The last turning point in Mother’s yoga, from which she emerges with a cry: “I walked a long, long time. I was nothing but a cry, all the time, as if everything were being torn from me. It was the whole problem of the world.”
This Agenda is increasingly strewn with heartrending little cries. It was not enough to have found the secret for herself; others too had to understand, her own disciples, those dominions shut in their egoistic power.
“They don’t have faith! ‘She’s old, she’s old’: an atmosphere of resistance to the change; ‘it’s impossible, impossible’ – from every side… Not a single minute should be wasted; I am in a hurry… The reign of the Divine must, oh, must come… If the entire Russian block turned to the right side, that would be an enormous help! The victory is certain, but I don’t know which path will be followed to reach it… We should cling, cling so tightly to the Truth… They no longer listen to me.”
She is 93 years old. She gropes her way in the unknown. “I see better with eyes closed than with eyes open, and it’s physical vision, absolutely physical, but a physical that seems fuller. The consciousness of the cells is what must change; everything else will follow naturally! I have the feeling I am on my way to discovering the illusion that must be destroyed so that physical life may be uninterrupted: that death is the result of a distortion of consciousness.”
Will she be heard? Will she be allowed to continue? “Only violent death could stop the transformation. Otherwise the body knows that the work will go on and on…” And then this cry: “There will be a miracle! But what, I don’t know.”