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.
XIII
Gringo didn't believe any of those threats; it all seemed like a made-up story. He had lived so long near Her, as if in a cocoon of light, and that was the only true story. How could anyone not love Beauty? Their gods were grand, perhaps, compassionate like Isis and warm like Amun, but what about that gentleness of heart, like a lotus opening and drinking in an invisible sun? And sometimes, it seemed to him that all the gods were intertwined with all evils, even if it was to heal them.
He passed before the enormous pylon that stood out in the night with its banners, took one alley, another, through a labyrinth of aromatics and ripe lemons, skirted the river, climbed the steep stairway: he was on Quino's small terrace, above the Nile.
Quino had not moved.
The river gleamed like a reptile.
— What is it, Quino?
He was crouched on the ground, his flute on his knees, his headband tight on his forehead. Gringo leaned toward him, caressed his hair:
— You say nothing, you don't play?
Quino shook his head, took his flute between his hands.
— I don't know, brother... I have a weight on my heart. It feels as though the night will never end.
He gave a faint smile, tossed out two small sharp notes that crossed the night like a bird struck in flight.
— You see, she won't come.
And all at once Gringo felt it — yes, that intense stillness descending upon him. He knew... He took Quino's hands, looked at him for a long moment. A cluster of palm fronds stood out behind him, with a cascade of small silver rays. A dog was heard howling. An intense second with a great transparent gaze; a second that had resonated many times, in many lives, and suddenly one is surrounded by distances: a tiny person within a great gaze. He rose slowly, his white tunic glowing. He brought his hand to his neck: "Each stone for a life..." And everything was quiet, as behind a curtain closing on sorrows and noises. There was just a little Gringo on the other side, like an image.
That small image was turned inside out. There was the sound of bare feet on the tiles, a rustling of a skirt, small gold flames. Then heavy steps, the clashing of weapons.
— Run.
She was very straight against an immense pale sky. Their gazes melted into an eternal softness. Then the men sprang onto the terrace. Gringo composed himself: "The chest, the Treasure!"
For a second his head turned.
— Run! she cried.
She threw herself on them; he ran toward the balustrade.
— Bitch! he heard them yell, then a dull sound.
He leaped into the river, swam, ran through the reeds: "The treasure — the treasure must be saved..." He was tearing his feet, advancing through a lapping tide, stumbling and going on — Ma!...
He pushed open the ebony door: the torches were lit. They were there. The arrogant Vrittru, wearing his high-priest's cap, thumbs thrust into his belt.
— Well, my pretty seditious scribe...
Gringo threw himself on the chest. They had opened everything — scrolls were strewn across the floor.
— No, no!
And then that loud, resounding awful laugh. Gringo turned to face him:
— You cannot! You simply cannot — don't you understand?
He felt dizzy; he babbled as through a nightmare night. He grabbed Vrittru's arm:
— Understand, do understand, you madman! Oh! Vrittru, kill me if you wish — but this is the gold of the world, this is hope — hope, do you understand?
— Hope for what?
— The Secret... The Thing... The Passage... You understand — the Passage. And then it was so futile, there among these hungry beasts.
— Your passage goes to the bottom of the Nile — you with it, as fodder for Sobek-Rê¹...
Gringo let his arm fall. It was vain. It was absurd. He looked at the white scrolls, he looked at this light and this love brought to nothing, and the night that rose like a barbarous clamor. He heard in the distance the voice of a muscular dwarf:
— You want to overturn the earth and the law of the gods, do you? But the Law is the Law, and no man is greater than the sky — are you capable of flying now?
Ma's face flashed before him: "Do you want to?"
And he knew he could.
¹ Sobek-Rê: the crocodile god.
Gringo looked around him; but he had no desire to take flight, even if wings were given to him. He looked at these greedy men, and his heart was full of sadness — as if the long passage had not finished traversing cruel nights and iron laws, and many men armed with laws to protect their smallness. And what is the use of wings, for a man all alone?
— You see, you are powerless.
He spoke, and picked up a white scroll which he crumpled in his hands. Gringo looked at that light of love, that hope in the fist of a man who wanted no hope, who wanted no love, who only wanted the law and the law.
He was beyond words. He was in the silence of love that waits — oh! that has waited so long for a man's heart to melt and consent to Beauty and consent to the Marvel.
— Take him away.
Gringo opened his hands and smiled at the night.
An iron blade rang out on the tiles.
The sound echoed and re-echoed in his head.
That was all.
He smiled at the night.
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