Book I – The Book of Beginnings Canto IV – The Secret Knowledge

The Mother’s Explanation

On a height he stood that looked towards greater heights.

Our early approaches to the Infinite
Are sunrise splendours on a marvellous verge
While lingers yet unseen the glorious sun.

What now we see is a shadow of what must come.

The earth’s uplook to a remote unknown
Is a preface only of the epic climb
Of human soul from its flat earthly state
To the discovery of a greater self
And the far gleam of an eternal Light.

This world is a beginning and a base
Where Life and Mind erect their structured dreams;
An unborn Power must build reality.

A death-bound littleness is not all we are:
Immortal our forgotten vastnesses
Await discovery in our summit selves;
Unmeasured breadths and depths of being are ours.

Akin to the ineffable secrecy,
Mystic, eternal in unrealised Time,
Neighbours of Heaven are Nature’s altitudes.

To these high-peaked dominions sealed to our search
Too far from surface Nature’s postal routes,
Too lofty for our mortal lives to breathe,
Deep in us a forgotten kinship points
And a faint voice of ecstasy and prayer
Calls to those lucent lost immensities.

That is an assurance of what is waiting for us when we shall know how to liberate our consciousness from the slavery to the outward appearance of things.


Even when we fail to look into our souls
Or lie embedded in earthly consciousness,
Still have we parts that grow towards the Light,
Yet are there luminous tracts and heavens serene
And Eldoradoes of splendour and ecstasy
And temples to the Godhead none can see.

A shapeless memory lingers in us still
And sometimes, when our sight is turned within,
Earth’s ignorant veil is lifted from our eyes;
There is a short miraculous escape.

This narrow fringe of clamped experience
We leave behind meted to us as life,
Our little walks, our insufficient reach.

It is the condition of the body because for centuries none took care to give to the body the right Consciousness, but now this Consciousness has come down upon earth and is working to give to the body that same experience as many have got already in the mind, and the aspiration towards the true self and the true life which depends on a higher and more divine Consciousness. The time has come when this marvellous change can be effected and we must hope that many will take advantage of this exceptional hour.


Our souls can visit in great lonely hours
Still regions of imperishable Light,
All-seeing eagle-peaks of silent Power
And moon-flame oceans of swift fathomless Bliss
And calm immensities of spirit Space.

In the unfolding process of the Self
Sometimes the inexpressible Mystery
Elects a human vessel of descent.

A breath comes down from a supernal air,
A presence is borne, a guiding Light awakes,
A stillness falls upon the instruments:
Fixed sometimes like a marble monument,
Stone-calm, the body is a pedestal
Supporting a figure of eternal Peace.

Or a revealing Force sweeps blazing in;
Out of some vast superior continent
Knowledge breaks through trailing its radiant seas,
And Nature trembles with the power, the flame.

A greater personality sometimes
Possesses us which yet we know is ours:
Or we adore the Master of our souls.

Then the small bodily ego thins and falls;
No more insisting on its separate self,
Losing the punctilio of its separate birth,
It leaves us one with Nature and with God.

These are the experiences that precede the transformation.

For many years these experiences could be had; for many centuries some human beings had them, preparing thus the material world for the manifestation of a higher Consciousness.


In moments when the inner lamps are lit
And the life’s cherished guests are left outside,
Our spirit sits alone and speaks to its gulfs.

A wider consciousness opens then its doors;
Invading from spiritual silences
A ray of the timeless Glory stoops awhile
To commune with our seized illumined clay
And leaves its huge white stamp upon our lives.

In the oblivious field of mortal mind,
Revealed to the closed prophet eyes of trance
Or in some deep internal solitude
Witnessed by a strange immaterial sense,
The signals of eternity appear.

The truth mind could not know unveils its face,
We hear what mortal ears have never heard,
We feel what earthly sense has never felt,
We love what common hearts repel and dread;
Our minds hush to a bright Omniscient;
A Voice calls from the chambers of the soul;
We meet the ecstasy of the Godhead’s touch
In golden privacies of immortal fire.

This is the continuation of the description of the experiences that the human being, prepared for getting in contact with his soul, can have and has had for many centuries. They are just the preparation of the condition in which the Presence of the Divine is always and constantly felt.


These signs are native to a larger self
That lives within us by ourselves unseen;
Only sometimes a holier influence comes,
A tide of mightier surgings bears our lives
And a diviner Presence moves the soul.

Or through the earthly coverings something breaks,
A grace and beauty of spiritual light,
The murmuring tongue of celestial fire.

Ourself and a high stranger whom we feel,
It is and acts unseen as if it were not;
It follows the line of sempiternal birth,
Yet seems to perish with its mortal frame.

Assured of the Apocalypse to be,
It reckons not the moments and the hours;
Great, patient, calm it sees the centuries pass,
Awaiting the slow miracles of our change
In the sure deliberate process of world-force
And the long march of all-revealing Time.

It is the origin and the master-clue,
A Silence overhead, an inner Voice,
A living image seated in the heart,
An unwalled wideness and a fathomless point,
The truth of all these cryptic shows in space,
The Real towards which our strivings move,
The secret grandiose meaning of our lives.

A treasure of honey in the combs of God,
A Splendour burning in a tenebrous cloak,
It is our glory of the flame of God,
Our golden fountain of the world’s delight,
An immortality cow led in the cape of death,
The shape of our unborn divinity.

It guards for us our fate in depths within
Where sleeps the eternal seed of transient things.

This is the seed of the creation of tomorrow and it is already in the centre of the human being.

All the possibilities are already included in what is manifested, and it is by the long process of evolution that little by little these possibilities take shape and become living realities.

We are approaching the time of one of these new revelations, and the world is preparing for this eventful manifestation which will be more true, more luminous, more divine.


Always we bear in us a magic key
Concealed in life’s hermetic envelope.

A burning witness in the sanctuary
Regards through Time and the blind walls of Form;
A timeless Light is in his hidden eyes;
He sees the secret things no words can speak
And knows the goal of the unconscious world
And the heart of the mystery of the journeying years.

When we withdraw from the surface and look inside with the subtle eyes, we see what is the goal of the world and the transformation through which it will be realised.


But all is screened, subliminal, mystical;
It needs the intuitive heart, the inward turn,
It needs the power of a spiritual gaze.

Else to our waking mind’s small moment look
A goalless voyage seems our dubious course
Some Chance has settled or hazarded some Will,
Or a Necessity without aim or cause
Unwillingly compelled to emerge and be.

In this dense field where nothing is plain or sure,
Our very being seems to us questionable,
Our life a vague experiment, the soul
A flickering light in a strange ignorant world,
The earth a brute mechanic accident,
A net of death in which by chance we live.

All we have learned appears a doubtful guess,
The achievement done a passage or a phase
Whose further end is hidden from our sight,
A chance happening or a fortuitous fate.

Out of the unknown we move to the unknown.

This is just the existence of those who live on the surface. All seems unreal, useless, boring. The only way to get out of this incertitude is to find the Divine and to live for the Divine. All the rest is a mechanical law.

Perhaps now, after much trouble and much misery, after much hope and much failure, the world will at last turn towards the Light and the Truth. And the Supreme Power will answer in such a way as to enable us to find it and to live in it.


Ever surround our brief existence here
Grey shadows of unanswered questionings;
The dark Inconscient’s signless mysteries
Stand up unsolved behind Fate’s starting line;
An aspiration in the Night’s profound,
Seed of a perishing body and half-lit mind,
Uplifts its lonely tongue of conscious fire
Towards an undying Light for ever lost.

Only it hears, sole echo of its call,
The dim reply in man’s unknowing heart
And meets, not understanding why it came
Or for what reason is the suffering here,
God’s sanction to the paradox of life
And the riddle the Immortal’s birth in Time.

*So long the physical, the body itself did not have the contact with the Divine and consequently it does not have the hope that one day its consciousness also will be transformed and be the right expression of the Divine Life.

[On rd April  the Mother, while revising the above explanation, remarked that what She had said was not true now.

She asked Huta to put a note, thus:]

“This can no more be used.”


Along a path of aeons serpentine
In the coiled blackness of her nescient course
The Earth-Goddess toils across the sands of Time.

A Being is in her whom she hopes to know,
A Word speaks to her heart she cannot hear,
A Fate compels whose form she cannot see.

In her unconscious orbit through the Void
Out of her mindless depths she strives to rise,
A perilous life her gain, a struggling joy;
A Thought that can conceive but hardly knows
Arises slowly in her and creates
The idea, the speech that labels more than it lights;
A trembling gladness that is less than bliss
Invades from all this beauty that must die.

Alarmed by the sorrow dragging at her feet
And conscious of the high things not yet won,
Ever she nurses in her sleepless breast
An inward urge that takes from her rest and peace.

Ignorant and weary and invincible
She seeks through the soul’s war and quivering pain
The pure perfection her marred nature needs,
A breath of Godhead on her stone and mire.

A faith she craves that can survive defeat,
The sureness of a love that knows not death,
The radiance of a truth for ever sure.

A day will come when all these hopes will be living realities, all these marvels that have tempted and made us survive and fight against all negations will be visible and concrete.


A light grows in her, she assumes a voice,
Her state she learns to read and the act she has done,
But the one needed truth eludes her grasp,
Herself and all of which she is the sign.

An inarticulate whisper drives her steps
Of which she feels the force but not the sense;
A few rare intimations come as guides,
Immense divining flashes cleave her brain,
And sometimes in her hours of dream and muse
The truth that she has missed looks out on her
As if far off and yet within her soul.

A change comes near that flees from her surmise
And, ever postponed, compels attempt and hope,
Yet seems too great for mortal hope to dare.

A vision meets her of supernal Powers
That draw her as if mighty kinsmen lost
Approaching with estranged great luminous gaze.

Then is she moved to all that she is not
And stretches arms to what was never hers.

It describes the difficulties of the waking of the Consciousness in a body that is not fully conscious and has to learn by experience what it is and what it can do.


Outstretching arms to the unconscious Void,
Passionate she prays to invisible forms of Gods
Soliciting from dumb Fate and toiling Time
What most she needs, what most exceeds her scope,
A Mind unvisited by illusion’s gleams,
A Will expressive of soul’s deity,
A Strength not forced to stumble by its speed,
A Joy that drags not sorrow as its shade.

For these she yearns and feels them destined hers:
Heaven’s privilege she claims as her own right.

Just is her claim the all-witnessing Gods approve,
Clear in a greater light than reason owns:
Our intuitions are its title-deeds;
Our souls accept what our blind thoughts refuse.

Earth’s winged chimeras are Truth’s steeds in Heaven,
The impossible God’s sign of things to be.

But few can look beyond the present state
Or overleap this matted hedge of sense.

Coming from the highest world, Savitri knew intuitively what should and would be the possibilities of the beings who will live upon earth. But the possibilities were already in Her because She had them from Her Origin. But, for the beings born upon earth and of earth-origin, they are to be acquired after a long transformation.

She came to announce what could be and to show that it would be possible. But all the work upon earth was to be done and is yet mostly to be done and that means a long effort and serious preparation.

To know not only that it is a possibility but that it is a certitude and will surely be when the time comes, helps the consciousness to make the necessary effort to hasten the advent of the right time.

She came to show what could be and would be. And that gives the energy to fulfil.


All that transpires on earth and all beyond
Are parts of an illimitable plan
The One keeps in his heart and knows alone.

Our outward happenings have their seed within,
And even this random Fate that imitates Chance,
This mass of unintelligible results,
Are the dumb graph of truths that work unseen:
The laws of the Unknown create the known.

The events that shape the appearance of our lives
Are a cipher of subliminal quiverings
Which rarely we surprise or vaguely feel,
Are an outcome of suppressed realities
That hardly rise into material day:
They are born from the spirit’s sun of hidden powers
Digging a tunnel through emergency.

But who shall pierce into the cryptic gulf And learn what deep necessity of the soul Determined casual deed and consequence? In its superficial appearance this world is chaotic and haphazard.

In reality it is the marvellous consequence of an all-mighty and all-combining vision which puts each thing in its place, each event at its moment.

In our crude and limited understanding we believe that things have no meaning and no purpose, but when we can rise to a higher and vaster vision we come to know that each thing is in its place, each event at its proper moment and that the whole universe is going by a tremendous and unopposable movement towards the goal of the Divine Realisation.

It is our limitation, our ignorance that create the incoherence.

But behind this ignorance there is a Will that knows and does.

Never judge and never despair. These are the first things human beings must learn.


Absorbed in a routine of daily acts,
Our eyes are fixed on an external scene;
We hear the crash of the wheels of Circumstance
And wonder at the hidden cause of things.

Yet a foreseeing Knowledge might be ours,
If we could take our spirit’s stand within,
If we could hear the muffled daemon voice.

Too seldom is the shadow of what must come
Cast in an instant on the secret sense
Which feels the shock of the invisible,
And seldom in the few who answer give
The mighty process of the cosmic Will
Communicates its image to our sight,
Identifying the world’s mind with ours.

Our range is fixed within the crowded arc
Of what we observe and touch and thought can guess
And rarely dawns the light of the Unknown
Waking in us the prophet and the seer.

The outward and the immediate are our field,
The dead past is our background and support;
Mind keeps the soul prisoner, we are slaves to our acts;
We cannot free our gaze to reach wisdom’s sun.

This is a very exact expression of what is the usual condition of man. Indeed, extremely few escape this lot. The possibility of knowing in advance and seeing things all over the world is indeed in man, but very few care even to discover it and still less to take the trouble to develop and cultivate the capacity.

It is only by withdrawing into the depths of the being, by giving more importance to the intuitive capacity, that we can be free from the prison in which our consciousness is shut up. And to give us this liberty all the blows of life fall upon us. They come to wake us up to the necessity of discovering it. But few listen to the Call, few understand the purpose and they like better to believe in Chance and Fate then in a Wisdom governing the universe.

The first step is the certitude that all is the result of an infinite Wisdom which we cannot understand unless by the inner process and with the Light within.


Inheritor of the brief animal mind,
Man, still a child in nature’s mighty hands,
In the succession of the moments lives;
To a changing present is his narrow right;
His memory stares back at a phantom past,
The future flees before him as he moves;
He sees imagined garments, not a face.

Armed with a limited precarious strength,
He saves his fruits of work from adverse chance.

A struggling ignorance is his wisdom’s mate.

He waits to see the consequence of his acts,
He waits to weigh the certitude of his thoughts,
He knows not what he shall achieve or when;
He knows not whether at last he shall survive,
Or end like the mastodon and the sloth
And perish from the earth where he was king.

He is ignorant of the meaning of his life,
He is ignorant of his high and splendid fate.

This is the description of man at large, with only very few and limited exceptions. Those who know are not often believed and still less followed. And the world goes to its destiny with the ignorance of its inhabitants.

Some have said, very few have been believed and still less have been followed. And yet steadily the world is going to its destiny.


Only the Immortals on their deathless heights
Dwelling beyond the walls of Time and Space,
Masters of living, free from the bonds of Thought,
Who are overseers of Fate and Chance and Will
And experts of the theorem of world-need,
Can see the Idea, the Might that change Time’s course,
Come maned with light from undiscovered worlds,
Here, while the world toils on with its deep blind heart,
The galloping hooves of the unforeseen event,
Bearing the superhuman rider, near
And, impassive to earth’s din and startled cry,
Return to the silence of the hills of God;
As lightning leaps, as thunder sweeps, they pass
And leave their mark on the trampled breast of Life.

In the events of the earth, the most important factors, the Powers that are most effective are those that men cannot see and generally do not know.

These Forces, conscious and master of circumstances, arrange things according to their vision and not according to human wishes.

Only those who can communicate with the Powers and what they intend to do can prepare not only themselves but those around them to deal with the forthcoming events.


Above the world the world-creators stand,
In the phenomenon see its mystic source.

These heed not to the deceiving outward play,
They turn not to the moment’s busy tramp,
But listen with the still patience of the Unborn
For the slow footsteps of far Destiny
Approaching through huge distances of Time,
Unmarked by the eye that sees effect and cause,
Unheard mid the clamour of the human plane.

Attentive to an unseen Truth they seize
A sound as of invisible augur wings,
Voices of an unplumbed significance,
Mutterings that brood in the core of Matter’s sleep.

In the heart’s profound audition they can catch
The murmurs lost by life’s uncaring ear,
A prophet-speech in thought’s omniscient trance.

Above the illusion of the hopes that pass,
Behind the appearance and the overt act,
Behind the clock-work chance and vague surmise,
Amid the wrestle of force, the trampling feet,
Across the triumph, fighting and despair,
They watch the Bliss for which earth’s heart has cried,
On the long road which cannot see its end
Winding undetected through the sceptic days
And to meet it guide the unheedful moving world.

Thus will the masked Transcendent mount his throne.

The true world is ready behind the apparent confused and chaotic world that we know. It is ready and it is waiting for the time of manifestation when Matter will be in such a condition that it can express this Higher Truth.


When darkness deepens strangling the earth’s breast
And man’s corporeal mind is the only lamp,
As a thief’s in the night shall be the covert tread
Of one who steps unseen into his house.

A Voice ill-heard shall speak, the soul obey,
A power into mind’s inner chamber steal,
A charm and sweetness open life’s closed doors
And beauty conquer the resisting world,
The truth-light capture Nature by surprise,
A stealth of God compel the heart to bliss
And earth grow unexpectedly divine.

In Matter shall be lit the spirit’s glow,
In body and body kindled the sacred birth;
Night shall awake to the anthem of the stars,
The days become a happy pilgrim march,
Our will a force of the Eternal’s power,
And thought the rays of a spiritual sun.

A few shall see what none yet understands;
God shall grow up while the wise men talk and sleep;
For man shall not know the coming till its hour
And belief shall be not till the work is done.

This is the magnificent promise that cheers you up in whatever difficulties come on the way.

It is these happy words that put certitude in the soul, in the mind, in the will, and then everything becomes easy.


A consciousness that knows not its own truth,
A vagrant hunter of misleading dawns,
Between the being’s dark and luminous ends
Moves here in a half-light that seems the whole:
An interregnum in Reality
Cuts off the integral Thought, the total Power;
It circles or stands in a vague interspace,
Doubtful of its beginning and its close,
Or runs upon a road that has no end;
Far from the original Dusk, the final Flame
In some huge void Inconscience it lives,
Like a thought persisting in a wide emptiness.

As if an unintelligible phrase
Suggested a million renderings to the Mind,
It lends a purport to the random world.

A conjecture leaning upon doubtful proofs,
A message misunderstood, a thought confused
Missing its aim is all that it can speak
Or a fragment of the universal word.

It leaves two giant letters void of sense
While without sanction turns the middle sign
Carrying an enigmatic universe,
As if a present without future or past
Repeating the same revolution’s whirl
Turned on its axis in its own Inane.

This is the world as it seems to the eyes of an ignorant vanity that lives without knowing, sees without understanding and is cut off from its Origin.

The why of all this is hidden, and unless it is discovered and lived consciously, life will always be an incoherent horror.

But we are here to discover, to know and to live, and we can bear the horror with the certitude that the Light, the Knowledge and the Purpose will be one day manifested.

With patience and firmness and quiet assurance we must go on, we must endure and we must realise.

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1 Response to Book I – The Book of Beginnings Canto IV – The Secret Knowledge

  1. Nitin Varia says:

    Thanks dear. Very nice. Nitin

    Sent from Yahoo Mail on Android

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