From Paulette email@example.com to "Tusar N. Mohapatra" firstname.lastname@example.org date 4 November 2010 21:14 subject Can you post my reply to Sunil?
Can you post my reply to Sunil? Thanks. Paulette
Nobody will ever manipulate me. I am on my own, belong to no clan, and follow exclusively my consciousness.
Didn’t the Mother say that, ultimately, it is the soul who chooses the moment of death? The father of J. K. K. predicted the day and time of his death; that day he was alright yet started bidding farewell to his dear ones, and when the moment he had foreseen came, he died. Having happily entertained some friends until one hour before, her husband (Rishabhchand’s brother) passed away on his birthday, which was a darshan day and a full moon day. I had seen Mohini the previous evening, down in the kitchen; we three ladies were having a wonderful time. But it is an uncontestable fact that Mohini chose to die, with hundreds of ashramites queuing in the street to pay their last respects, the day of the second hearing. Probably at the same time – but I can only guess this: everything is top secret, most ashramites are not even informed that there is such a court case.
It is a tremendous warning, for all of us. This horror must come to an end. All of you, stop insulting each other, stop tearing each other to pieces! Aren’t you ashamed, whatever camp you belong to, using such language, writing such things for the past two years – and in the internet, which anyone can access?
What have you understood of Integral Yoga? Don’t you know that first of all we have to look at our own shadow and offer it to the Mother for transformation – instead of projecting our own weaknesses and dark areas upon others? Don’t you know that the more one is convinced to be the pure, immaculate knight championing against a herd of devils, the more threatening his shadow grows? Beware when non-realized people start teaching others! Even worst, administering ‘spiritual’ advices! Ordinary people, convinced that God speaks through them? Having visions of angels, devils and similar at the samadhi, in dreams or meditations – he, absolutely white; his foe, absolutely black? These are most dangerous delusions, which in psychology have a term: inflation. Inflation can lead very far, straight into the precipice.
It seems nowadays that any X and Z arrogates himself the right to instruct the mob about his voices, visions and wisdom, offering leadership – without any sense of the ridicule. When these games are enacted with Integral Yoga, triggering the individual and the collective subconscient, it is like putting a prairie on fire. Some people may drop dead, others wish to die or withdraw completely. And there is insanity – which in yoga is called possession. How can sadhaks survive, breathing such atmosphere, fed with poison for the past two years? The early sadhaks in particular, those who lived and grew with the Mother, some of them when Sri Aurobindo was still in the body: what are you doing to them? As for eventual new ones, who will ever want to come and live at the Sri Aurobindo Ashram, with all that you people are spewing in the internet? Even Auroville is affected. People do ask questions.
Yesterday I went to pick up my cycle at Mohini’s place, a small compound paved with cement, opposite to the Ganesh temple, where a few other female ashramites live. In Mohini’s pots there were some small flowers: three ‘mental prayers’, two tiny ‘Sri Aurobindo’s compassion’… I plucked them for Kireet. Enthusiastic and generous, Mohini was like a child, as some Indian ashramites are: naked children into the Mother’s hands. An innate quality they only have, it is part and parcel of their nature. When Westerners try to imitate it fakery steps in and turns it into bigotry. I know one exception only: Richard Pearson. But the same fakery transpires also in those Indians pretending to act the part without living it. Only the sadhaks who rely completely on the psychic being manifest that nature; this goes hand in hand with an attitude of candor and simplicity, of humbleness, of lovingness, of being aware that all are children of the Mother: the fallen angel too, and the asura. Then there is only love, compassion. And laughter. This makes of such people a special class, different from all others; nor can people play the game, pretending to be what so blatantly they are not. A prominent aspect of the Indian soul fast disappearing, it still survives as a striking feature of certain old sadhaks raised by the Mother. Those who belong to Nolini’s “paradise on earth”, an inner Eldorado to which one belongs by birth, one birth after the other, and which is for a few selected ones, the “Sri Aurobindo’s [and the Mother’s] circle”.
I felt having entered a temple, silence reigned all over that sunny place. I felt at the presence of something vast, as if the Mohini I had known all those years, child-like, was but an actor playing a part and only now I could see the real Mohini, grand, majestic, incommensurable. The cycle of nature, for millennia, death and rebirth… The Soul only is real. And it was so powerful, and so tangible, that I could have remained there for hours. I forced myself to go around but it was as if still I were there, in that sancta sanctorum. I had pierced the secret of Life, revealed by Death: there is no Death, there is only the Soul. There is no ‘Mohini’, there has never been any; there is only the Mother or, rather, what we call the Mother: the One Principle, immemorial, eternal, since ever and forever. I cycled, walked, had a coffee, moved around with people, transfixed by that experience lasting hours. Sometimes with tears in my eyes, tears of joy, tears of gratitude, for being shown the truth of Death: there is no Death. Jivatman! Paulette