The Shared Simple Delight of Music


I love this image from Pat Cegan’s blog, ‘Source of Inspiration’.

To me it evokes spontaneously a wonderful sense of play, of playfulness; the delight of that playfulness shared so deliciously by the little boy, the flute and the cat, all intensely together in the sweet intimacy and secrecy of this little scene…

I have Pat’s kind permission for my borrowing that image to evoke my own feeling about it on my own blog! With my thanks, dear friend…

Update on ‘To be His Beloved as experienced by the Cells’

The post above (see link) was written on June 29th, 2011.

Today is March 9th, 2015.

What has happened in the meantime at the cellular level of my physical body, in all those cells who were so utterly determined to act upon their decision to do their best to act always  in the way expected from them, His Beloved, by the Divine?…

A lot has happened indeed, but not always as satisfying as their intense determination could have made them – and myself with them – expect it.

Most of them have such a wonderful good will… They really try to keep up that intensity of aspiration… but then they forget.

That is, I too forget.

I get again distracted by all the things that need to be done externally, and I fall back into doing most of those things the ordinary way, in more or less still the usual ‘not conscious enough’ consciousness that still gives too much importance to Time, although I know very well – and by direct experience –  it is an illusion that doesn’t exist in the true Reality, a mere convention we all agree to believe in while we are here in this little bubble of Terrestrial Existence inside the limitless true Reality.

Today I stumbled again upon  this experience reported in the post of four years ago that I have put a link to above. The reason why I stumbled upon it is one and the same reason, but repeated several times during the last few days: several people have asked me about those cellular experiences I keep having since so many years, but which I write down mostly in my personal diary, if at all. There would be actually a lot more to note down, if I really tried to note it all down: but then I would have to keep my focus much more constantly on that aspect of my life and of my personal evolution.

Perhaps it is exactly what is being told to me right now that I should do?… It’s the first time there is this kind of insistence from others upon my keeping a better record, and about making it somehow available to people interested.

Perhaps my cells themselves would benefit from a more thorough focus on my part upon them and the progresses they make – or not, depending on the occasion! But it is quite clear that I had the intention to help them by reading again with them what I have written down about previous experiences, so that re-reading all that would remind them that it did happen, and re-create in them to some extent the feeling of each experience; but although I intended to, I never did it. I just went on with my usual daily life, forgetting to help them, either through that, or through keeping some free time for them to enjoy the contact with the Divine Presence that is so important to them…

And on the other hand I keep exposing them to all kinds of dangerous situations, if only the constant contagion from other people, including my best friends when they happen to have some physical problem of their own: recently, the mere listening over the phone to one of them who had fallen from a running horse and had broken a few ribs, along with obviously suffering bruises as well,  convinced my cells that, out of pure compassion and solidarity with that lady friend, they too had to share a similar suffering, and they managed very well to copy, nicely materialized, all the painful symptoms in exactly the same places, although this body of mine hadn’t fallen from any horse at all…! In that specific case I scolded them full heartedly and had to suffer a whole week before I managed to make them slowly dematerialize at last the painful reality they had so well faked that the doctor himself was amazed and rather puzzled!!!

But in the two weeks just elapsed, during the Cellular Consciousness Workshop I gave to three visiting French people, not only were my cells happy as always in those special circumstances, but they provoked at some point such a strong, sudden inward movement of my consciousness, that the trio of visitors also fell silent and, closing their eyes like I spontaneously had, started meditating too;  but then my cells quite forcefully broke through with a little speech of their own, warning them precisely of the importance of this contagion possibility, which can be for the better in some cases, but in some others might be detrimental, to say the least.

This was the very first time in years of giving this workshop, that such a thing had happened. I was as stunned and impressed as my visitors were.

The only other instance of strong self-expression like that was, I realized only while writing this, precisely on the occasion described in the post of four years ago about being the Divine’s Beloved, all of them, and what that experience had made them say.

So here I am now, wondering once again where all this will lead us, my dear cells and I, and what is the best way for me to help them fulfill their spiritual and evolutive goal…

Surprise Blessings… quite precisely timed!!!

The two texts on this blog in which I relate my experience long ago (1973) of 18th November, where I had two Darshans of the Divine Mother, the first one cosmic, and the second one, physical, were the transcription of what I said when, like a number of other old timers in Auroville, I have been asked to speak of my memories of meeting the Mother.

This transcription has been quite useful also for the publication after many years of all the accounts given by the various persons invited to do that sharing. I received two days ago an email announcing that the book was almost ready to go to print, the only thing still needed was, at the end of each text, a facsimile of Mother’s signature, with just a few handwritten words by her.

As I personally didn’t have any such facsimile, I looked up on Google and found a nice little quote signed by the Mother. I sent that by email to the Aurovilians preparing the book.

But the quote was too long, they could only use a very short one, plus the signature. So I wrote back suggesting they use whatever suitable facsimile they themselves might have. I noticed though that while writing that to them I did have a slight tinge of sadness in me that I indeed had no facsimile of Mother’s handwriting. I knew it didn’t matter, but still…

Leaving it at that, I returned to my mailbox… only to discover that a new email had just come in: a notification of a message sent to my Facebook page. My birthday happens to be on February 23rd. Someone I hardly know had written me this:


When I clicked to actually view the post on my Facebook Timeline, I was totally stunned to see this emerge in front of my eyes, big size:blessingsThere it was, exactly what I had wished for!… I stared at it with disbelief at first, and then pure blissful wonderment, and tears of gratitude in my eyes.

Yesterday technically it hasn’t been possible for me to send it in a format that wouldn’t be the Facebook one, which they couldn’t open; but today with some help the technical way was found to send the facsimile just by itself, so it all worked out quite nicely for the publication to come… I felt as if the Mother herself had somehow confirmed her Blessings for the text I had written. How wonderful.

And now, thanks to this incredible coming together of totally independent small events at exactly the right moment, I find myself on top of it blessed indeed for ever with the very facsimile of Mother’s handwriting that I had wished I had, and that the Divine Grace instantly materialized for me in that way!…

What a gift from Mother, on her Birthday today, and for my birthday in two days…

Reconnecting with My Various Cultural Roots

My dear English-speaking visitors,

sorry for this long time writing mostly French posts – if anything at all…! – on this blog of mine.

I happen to be at a stage in my life and in my personal evolution when it seems more things from my past need to come out and become conscious in me, so that they become properly integrated in my being.

Expression in my mother-tongue, French, is at the moment a spontaneous and irrepressible part of that process.

And the kind of culture that automatically comes up in me together with this French language is of course also the French culture, all this informal mass of innumerable references that has grown in me since early childhood: ways of speaking, of thinking, of behaving, of reacting, memories of bits of French History, of French Literature – including its roots still carried by the Greek and Latin quotes learned and remembered by any well-educated French person of my generation – plus all those more popular things such as the old songs and stories and fairy-tales and legends of France… and the very landscapes and characteristic architectural shapes that form the geographical background to all that culture and remains in your very bones.

Whatever your own culture, you too have the equivalent same mass of references within you, all full of meaning for you, but that simply wouldn’t mean anything to me, wouldn’t evoke any emotion out of me and would leave me flat cold. I know that very well because I have been participating for years in a few Forums on the Net, in which the other participants are mostly North-Americans, for example, or at least Anglo-Saxons: their own culture speaks through them constantly, but most of the time unconsciously, that is, it’s so natural to them that they don’t ever realize it – but I simply don’t know what they are talking about!…

And all this is but normal: these are their roots, relevant and understandable and indispensable for them in their life there, but without any relevance for me as a French person, or for anyone else from yet any other culture.

This is why I’m not going to inflict on you my French culture either –  even just through tentative translations – all the more because in my own individual case it is not even entirely the ‘regular’ French culture I am a product of, but a special mixture of that with the local culture in the little far-away (but nevertheless French) island called Martinique, out there near Cuba and Jamaica, that my family happens to originate from since many generations.

Although I myself wasn’t born there and never lived there, this specific Martinique background has been present in my life at all stages and has separated me to some extent from the ‘regular’ French persons I happen to have met and associated with at all times, while I know practically no other person from Martinique except the relatives and friends of my parents and grand-parents who visited them now and then in France in the old days of my childhood and youth, when my parents too spent some time there with us the two girls, in between work time for my father as a French Government official in the parts of Africa colonized by France.

Of course to have lived most of my early years in that Africa that was also a part of our original roots as people from Martinique, has been a special experience for me, although again I could feel the difference separating me from the people born and living there as real Africans, which I was not.

All this under the skin of an apparently fully ‘white’ young girl and adult, yet totally used to the diversity in outer appearance between all of us members of the very same family. This utter diversity all seemed perfectly normal to me as a child, and probably protected me from any racist tendency that could have grown in me towards the African people working with my parents, or the younger ones studying together with me in the French ‘Lycees’ (secondary schools) my sister and I attended in the various towns my father was sent to over the years.

Racism was so far from my mind, even as a young adult, that it came as a big shock to me when, luckily in two separate occasions only, a few persons, seeing my mixed origins in my parents, manifested some racist reactions towards me, which left me totally flabbergasted and my world shaken in its very foundations.

Now a much older being, recently I have started looking back at my life and wondering how different it would have been, had I been more visibly the person of mixed origins that I am,

a Creole from Martinique. Have I been hiding all my life under this white skin and this light brown, almost blonde hair? Or were these the outer signs of the numerous lifetimes also lived in France – or sometimes Italy – in other historical periods, outer signs which helped me keep my deep inner connection with Europe, and the vaster relationship to the world that it entailed, instead of feeling spontaneously just as a relatively insignificant person from a relatively unimportant little island in the Caribbean Sea?…

It is as if in me so many parts of this planet, so many lands and cultures of this Earth, were trying to come consciously together at last, as so many various but complementary facets of our world’s population finding at last their harmony and unity…

Lettres de mon Refuge: Le Casque Rose

Rien n’est plus bête

Qu’un accident.

Surtout la tête,

Notre instrument

Privilegié, ca coûte cher

Si on l’abîme:

On perd la vue, l’ouïe, la raison…

C’est vraiment crime

Que  perdre tout ça pour de bon

Faute d’avoir porté un casque.

De nos jours, par due precaution

Beaucoup de gens portent des masques

Pour éviter la pollution,

Mais qui, surtout parmi les femmes,

Se soucie d’éviter le choc,

Pourtant plus important un drame,

De leur tête sur quelque roc?

Tout simplement au démarrage

Et bien que juste passagère

Sur une moto de passage,

Une amie, tombée en arrière,

S’est proprement fêlé le crâne,

Se retrouvant à l’hôpital.

Vraiment il faudrait être un âne

Pour prendre un risque aussi vital

Et continuer à ne rien mettre

En protection sur notre corps

Du seul organe qui peut émettre

Des pensées encore et encore!

Conclusion urgente et première:

On peut donc dire, c’est évident,

En moto, devant ou derrière,

Porter un casque est plus prudent.

Mais les casques qu’on trouve en Inde,

Ils sont énormes,et puis tout noirs;

J’avais beau vouloir me contraindre,

Pour moi c’était rédhibitoire.

Je n’aurais donc jamais acquis

De casque pour me protéger

Si récemment dans le maquis

Des communautés engagées

Dans le travail de “Ceinture Verte”

Autour de l’Auroville urbain,

Je n’avais fait la découverte

D’un vraiment drôle de magasin:

“Aurovélo”, ce lieu s’appelle,

Bien que son créateur ne soit

Pas français, mais jeunesse telle

Qu’il en est né, bien loin des lois,

A Auroville: parents anglais,

Très British, enfants tous rouquins,

Aux yeux et à la peau bien clairs…

Mais au lieu d’aimer les bouquins,

Lui s’est épris de mécanique

Comme papa. Son atelier,

Pour ce jeune à l’esprit pratique,

Inclut pour les mieux travailler

Tous matériaux imaginables,

Et le lieu, bien sûr populaire

Pour tous les jeunes peu raisonnables

D’Auroville, peut maintenant faire

Des repas pour midi, servir

Des mets de sa composition;

Tables et chaises vous font sourire:

Tout est de récupération!

Dans ce bric à brac ordonné

Installé sous son grand hangar,

Tous mélanges sont pardonnés:

Il y a donc dans ce bazar

Une sorte de boutique ouverte.

Tous les Auroviliens cyclistes,

Résidents de la Ceinture Verte

Ou juste amoureux de ces pistes

Ombragées d’arbres sur nos routes

Et entretenues avec soin,

Oui, tous, à la moindre déroute,

S’en viennent ici pour leur besoin

De faire réparer leur monture

Ou remplacer un accessoire…

Et tous remarquent les confitures

Et sont bien contents de s’asseoir

Un moment, et de bavarder

Avec les autres visiteurs,

Ou même aussi de s’attarder

Pour un repas, si c’en est l’heure.

Que l’on soit à vélo ou pas,

C’est clair que dans ce lieu étrange

Tout est extrêmement sympa,

Et ce garçon, une sorte d’ange!

Il pense à tout, il imagine

Quoi de plus intégrer au lieu.

C’est ainsi qu’en plus des machines

Un coin est né, et c’est tant mieux,

Où l’on peut trouver, bien en vue

Bien rangés sur leurs étagères,

Plein d’accessoires, et des revues

Pour toute commande étrangère

Qu’il n’aurait pas encore en stock.

C’est étonnant la foule de choses

Qu’on regarde, bien qu’on s’en moque…

Et soudain c’est un CASQUE ROSE

Qu’une amie remarque là-haut

Et me signale, et me descend!!!

Incroyable mais vrai: tout beau,

Il est d’un aspect très décent:

Pas trop gros, mais l’air bien solide…

Pas le plastique qui se raye…

Et voilà que je me décide:

Il me plaît, alors je l’essaye!…

O miracle! C’est juste ma taille!!!

M’emboîtant parfaitement le crâne,

C’est le casque ou jamais qui m’aille!

Que je roule ou je tombe en panne,

Avec ça sur la tête, au moins

Je serai sûre qu’en cas de chute

Ou tout autre cas de besoin

Mon cerveau n’aura pas de lutte

Pour survivre, ou autre souci!

Mais… où pourrais-je voir ma tête???

Y aurait-il un miroir ici?!

Un grand miroir… dans les toilettes!

Bon, ma foi, ce n’est pas trop mal…

Je suis en rose justement…

Pour qui me connaît, c’est normal!

C’est bien pour ça, exactement,

Que mon amie m’a signalé

Ce casque ROSE à n’y pas croire!

Elle savait qu’il allait aller

Tout à fait bien dans mon histoire!!!

Voila comment “Aurovélo”

Soudain est entré dans ma vie

Et comment, plus qu’un simple mot,

Ce nom maintenant me ravit:

A celles qui depuis me voient

Avec mon casque sur la tête:

“Ce Casque Rose de mon choix?

A Aurovélo on l’achète!…”

“The Last Goodbye,” An Ode to the Fans

Originally posted on Writing Bliss:


Since it was announced that Billy Boyd would be performing the credit song at the end of The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies, I have been anxiously awaiting the release. Since the release of the song, “The Last Goodbye,” I have been listening to it non-stop. On a personal level this song holds an enormous amount of emotion for me. I’m leaving tomorrow morning to move two states and multiple hours away from the only home I’ve ever known. Listening to this song in the car at night while I was driving alone after saying goodbye to yet another good friend was probably not the best idea. It was as if it was raining, only my eyeballs didn’t have windshield wipers.

The last time I discussed the power and the scope of credit songs, I compared the songs from the first two Hobbit films (you can find the post

View original 911 more words

1.1.2015: Au Premier Soleil 2015

Eh bien, bonjour a toi, bonjour
Au Premier Soleil 2015!
Tu ouvres donc le Premier Jour
De ce Nouvel An 2015…

Deja voila des arcs-en-ciel
Que tu me lances dans ma chambre
Et pourtant hier c’etait decembre
Et le dernier des jours pluriels…

Trois p’tits seaux d’eau dans mon grand seau,
Un seau d’eau bien chaude ajoutee,
Et voila!… J’ai la toute l’eau
Qu’il me faut pour me bien doucher

Et me sentir bien propre et neuve
Pour commencer cette journee!
Apres cela, qu’il vente ou pleuve,
J’aurai bien demarre l’Annee!

Ma chatte est la, sur mes genoux,
S’installant des que je me pose:
Ce n’est pas “moi”, c’est toujours “nous”,
Chaque fois qu’elle peut oser, elle ose!!!

Ma vie est en place deja
En ce matin d’Annee Nouvelle:
Que serait la vie sans un chat?
Que serait donc ma vie sans elle?…

Il y a des faits nouveaux et nus
Qui n’appartiennent qu’au present
Et il y en a qui continuent
Comme ils le font depuis longtemps

Revetus de nos habitudes,
De nos attentes et reactions,
Que ce soit rage ou mansuetude,
Ils sont part de la situation…

Et toi, Soleil, tu es la aussi,
Brillant ou voile, peu importe,
Tu es Le Fait qu’on remercie:
Tu es l’Energie qui nous porte…

Tu es le visible symbole
De l’Amour Inconditionnel
Qui de la Chine a l’Acropole
Dort dans le monde materiel.

Dans le monde de notre corps
Le meme Pouvoir se reveille
Mais ce n’est pas le temps encore
Pour nos cellules d’etre soleils,

Pour le moment elles t’adorent:
Le matin nous te saluons,
Nous nous impregnons de ton or…
Aujourd’hui nous te celebrons!


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