There are some strange things. When I went to Japan, I met a man there who was a striking reproduction of my father the first moment, I wondered if I was dreaming. I think my father was already dead, but I am not sure, I dont remember exactly (my father died while I was in Japan, thats all I know). But he was the same age as my father, which means they were born together, at the same time. My father was born in Turkey, while this one was born in Japan but anyway, it WAS my father! And this man took to me with a paternal passion, it was extraordinary! He wanted to see me all the time, he showered me with gifts. And we could hardly talk to each other, as he knew very little English. But what a resemblance! As if one were the exact replica of the other: same size, same features, same color (he was exceptionally white for a Japanese, and my father wasnt white as northern people are: he was white as people from the Middle East are, just like me).
It always surprised me. You know, people often say, Oh, they look like each other, but thats not it! He was like an exact replica.
But inwardly too, occultly too?
There was a kind of affinity.
He was an inventive manmy father also had a very inventive imagination. But my father was a first-rate mathematician, while I dont know about this man. He had invented a meditating machine! It was really very interesting, I even brought it back; but it worked with batteries and I couldnt replace them, so its useless now. It must still be around somewhere. But its a machine like the prayer wheel, something of that sort, but it was a meditating machine! It was very interesting. There are some strange things.
***
(Regarding an Italian or Spanish reader of The Adventure of Consciousness:)
The best thing is for them to translate for themselves. Thats the best way of reading; when you really want to understand a book, you should translate it.
***
(Mother again takes up the filing of her loose notes and stumbles on two slips of paper that seem to be two rather close versions of the same experience. The first version is as follows:)
Suffocated by the shallowness of the human nature we aspire to the knowledge that truly knows, the power that truly can, the love that truly loves.
April 24, 1964
The same experience came back to me later; it isnt another version or another way of saying it, its the experience that suddenly came back so acutely, so intensely (Mother reads her note):
Human beings are so powerless, so imperfect, so incomplete!
The incomplete was the strongest of the threeso incomplete!
Only the all-powerful rule of Truth and Love upon earth can make life tolerable.
Its like a continuation but it didnt come as a continuation: its the experience that came back. As if something in the consciousness of THE EARTH felt an urgent and irrevocable need for this change for the change, for the new creation. As if the consciousness of the earth The aspiration grows so intense, you know, so acute, so constant, so concentratedunder pressure that something has to burst.
So these are poor words. The experience translates itself into words at a given moment: first, there is the intensity of the experience, then spontaneouslyspontaneouslyit takes the form of words, so I note them down. But the words are thin and flat, theyre poor. But its like when you are about to come into contact with your psychic being and you feel the egos obstruction; there comes a point when you push and push to get through, its so acute that you feel as if everything is going to burst. And in fact something does burst.
Its the same thing for the earth, the same experience.
Its the consciousness of THE EARTH pushing away like that, absolutely disgusted with what is there, and feeling the need for for THE THING to come.
***
Soon afterwards, Mother files another note:
You ask for the story of their death but some deaths have no story. It is the tranquil transition from one state of consciousness to another, peacefully entering a silent wait for another period of activity.
There are some things, like this one, that I wrote but never sent. I remember, there were people who had bombarded me with letters; I wrote this immediately, and then it stayed.
***
Another slip of paper:
I do not have faith in ceremonies and rites.
***
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