journal d'une transition

815

structures has to give way, must be altered… I do not want to “change” him, so I just kept to what he could understand; he finally slept downstairs, and I didn’t sleep at all, except, strangely, for a couple of deep snatches, filled with an intense psychic drive… It is alright with him, though; there is no hurt, and this tenderness remains… *30-11-1988, Auroville: I felt a little like a funambulist this morning, who has done just one trick too many. But with the growing trust that rises under the gift of Your loving Pressure, shadows do not cling long anymore; I love You all the more for it, and the gratitude grows ever and ever; I know more and more that it is through trust and gratitude that the way is revealed… *3-12-1988, Auroville: I love You. There is no other word, but it isn’t right. Every time I write this, it feels inadequate, narrow, linear, artificial – the separation. The one word that feels right is: gratitude. *4-12-1988, Auroville: This morning, as nearly every week since years, P started his dominical session of pop-music, but only louder; I’ve had to accept this atmosphere for long, but today it went for me past the point of balance, and I decided to go there and simply tell him this was just too loud: I wasn’t aggressive; I wasn’t resentful; I simply wanted to state a fact and ask him not to go beyond what is bearable; but I found that he was as if expecting my reaction, and unwilling to be honest about it; he at once began to reproach me for imposing on him all the times when I listen to Your Agenda on the roof… But there is no comparison between the tiny old machine I have and the brand-new hi-fi stereo equipment he is so proud of; it was so absurd. But he did lower the volume. Later on I felt sad: whenever I interfere in anything, I feel this sort of regret. How to communicate with P now, having said that the kind of music he likes is depressing to me? One feels happier when there is a movement of circulation of consciousness that brings about the changes necessary for a truer harmony, rather than interventions that are bound to carry some ego; then one can but pray that it is taken up and used by the action of the true consciousness… *5-12-1988, Auroville: Mother! Sometimes, it is perhaps like this: the buried Inhabitant, the silent One who has been there, ignored but supporting all for ages, and now there is an opening, a small, inadequate opening, slow and fragile, and the flow of Your Force is there; and it is so often like tears, a mass of tears; not dramatic, not sad, no sorrow; it isn’t a feeling that can be humanly translated or manifested yet, it is perfectly quiet and sober; but it does weep. It is an enormous, intense, intense gratitude…