The Visions of the Mother
I slept and now I am awake.
I slept upon the western waters, and now I enter the ocean in order to explore its depths. Its surface is green as beryl, tinted silver by the moonlight. Beneath, the water is sapphire-blue and soon becomes faintly luminous.
I lay down upon undulations that shimmered like the ripples in moire, and now I descend, rocked from one undulation to the next by a gentle regular motion, borne straight towards the west. As I glide downwards, the water grows more luminous and is streaked with wide silvery currents.
Thus I go on descending for a long time, rocked from undulation to undulation, down and ever further down. Suddenly, looking upward, I notice a gleam of pink; I draw nearer and see a coral-like shrub, as large as a tree, clinging to a blue rock. Water creatures come and go in countless variety. Now I stand on the fine bright sand. I look around me in wonder. There are mountains and valleys, fantastic forests, strange flowers which could almost be animals, fish one could take for flowers - there is no separation, no interval between stationary and moving beings. Everywhere are colours, soft or vivid and iridescent, yet always refined and in harmony with one another. I walk on golden sand and gaze at all this beauty, which is bathed in a faint pale-blue radiance dotted with tiny circling spheres, red or green or golden.
How marvelous are the depths of the sea! Everywhere one feels the presence of the One in whom all harmonies dwell!
I continue westwards, with no fatigue or lessening of speed. Scene follows scene in incredible variety; there, on a rock of lapis lazuli, are fine and delicate sea-weeds, like long blond or violet hair; here are great rose-coloured walls, all spangled with silver; there are flowers which seem carved from enormous diamonds; and here are goblets as fine as if they had been wrought by the most skillful of craftsmen, containing what look like drops of emerald throbbing with alternate pulsations of shadow and light.
Now I have entered on a path of silver sand between two walls of rock as blue as sapphire; the water becomes more clear and luminous.
Suddenly, at a turn in the path, I find myself before a cave which appears to be made of wrought crystal, all sparkling with rainbow light.
Between two iridescent columns stands a tall being; his face is that of a very young man, and is framed with short fair curls; his eyes are as green as the sea. He wears a light -blue tunic, and on his shoulders are great snow-white fins in place of wings. On seeing me, he stands back against a column to let me pass. Hardly have I crossed the threshold when an exquisite melody strikes my ears. Here the water is all iridescent, the ground is strewn with nacreous pearls; the entrance and the vault, from which graceful stalactites are hanging, are like opal, and delectable perfumes fill the air. Galleries, nooks and recesses open on every side, but straight in front of me I see a great light, and towards that I direct my steps. This light is made of wide rays of gold, silver, sapphire and emerald and ruby, all issuing from a point too distant for me to distinguish what it is, and streaming out in all directions. I feel myself being drawn towards their centre by a powerful attraction.
Now I can see the source of these rays and I behold an oval of white light, haloed by a splendid rainbow. The oval is lying horizontally, and I sense that the one whom the light hides from my view is deep in sleep. I stand long at the outer edge of the rainbow, peering through the light to see the one who lies sleeping in such splendour. Unable to distinguish anything in this way, I enter first the rainbow, and then the shining white oval. Now I see a marvellous being, lying on what seems to be a mass of white down; his lithe, incomparably beautiful body is clothed in a long white robe. Of his head, which rests on his folded arm, I can see only his long locks, the colour of ripe grain, flowing down over his shoulders. A powerful and sweet emotion floods through me at this magnificent sight, and also a profound reverence.
Has the sleeper senses my presence? Now he awakes, and rises in all his grace and beauty. He turns towards me and his eyes meet mine, eyes that are mauve and shining, full of infinite sweetness and tenderness. Without a word, he bids me a loving welcome, to which my whole being joyously responds; then, taking me by the hand, he leads me to the couch he has just left. I lie down upon this downy whiteness and the harmonious visage leans over me. A sweet flow of force suffuses me entirely, vitalizing, revivifying each cell.
Then, surrounded by the splendid rainbow hues, wrapped in soothing melodies and exquisite perfumes, beneath that powerful and tender gaze, I fell asleep in a beatific repose. And in my sleep I learned many beautiful and useful things.
Of all the marvellous things that I understood without the sound of words, I shall mention only one.
Wherever there is beauty, wherever there is radiance, wherever there is progress towards perfection, be it in the Heavens of the heights or in the heavens of the depths, there, surely, beings will be found in the form and likeness of man - man, the supreme agent of terrestrial evolution.
I slept and now I am awake.
I am travelling swiftly towards the east, borne along by a small violet cloud which completely envelops me and prevents me from seeing anything on the way.
After a while I feel myself being set gently upon the ground, and the cloud withdraws; I am standing beside a high white wall. As I look at it, I see shadows creeping stealthily along the wall - men passing one behind the other at a distance, as if they did not wish to be observed. They are dressed in long violet tunics, with round hoods pulled down over their heads, concealing their faces almost completely. One after the other they disappear through a little door in the wall. Invisible to all, I follow them to see where they are going with such caution.
After passing through a small bare white room I find myself in a courtyard surrounded by arches and planted with orange-trees bearing their fine golden fruits. At the centre of the courtyard there is a fountain, with a basin of opulent blue, green and white mosaic, spouting a thin stream of water. The murmur of the fountain is the only sound that breaks the silence, for the courtyard is deserted; I cross it and pass through two more rooms, which also are empty. Finally I reach a staircase, and I climb up onto a square terrace.
In a corner I see, reclining on cushions, a man half-veiled by an aura of splendid crimson, full of tiny moving golden sparklets. The man rises. He is a fine looking old man; both his hair, visible beneath a violet cap, and his beard are as white as snow; his bearing is noble and dignified. He is dressed in an ample violet robe girdled with a crimson belt; in his hand he holds a pair of golden scissors. He seems to be waiting for someone.
And now, even as I observe the old man, the men whom I saw creeping along the wall enter one by one. In silence they range themselves in a circle around the edge of the terrace, and after them come others dressed in white, who go and stand in front of the first-comers.
All are motionless, all are silent. The one who appears to be their leader stands, very solemn, facing the head of the staircase. gradually a soft glow pervades the air, shedding its light upon the still figures; as I turn round to identify the source of this light, I see a young boy of about fourteen years climbing the stairs that lead to the terrace; he is surrounded by a beautiful white radiance in which iridescent gleams can be seen. His flaxen hair falls in shapely curls upon his shoulders; his complexion is fair and delicate; his long eyelashes rest upon rose-tinted cheeks, for his eyes are downcast. He is dressed in a pale azure robe, girdled with a white silken cord, and wears sandals on his feet. Drawing forward slowly, he comes to a standstill one step away from the old man, and bows his head in silence. Then the old man speaks in a deep, gentle voice, but he speaks in a language unknown to me and I do not understand....
I have slept, and now I understand the meaning of the old man's words. He tells the child, "Thus you are about to fulfil the task entrusted to you, which you have accepted of your own free will; you will accomplish it in accordance with the instructions I have given you, without fear or weakness, for you know that we are one and that neither our love nor our protection will ever fail you. You know the magnitude of the work you are about to perform, as well as all the pitfalls and dangers you will no doubt meet on your way; but be of good heart, for though the struggle be arduous, the victory is sure. You shall proceed towards the west, my child. May our highest blessing be with you."
Saying these words, he bends forward and impresses a deep kiss upon the white brow of the adolescent; then with the golden scissors he snips off one of the beautiful flaxen locks and slips it under his robe.
The, without word or gesture, the child slowly and solemnly turns, and redescends the stairs that lead to the terrace. I follow him, and see him leave the house and walk swiftly along the wall, his head high, looking straight before him.
Then, without word or gesture, the child slowly and solemnly turns, and redescends the stairs that lead to the terrace. I follow him, and see him leave the house and walk swiftly along the wall, his head high, looking straight before him.
Suddenly I find myself enveloped once more in the cloud, which bears me away, hiding everything from my sight. Once only does it open again, allowing me to look with wonder on a great river, its waters flowing silver beneath the moonlight, its banks overgrown with a splendid and luxuriant vegetation. Everything here is on a gigantic scale; the river that is broad as a lake, the trees with their crests that seem to touch the sky and behind, the mountains stretching out of sight, their summits covered with perpetual snow.
In the mids of this immensity I see a tiny oval of moving white light; it is the child walking firmly and surely upon his way, his head high, without fear or weakness.
This scene is full of grandeur; I contemplate it and muse, I muse and understand: what a man at the height of his strength would find hard to achieve if he were alone, a child can accomplish almost without difficulty if he is sustained by the power and love of those who are one with him.
Surely indeed, hierarchic grouping by affinity is the path that leads to victory!
I slept and now I am awake.
I awoke in the great austere cathedral of the most intellectual of European capitals. I awoke to the sound of majestic organ strains, strains rising and unfolding in the huge nave like a puissant call, a noble aspiration. Looking up, I see seated at the manual a young fair-haired woman in white raiment. As her fingers touch the keys, the harmonies soar one after another, inspired and full of love.
Looking down, I see that gradually the cathedral is filling with an eager throng attracted by the ample strains which can be heard outside. At the same time I see the organ gallery filling slowly with an increasingly brilliant light; the light spreads throughout the edifice, dispelling the darkness. A great dazzling white light falls upon the altar, and when it has dispersed a little, the cross, the religious images, the objects of worship have disappeared, as if pulverized by an invisible hand.
All present are rooted to the spot, divided between surprise, curiosity and fear. Their amazement increases when they see a great violet veil forming and growing denser before the choir and, appearing on the veil, letters of golden light tracing the following inscription for all to read:
The Self is your God. You are the living Temple of the Divine Inhabitant. Awake, O evolving supermen. Evolve, develop your latent faculties so as to realize the indissoluble union of God, the Unthinkable Absolute, with eternal Substance through Man, regenerated and glorious, immortal upon earth, his rightful home.
The wonderment reaches a climax; in the silence that none dares to break, rises a deep ringing voice, saying, "Hearken to the teaching of the music." I turn my gaze towards the organ, but no longer see the young woman, who is now completely veiled by a brilliant light. At the far end, silhouetted against the multi-coloured rosette, I see a seraph thrice as tall as a man; he stands in his sapphire tunic with two wings crossed above his fine young head, two outstretched behind his arms, and two lying upon the ground and covering his feet.
Once more the organ strains rise, at first sombre and tumultuous, imaging the present condition of man in his misery and suffering and doubt; then suddenly a crystalline note is heard, piercing the sorrowful phrase as a spark of light pierces the gloom; the clear and pure melody unfurls, grows louder, stronger; a struggle begins between it and the fierce, disorderly strains, which gradually fade and die away, overpowered and drowned by the calm chant which spreads and ripples like a tranquil sea. Suddenly a rich warm voice intones a powerful hymn: "Appear, o light, sublime intelligence, redeemer of the world!"
The billows of music roll with a growing force and rapture, filling the edifice with wonderful notes, shaking the stained-glass windows with their joyful, resonant waves. Once more the voice is heard: "Arise, O regenerated man, sublime man, manifest the divine intelligence, celebrate the grand eternal nuptials, radiate love, pure love, universal love - love, the supreme harmony; arise in thy strength and knowledge, O all-powerful master of thy physical realm, realizer of equilibrium! Honour, honour to thee, O man divine and human, man immortal and glorious!"
The last strains of the triumphal hymn loose forth their dazzling notes in a hush of rapt admiration. A deep clam broods over the congregation. The huge vault is draped in a luminous amethyst cloak and, spread beneath it, is a veil living emerald: sapphire stars are scintillating and moving everywhere, near the organ, thirty-six winged beings have placed themselves beside the seraph, forming a sapphire circle around the brilliant white aura that veils the young inspired one.
Slowly and silently, the throng flows out in wonder; the sick are healed, the anxious and the uneasy are soothed and reassured, the weak, are strengthened, the intelligent are enlightened. And as they depart, all carry away with them, indelibly impressed upon their memories, the magnificent inscription penned in letters of gold.
< I slept and now I am awake.
I awoke in the remote past, beside a pool with waters of deep sapphire, as calm as a mirror.
To the east of the lake I see a magnificent grove of rare species of trees and shrubs, whose long outcurving branches play upon the surface of the still, limpid water, reflecting bright flowers of rich and variegated colours. In the shade of this charming natural retreat bloom splendid white lotuses.
The whole retreat is radiant with rainbow light, and the centre of this radiance is a young, fair-haired medium asleep in her graceful beauty, reclining upon the wide flat leaves, her head resting against one of the beautiful five-petalled flowers. Her ample white garment is girdled with a golden belt.
On her left, erect and proud, like a vigilant sentry, stands a white ibis perching on one of its coral legs. Above the sleeper hangs a protective mantle of dark amethyst. A calm and serene beatitude pervades the scene. The medium seems to be resting in an enshanting dream.
A sweet fresh breeze rustles the leaves and gently ruffles the waters; with its caressing breath it seems to murmur, "Queen of the isles of the deep waters. - Queen of the isles of the deep waters" echoes a melodious voice rising from the fathomless depths.
Then I fell asleep, and I awoke in the vast hall of a palace.
From the shape and ornamentation of the columns, the paintings that embellish the walls with such lavishness and yet restraint, I gather that I am in one of the superb palaces of ancient Egypt, at Memphis or Thebes.
The hall is filled with a picturesque crowd; the brightly-coloured loin-cloths, the feather head-dresses, the jewels, the hangings all form a rich and curious harmony. Every gaze is turned towards the north end of the hall, in the middle of which stands a throne raised upon twelve steps and crowned with a velvet canopy. At the foot of the steps lie two young lions like two strong and peaceful guardians. At the left of the throne a white ibis stands on its pink legs. The throne itself is wrapped in dazzling light, and at the centre of this light I see the young, fair-haired medium with a white lotus in her left hand.
Each of those present passes in turn, bows before the steps and swears an oath of allegiance.
For a second time I fell asleep, and when I awake I find myself before a temple in the strange and sumptuous Hindu style. Kneeling stone elephants support the pillars on either side of the square door. The door is open, and men in long white, blue, violet or scarlet robes, enter singly or in groups. I follow them, and after crossing several vestibules, I come to a small square hall with a dark amethyst vault supported by thirty-six mighty pillars. The men assemble in order of function and rank, and remain silent; they are waiting for someone. Suddenly the curtain that screens one end of the hall is lifted, revealing a veiled figure of brilliant light. The figure steps toward and takes its stand at the centre of the circles of the hierarchy. I recognize the young medium. The only ornament she wears is a white lotus flower in her loose blond hair; she is dressed in a long white tunic girdled with a golden sash.
Once again all fades from my sight. Upon waking, I find myself in the midst of a vast oak forest. In the distance, between the tall tree-trunks, one glimpses the green sea burning copper in the setting sun. I fell that I am on a Western Isle.
Through the coppice I see advancing a long line of virgins in white raiment; those leading the column hold musical instruments in their hands and wend their way forward chanting to the sound of the lyre and the timbrel. Then the maidens join hands and begin to dance; they pass by, weaving a circle around the oak at the centre, which is taller and stouter than the others.
Attended by four of her companions, now comes the young, fair-haired medium. She holds a golden sickle in her hand and moves forward with a solemn and meditative step. At the foot of the ancient oak she stops and hands her sickle to a young boy who has come with her. He nimbly climbs the tree. With a single stroke he cuts the great ball of parasitic mistletoe, which falls into the tunic that the young girl has held out to catch it.
Then, resuming their melodious chant, the maidens return the way they came.
I fall asleep for the fourth time, and upon waking I recognize the unique, wonderful of the Queen of the Adriatic at the finest hour of her royalty.
Venice, the strange and untamed - Venice, the city of art and of reckless passion - Venice, with crime oozing from her walls and drama exuding from her canals... Here are the magnificent palaces in all the splendour of their flourishing youth; here are the graceful gondolas carrying gentle ladies and great lords in fine array.
But I am drawn by a powerful inner sensation towards the Ducal Palace; I know that here I shall find the one whom I have just seen down the centuries.
I enter the great courtyard; and there indeed, near the Staircase of the Giants, half-hidden behind a column, I see the young fair-haired medium dressed in a white robe. She clings to the shoulder of a fine-looking old man who has his arms around her, as if to protect her. Their faces are sorrowful, their bearing solemn. Thus clasped together, they watch a gorgeous procession slowly mounting the steps that lead to the palace. And it is clear to me that their fate lies in the hands of these men, who are their mortal enemies. Then the old man bends forward and kisses the brow of the child, saying gravely, "Many aeons we have struggled and suffered for the sacred cause and the salvation of mankind, in many varied lands and changing circumstances.
"Once again we have attempted our sublime endeavour, and it cannot be in vain. The enemies of man may now be stronger than we, but our time will inevitably come. They work for division and falsehood; we belong to those who struggle and have always struggled for Truth and Harmony; these alone are immortal. The more arduous the battle, the fairer the victory. Effort matters little when the outcome is sure."
And the child replies in a gentle voice, "Indeed it is so, and I am certain that upon our next coming to earth we shall witness the Victory!"
I slept and now I am awake.
I awoke in the middle of a populous city, in a great, cheerfully-lit hall where a feast is being held. around a long, richly-laden table, a dozen people are sitting and talking merrily. At the centre I see an old man with a fine noble head enframed by a great beard and long silky white hair; his expression is at once very grave and very gentle, and even his gaiety has a touch of solemnity. Beside him sits a young, fair-haired woman dressed in flowing white veils. The ten others are men, disciples gathered around their master.
While the feast goes on joyfully, I feel and see gathering slowly above the town a heavy cloud charged with hostility.
The young woman too has sensed the impending danger; she suddenly rises and speaks in an inspired voice: "A great calamity broods over us, a dreadful cataclysm is in the making. I sense it although I cannot say exactly what it is; we must at all costs leave the town immediately, together with all who trust us and are willing to follow us." None of those present doubts the grave words that have disturbed the harmonious gathering; all rise unhesitatingly and prepare to leave the hall.
At that moment the scene fades from my sight and for a while I can discern nothing more. As soon as my consciousness returns, I find the little group again, but how the scene has changed!
The twelve have left the town, which is now only ruins and destruction. How violent the upheaval must have been! For nothing remains of this huge city but heaps of rubble, so consumed by fire and eroded by water that they seem even now to have lain there for centuries. Earthquake, eruption, flood all three must have contributed to change the product of so much science and art so abruptly and totally into grey or red rock-like mounds and hillocks all blackened by smoke. Not a blade of grass remains to be seen, and in the midst of this vast wasteland runs a wild torrential flood sweeping away all kinds of wreckage in its rapid course. Above this agonizing scene stretches a beautiful expanse of cloudless, limpid blue sky, which seems to mock this wretched earth.
Along the arid banks, beside the turbulent waters, are encamped thousands of people driven from the town by the fury of the elements. they are plunged in listless despair, sitting with idle arms and empty looks, or pacing jerkily back and forth; the shock has been too great for them and seems to have jolted them out of their senses.
By contrast, the little group has remained calm and courageous; the master is walking beside the torrent, his protective arm around the young woman, surrounded by his trusting disciples. They feel for the lot of this bewildered crowd and grieve at their inability to help them. The old man knows that they must leave the place with all possible speed, for the danger still threatens; fresh upheavals are bound to occur and perhaps all will be flooded. So he advances towards the crowd and explains in a loud clear voice how to use the driftwood littering the ground to build rafts which will enable them to flee the imminent disaster. Then, after a last sad farewell to the collectivity, the little group makes its way to a sort of floating house waiting for them moored to a rock. The twelve board this makeshift boat; one of them shoves off with a pole and they launch forth upon the torrent which bears them away at a tremendous speed amid the rocks and the flotsam of all kinds strewing its course.
They hasten on and on at a dizzy speed. The young woman in white raiment stands near to an opening in the broadside, gazing upon the scene outside and keeping watch. A young man says, "If we can only reach the sea, all will be well."
Another replies, "That will be difficult, for near to the sea there is a reef and we might be dashed to pieces on the rocks." Then the voice of the master rises deep and majestic, "You know full well that our dwelling can never sink: is it not the symbol of eternal truth?" Several men reply in unison, pointing to the young woman who is still standing, "Besides, so long as she is here in our midst, no harm can befall us." And she watches ever more intently.
Suddenly, after covering a great distance, the floating house comes in view of what must once have been a very large and beautiful city. Only huge pieces of wall, and the ruins of steeples and spires and palaces, are visible, eaten away by air and wind, water and fire, their weird white shapes pointing to the sky. The ground is hidden by running water, and at the centre of the town, which must once have been the site of a river or a vanished harbour, lie great sailing ships of which only bare hulks remain.
The scene is so impressive and brings to mind so vividly the idea of a great civilization destroyed, that all gaze in silence, in grave and sorrowful contemplation.
At that moment all fades once more from my sight, and when I become conscious again, I find myself above the sea, a wild tumultuous sea swollen with huge billows ready to swallow up all that would be so rash as to draw near them. Amid these waves I see beings of disorder, ferocious and grimacing, who with their own power are increasing the power of the raging waters. Looking more closely, I realize that their frenzy is aimed at some crimson figures whom they wish to seize, but who oppose them by their very calm; yet soon, perhaps, their strength will be exhausted.
Then in the distance the floating house appears, profiled in violet against the foamy sea. It glides upon the waters on a straight, even course as upon a perfectly smooth surface; and indeed, fore and aft of the boat amid the waves that grow suddenly calm at its approach, a long silver path, luminous and smooth, unfolds. On either side of the path the waves rise sheer like walls, but a powerful force prevents them from bearing down upon the refuge of the little group. And now, one by one, the crimson figures emerge from the water in defiance of the violent efforts of their enemies, and take shelter in the floating house. As soon as all are safe, the huge waves fall back upon themselves, rolling, crushing, swallowing up the hostile beings who oppose them in vain.
Gradually all becomes peaceful again; the water, with scarcely a ripple upon its surface, turns sapphire blue; the sky is ablaze with sunlight, and the boat goes on its way hallowed in white light.
Within, all rejoice. The little group has given a loving welcome to those they have saved, and the master says in his deep gentle voice, "Thus it is that sooner or later, light shall triumph over darkness, order over disorder, love over hate, and harmony reign over a Universe at peace!"
I slept and now I am awake.
I awoke on the threshold of a long, vaulted path; this path is formed of great transparent emerald-green undulations, flowing like ripples upon the still surface of water into which a stone has been cast. The luminous sapphire-blue vault is supported by two rows of small slender pillars of some substance like lapis-lazuli; between the pillars a pale emerald light can be seen, as if all this were at the bottom of a tranquil sea.
I am drawn towards this path, stretching as far as the eye can see, and I enter upon it. The ripples bear me along in a swift rhythmical motion, and so I continue for a long time. The motion accelerates as I move onwards - I must have travelled a very great distance. The journey seems interminable, for I am longing to see what is at the end of this path. Suddenly I distinguish a luminous white point. By an effort of will I increase my speed, and as I draw near I see that this point is a white square; when I reach its base it is immense. Then, a little weary from the journey, I lie down and fall asleep.
While I sleep, my intelligence awakens and I understand what I have just seen.
I understand that this path, vaulted with blue and paved with emerald undulations, is the way of intellectual evolution open in life to men of goodwill, the long but radiant path that leads all who wish to the fourfold equilibrium.
Having understood this, I awake refreshed and strengthened, for I have rested in the purple overshadow. I sense that I am about to see what at first was hidden to me by the white square.
Indeed, four eagles appear; they are dark blue, sitting back to back in a square and facing the four cardinal points. They bear upon their heads a small tablet, above which rises a white cloud. Beyond the cloud shines a very bright light. After contemplating the light I turn my gaze back to the eagles and see that they have become white and faintly radiant.
While looking at them I fall asleep, and again my intelligence awakens to the understanding of what I have just seen.
The eagles, who are at first in affinity with my mental vision - hence their blue colour - face the four cardinal points because they are turned towards life and light, light and power, power and utility, utility and light. In other words, they await the realization of perfectioning in life so that life may become ready for the permanent individualization of intelligence; and they await the perfection of individualized intelligence so that it may become fit for exercising power, the power that is to manifest in and through utility, that is to be used for the perfection of earth and man. And this will allow mankind to lift the veil represented by the cloud and attain a higher intelligence, a light of dazzling brightness; by this light man will see with a balanced vision - a vision at full of love; spiritual, intellectual and vital - the eagles which symbolize the intermediaries between the evolving supermen and the higher radiances.
As soon as I have received this explanation my eyes open once more and I see, outlined against a dark-blue square, a sphere divided into two equal parts, one white and very luminous, the other a beautiful dark violet.
Having slept, I understand that I have passed from the vision of possibilities to the vision of the means of realization. In mental equilibrium I contemplate earth, our heritage, our home by eternal right, balanced between light and power, between intellectual radiance and the protective overshadow. Earth, not as it is now, but charged with spiritual light and power by the evolving supermen arranged in hierarchical order.
My calm is deep and still, my hope immense, my aspiration intense, and for the fourth time I awake.
I see a square portal of deep amethyst, supported by two strong white pillars. In the middle of the doorway, on the ground, two violet eagles sit side by side, closely united. One faces east the other faces west.
Above their heads, at the centre of the portal, shines a splendid white sun all radiant with iridescent beams.
I gaze upon this wonderful scene with a profound delight. It feels as if one of the beautiful sunbeams has entered my head; all is illumined within me. This portal is the entrance opening upon victorious realization, and this entrance is power in equilibrium, in duality, more rarefied and radiant.
In the middle of this entrance, not soaring in space but standing upon firm ground, the dual eagles in sovereign purple represent power in utility - terrestrial might. They are united by the indissoluble bond of affinity, and yet one faces in the direction of the setting sun, the other towards the rising sun, like a symbol of repose and awakening, of passivity and activity, which must be rightly balances for one to rise from one level to another, to ascend from light to ever purer and more radiant light.
Only by this equilibrium can the iridescent beams of the splendid white sun, centre of all forces, be fully utilized by the children of earth, who thirst for its magnificent illumination whose splendour is increasing and will go on increasing for ever!
I slept and now I am awake.
A am awake and I see a rider mounted on a splendid white horse. The rider wares a breast-plate of glittering gold and flourishes a sword, whose naked blade shines with a sapphire gleam. With one tremendous bound, the horse leaps across a chasm of darkness.
As I marvel at this vision, I hear a word, a single word pregnant with hope and promise: "Restitution."
Then suddenly a breach appears in the gloomy chasm and a great path is formed, like a dazzling rainbow. A white dove with crimson feet is ascending this path, and as I watch it on its way I behold a wonderful scene beyond the darkness.
In faultless hierarchical order, clad in sparkling light and armed with double-edged swords, an immense host is deployed, ready for battle. They await a signal from the leader at their centre, who is all radiant with iridescent light. But at once my gaze is drawn to a young man whose height and majesty tower above all the others. An ample amethyst cloak, lined with dazzling white, falls from his shoulders.
All stand still in rapt silence, for he is about to speak. He speaks, and his voice rises solemn and sweet. He speaks, and I understand what he is saying: "The time draws near. Let all prepare themselves, the host of earth and the host of heaven. Let those who work and endure lose neither courage nor patience. Though invisible to all but a few, the work is proceeding swiftly. On one side a growing order and harmony is driving towards the denser spheres whatever confusion and disorder still prevail. On the other hand, upon earth, the seed which has been sown is ready to rise amid a field of men of ardent and enlightened goodwill. The valiant host of evolving supermen is making ready so that when the time comes its efforts may be joined to ours. Soon a hymn of joy shall ring forth, the paean of triumph and glory."
Rejoicing in these words, I make my way back towards earth, bearing the glad tidings, and in my descent I am followed by the white dove with crimson feet.
After passing the dark chasm, I look back and I see... Oh, what do I behold! ... The dark heavy cloud is supported by a huge cross, and both cloud and cross are borne by a being of colossal size. The entire burden of iniquity and disorder weighs upon him, who leans over mankind like a wonderful and living protection. His long hair falls on either side of his beautiful face, which is turned towards earth with a look of infinite tenderness and pain..
Oh yes! almost work with ardour and energy to hasten the hour when the awesome effort of this sublime man will no longer be needed to hold the dark cloud in check and prevent it from crushing the wretched men of earth, unawakened and as yet unable to defend themselves!
Suggestions for Further Reading
- Thoughts and Aphorisms of Sri Aurobindo
- Sri Aurobindo on Astrology
- Fate and freewill by Sri Aurobindo
- Man and Battle for Life From The Essays on the Bhagavdgita by Sri Aurobindo
- The Nature of Supermind by Sri Aurobindo
- Sri Aurobindo on Yoga
- Philological methods of the Vedas
- The Process of evolution by Aurobindo
- The Puranas and the Tantras by Sri Aurobindo
- Essay on rebirth by Sri Aurobindo
- The Reincarnating Soul by Sri Aurobindo
- The Spiritual aim of life by Aurobindo
- The strength of stillness by Sri Aurobindo
- The Superman by Sri Aurobindo
- The Supramental Sense by Sri Aurobindo
- Thoughts and glimpses of Sri Aurobindo
- An essay on the Upanishads by Sri Aurobindo
- An Essay on the Vedas by Sri Aurobindo
- The yoga and its objects by Sri Aurobindo
- An essay on yoga and skills by Sri Aurobindo
- Thoughts and Glimpses of Sri Aurobindo
- The Prayers and Meditations of the Divine Mother
- The Visions of the Divine Mother
- Excerpts From the Notebook of Sri Aurobindo
- Essays On Dharma
- Esoteric Mystic Hinduism
- Introduction to Hinduism
- Hindu Way of Life
- Essays On Karma
- Hindu Rites and Rituals
- The Origin of The Sanskrit Language
- Symbolism in Hinduism
- Essays on The Upanishads
- Concepts of Hinduism
- Essays on Atman
- Hindu Festivals
- Spiritual Practice
- Right Living
- Yoga of Sorrow
- Mental Health
- Concepts of Buddhism
- General Essays
Source: The Mother's account of these visions were published in the Revue Cosmique, a monthly review published in Paris between 1906 and 1907. These accounts are unsigned, but are considered to be the visions of the Divine Mother as narrated by her.
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