(Mother sees Sujata, who reads her a letter from Satprem.)
December 10, 1972
Mother,
For the past several nights, my body seems to have been physically tortured all night long. I keep tossing and turning in pain. Also I feel as if my stomach is being clawed. I am afraid that if this goes on, I am actually going to fall ill. In the morning when I come out of it, I feel as if my body were full of poison.1
May I become entirely and exclusively your child.
Satprem
For me life is a torture if I am not exclusively turned to the Divine. That’s the only remedy; otherwise, it’s true, life is a torture. Existing becomes intolerable.
The only remedy is to be like this… (gesture, hands turned upward in contemplative silence)… when time ceases to exist.
I now wonder whether I was not, in my own measure, beginning to learn the painful lesson of oneness, which starts with all the ambient ill-will. Now I understand fully well that there must be no more "person" in order to withstand all that. If there is "somebody-who," it is painful—and dangerous. ↩
***
December 9, 1972
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