Friday, July 27, 2007

These lines were written between November 2006 and February 2007, therefore well before the death of Satprem

The end of the illusion, or the danger of intermediaries by koantum on Thu 26 Jul 2007 07:23 AM PDT Profile Permanent Link A document as important as it is moving. It would be very useful for many if someone would translate this from the French original. Luc was Satprem's closest associate for many years (besides Sujata, of course).
The question that any judicious person can be posed with leaving the account of all this eagerness to me évincer is to include/understand what could cause such an obstinacy, such a vindication on behalf of Satprem. After all, there is no smoke without fire. Would it have spent all this time and this energy, even by anybody interposed, to draw aside complete innocent? Wasn't it necessary that something is very corrupted (and very blind man) in me to justify such a determination?
However it is precisely the question which obsessed me during months.
If somebody could see clearly in the things and the beings, it was to be him. All its past with Mère pled in this direction - these long years of training where, day after day, it insufflated in him another comprehension of the things and another approach of the life. Could somebody as him so heavily be mistaken? To pass beside the simplest obviousness?
Now that it is allowed to me to re-examine these events with more calms and of retreat, I believe to better include/understand, and I can try to formulate what could lead to such ends of blindness. During the rather considerable sum of joint work, it had to occur, without the knowledge even of the participants, certain “burs”, certain awkwardnesses or carelessnesses of behavior, as it can arrive from there the every day when one builds something jointly. But whereas my youth and my inexperience led me to live each action, each event from day to day, as a whole which was closed again to pass to the following, the perception of Satprem considered each moment of the present in a continuity to be which had a past and a future making a coherent and inevitable whole. Where I could have seen a lapse or an awkwardness, it saw a fixed price heralding other mislayings - which would not finish any being mislaid in an inexorable logic of sinking. Whereas my youth even allowed me to consider exit favorable to things (simply because I did not think in the worst case), its “experiment” condemned it to perceive a disastrous course for the same reality, which obviously ended up taking colouring that it had drawn with such an amount of energy.
This species of catastrophic “fold” is perhaps what Mère spent years so much to try to cure. But it is this “fold” which, once taken, involved all the remainder of the fatal avalanche, and could not in no case to return on itself, towards a more positive design, more measured things.
I had included/understood the existence of this “fold” in my case, precisely when it had seemed to me that my judgment was played in advance, by a “mechanics” which had already unrolled its gears in silence, well before the facts adhere to its conclusions. But it is by seeing this phenomenon repeating itself in other cases which I finally included/understood that all this process had to very little see with me - and that I started to see the end of my tunnel.
The first index, which reached me like a shock, was the news that Micheline was struck of a strange condition which required the pharmacopeia. Micheline whom I had known so full with life and good lively health - but which had completely turned me the back when Satprem had ordered it. How my memory of could be reconciled with the staggering which seemed to have seized it? And then suddenly, in 2001, the true shock: Micheline died, probably died of a cirrhosis of the liver. Later, it would be learned that it had striped Satprem of its will before dying. Had it had a reversal of last minute? Had it seen, perceived something on this threshold where the show grows blurred to leave place with what is really? I did not know anything the circumstances which had pushed it, but this end resounded so curiously in the middle of what should have been the plenitude and the harmony of a life that it had chosen and wanted thus.
Then in 2003 the event occurred which finally clarified all the process that I had lived a few ten years earlier: all was repeated in depth with another couple, another “Luc”, but with the same charges and the same insults (into worse), the same diabolisation (into worse), same frenzy to have to empty the places at once. It was about Michel and Nicole, who had lived close to Satprem and Sujata in Nilgiri during twenty years and had largely contributed to the publication of the books in India. However for a few years, they also had started to have an independent mental activity within an Indian cultural grouping. They as had bound of friendship with Indians apart from the group as Satprem had formed. Without forgetting what connected them with already accomplished work at Satprem, they undoubtedly intended to live their own life. Badly took some to them.
The surge of aggressiveness hardly contained which followed ended only with their departure precipitated of the house which they had lived for twenty years - a departure that Sujata greeted, in his inimitable style, by informing the parents of Michel that books (by a wink of the fate, they were precisely Diaries of Mother coming from the United States!) were going to replace Michel and Nicole in the house which they had just left and were going “to drive out all blacknesses that Michel-Nicole left in the house”. As for Satprem, not to undoubtedly be in remainder, it threw the last to them: “That they are forgotten forever in the dustbins of the History. ”
Unfortunately, the major problem was perhaps not so much the release of Michel and Nicole only the fact that that which had acted as executioner, that which had concluded the ousting of Michel and Nicole under the direct orders of Satprem was not other than… this poor Patrice. One would not leave there.
Now Patrice died. Subject with the depression - “This tormented being…” will say Sujata - it will leave India about 2005, without drum nor trumpet (the Michel-Nicole episode, not so remote, forced with a certain discretion), to try to reintegrate itself in France, after having served more as twenty years, him too. And how could a being which I had known so full with dynamism and joy in life, a being which adored India like the ground of election of its heart, find itself “tormented” after all this time? Which was the nature of this torment? Here are what it would be interesting to know. A mystery also striking - and as odious - as the sudden affliction of Micheline.
* * *
I would like now to leave my personal history and to try, as much as doing it can, to seek a broader direction with what was lived, at the time, like a destruction in my flesh even. Initially, my case is not single. During years, it became obvious that all those which approached Satprem with an aim of followed work of left disturbed. I quoted some names during my account, but it, perhaps knew of it there others, whose history is less immediately seizing, but which lived all, to differing degree, pangs of disillusion and interior torment - when it is not worse.
Which was thus the direction of this experiment, which arised under outside so attractive and “spiritual” to finish at the edge of the abyss? Is there a major significance with this test - apart from the individual lesson, of individual progress, the individual “karma”? Why was this small group (symbolic system, but all the same quite real) around Satprem decimated, crushed this way? Why all these hearts in shoulder-belt with leaving an experiment and a life which had started under the auspices of the marvellous teaching of Sri Aurobindo? Does the teaching of Sri Aurobindo need such a meeting of electric shocks to flower and spread themselves on ground?
From an external point of view, after such an amount of polemic largely defrayed the public chronicle, it is obvious that the perception of the teaching of Sri Aurobindo which emerges can only lend to confusion. And there is perhaps there irrevocable damage. In spite of the irritated denials of Sujata, it is not to be used the thought as Sri Aurobindo only to associate its name the ruin of the Occident. In the same way, a peaceful and advantageous reading of the Diary of Mother seems not easily reconcilable with the stir and all the human disturbances implying the group in charge of its publication.
But more internally and largely still, which is SENS of this “cage to the illusions” in which a certain number among we returned and lived during years - and in which some still live? It is too easy and too simplistic to speak about “karma” or personal destiny. Does all seem to indicate, on the contrary, that this “cage” is particularly associated with work with Sri Aurobindo and Mother - as essential appendix or driving bolt?
We hear well: the cage does not cease defending Sri Aurobindo; it is its central “topic” and founder, to which there cannot be some discussion about giving up under penalty of immediate dissolution. To a certain extent, the cage has a great force of conviction when it is about Sri Aurobindo. It does not measure its praises and its panegyrics. And on this point, its speech is irreproachable - because they is its goodwill and the base of the illusion which makes it live. After hasn't all, a little only the catholic church been done of the teaching of Christ for two thousand years?
But in the final analysis, these irreproachably spiritual appearances must be measured in the light of the facts: the traumatisms, often indelible, that it caused in the life of the individuals, and who caused finally to only corrupt and to divert aspirations which wanted only to go on their way of light. Does this cage across the way, with all its mechanisms of seduction and its mirrors with the larks, threaten all the Small red Hoods of creation?
And if it is thought that it is of a free dramatization or an exaggeration, that one wants to remember well Keya and its prolonged refusal to feed, premature shipwreck of Micheline, Patrice and his attraction for the vacuum…
Popular wisdom affirms readily that what does not kill to you returns you more extremely. It is a maxim which I could easily apply to my personal case. But today my conviction is that it is not necessary no to pass very close to the abyss to join the “sunny way” of Sri Aurobindo - not more than it is not necessary for enlightened intermediary or cage to more or less attractive gildings. It is simply enough to be oneself, strong (or weak) of its only truth to be.
Before closing my history, I still have a thought for these comrades whom I smell there, beyond the visible one, which is still to put the questions of rigour about Satprem: is it good, malicious? Does it make the good, the evil? - all those which await or beg a sign, a gesture, a letter which will reassure them on their own fate, will give them finally confidence in themselves. It is a depressing condition, which I knew too much myself to throw the stone. Then I say to them: leave the cage, leave the thoughts which nourish you and cannot find answers; you in the only conquest which is worth, without thought throw rather, without intermediary: Sri Aurobindo.
[As an epilogue, I would like to add that the lines which precede were written between November 2006 and February 2007, therefore well before the death of Satprem, which has occurred in April 2007. It seemed useful to to me - and always of topicality - to reveal this history, not so much because of the particular context in which it was held, but perhaps rather because of the human lessons of order plus general that it comprises.] End of the Illusion Patrice The cage The Diary Satprem The tragedy America The hammer rammer Faintness First turn of screw In obvious offence Violence The water drop The explosion Explanations and assessment Back to end of the Illusion

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