Mother of the Unseen World by Mark Matousek

Mother of the Unseen World by Mark Matousek

Author:Mark Matousek
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2017-11-28T05:00:00+00:00


Waiting for Mother Meera to plan a meeting was like waiting for the oak tree or eagle to pencil you in on its calendar. Caught up in my ego, I might also be overlooking the possibility that Mother Meera was communicating with me already in ways I might be able to sense if I could get through my emotional tantrum.

Adilakshmi seemed to pick up on my thoughts. “You imagine that the Mother is ignoring you because she is silent. But that is not true. Mother has allowed you to stay in her home. She is giving you the freedom to observe her here and allowing you to write this book,” Adilakshmi said. “She is showing you where you need to grow. Shedding light on problems that cause you suffering. Impatience. Pride. Insecurity. Putting light on the qualities that stand in your way. And teaching you to trust her even when she’s distant. To trust God.”

“You’re probably right. But it feels terrible.”

“Who said the divine was easy?” Adilakshmi asked, chuckling. “People imagine that to be close to the Mother is to live in a state of continual bliss. But that is untrue. Life becomes more difficult around the divine, not easier. The Light reveals every weakness. Every knot that is binding us. All of our darkness comes to the surface.”

“What should I do, Adilakshmi?” I asked.

“Be patient. Try to surrender. Find out what she is trying to teach you.”

Describing Mother Meera as “distant” is an existential understatement. She’s a complete outlier, the most enigmatic individual I have ever met. Having been an interviewer for more than thirty years, I’ve come to know a thing or two about drawing out secretive people. But Mother Meera is undrawable. When asked a question, she tends to supply just the facts, generally leaving out a riposte. Standard shortcuts to verbal connection—gossip, seduction, commiseration, breast baring (or beating)—do not work with her. Her lack of interest in small talk is quite unfathomable.

And then there’s the challenge of cognitive meltdown. My mind has disintegrated on more than one occasion while trying to interact with her. I’m not alone in this; it’s a common phenomenon among devotees. One psychiatrist described her personal mind melts with Mother as having her brain turned into “a fondant fancy under a grill.” While sitting with Adilakshmi and Mother in their living room, with snow falling outside the window and a log crackling in the fireplace, I once attempted to interview Mother for a magazine article. In mid-sentence, my mind disappeared—simply blanked out—and I froze in my seat, unable to speak, while Mother gazed at the fireplace and Adilakshmi drifted away. The three of us sat in that deepening silence together for several blissful minutes; and then, as quickly as it had descended, the silence passed, my mind reappeared, and I knew that it was time to go. Once I’d left Mother Meera’s presence, I had the clear impression that she had orchestrated this silence somehow. Rather than spend our time together discussing



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