(Mother caresses the flowers Sujata has just brought her.)
I still have my cold….
(Satprem:) But you look better, Mother.
Yes. It isn’t really a “cold.”
Yes, I am sure…. I felt there was a cyclone… a real cyclone within.
(Mother laughs) There WAS a cyclone within.
(silence)
Obviously, everything is designed so that the only… (I can’t find the word in French) reliance, the only support is in the Divine. But I am not told what the “Divine” is—how do you like that!… Everything else is collapsing, except the… the… the what? The Divine… something—what?…
One feels it. It can’t be described or defined in any way—absolutely not.
(silence)
It’s like an attempt to make you feel there isn’t any difference between life and death, There. That it is something else than life or death—neither what we call death, nor what we call life—it is… something.
And that… is Divine.
Or rather it is our next step towards the Divine.
***
December 6, 1972
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