Loretta reads Mother's Questions and Answers:1956-08-22

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Transcript of:
Mother's Questions and Answers: August 22, 1956
by Loretta, 2017 (1:22:53)
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This week, Mother explains what happens to someone when they go into a state of samadhi. Samadhi has always been spoken of as the highest state: the place you have to get to when you're in meditation. People have always said that samadhi is not only very desirable, but also very difficult to get ‒ and people try for it. Both Mother and Sri Aurobindo were great yogis. They were able to consciously experience all the planes of their own consciousness, and all the planes and worlds of all the consciousness in the creation.

And luckily for us, they carefully explained all that they could, in order to help other people. By naming for us the different levels of our being, and the different functions of all of our parts and sub-parts, they've given us a clear vision to recognize what's going on inside of us ‒ and also given us a vocabulary to speak about it. And most importantly, they've explained why all this happens.

How nice it would have been, if when we were children we could have been taught as much about our inner world as we were taught about our outer world.

In today's class, Mother clears up all the mystery ‒ and all the myth ‒ about the word ‘samadhi’, and the idea of what samadhi is. Then she goes on to explain the difference between being in samadhi and being in trance.

‘Trance’ is a rather mysterious idea for most of us. Mother had a great deal of experience of being in trance. She spoke about it often. Among the other things she said, she said that when you go into trance you are perfectly conscious, and your body is absolutely stilled. You go out of your body, and you can see it from the outside. She said that she could do this even when she was a child, without any training.

In the very early 1900s, she went twice to Tlemcen, to train with a great occultist called Max Théon. He had been a student of Madame Blavatsky, a Russian occultist who is probably the most well-known occultist of our times. Théon was aware of all the planes of consciousness that Mother and Sri Aurobindo speak of. He also knew about the supramental consciousness. But he did not call the different planes of consciousness the same thing that Sri Aurobindo did. He had no word (or words, you could say) to distinguish the higher planes. His teaching was not metaphysical or intellectual; it was not for the whole world the way Mother's teaching is and Sri Aurobindo's teaching is.

Théon's wife, Madame Alma Théon, was also a great occultist. Mother speaks about her during this class, but she does not give her name. Alma Théon is the one that Mother says could consciously go through all the twelve states of being. She told Mother about it when Mother went there; and Mother said that after being told by Madame Théon, she also learned to do it, spontaneously and naturally.

Mother worked with Théon, and was soon able to go consciously through all the states of her being: from one, to the next, and then on to the next ‒ leaving the body which corresponded to each state of being there in its own region, and moving beyond. When Mother did that, and went through the twelve successive states of being, to the region of the Supreme ‒ outside the creation, beyond the creation ‒ she saw the form that must be the next to come after the human form. She said it was like seeing the symbolic representative of the new creation. This was two or three years before she had even heard of Sri Aurobindo (at least on the outer plane, in the outer world.) And it was two or three years before she met him.

So when Sri Aurobindo told Mother about the supramental creation, she told him, “But of course, I know, I saw it up there!”[1]

In this way, Mother became an expert at leaving her body consciously ‒ to go out and do things in other places in her subtle body, while her body (we could say successive bodies, depending on what she did) could still function normally.

In Nirodbaran's book, Twelve Years with Sri Aurobindo, he's devoted one chapter to telling us what it was like to be near the Mother every day, while he was working in Sri Aurobindo's room. This is what he wrote about Mother's trance:

“There was a period when the Mother was in a state of almost continuous trance. It was a very trying phase, indeed. She would enter Sri Aurobindo's room with a somnolent walk and go back swaying from side to side leaving us in fear and wonder about the delicate balancing. Sri Aurobindo would watch her intently till she was out of sight, but it was a matter of surprise how she maintained her precarious balance. Sometimes in the midst of doing his hair, her hand would stop moving at any stage; either the comb remained still, or the ribbon tied to his plaits got loose. While serving meals too, the spoon would stand still or the knife would not cut and Sri Aurobindo had to, by fictitious coughs or sounds, draw her out. Fifteen minutes' work thus took double the time and then she would hasten in order to make up for it. Such trance moods were more particularly manifest at night during the collective meditation below, and in that condition she would come to Sri Aurobindo's room with a heap of letters, reports, account-books, etc., to read, sign or answer during Sri Aurobindo's walking time. But her pious intention would come to nothing, for no sooner did she begin than the trance over-took her. Sri Aurobindo took a few extra rounds and sat in his chair watching the Mother while she with the book open, pen in hand, had travelled into another world from whose bourne it was perhaps difficult to return. He would watch her with an indulgent smile and try all devices to bring her down to earth. We would stand by, favoured spectators of the delect-able scene. When at last the Mother did wake up, Sri Aurobindo would say with a smile, “We haven't made much progress!” She would then take a firm resolve, and finish all work in a dash or go back if the trance was too heavy. [...] During the time of meditation too, her condition was most extraordinary. Someone coming for pranam would remain standing before her trance-mood for fifteen to thirty minutes, another had her hand on his bowed head for a pretty long time; all was unpredictable. [...]

      After the meditation, the last lap of her service to Sri Aurobindo was to be done. Here too when the trance was upon her we were kept waiting till the early hours of the morning. [...]       Then going back to her room, she would start the ‘flower work’ in this state of trance. We know that she is very fond of flowers, particularly roses, both for their own sake and for their power to transmit her force. Hundreds of roses daily came to her as an offering from our gardens. She would spread all of them on trays, pick and choose them according to size, colour, etc., trim and arrange them in different vases, aided by a sadhika. This would continue till the early hours of the morning when she would retire for a short nap. Once I had a long talk with her concerning the affairs of the Dispensary during this time. I wondered how in such a trance-condition her hands moved correctly, used the scissors, cut and trimmed the flowers and at the same time she went on answering the various problems I put before her. Much later I found the solution and that also in an embarrassing manner. She had come to do Sri Aurobindo's hair and as usual was overtaken by trance. The eyes were half closed, the body swayed but the hands were doing their work. Two of us who were then on duty began to joke and play with each other silently, assuming that she could not notice our innocent pranks. But as she was leaving the room, she said to us, “I can see everything. I have eyes at the back of my head.” Imagine our discomfiture! We had heard that she was the greatest occultist known to Théon, her teacher in occultism. We had no small amount of personal experience in support of it. Still, this small incident from its manner and occasion left us flabbergasted. She must have had her inner senses functioning when the outer ones were in suspension or had ceased their work.”[2]

In this book, Twelve Years with Sri Aurobindo, Nirodbaran also writes about how Mother and Sri Aurobindo worked to prevent Hitler from winning the Second World War. For some of their work, they went to Europe in subtle bodies; and there have been books written by people who actually saw them there during the war. Perhaps this was the time when Mother was in trance so much ‒ perhaps it was during the war years.

Mother also spoke about going out to see people in the Ashram in her subtle body, when she rested between 2:00 and 4:00 in the morning. Many people still there remember it; I also remember the Mother coming to see me at 2:00 a.m., right after I just came to Auroville. And there are people today who say that they see Sri Aurobindo and that they see Mother.

Mother once said that she would go into trance so she could immediately go and help someone who had just called to her. This was during those earlier years. In much later years, she became so universalized that she did not have to go out of her body. She spoke about being in everyone, and everyone being in her; and she spoke about receiving thoughts ‒ not even letters, nothing, just thoughts ‒ and doing things, and then people coming and telling her what she had done.

In this class, after speaking about trance, Mother also tells us how we can go through very powerful spiritual experiences without losing our inner balance. It's very good advice; it puts things into proportion. Because somehow, there are these ideas floating around that we should be absolutely struck by these experiences, and overtaken, and changed, and able to handle them; and in the weekly broadcast on Savitri, we've heard the Divine Mother tell Aswapati that “Man is too weak to bear the Infinite’s weight.”[3] She says, “Truth born too soon might break the imperfect earth.”[4] But still, the Divine Mother does consent to incarnate here as Savitri, and to bring the truth.

And even though Mother is telling how to deal with it, there's an entry in Mother's Agenda on February 26th, 1964 ‒ eight years after she brought the first descent of the new supramental consciousness on earth, and basically almost eight years after this class. Mother tells Satprem that a tremendous power of Truth-Force is needed to transform all that is here. And she says:

“And I notice that, all around, those nearer to the center of descent are very shaken up ‒ very. I see very few bodies around me capable of bearing it.”[5]

But then, she continues by explaining that if that's how it is, necessarily the descent is so filtered and diminished that her own work goes more slowly. So in fact, the change does depend on what is capable of actually receiving it.

We have the original recording of Mother's class. It will play automatically after the English translation.

Here we are in Mother's class; it's the 22nd of August, 1956. Mother has finished reading. And she asks a child, “Do you have a question to ask?” We hear the voice of a girl, and she says...

22 August 1956[6]

Sweet Mother, what does Sri Aurobindo call “the heaven of the liberated mind”?

The heaven of the liberated mind? It is a metaphorical phrase. When the mind is liberated, it rises to celestial heights. These higher regions of the mind Sri Aurobindo compares with the sky above the earth; they are celestial compared with the ordinary mind. [That's what it means ‒ it's an image.]


Is that all?


[I have a packet of questions which keeps growing. A grand hope which never arrives at its goal!]

[Somebody has asked me a question related to a subject which I have been speaking about for quite a long time.] Somebody has asked me a question about trance — what in India is called Samadhi, that is to say, when one passes or enters into a state of which no conscious memory remains when one wakes up:

“Is the state of trance or Samadhi a sign of progress?”

In ancient times it was considered a very high condition. It was even thought to be the sign of a great realisation, and people who wanted to do yoga or sadhana always tried to enter into a state of this kind. All sorts of marvellous things have been said about this state — you may say all you like about it, since, precisely, you don’t remember anything! And those who have entered it are unable to say what happened to them. So, one can say anything one likes.

I could incidentally tell you that in all kinds of so-called spiritual literature I had always read marvellous things about this state of trance or Samadhi, and it so happened that I had never experienced it. So I did not know whether this was a sign of inferiority. And when I came here, one of my first questions to Sri Aurobindo was: “What do you think of Samadhi, that state of trance one does not remember? One enters into a condition which seems blissful, but when one comes out of it, one does not know at all what has happened.” Then he looked at me, saw what I meant and told me, “It is unconsciousness.” I asked him for an explanation, I said, “What?” He told me, “Yes, you enter into what is called Samadhi when you go out of your conscious being and enter a part of your being which is completely unconscious, or rather a domain where you have no corresponding consciousness — you go beyond the field of your consciousness and enter a region where you are no longer conscious. You are in the impersonal state, that is to say, a state in which you are unconscious; and that is why, naturally, you remember nothing, because you were not conscious of anything.”

[(They have a footnote here. When this talk was published in 1962 ‒ and Mother must have gone through everything before it was published ‒ Mother added this:)
“There are also some people who enter domains where they are conscious, but between this conscious state and their normal waking consciousness there is a gap: their personality does not exist between the waking state and this deeper state; so, during the passage they forget. They cannot bring the consciousness they had there back into the consciousness here, for there is a gap between the two. There is even an occult discipline for constructing intermediary fields in order to be able to recall things.”]

So this reassured me and I said, “Well, this has never happened to me.” He replied, “Nor to me!” (Laughter)

And since then, when people speak to me about Samadhi, I tell them, “Well, try to develop your inner individuality and you will be able to enter these very regions in full consciousness and have the joy of communion with the highest regions, but without losing all consciousness and returning with a zero instead of an experience.”

So that is my reply to the person who has asked if Samadhi or trance is a sign of progress. The sign of progress is when there is no longer any unconsciousness, when one can go up into the same regions without entering into trance.

But there is a confusion in the words.

When you leave a part of your being — for example, when you enter quite consciously the vital world — your body can enter into a trance, but this is not samadhi. It is rather what might be called a lethargic or cataleptic state. When extreme, it is a cataleptic state because the part of the being which animates the body has gone out of it, so the body is half dead; that is, its life is so far diminished and its functions almost suspended: the heart slows down and can hardly be felt and the breathing is hardly perceptible. This is the real trance. But you, during all this time, you are fully conscious in the vital world. And even, with a certain discipline which, moreover, is neither easy nor without danger, you may so contrive that the minimum of force you leave in your body allows it to be independently conscious. With training — as I said, it is not easy — quite a methodical training, one can manage to make the body keep its autonomy of movement, even when one is almost totally exteriorised. And this is how in an almost complete state of trance, one can speak and relate what the exteriorised part of the being is seeing and doing.... For that, one must be fairly advanced on the path.

There are spontaneous and involuntary instances of a state which is not quite the same as this, but very similar: they are states of somnambulism, that is to say, when you are fast asleep and the vital has gone out of your body, the body automatically obeys the will and action of the part which has gone out, the vital part. Only, as this is not the effect of a willed action and a regulated, progressive education, this state is not desirable, for it may produce disorders in the being. But it is an illustration of what I have just said, of a body which while three-quarters asleep can obey the part of the being which has gone out and is itself fully awake and quite conscious. This is the real trance.

I have already told you several times, I think, that when one undergoes this occult discipline, one is able to leave one’s physical body, go out in the vital and move about quite consciously, acting quite consciously in this vital world; then to leave one’s vital being asleep and go out mentally, acting and living in the mental world quite consciously and with similar relations — for the mental world is in relation with the mental being, as the physical world is in relation with the physical being — and so on, progressively and by a regular discipline. I knew a woman who had been trained in this way, who had quite remarkable personal faculties, who was conscious in all her states of being, and she used to be able to go out twelve times from her body, that is to say, from twelve consecutive bodies, until she reached the summit of the individual consciousness, which could be called the threshold of the Formless. She remembered everything and recounted everything in detail. She was an Englishwoman; I even translated from English a book in which there was a description of all she saw and did in these domains.

It is obviously the sign of a great mastery of one’s being, and the sign of having reached a high degree of conscious development. But it is almost the opposite of the other experience of going out of one’s consciousness to enter a state in which one is no longer conscious [(and Mother is referring to the state of samadhi, which she had just spoken about)]; it is, so to say, the opposite.

[There, I think that is all of that which is interesting. And there are other questions.]


That brings me to something which is both a recommendation and an advice.

We have read in The Synthesis of Yoga, and also recently translated from The Life Divine, some passages in which Sri Aurobindo gives details, explanations and advice to those who do sadhana and try to have experiences that at times are too strong for their state of consciousness — which brings rather unfortunate results. On this subject I made a remark, and I have been asked to explain my remark. I said:

“One must always be greater than one’s experience.”

What I meant is this:

Whatever may be the nature, the strength and wonder of an experience, you must not be dominated by it to such an extent that it governs your entire being and you lose your balance and your contact with a reasonable and calm attitude. That is to say, when you enter in some way into contact with a force or consciousness which surpasses yours, instead of being entirely dominated by this consciousness or force, you must always be able to remind yourself that it is only one experience among thousands and thousands of others, and that, consequently, its nature is not absolute, it is relative. No matter how beautiful it may be, you can and ought to have better ones: however exceptional it may be, there are others still more marvellous; and however high it may be, you can always rise still higher in future. So, instead of losing one’s head one places the experience in the chain of development and keeps a healthy physical balance so as not to lose the sense of relativity with ordinary life. In this way, there is no risk.

The means?... One who knows how to do this will always find it very easy, but for one who doesn’t know it is perhaps a little... a little troublesome.

There is a means.

It is never to lose the idea of the total self-giving to the Grace which is the expression of the Supreme. When one gives oneself, when one surrenders, entrusts oneself entirely to That which is above, beyond all creation, and when, instead of seeking any personal advantage from the experience, one makes an offering of it to the divine Grace and knows that it is from This that the experience comes and that it is to This that the result of the experience must be given back, then one is quite safe.

In other words: no ambition, no vanity, no pride. A sincere self-giving, a sincere humility, and one is sheltered from all danger. There you are, this is what I call being greater than one’s experience.

Now, does anyone have a question? [No?]


[Nothing? No one has a question?]

(A swarm of insects appears.) That brings us down from the heights! [(Papers rustling, as though Mother is swatting at the insects.)] (Laughing)

I think it would be very wise to put out the light and get rid of the insects.... You won’t go to sleep, will you?

[(Sound of swatting)] There is something I was asked some time ago to which I have not yet replied. It is this. I have written somewhere:

“The absolute of every being is its unique relation with the Divine and its unique manner of expressing the Divine in the manifestation.”

This is what is called here in India the truth of the being or the law of the being, the dharma of the being: the centre and the cause of the individuality.

Everyone carries his truth within himself, a truth which is unique, which is altogether his own and which he must express in his life. Now what is this truth? This is the question I have been asked:

“What is this truth of the being, and how is it expressed externally in physical life?”

It is expressed in this way: each individual being has a direct and unique relation with the Supreme, the Origin, That which is beyond all creation. It is this unique relation which must be expressed in one’s life, through a unique mode of being in relation with the Divine. Therefore, each one is directly and exclusively in relation with the Divine — the relation one has with the Divine is unique and exclusive; so that you receive from the Divine, when you are in a receptive state, the totality of the relation it is possible for you to have, and this is neither a sharing nor a part nor a repetition, but exclusively and uniquely the relation which each one can have with the Divine. So, from the psychological point of view, one is all alone in having this direct relation with the Divine.

[(A sentence which was added in 1962, when this was published:)]

One is all alone with the Supreme.

The relation one has with Him will never have an equal, will never be exactly the same as another’s. No two are the same and therefore nothing can be taken away from you to be given to another, nothing can be withdrawn from you to be given to another. And if this relation disappeared from the creation, it would really disappear — which is impossible.

And this means that if one lives in the truth of one’s being, one is an indispensable part of the creation. Naturally, I don’t mean if one lives what one believes one should be, I am saying if one lives the truth of one’s being; if, by a development, one is able to enter into contact with the truth of one’s being, one is immediately in a unique and exclusive relation with the Divine, which hasn’t its equal.

There, now.

And naturally, because it is the truth of your being, that is what you should express in your life.

[I think we have provided a light for the insects to settle down in.]

Le 22 août 1956[7]

Douce Mère, qu’est‑ce que Sri Aurobindo appelle « le ciel du mental libéré » ?

Le ciel du mental libéré ? C’est une comparaison imagée. Quand le mental est libéré, il monte à des hauteurs qui sont célestes. Ce sont des régions supérieures du mental que Sri Aurobindo compare au ciel au-dessus de la terre ; elles sont célestes par rapport au mental ordinaire.

C’est tout ?


Quelqu’un m’a posé une question au sujet de la transe (ce que dans l’Inde on appelle le samâdhi), c’est-à-dire quand on passe ou qu’on entre dans un état dont il ne reste aucun souvenir conscient quand on se réveille :

« L’état de transe ou de samâdhi est-il un signe de progrès ? »

Dans l’ancien temps, c’était considéré comme une condition très supérieure. On pensait même que c’était le signe d’une grande réalisation, et les gens qui voulaient faire le yoga ou la sâdhanâ essayaient toujours d’entrer dans un état comme celuilà. On a dit toutes sortes de choses merveilleuses de cet état-là — on peut en dire tout ce que l’on veut, puisque justement on ne se souvient pas ! et que les gens qui y sont entrés sont incapables de dire ce qui leur est arrivé. Alors, on peut dire tout ce que l’on veut.

Je pourrais incidemment vous dire que, dans toutes sortes de littératures soi-disant spirituelles, j’avais toujours lu des choses merveilleuses sur cet état de transe ou de samâdhi, et il se trouvait que je ne l’avais jamais eu. Alors, je ne savais pas si c’était un signe d’infériorité. Et quand je suis arrivée ici, une de mes premières questions à Sri Aurobindo a été : « Que pensezvous du samâdhi, de cet état de transe dont on ne se souvient pas ? On entre dans une condition qui paraît être béatifique, mais quand on en sort, on ne sait pas du tout ce qui est arrivé. » Alors il m’a regardée, il a vu ce que je voulais dire et il m’a dit : « C’est de l’inconscience. » Je lui ai demandé une explication, je lui ai dit : « Quoi ! » Il m’a dit : « Oui, vous entrez dans ce que l’on appelle samâdhi quand vous sortez de votre être conscient et que vous entrez dans une partie de votre être qui est complètement inconsciente, ou plutôt dans un domaine où vous n’avez aucune conscience correspondante — vous dépassez le champ de votre conscience et vous entrez dans une région où vous n’avez plus de conscience. Vous êtes dans l’état impersonnel, c’est-à-dire un état où vous êtes inconscient ; et c’est pour cela que, naturellement, vous ne vous souvenez de rien parce que vous n’avez été conscient de rien . » Alors, cela m’a rassurée et je lui ai dit : « Eh bien, voilà, cela ne m’est jamais arrivé. » Il m’a répondu : « À moi non plus ! » (rires)

Et depuis ce moment-là, quand les gens me parlent de samâdhi, je leur dis : « Bien, tâchez de développer votre individualité intérieure, et vous pourrez entrer dans ces mêmes régions en pleine conscience, et avoir la joie de la communion avec les régions les plus hautes, sans pour cela perdre toute conscience et revenir avec un zéro au lieu d’une expérience. »

Alors c’est ma réponse à celui qui demande si le samâdhi ou la transe est un signe de progrès. Le signe du progrès, c’est quand il n’y a plus d’inconscience, quand on peut monter dans les mêmes régions sans entrer en transe.

Mais il y a une confusion dans les mots.

Quand vous quittez une partie de votre être (par exemple, quand vous entrez tout à fait consciemment dans le monde vital), votre corps peut, lui, entrer en transe, mais ce n’est pas un samâdhi. C’est plutôt ce qu’on appelle un état léthargique ou cataleptique. Quand c’est à son maximum, c’est un état cataleptique, parce que la partie de l’être qui anime le corps en est sortie, alors le corps est à moitié mort ; c’est-à-dire que sa vie est diminuée d’autant et que ses fonctions sont presque abolies : le coeur se ralentit et devient à peine sensible et la respiration est à peine perceptible. C’est cela, la vraie transe. Mais vous, pendant ce temps-là, vous êtes pleinement conscient dans le monde vital. Et même, avec une discipline, qui n’est d’ailleurs ni facile ni sans danger, vous pouvez faire que le minimum de forces que vous laissez dans votre corps lui permette d’être indépendamment conscient. Avec un dressage (comme je dis, ce n’est pas facile), un dressage tout à fait méthodique, on peut faire que le corps garde son autonomie de mouvement, même quand on est presque totalement extériorisé. Et c’est ainsi que, dans un état de transe presque totale, on peut parler et raconter ce que la partie de l’être qui s’est extériorisée voit et fait... Pour cela, il faut être assez avancé sur le chemin.

Il y a des exemples spontanés et pas voulus d’un état qui n’est pas tout à fait celui-là, mais qui est analogue : ce sont les états de somnambulisme, c’est-à-dire quand vous êtes profondément endormi, sorti vitalement de votre corps, et que le corps obéit d’une façon automatique à la volonté et à l’action de la partie qui est sortie, la partie vitale. Seulement, comme ce n’est pas l’effet d’une action voulue et d’une éducation réglée, progressive, cet état-là n’est pas désirable, parce qu’il peut produire des désordres dans l’être. Mais c’est une illustration de ce que je viens de dire, d’un corps qui peut, tout en étant aux trois quarts endormi, obéir à la partie de l’être qui est sortie et qui, elle, est pleinement éveillée et tout à fait consciente. Cela, c’est la vraie transe.

Je vous ai déjà dit plusieurs fois, je crois, que quand on se soumet à cette discipline occulte on peut arriver à laisser son corps physique, à sortir vitalement et à bouger tout à fait consciemment, à agir tout à fait consciemment dans le monde vital ; puis à laisser son être vital endormi et à en sortir mentalement, à agir et à vivre dans le monde mental d’une façon tout à fait consciente et avec des relations analogues (parce que le monde mental est en relation avec l’être mental, comme le monde physique est en relation avec l’être physique), et ainsi de suite, progressivement et par une discipline régulière. J’ai connu une femme qui avait été ainsi dressée, qui avait des facultés personnelles tout à fait remarquables, qui était consciente dans tous ses états d’être et elle parvenait à sortir douze fois de son corps, c’est-à-dire de douze corps consécutifs, jusqu’à ce qu’elle arrive au sommet de la conscience individuelle, ce que l’on pourrait appeler le seuil du Sans-Forme. Elle se souvenait de tout et elle racontait tout, en détail. C’était une Anglaise ; j’ai même traduit de l’anglais un livre où il y avait la description de tout ce qu’elle voyait et faisait dans tous ces domaines.

C’est évidemment le signe d’une grande maîtrise de son être, et le signe qu’on est arrivé à un grand degré de développement conscient. Mais c’est presque l’opposé de l’autre expérience, qui consiste à sortir de sa conscience pour entrer dans un état où l’on n’est plus conscient ; c’est pour ainsi dire l’opposé.


Ceci m’amène à quelque chose qui est une recommandation et un conseil.

Nous avons lu dans La Synthèse des Yogas, et aussi traduit ces temps derniers dans La Vie Divine, des passages où Sri Aurobindo donne des détails, des explications et des conseils à ceux qui font la sâdhanâ et qui essayent d’avoir des expériences qui parfois sont des expériences trop fortes pour leur état de conscience, ce qui a des résultats assez fâcheux. À ce sujet, j’ai fait une réflexion, et on m’a demandé de vous expliquer ma réflexion. J’ai dit :

« Il faut toujours être plus grand que son expérience. »

Ce que je voulais dire, c’est ceci :

Quels que soient la nature, la puissance et l’émerveillement d’une expérience, il ne faut pas être dominé par elle au point qu’elle gouverne votre être tout entier et que vous perdiez l’équilibre et le contact avec une attitude raisonnable et tranquille. C’est-à-dire que lorsque vous entrez d’une façon quelconque en rapport avec une force ou une conscience qui dépasse la vôtre, au lieu d’être entièrement dominé par cette conscience ou cette force, il faut que vous puissiez vous souvenir toujours que ce n’est qu’une expérience parmi des milliers et des milliers d’autres et que, par conséquent, elle n’a pas un caractère absolu, qu’elle est relative. Si belle qu’elle soit, vous pouvez et vous devez en avoir de meilleures ; si exceptionnelle qu’elle soit, il y en a d’autres qui sont encore plus merveilleuses ; et si haute qu’elle soit, vous pouvez toujours monter plus haut encore dans l’avenir. Alors, au lieu de perdre la tête, on situe l’expérience dans la chaîne du développement et on garde un équilibre physique sain, afin de ne pas perdre le sens de la relativité avec la vie ordinaire. Comme cela on ne risque rien.

Le moyen ?... Celui qui sait faire cela le trouvera toujours très facile, mais pour celui qui ne le sait pas, c’est peut-être un petit peu... un petit peu embarrassant.

Il y a un moyen.

C’est de ne jamais perdre la notion du don total de soi à la Grâce, qui est l’expression du Suprême. Quand on se donne, qu’on s’abandonne, qu’on s’en remet entièrement à Ce qui est au-dessus, au-delà de toute création, et qu’au lieu de rechercher un avantage personnel à l’expérience on en fait l’offrande à la Grâce divine et on sait que c’est d’Elle que vient l’expérience et que c’est à Elle que doit être redonné le résultat de cette expérience, alors on est en sécurité.

En d’autres mots : pas d’ambition, pas de vanité, pas d’orgueil. Un sincère don de soi, une sincère humilité, et on est à l’abri de tout danger. Voilà, c’est cela que j’appelle être plus grand que son expérience.

Maintenant, est‑ce que quelqu’un a une question?


(Il y a une nuée d’insectes) Cela nous fait descendre des hauteurs! (riant) Je crois qu’il serait très sage d’éteindre la lumière et de se débarrasser des insectes... Vous n’allez pas vous endormir, non ?

Il y a une chose que l’on m’a demandée il y a quelque temps, à laquelle je n’ai pas encore répondu, c’est celle-ci. J’ai écrit quelque part :

« L’absolu de chaque être est sa relation unique avec le Divin et son mode unique d’exprimer le Divin dans la manifestation. »

C’est ce qu’on appelle ici, dans l’Inde, la vérité de l’être, ou la loi de l’être, le dharma de l’être : ce qui est le centre et la cause de l’individualité.

Chacun porte sa vérité en soi-même, qui est une vérité unique, qui lui appartient en propre et qu’il doit exprimer dans sa vie. Alors quelle est cette vérité ? On m’a posé cette question :

« Quelle est cette vérité de l’être, et comment se traduitelle extérieurement dans la vie physique ? »

Elle se traduit comme ceci : chaque individualité a une relation directe et unique avec le Suprême, l’Origine, Ce qui est au-delà de toute création. C’est cette relation unique qui doit s’exprimer dans sa vie, par un mode unique d’être en relation avec le Divin. Par conséquent, chacun est directement, et exclusivement, en relation avec le Divin — la relation que l’on a avec le Divin est unique et exclusive. Ce qui fait que vous recevez du Divin, quand vous êtes en état de le recevoir, la totalité de la relation qu’il vous est possible d’avoir, et que ce n’est ni un partage, ni une partie, ni une répétition, mais que c’est exclusivement et uniquement la relation que chacun peut avoir avec le Divin. Donc, au point de vue psychologique, on est tout seul à avoir cette relation directe avec le Divin.

On est tout seul avec le Suprême .

La relation que l’on a avec Lui n’aura jamais de second, d’identique. Il n’y en a pas deux pareilles, et par conséquent rien ne peut vous être pris pour être donné à un autre, rien ne peut vous être retiré qui soit donné à un autre. Et si cette relation disparaissait de la création, elle disparaîtrait réellement — ce qui est impossible.

Ce qui fait que, si l’on vit dans la vérité de son être, on est une partie indispensable de la création. Naturellement, je ne veux pas dire si l’on vit ce que l’on croit que l’on doit être, je dis si l’on vit la vérité de son être, si, par développement, on arrive à entrer en contact avec la vérité de son être, on est immédiatement dans une relation unique et exclusive avec le Divin, qui n’a pas sa semblable.


Et naturellement, étant la vérité de votre être, c’est cela qu’il faut exprimer dans votre vie.

  1. Agenda, 12 October 1966
  2. Nirodbaran, Twelve Years with Sri Aurobindo, Ch.4: “The Divine Mother”
  3. Savitri, p.335, “The Vision and the Boon”
  4. Ibid.
  5. Agenda, 26 February 1964
  6. Questions and Answers 1956, p.274
  7. Entretiens 1956, p.306