The Mother's Answers on Aspiration

Mother, what is an "acute resistance"?
Acute? Acute is used in a fugurative sense. Acute describes something pointed, don't you know? — and perhaps this means an aggressive, sharp resistance which sinks deep like a claw.

I did not understand very well the answer to this question: "Does the power of aspiration vary in different sadhaks according to their natures?"
Ah! yes.
You see, I think the question has been put badly. I believe the one who asked the question wanted to say "the effect of aspiration" and he put "power". That is, aspiration in everyone, no matter who it is, has the same power. But the effect of this aspiration is different. For aspiration is aspiration: if you have aspiration, in itself it has a power. Only, this aspiration calls down an answer, the effect, which is the result of the aspiration, depends upon each one, for it depends upon his receptivity. I know many people of this kind: they say, "Oh! but I aspire all the time and still I receive nothing." It is impossible that they should receive nothing, in the sense that the answer is sure to come. But it is they who do not receive. The answer comes but they are not receptive, so they receive nothing.

There are people, you know, who have a lot of aspiration. They call the force. The force comes to them — even enters deeply into them — and they are so unconscious that they don't know it! That indeed happens quite frequently. It is their state of unconsciousness which prevents them from even feeling the force which enters into them. It enters into them, and does its work. I knew people who were not even aware of it. The consciousness comes later — very much later. On the other hand, there are people who are more passive, so to speak, more open, more attentive, and even if a very slight amount of force comes, they become aware of it immediately and use it fully.

When you have an aspiration, a very active aspiration, your aspiration is going to do its work. It is going to call down the answer to what you aspire for. But if, later, you begin to think of something else or are not attentive or receptive, you do not even notice that your aspiration has received an answer. This happens very frequently. So people tell you: "I aspire and I don't receive anything, I get no answer!" Yes, you do have an answer but you are not aware of it, because you continue to be active in this way, like a mil turning all the time.

Mother, doesn't the Purusha commit mistakes like the Prakriti?
That depends on the point of view... I don't know!

Mother, if there is a part in one's nature that does not open, what is the method of aspiring so that this part may open?
You may aspire that this part may open — let the part that is open aspire for the other to open. It will open after a certain time; one must continue, persist. That is the only thing to do. There is something that does not want it, an acute resistance there, which does not want it. It is like a stubborn child: "I don't want it, I shall remain what I am, I won't move."... It does not say, " I am pleased with myself", because it does not dare. But the truth is it is quite self-satisfied, it does not budge.

But when one wants to aspire, shouldn't one know which part it is?
Ah! yes, but if one is sincere, he will know it. If one looks at himself sincerely, he is sure to know. It is only when one plays the ostrich that he does not know: one shuts his eyes, turns his head to the other side, does not look and says, "It does not exist." But if one looks at himself straight in the face, he knows very well where it is — hidden somewhere in a corner quite nicely, turned upon itself, shut in, close-set. But then, when you go and flash a light like that, straight upon it, oh, it suddenly hurts, doesn't it?

Mother, on what does receptivity depend?
It depends first of all upon sincerity — on whether one really wants to receive — and then... yes, I believe the principal factors are sincerity and humility. There is nothing that closes you up more than vanity. When you are self-satisfied, you have that kind of vanity of not wanting to admit that you lack something, that you make mistakes, that you are incomplete, that you are imperfect, that you are... There is something in the nature, you know, which grows stiff in this way, which does not want to admit — it is this which prevents you from receiving. You have, however, only to try it out and get the experience. If, by an effort of will you manage to make even a very tiny part of the being admit that "Ah, well, yes, I am mistaken, I should not be like that, and I should not do that and should not feel that, yes, it is a fault", if you manage to make it admit this, at first, as I said just now, it begins by hurting you very much, but when you hold on firmly, until this is admitted, immediately it is open — it is open and strangely a flood of light enters, and then you feel so glad afterwards, so happy that you ask yourself, "Why, from what foolishness did I resist so long?"

But when one is so self-satisfied, can one still aspire?
One is not made all of a piece, don't you know? There is something in the being which can aspire. There is always something in the being which is conscious exactly of what is not all right, at times vaguely, imprecisely, but yet sufficiently conscious that still, after all, one is not perfect, you see, that things could be better than they are. That's enough! That part can aspire.

28 April 1954
- The Mother