Golden
Krishna
…on
the morning of 29th [February, 1960], I had one of those
experiences that mark one's life. It happened upstairs in
my room. I was doing my japa, walking up and down with my
eyes wide open, when suddenly Krishna came—a gold Krishna,
all golden, in a golden light that filled the whole room.
I was walking, but I could not even see the windows or the
rug any longer, for this golden light was everywhere with
Krishna at its center. And it must have lasted at least
fifteen minutes. He was dressed in those same clothes in
which he is normally portrayed when he dances. He was all
light, all dancing: 'You see, I will be there this evening
during Darshan.' And suddenly, the chair I use for darshan
came into the room! Krishna climbed up onto it, and his
eyes twinkled mischievously, as if to say, 'I will be there,
you see, and there'll be no room for you.'
When
I came down that evening for distribution, at first I was
annoyed. I had said that I didn't want anybody in the hall,
precisely because I wanted to establish an atmosphere of
concentration, the immobility of the Spirit—but there
were at least thirty people stirring about, a mass of little
vibrations. And before I could even say 'scat'—I had
hardly taken my seat—someone put the tray of medals
on my lap and they started filing past.
But
what is surprising is that in a flash, no one was there
any longer. No one, you understand—I was gone. Perhaps
I was everywhere (but in fact I am always everywhere, I
am always conscious of being everywhere at the same time),
though normally there is the sense of the body, a physical
center, but that evening there was no more center! Nothing,
on one, not even the sense that there was no one—nothing.
I was gone. There was indeed something hading out the medals
which felt the joy of giving the medal, the joy of receiving
it, the joy of mutually looking at each other. It was simply
the joy of action taking place, the jay of looking, this
joy everywhere, but me?—Nothing, no one, gone. Only
later, afterwards, did I see what had happened, for everything
had disappeared, even the higher mind that understands and
organizes things (by 'understand' I mean contain, which
'contains' things). That also was gone. And this lasted
the entire distribution. Only when that [the body] had gone
back upstairs to the room did the consciousness of what
is me return.
There
is a line by Sri Aurobindo in Savitri which expresses
this very well: to annul oneself so that only the Supreme Lord
may be.
And
there are many, many experiences like this. It is only a
small, a very small beginning. This one in particular came
to mark the now stage: four years have elapsed, and now
four years to come. Because everything has focused on this
body to prepare it, everything has concentrated on it—Nature,
the Master of the Yoga, the Supreme, everything... So only
when it's over, not before, will it really be interesting
to speak of all this. But maybe it will never be over, after
all. It's a small beginnig, very small.
3
March 1960
- The Mother
