journal d'une transition

735

when I must have mixed with or been part of guilds, when teams of artisans and craftsmen would work their lifetimes on a single work or construction… And the wind-mill broke down again… … Sometime I get a sort of impersonal glimpse of the shape of my life and its apparent direction, and I wonder what is holding me on… It looks like a life of waiting, and yet there are processes of growth that seem to overlap, at different speeds or along different time scales; even with regards to, say, a “normal” human life, I for instance feel as much a teenager, as I did when I was 18, that I feel like an ageless person – watching and enduring and trying to become physically aware and manifesting that very agelessness, that timelessness… Likewise I feel as much a woman as I feel a man, in my own experience of meeting others, of relating… And further, I also feel as alive as I feel “dead”, as “white” as I feel “coloured”, as much from the past as I feel from the future… And even, more “locally”, I feel as much of Auroville, as I feel not of it, or out of it… There is a lot of stuff coming through these days; in another context, I might take it as materials for writing; but here there is no such self-evident activity to which I could give myself: rather it all feels equal, or indifferent – this or that activity, so long as there is no indication from above or from behind the heart, nothing in particular, however agreeable or creative, makes much sense… *14-7-1987, Auroville: There is this odd, constant contradiction, between feeling like a boy, almost like a child, with infinite time ahead, and the conditioning that watches the number of years that elapse and measures the time of my body: when one is nearly forty, then one ought to have the sense of making something of one’s life…! And, translated I terms of this yoga, one should by now be at least all centred and moving forward with a clear and steady aspiration, the results measured in consciousness… But none of that is there; one hangs on, day after day and night after night… The nagging problem is that, most of the time, I so dislike what I manifest; and if I was to leave the body now, I couldn’t be happy of the use made of this opportunity… In that sense, the negative presence of “death”, as the negative of a colour print, is still playing the necessary role of a reminder… For it is only seldom that I Move into the state of consciousness where everything is actually Thy Will and Thy Action; and one is left with no ambition, not even the desire of being worthy of You: there is then only a transparent acceptance, a neutral freedom… *16-7-1987, Auroville: The nights are again very restless and tiring, and the dream activities very puzzling; last night there was a long time spent with Diane and that crowd, with a lot of disconcerting factors at play, and something of Auragni that was disturbingly grave: she was telling me how she had missed me, not knowing why I couldn’t be there, and that she had a weakness in her physical heart and I must be very careful about it… I don’t know; I don’t understand…

*17-7-1987, Auroville: I met F as I was cycling back to “Ravena” this afternoon; he was on his way to a special meeting he had more or less initiated, at the Matrimandir office, between