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The Mother


Volume 2

August 25, 1961

(Mother gives flowers) This is Alchemy.1 And here! (Mother hands Satprem some cheese)

I still have plenty, you know!

It doesn't matter, mon petit, this is the last of it. I may have one or two boxes left, but that's all.

How is the work going?

I don't know.

It doesn't matter.

You must know how it's going!

(Mother laughs) Yes! And I say: “It doesn't matter if you don't say anything!” I knew you wouldn't! But it's going all right, it's all right.

Anyway, X has written to me (and to M. also), telling me he will be here on the 29th, but will have to leave on the 10th, so it won't be for very long – all because of various ceremonies....2 He writes me that he's going to train someone to replace him for all these ceremonies so he can be freer to come here for longer periods. But to M. (the devil knows what M. wrote to him), he says something like, “Yes, there is a very sorry situation in the Ashram and people's jealousy and envy are increasing more and more.” Yet nevertheless he feels so drawn by “the Mother's” presence that he will come.

I admit I didn't like this letter. But I don't hold him responsible because.... When people tell him things, he believes them. God knows what story M. told him!


Three or four years ago I had to make a little effort to meditate or give a meditation to someone in a very bad condition. But now... absolutely no more effort. No effort at all. And I don't notice a bit when X is having difficulty, not a bit. I prepare myself as usual before he comes and as soon as he arrives, all I have to do is call (although generally that's not necessary); I call, and then I become blissful. And I haven't found more difficulties in certain cases than in others – I DON'T FEEL THE RESISTANCE, neither in the atmosphere nor in people. The Force is imperative. That's why I was so astounded those other times when he began to say he needed at least ten minutes to put himself into meditation – it seemed fantastic to me! He said so himself, otherwise I would never have believed it.3

Well, we shall see.

What else, mon petit?

The book isn't progressing very quickly, you know.

It's not progressing quickly.... Did you begin at the beginning?


Ah!... Did that work?... Yes, I know it did... I'm not asking you for a declaration!

I can't say that I'm satisfied.


*   *

A little later:

Oh, again last night... some delightful things.

Nowadays I always spend a part of the night in the realm of expression, a realm where generally I never used to go at all. It's a very lovely place, very human in the sense that it's not a scene from Nature: there are huge rooms and great, highly intellectual arrangements; yet it's very lovely, with such a clear and limpid atmosphere all in clear shades... (Mother gives up trying to describe it). Oh, it's so luminous and lovely, very well organized, as far as the eye can see; it seems as big as the earth. The rooms are roofless, just imagine! Huge roofless rooms flooded with light, and transparent partitions. And the people inside seem very, very aware – not a lot of people, but extremely studious and attentive, and they are creating arrangements of things. They must be people writing books. They are making compositions – oh, if you knew how lovely it was! It's as if they were taking colors and more or less geometrical forms and placing them in relation to one another. There are huge pigeonholes where everything is in order, and yet without doors, not closed up – wide open and still completely protected. An interesting place. I don't usually go there – I've gone maybe two or three times in my life, without paying much attention – but lately, because of this book you are writing, Sri Aurobindo is taking me there all the time.

And there are people with no country – he takes me to a place where the people have no country, no race, no special costume – they seem very universal. And they move around harmoniously, silently, as though they were gliding – and with precision, everything is extremely precise. Some of them have even shown me things: there were some lovely colored papers! But these colors are unearthly, somehow transparent. They were arranging it all, demonstrating and explaining to me how it has to be arranged to give the maximum effect.

I have seen you there several times. You were wearing something similar to what you are wearing now [dhoti]: not European – they wear the costume of no particular country. It's usually white, but not made of cloth. it's all on a VERY luminous, very orderly, very clear mental plane-no objects lying around, only things like sheets of paper, which seem to be ideas or compositions of ideas, but no clutter. It's vast, vast, so vast you can see no end to it! And up above it's wide open, and a light is constantly descending. What you walk on is a little more solid, but not much more. It's an interesting place.

I go there almost every night for half or three-quarters of an hour, and Sri Aurobindo shows it all to me. Some people are waiting for him – in certain corners everything is ready and waiting and when he comes they show him what they have done. Then he explains: a word, a gesture, not much, and then, ah! It takes a form. It's an interesting place. I am putting you in touch with it all the time, all the time, every day – it doesn't matter if you don't remember, it's not important....

(Satprem doesn't seem to agree)

After all, remembering is merely an amusement. I have come to the conclusion that it's amusing and personally satisfying but not necessary at all. I see that MOST Of My work is done – and done with great precision – without needing to be recorded here; it's quite unnecessary. I am fully conscious when I'm doing the work, but I would really rather not remember it.

That's all, petit.

You really don't need anything?

No, Mother, I have all I need.

Tell me if you need anything. You must take care of yourself while you're working.

I'm quite all right.

Good-bye, mon petit.


1 Hymenocallis (Spider Lily).


2 Tantric ceremonies in the temple of Parvati.


3 In fact, it was not X who said this, but one of his acolytes, N., who would later throw a great confusion into X's relations with both Mother and Satprem. The hunt for tantric powers was on.









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