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.
XXXV
THEY walked for days, months — following the rounded flanks of the serra where gorges sometimes plunged deep, with roaring, tumultuous rivers ; they crossed glaucous, motionless swamps like a curse which suddenly emerged into delirious clearings where mad birds had been chirping for ages; they ran to the rhythm, walked, walked again in the long soft rain as if through grey algae — as through centuries of perdition in an enormous tangle of scents sometimes torn by the cry of a macaw; they listened to the night, listened to the day, then night again — hissing, grating, unchanging — and the muffled thunder of giant trees collapsing, like an abyss, and the silence sinking into a still greater night, immobile, mute, opening piercing eyes on its own mystery. It was without end, without beginning, without yesterday or tomorrow, without out-there: two small children of man walking and walking — and why? They said nothing more, wanted nothing more; they went on, indefinitely, one step, another step, trees and more trees, cries and more cries — toward the East, always toward the East, like two small white flames in the belly of the millennia.
And suddenly Gringo sat down.
His leg was swollen — he could go no further.
He would go no more to the East, go no more anywhere. He had reached the end of the journey.
The end of nowhere.
Rani watched him with eyes as immense as the night. A river could be heard rumbling in a violet gorge.
She took a little water in her cupped hands to cool that burning leg. He shook his head gently. She took one last small alga, moistened it a little with some powder.
— Eat.
He shook his head.
Then she sat down, hands flat on her knees, eyes fixed, looking straight ahead. She kept staring in the distance for a long time. Gringo looked at nothing; he listened to the fever rising in his body and pounding as if at thousands of small doors of pain. Then images began to pass in front his eyes — or perhaps he entered the images — like a multitude of small Gringos springing from everywhere, dressed in one color or another, each with a small living image: Gringo at the edge of a river scattered with white pigeons; Gringo seated before the sea where seagulls swirl; Gringo on horseback in an Abyssinian gorge, watching an eagle take flight; Gringo with a shaved head before a sacrificial fire; Gringo on a pavement, cheeks in his hands, with men and more men passing by; Gringo holding a soft white hand with small violet lines: "This time?" Then men again — four by four — and a strange emaciated Gringo with a number on his chest and the same great eyes of always. Eyes, eyes that gaze — blue eyes, always blue, like a sea from which the seagull will burst forth with a cry, always a cry.
— Ma... he breathed.
She was there, smiling, unchanged.
— Well — I've been waiting for you a long time!
— Ma, I'm going to die.
— Die? she said, as one speaks to a child... And you, little queen — are you going to die too?
— I go with him. What is dying?
— Aah! she said. Wait — I'll show you.
She took Rani's hand, took Gringo's hand, and they set off toward the violet gorge where the river roared.
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