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At the Feet of The Mother

Sweet Mother who I am

August 31, 1914


Peace, peace in all the world. . . .
War is an appearance,
Turmoil is an illusion,
Peace is there, immutable peace.

Mother, sweet Mother who I am, Thou art at once the destroyer and the builder.

The whole universe lives in Thy breast with all its life innumerable and Thou livest in Thy immensity in the least of its atoms.

And the aspiration of Thy infinitude turns towards That which is not manifested to cry to it for a manifestation ever more complete and more perfect.

All is, in one time, in a triple and clairvoyant total Consciousness, the Individual, the Universal, the Infinite.

[Prayers and Meditations of the Mother]

The stones began falling in several directions at the same time, in places where there were neither doors nor windows.
All morality is a convention — man cannot live without conventions, mental and moral, otherwise he feels himself lost in the rolling sea of the anarchic forces of the vital Nature.