On the Occasion of Divine Mother’s 137th Birth Anniversary-The Part She Plays in Orchestrating the Work: From the Streets of Paris to Feeding Pigeons to Stars and Galaxies/21st February 2015

Divine Mother on the streets of Paris

Divine Mother, Mirra Alfassa in front of St Mark’s Basilica, Venice, Italy

Feeding the pigeons

Chonemorpha fragrans, Frangipani vine

Chonemorpha fragrans, Frangipani vine

Feeding the world

Feed in your heart

With her love song

Its stronger than a kiss

Softer than the sun

In the playground of the sky

run run run

Time cannot juxtapose synergies of an ancient truth; they are prevalent in the musical travelogues of the troubadours. With each passing day, the tree has expressed its own offering to the creation in an almost silent way. The fruit has gathered the flower’s morphogenetic vibrations in a little note from a bird that will nest in the future. Rhythm of an arcane moment eternise the Rialto so it can taste the artistic freedom of a higher existence. You may honour the season’s paeans in the sweet gesture of a firefly that sees every end as a cyclical reverie of the moon- this is the root of remembering the being visited by a sudden light half sunk in the river of ecstasy.

“A Light there is that leads, a Power that aids;

Unmarked, unfelt it sees in him and acts:

Ignorant, he forms the All-Conscient in his depths,

Human, looks up to superhuman peaks:

A borrower of Supernature’s gold,

He paves his road to Immortality”.  (Savitri, Sri Aurobindo)

Silken center touched by the scream in meditative stillness will generate karma from the vacuum grid – feeding the heart with her songs …regain consciousness  in the bliss of business called divine life – from light you are earning the gift of vision to experience…from darkness you are learning the deep solitude of the epiphany of space-time causal-rhyme

Divine Mother in a Playful Mood with Puppies

Divine Mother in a Playful Mood with Puppies

Feed the pigeons

Feed the puppies

Feed the world

Like your lassie

each wounded bird tells its story to the dim forest branches; scattered by the winds the starlight pierces the soft warm skin beneath…its last song is the theatrical eternal fossil that plays out time to capture Bresson’s decisive moment…Are you awake to Andre Gide, Marcel Proust and the oracles of Rimbaud?

 

She feeds the stars from the pigeons; the pigeons from the stars…

Keep faith

As you wait…

Tomorrow the song will be sung

By all…

-J

Video Concept & Voice by Monalisa/Words by J

 

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2 Comments

  1. ERRATA CORRIGE In the first photo, the Mother is in Venice (Italy), in front of
    St Mark’s Basilica: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Mark%27s_Basilica —- P.S:: I’m Italian 🙂

    Reply

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