Saturday the 3rd of November 01, Samâdhi PM Lettre à une Auroville

Today the taste of a sourness…
Yet the dream is pretty — the nature of this CITY is luxuriant and generous as one could wish, the beings seem … smiling and interiorised and… and what else ? There is always that taste of something which is not right, something that does not find its place, maybe in the heart, in the soul ?…
Always the same thing, at each time I arrive there, there is this snag which makes me find the ‘LIVING’ suddenly difficult. Am I then a case ? It seems to me that I am the only one who feels this dull dolour of this lack… lack, lack, still and always of this Life that I feel there, right behind, behind what ?… behind some transparencies of adorned veils, but which I miss so cruelly ! The Earth gives to see her Light, the flowers give themselves endlessly and live the systematic pillaging of their beauty, is it necessary not to be beautiful to be able to continue to live of fraternity a little bit of sun, of monsoon and of human companionship ?
But what do then those human beings of this CITY give ?
Yet, yet, those human beings, they have this memory of the mineral until the animal in themselves, and they “predatise”, keep it tight as far as forgetting the regard at the otherness, this life which is right aside, this life which, moreover, is bordering them of difference, that difference that they cannot AS-SI-MI-LA-TE !
Lack of knowledge and gratitude,… always and yet the same striped vinyl, the same old story. Everything objectivises itself still and always, the lesson of the Orient did make its proof here, did not success to pierce the ego crust of this lack of attention to the other, at who he is, in what he develops of worlds so singularly, the beings did not permeate themselves of the Immense which carry them, concern them with a daily life still certainly… too daily.
Then, the magical formula — : Mother has said ! — yes, the Mother has said, the ‘TOUT-VIVANT’(1) has said — between us they must have said too much or not enough — but you, yes you, why to look behind, what have you done ? They have said what they had to go through and experienced, step by step, they have said what they could assume of truth and in consciousness, but you, what is this brandished shield ahead of : – ‘Mother has said!’ ? This lack of courage to go inward, this need of putting forward what you do not create by yourselves in yourselves for yourselves, this fear to mislead yourselves by even avoiding of trying, this solid of a well-worn truth of formalism which from this fact is already no more one, this veil of words and