(Mother unwinds a garland of "Patience" from her wrist to give to Sujata.)
Do you want patience?
(Sujata:) Very useful, Mother!
(To Satprem:) What did you feel?
When, Mother?
All the time, mon petit!
Well, I feel you are more and more present, close to me—your help, I mean.
Ah! Yes, that’s true.
But….
The Help is getting more and more accurate, more and more conscious, but… I must say it’s VERY difficult.
Yes.
But it doesn’t matter. Since we have agreed to do it, let’s do it. There’s no point in complaining. But the Power—the Power is stu-pen-dous, only… (Mother points to her body), this is like a mockery: the slightest thing gets inordinately magnified! Even physically. Physically, it’s so strange, I’ve got insect bites on a spot that’s completely covered (Mother touches her leg); for a mosquito to reach it is impossible. And, I don’t know… I am told there are no fleas or bugs here!
There are ants, Mother!
Do ants bite?
Yes, Mother, certain kinds of ants do.
Aaah! So that’s it: there are ants here. Oh, there are ants that bite!
Yes, yes, Mother! I learned that here, I didn’t know myself.
Well, neither did I! (laughter) Ah, that’s what it is! Well, thank you! (laughter)
(silence)
But I would be interested to hear your observations.
I may not be conscious enough. It’s very general. I have a feeling you are very much present, and as soon as I call a little, you are right there, the Help is there.
That, yes, definitely.
When I remember how it was just one or two years ago, naturally I can see, I can realize what a tremendous Power there is now.
Yes, there’s a difference.
Yes, tremendous. It’s tangible…. And, I must add, at times it falls upon me without my even calling it.
Yes, yes.
It really falls upon me like… I don’t know, like a flood of power.
Yes, yes. One must be, one absolutely must be… passively receptive. The slightest activity brings back the old way, I don’t know. For me, now, it’s (gesture, hands open).
When I am like that, time flies by. Time doesn’t exist anymore.1 When the old way comes back, a few minutes seem in-ter-mi-na-ble.
Something is really happening… a new way of time.
The other day, you said that when you go within, it isn’t like before when you withdrew into an inner state to work—you said you don’t go into trance, you are just….
Interiorized.
Interiorized And you added, “As if the physical were becoming double.”
(Mother remains engrossed for a long time then comes out with a smile)
I remember (I don’t know when it was, whether at night or… but it was at a moment when I was quiet, when I was alone), I remember telling you, “You see, THIS is the Supramental.” “This is IT, I know, THIS is the Supramental.” I said that to you.
But when I tried to recall it so as to keep it in the ordinary consciousness (not the “ordinary” consciousness: the intermediary consciousness, like this—gesture of a bridge—the one I have all the time), it… it sort of evaporated. When I am not active, when I am like now, it’s crystal clear: that’s IT.
(Mother plunges in)
That same morning, Mother sat for forty minutes with a glass of fruit juice in her hand. This conversation started one hour late. ↩
***
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