Why my ‘AUROSPIRITUALS’ after forty years of ‘Yoga of the Cells’

As I explained in my previous article, it is since 1975 and the full coming in front of my Psychic Being (the ‘Being of the Soul’, as Sri Aurobindo  and Mother call It) that devotional songs for the Divine began spontaneously coming to me, again and again.

And it is when the inner contact with my cells, which happened by itself one year later, in 1976, enabled me to notice with astonishment,  as early as 1978, that here and there in my body they were turning altogether spiritual, it is from that time on that those cells, of a body not only creole but also born in Africa, started to influence the devotional songs that kept coming to me: it was now often on the very joyful rhythm of a biguine or a samba that they expressed themselves!…

So, the sudden influx in September and October 2017 of several more such songs, but dedicated specifically to Africa, has only been the most recent form that  those ‘AUROSPIRITUALS’ took, composing themselves inside of me since the early Eighties.

I thought I had given them that name only just before the African Niagara: precisely the night before the powerful arrival of the African Niagara in the early morning, I had made a list of all my very rhythmic songs and had given them that name – for the first time, or so I believed.

A major mistake actually:

It is simple little notebooks for schoolkids that I use for noting down since 1988 (at last…) the spiritual progresses of my cells, as well as my dreams – in case the latter may reveal a secret inner relation with the cellular progresses also recorded.

From the very first notebook in 1988, I named the future whole record of those notes ‘My Cells and Me:  Journal of a Wonderful Adventure Together’.

Quite recently – these last few weeks – , while going back in time leafing through those notebooks, searching for an entirely different cellular event, I stumbled upon the veritable date on which for the first time I had had the inspiration of that name for my songs with a more exotic rhythm: it was in fact, unbelievable but true, in the morning of Feb. 24th 2017, that is, exactly the day after my birthday last year!!!

What a surprise! Already on that morning, right after my previous birthday, the Divine had whispered to me this precise name for those songs: ‘AUROSPIRITUALS’!…

Stunned, I realized this specific name was having then a great importance, more so than I had suspected. In effect, that name was enabling me to evoke and honor the name of similar but older songs, indeed, but also to signal the difference: thanks to its greater universality that name could then be used for the joyful devotional expression of any people or culture, beyond all the religions and their human dogmas so limiting and divisive!…

Thanks to the genetic research that has now become so easy to do, many people are discovering they have had ancestors of totally unsuspected origins, and this simple revelation by itself makes them open up to those other cultures they had no idea they were linked to.

But what Genetics don’t know yet, is that we have often been our own ancestors, too…! And in my personal case, it is not just African and Creole roots that I have in me. Be it from one lifetime or the other, I have actually roots masculine or feminine, on all continents, under all latitudes and all skin colors, expressing all the shamanic or religious beliefs known or forgotten. Roots?… I have, it would seem, a multitude of them.

Indeed: the British Aurovilian lady (nowadays gone back to cool England for her health) whom long ago I had finally consulted like many of us did, revealed then to me, to her own surprise, that I was what is called ‘an old soul’, having lived lives upon lives, everywhere, from the most ancient times, and that in this lifetime (a most important one) I was to gather and use all the qualities acquired in all those other lives to create out of them the diversified richness that our human unity requires for truly happening, in this terrestrial evolutive future that is growing more and more.

Well, I had noted down all right everything that this Aurovilian lady with inner sight  had told me, but without having the slightest idea of how such a future of spiritual universalisation would ever become a part of my real life.

And there it was, beginning obviously to happen, and on the intense and accelerated mode that luckily I was getting used to, for it was in that same way that all my previous spiritual progresses had happened every time, and this new one was no exception:

One after the other, first Africa with several of its regions, among them the Atlas, then it has been Tibet that revived its deep roots within me, then Kazakhstan, or rather the whole area around the Altaï, whatever present name those countries may have, that lie there since ever, and in which my being has incarnated for one life or the other. And there is the Peru of Macchu Picchu. And there is Ancient Israël – several lives. And there are of course my roots, multiple too, in France as such, at various time periods. And it is far from all!

These last months, my own evolutive progresses have translated themselves, in the night as in the day, through a sort of universalisation, not any more just psychological like when a young adult, but lived by my body itself, the experience buried into the invisible layers of my cells’ DNA starting to become active again, bringing me in a sequence, irresistibly, to several of those Cultural Pavilions that Mother asked us to build also in Auroville, I understand better and better why.

And this doesn’t concern me only, obviously: Auroville, and beyond Auroville, humanity as a whole will have to follow this same inner movement connecting all our diversities.

Of course the Aurovilians are from everywhere, already on the first degree, speaking simply of each one’s country of origin in this lifetime. But to feel that one belongs only to that one country is not enough, it too easily gives rise to ‘reductionism’ and ‘exclusivism’ towards the other countries.

Beyond this apparently unique country each one belongs to now, so many of us in Auroville, like me have those multiple deep roots connecting them invisibly to so many countries and cultures and times, on top on their country of origin this time around, that having lived under all skin colors, when they begin to remember it, they simply cannot anymore be a racist….

Same thing for the religions: when one has lived at the time of Christ, but also at the time of Krishna, and also at the time of Buddha or Mahomet, and then now of Sri Aurobindo and Mother, it is from within that one feels the wonderful complementarity of the way they followed each other, simply as different and growing expressions of the same Truth  now at last fully revealed. That Truth has needed all the previous ones to become whole again in its expression, and they must remain, in some more supple form devoid of exclusivism, so that the Truth  will still be adapted to the various degrees of evolution and inner needs that cannot but be there, among those unique individual human beings that we all are, all various aspects of the Divine at the same time ONE and ALL.

It is, I see it, this new experience in my cells that has made my individual consciousness achieve the same progress in effective universalization.

For 2018,  for this Fortieth Year of their own ‘Yoga of the Cells’, as Mother was calling it, this is the Gift they have received in several stages, during the End of Year and New year time, and still more later… And they kindly made me benefit from it, they shared it with me, this Gift, and now thanks to these neurons who formulate it for me, and these hands who write it on this keyboard for me, and this whole body who participates one way or the other, I am able to share it with other human beings too, a bit everywhere, through this blog! Isn’t that fantastic?!?

All my congratulations to you, my dear cells, and all my gratitude as a human being who still felt too separated from the others! You have changed all that in a few months!… And our little Celebration of Africa at the African Pavilion through your joyful ‘Aurospirituals’ for the anniversary of this body you constitute, my dear cells, this little afternoon of singing and dancing that way is more ad more taking its full meaning : it was a Celebration of the wonderful Diversity of Human Expression that we are all part of!…

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Pourquoi mes “AUROSPIRITUALS”, après quarante années de “Yoga des Cellules”

Ainsi que je l’ai expliqué dans mon précédent article, c’est depuis 1975 et la pleine venue en avant de mon Être Psychique (l’Être de l’Âme, ainsi nommé par Sri Aurobindo et Mère) que des chansons dévotionnelles pour le Divin ont spontanément commencé à me venir, encore et encore.

Et c’est lorsque le contact intérieur avec mes cellules, qui s’est produit par lui-même un an plus tard, fin 1976, m’a permis de constater avec stupeur, dès 1978, qu’elles étaient carrément, ici et là dans mon corps, en train de s’éveiller spirituellement, c’est à partir de ce moment-là que ces cellules, d’un corps non seulement créole mais aussi né en Afrique, ont commencé à influencer les chansons dévotionnelles qui continuaient de plus belle à me venir: maintenant c’était souvent sur des rythmes de biguine ou de samba fort joyeux et entraînants qu’elles s’exprimaient!….

L’afflux soudain en Septembre et Octobre 2017 de telles chansons, mais cette fois dédiées spécifiquement à l’Afrique, n’a donc été que la plus récente forme qu’ont prise ces “AUROSPIRITUALS” qui se sont composés en moi depuis le début des années 80.

Je croyais ne les avoir nommées “AUROSPIRITUALS” que juste avant l’arrivée récente du Niagara africain: justement pile la nuit d’avant que le Niagara africain ne se déclenche en pleine force au petit matin, j’avais fait la liste de toutes mes chansons bien rythmées, et les avais appelées ainsi – pour la première fois, ou du moins je le croyais.

Erreur majeure en fait:

Ce sont de simples petits cahiers d’écolière qui me servent depuis 1988 à noter (enfin…) les progrès spirituels de mes cellules, ainsi que mes rêves – au cas où ceux-ci révèleraient une relation intérieure secrète avec les progrès cellulaires notés aussi.

Dès le premier cahier en 1988,  j’ai intitulé tout l’ensemble de mes notes futures “Mes Cellules et moi: Journal d’une Merveilleuse Aventure ensemble”.

Tout récemment – ces dernières semaines – en remontant le temps dans ces petits cahiers, alors que j’étais à la recherche d’un tout autre évènement cellulaire, je suis tombée sur la véritable date à laquelle j’avais pour la première fois eu l’inspiration de ce nom pour ces chansons au rythme plus exotique : c’était en fait, incroyable mais vrai, au matin du 24 février 2017, soit exactement le lendemain de mon anniversaire d’il y a un an!!!

Ô surprise, dès ce matin-là, juste à la suite de mon anniversaire précédent, le Divin m’avait déjà soufflé ce nom précis pour ces chansons-là: les “AUROSPIRITUALS”!…

Je me suis rendu compte avec effarement que ce nom spécifique avait donc une grande importance, plus d’importance que je ne le soupçonnais. De fait, ce nom me permettait d’évoquer et d’honorer le nom des chants similaires plus anciens, certes, mais tout en m’en démarquant grâce à ce nom plus universel qui pourrait du coup être utilisé pour la joyeuse expression dévotionnelle de tout peuple et toute culture, au-delà de toutes les religions et de leurs dogmes humains si limitants et séparateurs!…

Grâce aux recherches génétiques maintenant faciles à faire, de nombreuses personnes se découvrent des ancêtres d’origines totalement insoupçonnées, et déjà cette simple révélarion les fait s’ouvrir à ces autres peuples auxquels ils étaient donc reliés sans le savoir

Mais ce que la génétique ne sait pas encore, c’est que nous avons  souvent été aussi nos propres ancêtres…! Or dans mon cas, ce ne sont pas seulement des racines africaines et créoles que j’ai en moi. Que ce soit d’une vie ou d’une autre, j’en ai en fait au masculin ou au féminin, dans tous les continents, sous toutes les latitudes et couleurs de peaux, exprimant toutes les croyances chamaniques ou religieuses connues ou oubliées. Des racines, j’en ai, semble-t-il, une multitude.

En effet: l’Aurovilienne britannique et médium (aujourd’hui retournée pour sa santé à la fraîcheur de l’Angleterre) qu’autrefois j’avais finalement consultée moi aussi, m’avait révélé avec étonnement que j’étais ce qu’on appelle une “vieille âme”, ayant vécu des vies et des vies, partout, depuis les temps les plus anciens, et que dans cette vie-ci (très importante), j’aurais à rassembler et utiliser les acquis de toutes ces autres vies pour en faire la richesse très diversifiée que notre unité humaine exige pour se réaliser vraiment, dans ce futur évolutif terrestre qui grandit de plus en plus.

J’avais bien pris bonne note de ce que disait cette Aurovilienne douée de voyance, mais sans avoir la moindre idée de comment ce devenir spirituel d’universalisation future deviendrait une partie de mon vécu effectif.

Et voilà que maintenant cela commençait nettement à se produire, et sur le mode intense et accéléré dont je commençais à avoir l’habitude, heureusement, car c’était ainsi que tous mes précédents progrès spirituels, en quelque partie que ce soit de mon être, s’étaient chaque fois produits, et ce progrès nouveau ne faisait pas exception:

Coup sur coup, après l’Afrique et plusieurs de ses régions, dont celle de l’Atlas, c’est le Tibet qui a fait revivre ses racines en moi, puis le Kazakhstan, ou plutôt la région entière située autour de l’AltaÏ, quels que soient les noms présents des pays qui s’y trouvent depuis toujours, et dans lesquels mon être s’est incarné pour une vie ou une autre. Et i il y a le Péroude MacchuPicchu. Et il y a l’Israël d’autrefois – plusieurs vies. Et il y a bien sûr mes racines, multiples elles aussi, en France-même, à différentes époques. Et c’est loin d’être tout!

Tous ces mois derniers, mes propres progrès évolutifs se sont traduits, de nuit comme de jour, par une sorte d’universalisation, non plus seulement psychologique comme dès mon adolescence, mais bien corporelle, le vécu enfoui dans les couches invisibles de l’ADN de mes cellules commençant à s’activer de nouveau, me portant successivement et irrésistiblement vers plusieurs de ces Pavillons Culturels que Mère nous a demandé d’aussi construire à Auroville, je comprends de mieux en mieux pourquoi.

Et cela ne me concerne pas seulement moi, bien sûr: Auroville, et au-delà d’Auroville toute l’Humanité, doivent suivre ce même mouvement intérieur reliant toutes nos diversités.

Il est bien entendu que les Auroviliens viennent de partout, déjà au premier degré, parlant simplement de nos pays d’origine dans cette vie-ci. Mais cette appartenance-là est trop unique, trop aisément “réductioniste” et “exclusiviste” dans son attitude envers les autres pays.

Au delà de cette appartenance apparemment unique de chacun, tant d’entre nous vivant à Auroville ont comme moi de ces racines profondes multiples qui les connectent invisiblement à tant d’autres pays et cultures et époques, en plus de leur pays d’origine de cette fois-ci, que, ayant vécu sous toutes les couleurs de peau, quand ils commencent à s’en souvenir, ils ne peuvent tout simplement plus être racistes…

Même chose pour les religions: quand on a vécu au temps du Christ, mais aussi au temps de Krishna, et aussi au temps de Bouddha ou de Mahomet, et puis maintenant de Sri Aurobindo et Mère, c’est du dedans que l’on ressent la merveilleuse complémentarité de leur succession: simplement des expressions différentes, et croissantes, de la même Vérité maintenant enfin entièrement dévoilée, Celle-ci a eu besoin de toutes les précédentes pour redevenir totale dans son expression, et doit les conserver, sous une forme plus souple, dénuée d’exclusivisme: ainsi seulement pourra-t-elle continuer à s’adapter aux degrés d’évolution et aux besoins intérieurs différents qu’ont forcément ces êtres individuels uniques que nous sommes tous, tous aspects différents du même Divin à la fois UN et TOUT.

C’est donc, je le constate, ce vécu nouveau de mes cellules qui m’a fait accomplir dans ma conscience individuelle le même progrès d’universalisation effective.

Pour 2018, pour cette Quarantième Année de leur propre “Yoga des Cellules”, ainsi que l’appelait Mère, c’est le Cadeau qu’elles ont reçu peu à peu, pendant les fêtes de Fin d’Année et de Nouvelle Année, et encore depuis… Et elles m’en ont fait gentiment profiter, elles l’ont partagé avec moi, ce Cadeau, et maintenant grâce à ces neurones qui le formulent pour moi, et ces mains qui l’écrivent sur ce clavier pour moi, sans compter toutes les autres cellules de ce corps qui participent d’une manière ou d’une autre, je peux en faire profiter d’autres êtres humains aussi, un peu partout, à travers ce blog! N’est-ce pas fabuleux?!?

Toutes mes félicitations à vous, mes chères cellules, et toute ma gratitude d’être humain qui se sentait encore trop séparé des autres! Vous avez changé tout cela en quelques mois!… Et notre petite Célébration de l’Afrique au Pavillon Africain à travers vos gais “AUROSPIRITUALS”, pour l’anniversaire de ce corps que vous constituez, mes chères cellules, cette petite fête prend de plus en plus tout son sens de Célébration de la merveilleuse Diversité d’Expression Humaine dont nous faisons tous partie!…

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Balancing in Ourselves the Masculine and the Feminine that are One

Almost everybody on Earth has by now come to know of the YIN-YANG symbol from the ancient Chinese Wisdom:

yin-yang

It is the symbolic representation of all the polarities our mind is perceiving everywhere – including in our own life, where it is powerfully exemplified to start with by the polarity between the two opposite genders our physical body has to belong to: the Masculine or the Feminine – and in our human experience the Masculine has been having the upper hand over the Feminine for such a long time that it seems pretty much like for ever.

This present situation of course strongly encourages our mind to envisage everything as constituted in the same way of pairs of contraries that, extremely contrasted as they are by the Mind’s tendency to do so, seem bound to oppose each other in an endless struggle to win over the other, hence our impression that this Duality is an absolute and eternal Fact of Life.

But the very symbol of the YIN-YANG polarity shows without any doubt something quite different, if only we really look at it carefully.

Far from an actual Duality, what is shown is a Oneness: the Mystery of Mysteries that is called the Tao – another word for the Divine Reality. In this symbol, even those two universal Principles called the Yin and the Yang never stand each one on their own, in isolation: it is always the YIN and the YANG together, for each of them always contains the other one, even if only in the most minimal proportion. They cannot exist without each other, for it is only in relation to each other that they exist at all. And that relation between the two is never static, it constantly balances itself out in an instability and constant newness that is Life itself: constant change.

What a far cry from this sense of wholeness and balance is our present mental perception of the Polarities as two principles trying to win over each other for absolute supremacy and eternal dominance of the other!… Our society, and within it the education that, from birth on, our families give to all of us, deeply inculcates in each of us the sense of a gender-based identity that will pervade our entire life in all its aspects, if we want to conform to the expectations, first from our parents and then from the other humans beings around us, of a gender-based ‘proper’ behavior. Boys become afraid to show any trait attributed usually to girls, and of course girls, afraid to show any trait supposedly boyish. We all end up living in a gender-based prison, which we accept all the more easily because we have come to believe this all reflects the true reality of our being, and of Reality in general.

We are totally missing the point that the ancient symbol, in its deep Wisdom, was meant to awaken us to.

But things are changing.

The current spiritual awakening that touches more and more people all over the planet in this new evolutive step brings up with it an increasing awareness in many that our present lifetime is not the only one we have experienced. In some of those other lifetimes some of us start even remembering to some extent, we were of the opposite gender, This is only  to be expected, for the spirit in each of us carries in itself both the Masculine and the Feminine principles together, and needs to feel free to express the qualities of both as required by the circumstances, or just its own inner choice.

This is why there is since about fifty years such an increase in the number of human beings who find in themselves a tendency to be gay or lesbian, or to change the sex they were born with, because their inner sense of identity doesn’t accept any more to be restricted to the gender-based rules of behavior and dress imposed on them by their society – often with the heaviness of human laws and cruel punishments added to the original scriptures of their religion.

But Evolution is a divine Law of Growth that no human power can stop, and even the most cruel repression cannot compel for ever people to act against what they truly feel. Part of that irresistible growth is the re-unification in each of us of the Masculine and the Feminine, and the free expression of both kinds of qualities in any proportion each of us may feel appropriate at any given moment. It is already begun, and soon no one but the most archaic consciousnesses will be shocked, for it is a new ‘normality’ that is being created in our midst by the Evolutive Force, which will transform our societies into the places of inner freedom that they must become if they want to survive in Humanity’s truer Future.

Well, I am glad that in my own individual being the very same process of re-unification of the Masculine and the Feminine, already there of course at the soul level, Image 1 symbolized by the Unicorn,

and started since long at the mental level, Image 2

has now taken a major step forward at the emotional and vital level too:

Quite obviously, as represented especially through those two last notebook covers I presented in recent posts, the Feminine Image as well as the Masculine Image 3 were both much too extreme, and so, both inappropriate if allowed to act separately; but through the joining of the two that has spontaneously just happened, the qualities of both together have suddenly begun manifesting themselves in a most satisfactory way since the melding of the two, giving me the needed balance between the two, a living, variable balance that I can modify constantly as the situation requires… or as my own inner sense of divinely inspired Freedom happens to prefer at that moment!…

What a divinely simple Transformative Process that lets no quality ever acquired in our other lifetimes go wasted in this one: if our longing for a certain quality is strong and persistent enough, and if we remain open, trusting that we can change, the transfer and the melding do happen, and changed we are indeed!…

 

 

 

 

How My Inner Family Got Suddenly Extended Beyond Time and Space

In a recent post ( https://labofevolution.wordpress.com/2017/09/09/the-rich-complexity-of-our-being/ ), I was quoting one of Sri Aurobindo’s ‘Letters on Yoga’, ending with this very important indication of what needs to happen inside one’s inextricable inner complexity, if one wants to enter the Yoga of conscious evolution that the Integral Yoga is:

‘The remedy can only come from the parts of the being that are already turned towards the Light. To call in the light of the Divine Consciousness from above, to bring the psychic being to the front and kindle a flame of aspiration which will awaken spiritually the outer mind and set on fire the vital being, is the way out.’

One can immediately see that the two things Sri Aurobindo indicates that need to happen will lead exactly to the first two parts of the total transformation of our being, called the Spiritualisation (from above), and the Psychicisation (from within), both necessary to a large extent before the third and final transformation, called the Supramentalisation, can stabilize and complete what has been accomplished by the first two stages.

Until then, one is bound to remain in an overall state of ‘work in progress’, but still some changes may already happen that are so considerable that they make us feel and behave already like a different person!

What is extremely important, though, is that, in an evolutive endeavor, no outer part in us can be allowed to distance the other outer parts too much or for too long: you have got in yourself that eagle and that hare, but also that tortoise, and the three of them, in spite of their very different speeds, must be made to reach the finish line together, for they form actually a team and are all indispensable for the final result…

In my personal case, given as an example, the whole process took recently a quite funny turn with the apparition on my successive little notebooks of cover drawings depicting symbolically but unmistakably certain members of my own Inner Family (see my post, https://labofevolution.wordpress.com/2017/09/10/introducing-my-own-inner-family/ , for  the pictures and how each one applied to me).

Well, in the month that has elapsed since, something even funnier happened: an even more unexpected fourth cover appeared, that was to play an important role too, but in that case, from beyond Time and Space!…

Of course within each of us there is already, from beyond Time and Space, our Higher Self (above) and our Psychic Being (deep within) that are both eternal and divine: for this very reason they are the two great Helpers mentioned by Sri Aurobindo in my quote, for our repeated evolutive adventures in our various incarnations on Earth in a human body.

But the part of me represented on that fourth recent notebook was obviously not of such a high spiritual level. I had not selected it this time but simply found it, just by itself, at the place within Auroville that we call our ‘Free Store’. I was then only halfway through   the Pink Teddy Bear notebook and the emotional upheavals it had signaled to me in advance, so the arrival of that new notebook already so early, and the fact that it wasn’t lined like the ones I always choose for my notes, intrigued me, and I took it,

Still, the new member of the family presenting itself in that unexpected way wasn’t really what I would have consciously chosen, and I had hesitated even after taking it:

Image 3

Do you see what I mean?… Yes, it was again a bear, but this time, not exactly of the cute kind, to say the least!!!

What a beautiful beast, though, in its superbly powerful body, a solid mass of muscles all perfectly relaxed under an immaculate fur… Such a supple and harmonious strength, so spontaneously and irresistibly sure of itself!…

Although rather intimidated and a little apprehensive of what such a tough new member of my inner family would bring to me next, and not knowing yet at all what potentially dangerous part of me it represented, still I didn’t go back on my adoption, and I put the notebook aside near my bed, for later use.

But I had hardly put it aside that I had the next evening to pick it up again, for I wanted to note down the list of those among my existing songs that had a rhythm related to the music sung and danced in Africa particularly; I was feeling the sudden need to draw such a list, I didn’t know why. Then I fell asleep.

In the very early hours of the morning, while it was still dark, I woke up with the sound of the music and words of a new song, entering my consciousness with all the impressive power of a train arriving in a station, a song that joyfully called for “Africa, Africa” to “wake up now”!…

The cheerful and powerful lyrics were noted down at once as they arrived, and that covered the page just next to the one where I had written the list the night before. I was stunned.

But that was not all: the following week too, more songs came in the same way, all of them on Africa, or later on, to the slightly different rhythms of the French Caribbean islands both my parents come from, although I myself was born and grew up in Africa, in the then French colonies.

I spent two full weeks receiving in that way several songs based on both those cultures  where song and dance are really expressions of the body itself, in the strong connection it has with the land and the Earth as a whole.

The effect on my entire being was tremendous, I realized after some time: simply to sing and dance all day long those so powerful and rhythmic new songs was communicating more and more to my own body the very sense of strength and self-confidence it was lacking before… and that were expressed so well in the massive but at the same time lithe body of the bear on the cover of that very notebook I had unexpectedly started to use for those special notes, while still using the Pink Teddy Bear one for my usual daily notes!…

But why a Polar Bear, and not a brown one?!…

When I asked myself that question, the answer came immediately from within:

It was because that Bear wasn’t representing just my relationship to Africa as it is today, in this lifetime, but also the much older, very deep relationship I have had with that vast and massive Land of Africa since ancient times, through specific cultures that are still alive in the far memories I have of those times, including subconsciously when the climate was different and the Sahara not yet a desert of endless dunes… A time when I myself had been a strong and fearless warrior, the quiet power of whom was now re-entering my life to complement and balance out the fragility and self-doubt of my present physical body, further weakened by my present emotional being’s vulnerability… a characteristic inherited also from another lifetime, interestingly enough, but that time lived in France, a few centuries back.

What a wonderful gift I was receiving from beyond Time and Space!

By combining with each other harmoniously, those two ways of being, each one too extreme in its own way, were giving me at last the emotional mature stability, self-confidence and physical strength that I had been longing for in this lifetime!…

 

 

 

Introducing my own Inner Family

At the end of my previous post, which was about ‘The Rich Complexity of our Being’, I called all those various inner parts of us, in a half joking manner,  our ‘Inner Family’… A rather dysfunctional one to start with, it seems, for most of us!… But let’s not lose hope: harmony can be learned, also within ourselves, through the practice of the Integral Yoga meant  precisely for that integral transformation.

Well, over the years I started having vague impressions of what the main inner parts of me looked like, so to say, or rather what they felt like to me, but for long it remained a very vague, blurry kind of picture, never reaching the stage of a clear one for any of them.

But then something happened in the last few years, which enables me today to introduce you to at least some of those members of my Inner Family, with , lo and behold, some actual (symbolic) images of them!!!

What happened is that since many-many years I have been keeping notes of my dreams and of my experiences at the cellular level. For keeping regularly such an important record for my research work about Conscious Evolution, I regularly got quite simply some little notebooks, the kind that kids use in school, from our internal small general store in Auroville.

For years the covers were photos of beautiful landscapes from all over the world, for awakening a concern for the environment in the kids who would use them. It was really nicely done. I myself enjoyed a lot looking at those spectacular places on the Earth that I would probably never visit, but at least I could know of and admire that way.

But one day when I needed soon a new notebook and went looking for one, all that was available was in a completely different style: the covers now were amusing drawings, probably more likely to attract children. Most of them didn’t attract me at all, though. Until I found one that immediately made me laugh out loud, right in the store, with the joy of recognition:

‘But this is my mental being!!!’ I exclaimed under my breath, and started smiling at it with total glee. The drawing was this one:

Image 2

I loved it!!! Without an instant of hesitation, I took it home and was eager to start using it when the previous one did come to an end.

This notebook was quite thick actually, so it stayed with me for an enjoyable rather long time, although I wrote on it daily, and often quite lengthy entries. But still after a while I had to go and find the next one…

This time, no funny drawings on the covers of the available notebooks. A different style again, and not inspiring at all. None of those that I looked at I liked, so what to do?… I kept still looking in the little pile. And suddenly, down at the very bottom, what I saw took my breath away. It was this:

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‘Oh my, a Unicorn!… What a beauty… So powerful, yet so calmly at rest in that lovely protected clearing, in that soft Soul Light… Wow, this must be a symbolic image for something of my Soul, of my Psychic Being! This picture is a pure Blessing from the Divine. I’m taking this home.’

There was one more notebook with the very same cover, of course I gladly added it to the first one.

Those two were again of the thick kind, so they took care of my daily notes for quite a few months. It was pure bliss to look at the cover every time I would use these two notebooks, the second one right after the first was finished. When still finally the time to find a new one came once more, it was with a heavy heart that I went again to that notebook shelf in the store: how could I ever find anything as great as that so resplendent and peaceful Unicorn?…

Surprise: the funny drawings were back on the covers for the whole new pile that was there. I sighed. Would I find again something at least worthwhile, even if only again in that funny style?

Almost at once it came up, quite funny indeed, and yet so charming in its own way:

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Just a split second looking at it, and then I knew, and smiled a huge, sweet grin of recognition again: this was my emotional being, of course! Unmistakable, in every detail of it, just like for the one I had found before that was also such a perfect image of my mental being!!!

I had to laugh softly, thinking of my emotional being so wonderfully rendered in that unexpected but so true portrait of it!…. ‘But wait a minute’, I suddenly thought, ‘what does that mean, getting now this specific little cover after the two wonderful Unicorns?’ Well, I had some idea what it meant, and I wasn’t sure I liked it: it meant that after the wonderful, long inner period that had rested and reinforced my inner strength and purity of purpose – right at the cellular level of my being – the Divine was now warning me somehow, with a smile, through this new so cute and amusing little cover, that my emotional being was going to get some further training, probably so as to be reinforced and purified too!

The ‘Unicorn’ period was still not over, as the second one of those notebooks was still only halfway through, so I kind of forgot what was likely to come next for my sadhana, But several weeks back the second ‘Unicorn’ notebook did come to an end and then came the turn of the cute, sweet girly teddy-bear all in pink, with her pink heart balloon begging for love just as her shy smile did…

My visitors here on this blog know only of the emotional shocks I mentioned, which related to Blogging, but of course that vulnerability is there also in other areas of my life, in an extreme way that as a young adult I soon saw had no cause at all in this lifetime. As I discovered later in Auroville (while in a deliberate trance), it is actually one of the two major ancient problems from another life, that I scripted myself to take up again in this lifetime, knowing that my deep spiritual progress this time around would enable me at last to heal that scarred and scared part of myself once and for all.

Well, when that waiting little notebook came finally to be used, oh my, that was it indeed!!! Since that month of July, emotional shocks from the most unexpected quarters have simply rained on me like hail. I was grateful to the Divine that thanks to this gentle but so clear warning through the new notebook’s cover, I was ready, and didn’t take anything too badly…! As you may have noticed in the end of my post about the shocks related to Blogging, a very liberating sense of humor started even to express itself about it all, right in my emotional being itself… So it is still for the time being a ‘Work in progress’, no doubt, but it is progressing indeed!

Now that you have some idea of what at least those main members of my Inner Family are like in my own case, what I will describe in future posts of the evolutive process as experienced by each of them will be, I hope, a livelier and funnier read, while giving you also, most importantly, a good example of what the Integral Yoga means in daily life…

 

 

 

A True Story, a Difficult but Beautiful One…

pere-fils

(ENGLISH TRANSLATION OF THE PREVIOUS FRENCH ORIGINAL POST)

Being since childhood the intimate friend of the second daughter in a family close to mine, I have been able to follow through her the inner vicissitudes of her father’s life, with the important repercussions they have had on other members of that family, especially the son, her younger brother. The case of this father and son, and their inner itineraries, seems to me so interesting – and indeed so moving – that I wish to present it here today:

As my friend and her elder sister – at that time the only two children of the radiant young couple their parents formed – had originally known him,  their father was very kind, indulgent and tender with them, even enjoying making them laugh as often as possible. He was happy then, at the dawn of a promising career he truly loved, in this French West Africa (the old A.O.F.) that no one suspected was living its last decades. He was gloriously graduating from “Colo”, as it was familiarly called, one of the renowned French ‘Grandes Ecoles’: the famous “Colonial School” where the future “Administrators of Overseas France” were receiving the more than encyclopedic knowledge that they would need for all those most varied and unexpected situations they could possibly have to face once in the heart of Africa.
Throughout her childhood in Africa then, the only occasion when my friend had seen her father really angry was when she inadvertently put him in an embarrassing situation while he was in the exercise of his duties, having presided over the Distribution of the Prizes at the end of the school year, and preparing to be taken back to their home:
The official car was waiting (with him in it …) for his two little girls (including my friend…) to have joined him as soon as they finished singing the last song with the rest of the Choir. Her elder sister, as she was older, had recalled the instructions to rally the car without delay, but she, being too young still, had forgotten … As she, smiling, suspecting nothing, finally came to the car, her father had already at long last sent away the brass band gathered as usual to salute his official comings and goings, and had ordered that the soldiers also quit standing to attention. What a public humiliation for him that he had made everyone wait for him by the fault of such an unconscious and irresponsible
little girl! …  My friend, making herself very small in one of the corners of the car, had seen him mute with fury in the other corner, and he had remained that way throughout the journey. Even when back home, he had not quieted down and not loosened his teeth for the rest of the day, not even talking to his wife – and my friend, despite her young age, realizing for the first time the important role of her father, had also realized with amazement and a certain fear that this silence was the only way he had found to prevent his intense anger from exploding in a way he would later regret .

Years later, my friend remembered this incident, she said to me, when this obstinate silence became her father’s permanent and desperate attitude to keep as much as possible under control the helpless rage which had been in him since the so sad results of Decolonization in ex-French Africa:

He had somehow accepted the interruption of his own career in full swing, plus the grief of separation from all those peoples he loved and who loved him so much that they had implored the officials, but in vain, that he would be allowed to stay; he had done his best also to shrink to the size of “the Métropole”, this France which now could only offer him work within its own borders, and of a bureaucratic kind, honorific certainly, and well paid, but that he had ended up rejecting, because his heart was not in that kind of work, and he preferred to be content with an early retirement – half a retirement pension only, therefore, for the life of the entire family – rather than continue this bureaucratic farce, for him unbearable after the free and vast life he had known, and had originally chosen.


What had completely annihilated him, however, was not so much his personal misfortune as the much bigger one he could see unfolding abroad: all those countries he had cherished and helped as well as he could before, falling one after the other into chaos after their Independence, the small tribal chiefs resuming their reciprocal wars and ruining everything in their way. As this disaster became more widespread, my friend saw her unfortunate father helplessly watch the destruction of all that his life had contributed with so much love to build, his poor life now having itself become useless and meaningless, in a world that also seemed more and more meaningless.
After several years like that, he had taken refuge like a recluse in his own apartment, the apartment he had at least been able to buy, providentially, on his return from Africa, for himself and his family, in a beautiful part of the Parisian far suburbs. Instead of looking for the company of the other ex-administrators who had also come there, he came out only for the groceries needed by his wife, and for the Sunday Mass, which was always dear to his heart, for he had always been very pious and found some comfort in his faith, still intact despite all these trials.


But the misfortunes that had befallen him were not yet over: another element in his life which had hitherto been another source of comfort and even hope – that long-awaited son, born at last just a few years before the final departure from Africa – suddenly became for him, as that son was growing up, the very opposite of comfort and hope ….
As long as he was little, this beloved son had of course corresponded to the gift of heaven that his father saw in him; but becoming more and more himself with his own qualities and defects, he corresponded less and less to the expectations that his father had of him as of the son who was going to “continue the lineage” (Khalil Gibran and his famous “Your children are not your children, etc…” were not yet known !…) and to make his parents proud in the same way that he himself, his father, had made his own parents proud…
The son became, little by little, without realizing it, the living negation of all that his father had expected – and the father, very disappointed, suffering terribly from this very unpleasant but increasingly obvious fact, about which again he could do nothing, felt his love for his son being put to a severe test.
Though gifted for a lot of things, the son, when becoming a teenager, did not make the choices his father would have made in his place, and his father, in spite of himself, was increasingly angry with him for being so different from himself psychologically, and on the contrary, in some respects, so similar to some other adults whom he had never appreciated much.

The relationship between the father and the son inexorably deteriorated, despite all the efforts of the father to remain a father worthy of the name, that is to say, full of love, just as he had been before for his daughters .
 And, added my friend, she and her elder sister, now grown-up, were no longer there to  act as buffers and try to remedy the situation. Her father had always had great respect and appreciation especially for her, to the point of keeping quiet when more than once she had reprimanded him indignantly after he had occasionally poured out his murderous mood upon his wife or some other person present: harsh and hurtful words had become his specialty as soon as some visit forced him to leave this solitude in his closed room and this silence… that he was imposing to himself, precisely, to try to prevent those overflows! …
But the first daughter had married; as for my friend herself, the younger daughter, she had had to go to another region of France for her first post as a young High School Teacher, and that, before this antagonism from the father towards the son (still small then) had become manifest; so that she knew nothing of what had followed her departure. it was only during a visit by her whole family in the town where she taught that, during the meal at the restaurant offered by her father with all his best intentions, he lost control over his words to his son, and my friend was a direct witness to the odious manner in which her father ridiculed and humiliated the poor adolescent as if by pleasure, even in that public place and in front of her. Outraged, she jumped up and threatened to leave the table and the restaurant if her father did not immediately stop this detestable behavior.
The father, ashamed, returning to himself thanks to his daughter’s indignant outburst,  behaved normally throughout the rest of the meal, but when they finally left her to return to Paris, her heart was heavy and she did not know any more what to do:
She could exactly understand, alas, how her father, in his own endless suffering, always  repressed for so many years, and then redoubled by his son, so disappointing for him, whose mere presence was a constant and
ill-restrained irritation (Elizabeth Kübler-Ross was not yet famous, it was not known that banging hard on old directories or thick pillows is a great way to void all the accumulated suffering that might otherwise spill out as violence in one form or the other). And yet my friend could neither excuse the conduct of her father nor leave her unfortunate young brother in such a deplorable situation.
But in fact what could she do, when she herself had no right to legally claim the child’s custody, and she felt barely able to truly educate herself, she who was so intensely  searching for the meaning and purpose of life, beyond the spontaneous and sincere but still too limited faith of her own youth?
She had rejected the golden cage of an “ideal” marriage already planned, that would have prevented her from remaining herself; she had no home, no real family to offer to her brother in this young age where he still needed that …
It had been a very painful heartbreak for her, my friend
confided to me, thus having to choose, so young still herself, between trying to rescue her younger brother, or continuing to explore alone her own life, able as she was to start discerning in it a course and a direction totally off the beaten track –  a direction deeply fascinating and appropriate for herself, certainly, but very likely not right at all for her brother, who already had become for her, in just those few years of separation, almost a stranger…
Finally, she decided not to intervene in her family, even temporarily during her holidays, for all the reasons already expressed, but also because of her various idealistic political commitments in the region of her High School: because they demanded she constantly be physically present on many fronts where peaceful but crucial demonstrations also needed her, so that human societies became, precisely, less absurd and less painful…

Meanwhile her brother ended up being able to lead his own life as he saw fit, living from his majority on away from his family and his father’s opposition, partly thanks to the discreet  (or even secret?) financial help of his mother. My friend, his second big sister, never came to know exactly how all these difficult years went for him, but afterwards she had the opportunity through her work to visit her parents, now elderly, and alone. She was able to see that their father, himself freed at last from his own internal conflicts, no doubt at the price of intense and humble prayers, had succeeded in becoming once again the smiling father of the past, now full even of remarkable compassion for others, where previously sarcastic words would have escaped him, during the time of his descent into hell; and my friend had greatly rejoiced at this inner cure which she had  not dared to hope for. But no one ever mentioned her brother, so she did not do it either, not wanting to risk reawakening painful memories for her parents too.
Later still, the Divine Grace caused her one evening to be there, arriving at their home unexpectedly, just at the moment when their father, already ill for a year, was taken to the hospital.
The next day, while he was preparing to die in his hospital room, my friend noticed that
despite the presence of several other relatives who had come in haste, he was paying particular attention rather to what he seemed to already perceive of what we call the Beyond: his eyes looking up, towards the ceiling, he was smiling with such happiness that he radiated inner beauty. The simple vision of his face in this beatific state filled my friend with the same ineffable happiness, emanating from these spiritual dimensions of total Reality which she had herself discovered by learning to direct her consciousness inward, into the calm and silence of the depths of her being. Visibly, she said to herself with tears of joy in her eyes, her father, if he died, would die at peace with himself, whether or not he had succeeded in making peace with his son too; and that would be right, because he had truly done the best he could, despite the difficult challenges he had put on his program for this lifetime now close to its end…
As the next day her father seemed to be getting better, my friend took the time to visit, in another town, a place she had seen in a trance as the place where, in another of her human incarnations, she had taken a very bad decision, whose influence beyond time weighed like a heavy ball and chain on her life this time around. Arriving on the spot, she recognized the place in its smallest physical details, although she had never gone there before in this life. Throughout the visit she also felt her father’s presence with her – which suddenly made her understand the unconscious karmic bond that had brought them together in this life, and that, she felt, was now finally resolved.
When she returned to her mother, her mother told her that her father had finally died that very afternoon… “Exactly at the time when his presence came to accompany my visit there!”, m
y friend said to herself with gratitude, and the emotion of seeing her previous inner perception confirmed by the facts.

For the funeral, the whole family was there – except her brother. Although informed of course, he had decided not to come. Still too much suffering in him, and resentment…? Some were shocked, but my friend openly took the side of her brother, because having even a faint idea of ​​what their father had made him suffer before, she was not at all sure that, had she been in the place of her brother, she herself would have been able to forgive, and to come. Moreover, he had practically never known his father except in this terrible state, for his earlier, happier memories were too far away for him to remember them so that they could counterbalance the harsh reality that had followed. And he had no way either of knowing the “mitigating circumstances” that would have enabled him to understand how, through too much suffering piled up inside himself, his unfortunate father could have come to such a terrible behavior…
A few years later the brother’s and sister’s paths finally crossed again, she was pleased to see that her brother had succeeded in preserving his own integrity and had not totally hardened since the long ordeal in his young years.
However, their rare encounters were never alone with each other; so much so that they were never able to speak with each other about what each of them had experienced in the years after their separation, which had counted for him or her.

But here are some latest news of importance:
My friend, last year, a few days before her brother’s birthday (which is this time of the year), had the great surprise of suddenly feeling their father’s presence again, she said, where she lives.

Without words spoken, just by telepathy, he made her understand that he was asking her to help for his reconciliation with his son. The suffering of this painful past had lasted long enough, it was time to finally let it dissolve in forgiveness.
For that anniversary of her brother, my friend has not had the courage, she confessed to me, to speak to her brother, neither of this visit nor of the prayer expressed by the consciousness of their father. And over the following year, taken by her usual responsibilities, she more or less forgot about both visit and request.
But this year, just a few days ago, the consciousness of their father had contacted her again – earlier, so that she would have enough time to explain everything to her brother before his birthday (the day on which the soul of each individual is more open to true Love and its Light). He said that forgiveness would be beneficial not only for his own being as the ex-father but also for the inner being of his son: he had to free himself, cleanse himself, alleviate himself from all that past. Bitterness was one of the causes contributing to his aging earlier and faster than he would have without this weight of the past – and my friend had the very clear impression that there again, just as between this same father and herself, between these two beings too there had been in fact an agreement before their births, that in this lifetime they would come together in order to try and learn to forgive – including to forgive oneself one’s own mistakes and failures, often programmed actually on purpose: their future father had agreed to be for a time the apparent “villain” whose ill-treatment of his future son would be in truth meant to try and help his future son achieve inwardly what the son himself wanted for this life: to develop as much as he could the capacity of true Love, and thus of true Forgiveness – without which no one can really regain one”s original divine nature…

I think my friend has finally found an indirect way of telling all this to her brother, whose birthday is fast approaching … Will she succeed in touching him, convincing him? Perhaps he has already forgiven to a certain extent, and he needs only to perfect the inner peace which this almost complete forgiveness has already begun to bring to him? He is the only one to know, and to be able to decide what remains for him to do for this posthumous reconciliation with the consciousness of his father.
Like my friend, however, I have also come to wish with all my heart, and even to pray, that indeed the time may have come, that (even with the help of the Divine Grace if he feels he needs it and he calls for it) this so beneficial
progress may finally be fully realized in him … and that his birthday may all the more be profoundly happy!

 

This is the true story that I wanted to tell you, because we will all be able to find in it something of our own unconscious and secret inner goals, that explain so much of our external history as Voluntary Players in this Great Game of Evolution, on this Earth or some other one …

Une histoire vraie, difficile mais belle…

pere-fils

Étant l’amie intime, depuis l’enfance, de la fille cadette dans une famille proche, j’ai pu suivre à travers elle les péripéties intérieures de la vie de son père, avec les répercussions importantes qu’elles ont eues sur les autres membres de cette famille, en particulier le fils, frère beaucoup plus jeune de mon amie. Le cas de ce père et de ce fils, et de leurs itinéraires intérieurs, me paraît si intéressant – et en fait si émouvant – que je veux vous le présenter ici aujourd’hui:

Tel que l’ont connu à l’origine mon amie et sa soeur aînée – à l’époque les deux seules enfants du jeune couple radieux que formaient leurs parents – leur père était fort gentil,  indulgent et tendre avec elles, prenant même plaisir à les faire rire le plus souvent possible. Il était heureux alors, à l’aube d’une carrière prometteuse et qu’il aimait vraiment, en cette Afrique Occidentale França!se (l’A.O.F. d’antan) dont personne ne se doutait encore qu’elle vivait ses dernières décades. Il sortait glorieusement de “Colo”, comme on l’appelait familièrement, l’une des Grandes Écoles françaises si renommées, cette fameuse “École Coloniale” où les futurs “Administrateurs de la France d’Outre-mer” recevaient le savoir plus qu’encyclopédique dont ils auraient besoin pour toutes les situations les plus variées et les plus inattendues auxquelles ils pourraient avoir à faire face une fois au coeur de l’Afrique.
De toute son enfance vécue donc en Afrique, la seule occasion où mon amie avait vu son père vraiment fâché, c’était lorsqu’elle même l’avait, bien involontairement, mis dans une situation embarrassante alors qu’il était dans l’exercice de ses fonctions, ayant présidé à la Distribution des Prix à la fin de l’année scolaire, et s’apprêtant à être reconduit à leur demeure:
La voiture officielle attendait (avec lui dedans…) que ses deux petites filles (dont mon amie…) l’aient rejoint dès qu’elles auraient chanté la dernière chanson avec le reste de la Chorale. Sa soeur aînée, plus âgée, s’était rappelé la consigne de rallier la voiture sans tarder, mais elle, trop jeune encore, avait oublié… Losqu’elle avait, toute souriante, ne se doutant de rien, enfin rejoint la voiture, son père avait déjà finalement renvoyé toutes les fanfares présentes comme toujours pour saluer ses allées et venues officielles, et avait ordonné que les soldats abandonnent aussi le garde à vous. Quelle humiliation publique pour lui que d’avoir fait ainsi attendre tout le monde par la faute d’une gamine si inconsciente et irresponsable!… Mon amie, se faisant toute petite dans un des coins de la voiture, l’avait vu muet de fureur dans l’autre coin, et il était resté ainsi tout au long du trajet. Mëme arrivé à la maison, il n’avait pas décoléré et pas desserré les dents de toute la fin de la journée, ne parlant même pas à son épouse – et mon amie, malgré son jeune âge, réalisant pour la première fois le rôle important de son père, s’était rendu compte aussi avec stupeur, et une certaine frayeur, que c’était le seul moyen qu’il avait trouvé pour empêcher son intense colère d’exploser d’une manière qu’il aurait regrettée par la suite.

Des années après, mon amie se rappela cet incident, me dit-elle, quand ce mutisme obstiné fur devenu l’attitude permanente et désespérée de son père pour garder autant que possible sous contrôle la rage impuissante qui l’habitait depuis les suites si tristes de la Décolonisation:

Il avait tant bien que mal accepté sa carrière interrompue en plein essor, plus le chagrin de la séparation d’avec toutes ces populations qu’il aimait et qui l’aimaient tant qu’elles avaient imploré les officiels, mais en vain, de le laisser rester; il avait fait de son mieux aussi pour se rapetisser à la taille de “la Métropole”, cette France qui ne pouvait plus lui proposer que des rôles de rond-de-cuir, honorifiques certes, et bien payés, mais qu’il avait fini par rejeter, car son coeur n’y était pas, et il préférait se contenter d’une retraite anticipée – une demi-retraite, donc, pour toute la famille – plutôt que de continuer cette espèce de farce bureaucratique pour lui intolérable, après la vie libre et vaste qu’il avait connue, et avait originellement choisie.
Ce qui l’avait totalement anéanti, cependant, ce n’était pas tant son malheur personnel: ce fut de voir très vite tous ces pays qu’il avait tant chéris et aidés de son mieux, tomber l’un après l’autre dans le chaos après leur Indépendance, les petits chefs tribaux reprenant leurs guerres réciproques et ruinant tout sur leur passage. Au fur et à mesure que ce désastre se généralisait, mon amie a vu son malheureux père assister impuissant et de loin à la destruction de tout ce que sa vie avait contribué avec tant d’amour à construire, sa pauvre vie devenue inutile et dépourvue de sens, dans un monde qui lui aussi semblait de plus en plus dépourvu de sens.
Au bout de plusieurs années comme cela, réfugié comme un reclus chez lui, dans l’appartement qu’il avait au moins pu acheter, providentiellement, au retour d’Afrique, pour lui et sa famille, dans une belle région de la grande banlieue parisienne, au lieu de rechercher la compagnie des quelques autres ex-Administrateurs qui y étaient venus aussi, il ne sortait guère que pour les courses à faire pour son épouse, et pour la messe du dimanche, qui lui tenait toujours à coeur, car il avait toujours été très pieux et trouvait quelque réconfort dans sa foi, conservée intacte malgré toutes ces épreuves.
Mais les malheurs qui s’étaient abattus sur lui n’étaient pas encore terminés: un autre élément dans sa vie, qui avait été jusque-là une autre souce de réconfort et même d’espoir – ce fils tant attendu, né enfin quelques années avant le départ définitif d’Afrique – se mit soudain à devenir pour lui, en grandissant, tout le contraire du réconfort et de l’espoir….
Tant qu’il était petit, ce fils chéri avait bien sûr correspondu au cadeau du ciel qu’y voyait son père; mais devenant de plus en plus lui-même selon ses propres qualités et défauts, il correspondait de moins en moins aux attentes que son père avait de lui comme du fils qui allait “continuer la lignée” (Khalil Gibran et son célèbre “Vos enfants ne sont pas vos enfants, etc” n’étaient pas encore connus…!) et faire honneur à sa famille de la même façon que lui-même son père avait fait honneur à la sienne.
Le fils est devenu peu à peu, sans s’en rendre compte, la négation vivante de tout ce que son père avait escompté – et le père, très déçu, souffrant terriblement de ce fait très désagréable mais de plus en plus évident, à propos duquel là encore il ne pouvait rien, a senti son amour pour son fils être mis à rude épreuve.
Bien que doué pour des tas de choses, le fils devenu adolescent ne faisait pas pour autant les choix que son père aurait fait à sa place, et son père, malgré lui, lui en voulait de plus en plus d’être si différent de lui-même psychologiquement, et si proche au contraire, sur certains points, d’autres adultes qu’il n’avait jamais appréciés. La relation entre le père et le fils s’est inexorablement dégradée, malgré tous les efforts du père pour rester un père digne de ce nom, c’est à dire plein d’amour, tout comme il l’avait été auparavant pour ses filles.
Et, ajouta mon amie, elle et sa soeur aînée, maintenant adultes, n’étaient plus là pour faire tampon et tâcher de remédier à la situation. Son père avait toujours eu grand respect et appréciation spécialement pour elle, au point de se tenir coi quand, plus d’une fois, elle l’avait réprimandé avec indignation après qu’il lui soit arrivé de déverser son humeur massacrante sur son épouse ou quelque autre personne présente: les paroles acerbes et blessantes étaient devenues sa spécialité dès que quelque visite le forçait à sortir de cette solitude dans sa chambre fermée et de ce mutisme … qu’il s’imposait, justement, pour tenter d’empêcher ces débordements!…
Mais la première fille s’était mariée; quant à mon amie elle-même, la cadette, elle avait dû partir dans une autre région pour son premier poste en tant que jeune Professeur de Lycée, et cela avant que cette sorte d’antagonisme du père pour le fils (encore petit alors) soit devenue manifeste; si bien qu’elle ignorait tout de ce qui avait suivi son départ. Ce n’est qu’au cours d’une visite par toute sa famille dans la ville où elle enseignait que, pendant le repas au restaurant offert par son père avec toutes ses meilleures intentions, il perdit à nouveau le contrôle sur ses paroles vis à vis de son fils, et mon amie fut directement témoin de la manière odieuse dont son père ridiiculisait et humiliait comme à plaisir le malheureux adolescent, même dans cet endroit public et devant elle. Outrée, elle se leva d’un bond et menaça de quitter la table et le restaurant si son père ne cessait pas immédiatement ce comportement détestable.
Le père, honteux, revenant à lui-même grâce à cet éclat indigné de sa fille, se comporta normalement pendant toute la suite du repas, mais quand ils la quittèrent tous finalement pour retourner vers Paris, elle avait le coeur gros, et ne savait plus quoi faire:
Elle pouvait exactement comprendre, hélas, comment son père, dans sa propre souffrance sans issue, toujours réprimée depuis tant d’années et redoublée ensuite par ce fils si décevant pour lui, dont la simple présence lui était irritation constante et mal contenue (à l’époque, Elizabeth Kübler-Ross n’était pas encore connue, on ne savait pas que taper à grands coups sur de vieux annuaires ou oreillers bien épais est un excellent moyen d’évacuer toute cette souffrance accumulée qui autrement risque de devenir violence sous une forme ou une autre…!), et pourtant mon amie ne pouvait ni excuser la conduite de son pèe, ni laisser son malheureux jeune frère dans une situation si déplorable.
Mais en fait que pouvait-elle faire, quand elle-même n’avait aucunement le droit de réclamer légalement la charge de cet enfant, et se sentait à peine capable de s’éduquer elle-même véritablement, elle qui était si intensément à la recherche du sens et du but de la vie, au-delà de la foi spontanée et sincère, mais encore trop limitée, de sa propre jeunesse?… Elle avait rejeté la cage dorée d’un mariage “idéal” prévu, mais qui l’aurait empêchée de rester elle-même; elle n’avait aucun foyer, aucune famille réelle à offrir à son frère dans ce jeune äge où il en avait encore malgré tout besoin…
Ce fut un déchirement très douloureux pour elle, me confia mon amie, d’avoir ainsi à choisir, si jeune encore elle-même, entre essayer de secourir son jeune frère, ou continuer à explorer seule sa propre vie, telle qu’elle commençait à peine à y discerner un tracé et une direction totalement hors des sentiers battus – ce qui était profondément fascinant et approprié pour elle, certes, mais qui risquait fort de ne pas l’être du tout pour son frère, devenu déjà pour elle, en ces quelques années de séparation, presqu’un inconnu…
Finalement, elle prit le parti de ne pas intervenir dans sa famille, fût-ce temporairement pendant ses vacances, pour toutes les raisons déjà exprimées, mais aussi à cause de ses divers engagements politiques idéalistes dans la région de son Lycée: car ils exigeaient d’elle constamment qu’elle soit présente physiquement sur de nombreux fronts où des manifestations, pacifiques, mais cruciales, avaient également besoin d’elle pour que les sociétés humaines deviennent justement moins absurdes, et moins douloureuses.
Pendant ce temps son frère a fini par pouvoir mener lui aussi sa propre existence telle qu’il l’entendait, vivant dès sa majorité loin de sa famille et de l’opposition de son père, en partie grâce à l’aide financière discrète (secrète?) de sa mère. Mon amie, sa deuxième grande soeur, n’a jamais su exactement comment toute cette difficile période-là s’est passée pour lui, mais par contre, bien après, elle a eu l’occasion pour son travail de rendre quelquefois visite à leurs parents maintenant âgés, restés seuls; elle a pu constater que leur père, délivré lui-même enfin de ses propres conflits internes, sans doute au prix d’intenses et humbles prières avait réussi à redevenir le père souriant d’autrefois, maintenant plein même d’une remarquable compassion pour autrui, là où des mots mordants lui auraient échappé, du temps de sa descente aux enfers; et mon amie s’est grandement réjouie de cette guérison intérieure qu’elle n’osait plus espérer. Mais jamais personne n’a mentionné son frère, alors elle ne l’a pas fait non plus, ne voulant pas risquer de réveiller des souvenirs douloureux aussi pour ses parents.
Plus tard encore, la Grâce Divine a fait qu’un soir elle s’est trouvée là, arrivant chez eux à l’improviste, juste au moment où leur père, malade déjà depuis un an, était emporté à l’hôpital.
Le jour suivant, alors qu’il se préparait à mourir dans sa chambre d’hôpital, mon amie l’a vu, malgré la présence de plusieurs autres proches venus en hâte, porter son attention surtout sur ce qu’il semblait déjà percevoir de ce que nous appelons l’au-delà; et il souriait d’un tel bonheur qu’il en rayonnait de beauté intérieure. La simple vision de son visage dans cet état béatifique a rempli mon amie du même bonheur ineffable, émanant de ces dimensions spirituelles de la Réalité totale qu’elle-même avait découvertes en apprenant à s’intérioriser dans le calme et le silence des profondeurs de son être. Visiblement, se dit-elle, les larmes aux yeux de joie, son père, s’il mourait, mourrait en paix avec lui-même, qu’il ait ou non réussi à faire aussi la paix avec son fils; et ce serait bien ainsi car il avait vraiment fait du mieux qu’il pouvait, en dépit des défis  si difficiles qu’il s’était mis au programme de cette vie maintenant  proche de sa fin…
Comme le lendemain son père semblait soudain aller mieux, mon amie a pris le temps d’aller visiter dans une autre ville un lieu qu’elle avait vu en transe comme le lieu où, dans une autre de ses vies humaines, elle avait pris une très mauvaise décision, dont l’influence au-delà du temps pesait comme un lourd boulet sur sa vie cette fois-ci. Arrivée sur place, elle a reconnu le lieu dans ses moindres détails physiques, bien qu’elle n’y soit jamais allée auparavant dans cette vie-ci. Pendant toute la visite, elle a également senti la présence avec elle de son père – ce qui lui a fait comprendre soudain le lien karmique inconscient qui les avait réunis dans cette vie-ci, et qui, elle le sentait, était maintenant enfin résolu.
De retour auprès de sa mère, celle-ci lui a appris que son père était finalement mort l’après-midi même… “Exactement à l’heure où sa présence est venue accompagner ma visite là-bas!”, s’est dit mon amie avec gratitude, et l’émotion de voir sa perception être confirmée par les faits.
Pour les funérailles, toute la famille était là – sauf son frère. Bien qu’informé bien sûr, il avait décidé de ne pas venir. Encore trop de souffrance en lui, et de ressentiment?… Certains ont été choqués, mais mon amie a pris ouvertement le parti de son frère, car ayant ne serait-ce qu’une faible idée de ce que leur père lui avait fait vivre autrefois, elle n’était pas du tout sûre qu’à la place de son frère elle aurait été capable de pardonner, et de venir. De plus, lui n’avait pratiquement jamais connu son père que dans ce terrible état, car ses souvenirs plus heureux dataient de trop loin pour qu’il s’en souvienne encore et qu’ils contrebalancent la dure réalité vécue ensuite. Et lui n’avait aucun moyen de savoir comme elle les “circonstances atténuantes” qui lui auraient permis de comprendre un peu comment, à force de trop de souffrance en lui-même, son malheureux père avait pu en arriver à ce comportement haïssable…
Quelques années plus tard les chemins du frère et de la soeur se sont enfin croisés à nouveau, elle a eu la joie de constater que son frère avait réussi à préserver sa propre intégrité et ne s’était pas totalement durci depuis la longue épreuve subie dans ses jeunes années.
Cependant, leurs rares rencontres n’ont jamais été seule à seul; si bien qu’ils n’ont jamais pu se parler en profondeur de ce que chacun d’eux avait vécu, après leur séparation, qui avait compté pour lui ou elle.

Mais voici quelques dernières nouvelles de taille:
Mon amie, l’année dernière, quelques jours avant l’anniversaire de son frère (qui est à cette époque-ci de l’année), a eu l’immense surprise de sentir soudain à nouveau la présence de leur père auprès d’elle, là où elle vit. Sans mots prononcés, juste par télépathie, il lui a fait comprendre qu’il lui demandait d’aider à sa réconciliation avec son fils. La souffrance de ce douloureux passé avait assez duré, il était temps d’enfin la laisser se dissoudre dans le pardon.
Pour cet anniversaire-là de son frère, mon amie n’a pas eu le courage encore, m’a-t-elle avoué, de lui parler ni de cette visite, ni de la prière exprimée par la conscience de leur père. Et au fil de l’année qui a suivi, prise par ses responsabilités habituelles, elle a plus ou moins oublié visite et requête. Mais voilà qu’il y a quelques jours à peine, la conscience de leur père l’a contactée de nouveau, plus tôt, pour qu’elle ait cette fois le temps de tout expliquer à son frère avant l’anniversaire (date où l’âme de chaque individu est davantage ouverte à l’Amour et à sa Lumière) de celui-ci. Il précisait que le pardon serait bénéfique non seulement pour son propre être en tant que l’ex-père, mais aussi pour l’être intérieur de son fils: il devait se libérer, se nettoyer, s’alléger de tout ce passé dont l’amertume contribuait à le faire vieillir plus tôt et plus vite que cela ne se produirait sans ce poids du passé – et mon amie a eu la très nette impression que là encore, tout comme entre ce même père et elle-même, entre ces deux êtres il y avait eu en fait un accord avant leurs naissances, que dans cette vie-ci ils se retrouveraient pour tenter d’apprendre à pardonner et aussi à se pardonner à soi-même ses erreurs et manques souvent programmés en fait à dessein: leur futur père avait accepté d’être pour un temps l’apparent “méchant” dont les mauvais traitements allaient en réalité essayer d’aider son futur fils dans le but que celui-ci avait pour cette vie: faire grandir en lui-même d’autant la capacité d’amour vrai – et donc de pardon vrai – sans laquelle nul ne peut vraiment retrouver sa nature divine originelle…
Je crois que mon amie a fini par trouver un moyen indirect de parler de tout cela à son frère, dont l’anniversaire approche à grands pas… Réussira-t-elle à le toucher, à le convaincre? Peut-être a-t-il en fait déjà pardonné dans une certaine mesure, et n’a-t-il plus besoin que de parfaire la paix intérieure que ce pardon presque total a déjà commencé à lui apporter?… Il est le seul à le savoir, et à pouvoir décider de ce qui lui reste éventuellement à faire pour cette réconciliation posthume avec la conscience de son père.
Comme mon amie cependant, j’en suis venue moi aussi à souhaiter de tout coeur, et même à prier,  qu’en effet le temps soit venu, que (fût-ce avec l’aide de la Grâce Divine s’il en sent le besoin et y fait appel) ce progrès si bénéfique s’accomplisse enfin pleinement en lui… et que son anniversaire en soit d’autant plus profondément heureux!

Voilà donc l’histoire vraie que je voulais vous raconter, car nous pourrons tous y retrouver, sous une forme ou une autre, quelque chose de nos propres buts intérieurs inconscients et secrets, qui expliquent tant de notre histoire extérieure en tant que Joueurs volontaires dans ce Grand Jeu de l’Évolution, sur Terre ou ailleurs…

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