Joke of Nature
is the question Nature puts continually to Life and
her reminder to it that it has not yet found itself.
If there were no siege of death, the creature would
be bound forever in the form of an imperfect living.
Pursued by death he awakes to the idea of perfect life
and seeks out its means and its possibility.''
seems to be matter enough here for us not to need to go
any further. This is a question which every person whose
consciousness is awakened a little has asked himself at
least once in his life. There is in the depths of the being
such a need to perpetuate, to prolong, to develop life,
that the moment one has a first contact with death, which,
although it may be quite an accidental contact, is yet inevitable,
there is a sort of recoil in the being.
persons who are sensitive, it produces horror; in others,
indignation. There is a tendency to ask oneself: "What
is this monstrous farce in which one takes part without
wanting to, without understanding it? Why are we born, if
it is only to die? Why all this effort for development,
progress, the flowering of the faculties, if it is to come
to a diminution ending in decline and disintegration?...''
Some feel a revolt in them, others less strong feel despair
and always this question arises: "If there is a conscious
Will behind all that, this Will seems to be monstrous.''
here Sri Aurobindo tells us that this was an indispensable
means of awakening in the consciousness of matter the need
for perfection, the necessity of progress, that without
this catastrophe, all beings would have been satisfied with
the condition they were inperhaps... This is not certain.
But then, we have to take things as they are and tell ourselves
that we must find the way out of it all.
fact is that everything is in a state of perpetual progressive
development, that is, the whole creation, the whole universe
is advancing towards a perfection which seems to recede
as one goes forward towards it, for what seemed a perfection
at a certain moment is no longer perfect after a time. The
most subtle states of being in the consciousness follow
this progression even as it is going on, and the higher
up the scale one goes, the more closely does the rhythm
of the advance resemble the rhythm of the universal development,
and approach the rhythm of the divine development; but the
material world is rigid by nature, transformation is slow,
very slow, there, almost imperceptible for the measurement
of time as human consciousness perceives it... and so there
is a constant disequilibrium between the inner and outer
movement, and this lack of balance, this incapacity of the
outer forms to follow the movement of the inner progress
brings about the necessity of decomposition and the change
of forms. But if, into this matter, one could infuse enough
consciousness to obtain the same rhythm, if matter could
become plastic enough to follow the inner progression, this
rupture of balance would not occur, and death would no longer
according to what Sri Aurobindo tells us, Nature has found
this rather radical means to awaken in the material consciousness
the necessary aspiration and plasticity.
is obvious that the most dominant characteristic of matter
is inertia, and that, if there were not this violence, perhaps
the individual consciousness would be so inert that rather
than change it would accept to live in a perpetual imperfection...
That is possible. Anyway, this is how things are made, and
for us who know a little more, there is only one thing that
remains to be done, it is to change all this, as far as
we have the means, by calling the Force, the Consciousness,
the new Power which is capable of infusing into material
substance the vibration which can transform it, make it
plastic, supple, progressive.
the greatest obstacle is the attachment to things as they
are; but even Nature as a whole finds that those who have
the deeper knowledge want to go too fast: she likes her
meanderings, she likes her successive attempts, her failures,
her fresh beginnings, her new inventions; she likes the
fantasy of the path, the unexpectedness of the experience;
one could almost say that for her the longer it takes, the
more enjoyable it is.
even of the best games one tires. There comes a time when
one needs to change them and one could dream of a game in
which it would no longer be necessary to destroy in order
to progress, where the zeal for progress would be enough
to find new means, new expressions, where the élan
would be ardent enough to overcome inertia, lassitude, lack
of understanding, fatigue, indifference.
does this body, as soon as some progress has been made,
feel the need to sit down? It is tired. It says, "Oh!
you must wait. I must be given time to rest.'' This is what
leads it to death. If it felt within itself that ardour
to do always better, become more transparent, more beautiful,
more luminous, eternally young, one could escape from this
macabre joke of Nature.
her this is of no importance. She sees the whole, she sees
the totality; she sees that nothing is lost, that it is
only recombining quantities, numberless minute elements,
without any importance, which are put back into a pot and
mixed welland something new comes out of it. But that
game is not amusing for everybody. And if in one's consciousness
one could be as vast as she, more powerful than she, why
shouldn't one do the same thing in a better way?
is the problem which confronts us now. With the addition,
the new help of this Force which has descended, which is
manifesting, working, why shouldn't one take in hand this
tremendous game and make it more beautiful, more harmonious,
only needs brains powerful enough to receive this Force
and formulate the possible course of action. There must
be conscious beings powerful enough to convince Nature that
there are other methods than hers... This looks like madness,
but all new things have always seemed like madness before
they became realities.
hour has come for this madness to be realised. And since
we are all here for reasons that are perhaps unknown to
most of you, but are still very conscious reasons, we may
set ourselves to fulfil that madnessat least it will
be worthwhile living it.
- The Mother