. One could see nothing. This silence seemed unbearable to him. His eyes searched for a tree to hide in. He turned sharply: two phosphorescent, glaucous eyes looked at him. It was Huagrah, the great cat. Gringo became motionless as a stone — not a tremor, not a ripple, not even a breath. He became... nothing. His eyes fixed Huagrah: he was Huagrah, perfectly still, and Huagrah was him, perfectly still. Nothing moved. Not a muscle twitched. Gringo felt himself enveloped in white, slightly bluish light that formed a kind of screen. It was impenetrable. And he knew instantly: if the slightest trembling passed through him, Huagrah would release those steel muscles and it would be over in a second. And that light was very gentle, like a haze, and so perfectly motionless. He felt the small round ears of the great cat twitching — he felt them as if they were his own ears; he saw nothing but those glaucous eyes. And that pale haze around him, so sure, so tranquil, as if he stood behind centuries and centuries of peace, watching. Huagrah turned away his eyes and vanished without a sound.
Gringo felt a cold sweat on his forehead.
He released his muscles; he ached throughout his legs as if coming out of a stone corpse. He took a step toward the tree. A baby began to wail in the silence.
Then cries, a tumult, hoarse sounds.
There were perhaps a dozen of them. A woman began to howl: a long, tearing cry.
Huagrah was leaving with his prey.
Gringo slipped away like a thief.
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