Friday the 16th of November, Samâdhi PM Lettre à une Auroville

– Where are your so hurried steps pulling you, O friend ?…
– There is a fact, I am in a hurry, there is a Force which has taken me and leads me since a long time already; meanwhile since recently, my feet walk ceaselessly still and still upon this earth in quest of the Marvel which pretends to exist in somewhere in this world of endless Suffering, Chagrin and Ignorance. My being has always known it, because he has never been able to recognize himself in this state of so much revealed mediocrity. Meanwhile, him too has played with those dangerous and absurd kaleidoscope-games of Ignorance, but, in his intimate profoundness, there was the solicitude always patient of this infinite little inner flame which has always been the witness in vigilance, which has always replaced the Being on the path gold-traces of truth. Then, it is true that I do not cease to run on the roads and foot-paths of this earth and to find there what I carry at the exact dimension and reality of my inner aspiration. I know that this can only be Truth, I know that in somewhere this Earth of Fraternity which is not a vain world exists, this Earth where the beings speak the same language, live by themselves of the same desire, and respect themselves in their own differences that Nature has lent to them.
– I know that it must exist in somewhere this ‘Cité d’une Aurore’ of a new Day to appear, I know that this is in process of manifest formation on a Red Earth of Light and under a blue sky of Sun, how could it be differently ?… The Earth is exhausted, tired, bloodless of the religions’ vampirism which have fossilized her from the dogma and the stereotype to the detriment of the original creative Verb which gave them the Life, she needs this new blood of a virgin Consciousness of her own Truth, to clear a path between this soil and this sky, she needs to reveal herself to the Existence, this new Real, she needs an other scale of Humanity to be able to express her Joy and her Light of Life. This Consciousness is a very power hammer which smashes and drills by pressure to open a new path, Titan-hammering which does not care anymore of the half measures nor of the mute and emptied prayers of the Sense, She is an Ogre of God who calls for its infante young flesh of imperative Truth and Sincerity. She drills in all the levels of the being, she looks for herself in the smallest ramification of the so well kept and so carefully hidden secrets of our smallnesses, she screams in her Body*(1) for her Due, the Finally of her Realisation. She knocks at all the doors which are already half-opened and even to the ones which are apparently sealed from the mute and obscure cachet of the Ignorance and of the lack of good will. She chooses for herself her tools and prepares them, shapes them, triturates them,