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I am Thine for eternity. - The Mother

Letters to Children by The Mother >> Letters to “My little smile” ...

Vasudha

Letters to “My little smile”

 

My dear little smile,

You must not lose patience or courage; everything will turn
out all right.

The condition you were in while embroidering the “Silence”
flower1 cannot return as it was before, for in this world things
never repeat themselves in exactly the same way — everything
changes and progresses. But the state of mental peace you have
known is nothing compared to the one — much deeper and
completer — which you will come to know.

You must keep your aspiration intact and your will to conquer

all obstacles; you must have an unshakable faith in the
divine grace and the sure victory.

Sri Aurobindo is working for your transformation — how
can there be doubt that he will triumph!

With all my love.

1931

*

I simply meant to say that you were happy and confident as a
child or an animal is confident and happy without knowing why.
Now you must learn to be happy and confident while knowing

Silence: the name given by the Mother to the Wild Passion-

flower (passiflora incarnata).


why and understanding the deeper cause of your happiness and
confidence.

1931

*

My little smile,

For your smile to become truly “eternal”, you must learn to
speak to me as freely when you are near me as when you are in
your room.

Also it would be better not to get angry, and if it happens, it
is better to forget your anger quickly; and if that isn’t possible,
then you must tell me very simply what has happened so that
I may remove the anger from the consciousness of my “little
smile” and give her back the joy and peace I want her always to
have.

With my most affectionate blessings.

1931

*

I have seen the sari embroidered by my little smile and I find it
very pretty, completely successful.
You should not listen to the criticism of people without taste
or sufficient education.
Lovingly.

1931

*

Dear Mother,
I am sending You this rupee. Now I no longer need
any pocket money.

I accept the rupee and send to my dear little child, along with
my blessings, my congratulations for the manner in which she
has passed her French test.

Affectionately.

10 May 1932

*
My little smile,

I am very glad that you have written; I am sure that you are
feeling much better now.

Do not attach too much importance to all these things;
they are the imaginations of a child who knows nothing of
life, of its misery and ugliness. For life is not as it is portrayed
in novels; day-to-day existence is full of sufferings great and
small, and it is only by identification with the Divine Consciousness

that one can attain and preserve the true unchanging happiness.

Keep your confidence and your faith, my little smile, and
everything will be all right.

With all my love.

1 August 1932

*

Dear Mother,
This subject was given for composition in our French
class —
Develop this thought:
Consecration to the Divine is the secret of existence;
a perpetual renewal of force comes from communion
with the Infinite.

My dear little smile,

It is very simple, as you will see.

1) The Infinite is the inexhaustible storehouse of forces. The
individual is a battery, a storage cell which runs down after use.
Consecration is the wire that connects the individual battery to
the infinite reserve of forces.

Or

2) The Infinite is the river that flows without cease; the
individual is the little pond that dries up slowly in the sun.
Consecration is the canal that connects the river to the pond
and prevents the pond from drying up.
With these two images, I think you will understand.

Tender love.

28 August 1932

*

Mother,
Many times I have found that if I don’t imagine
stories, as they are called, I feel a sort of dullness; then
I can’t work, and even if I do I can’t work fast. Today
I spent the whole day in this state of dullness because I
no longer imagine things as before.
Mother, I would like to know if everything I say
about my dullness is true — if it is due to an absence of
imagination.

The dullness comes from “tamas”; imaginative activity was
shaking off the tamas and thus ridding you of the dullness.
But this is not the only way to get rid of it. Opening to the Light
and Consciousness from above and allowing them to replace the
tamas in the external consciousness, is a much better and surer
way.

22 November 1932

*

Dear Mother,
I don’t want tamas. Today I worked all day.
But my mind does not have tamas; it is always active
and runs here and there like a madman.

The mind always runs about like a madman. The first step is to
detach one’s consciousness from it and let it run by itself without
running with it. Then it finds this less enjoyable and after some
time it becomes quieter.

23 November 1932

*

Dear Mother,
I have noticed that in X’s presence I dare not do certain things,
such as talk in a loud voice or other impolite things of this kind.

It is good to observe yourself in order to see your weaknesses
and be able to correct them.

26 November 1932

*

Dear Mother,
You know that the doctor asked me to look after Y.
At the Ashram, I heard Z asking him something about Y
and I also heard the doctor talking to him. Afterwards
I asked the doctor, “Why do you speak to Z about Y?”
He said, “Z was asking me what happened to Y. He no
longer sees her at Pranam.” Then I replied, “But he has
nothing to do with her and it is not good to talk about
these things to people because they cannot do anything
for her.” “Yes,” the doctor said, “I understand that he
asked me about that just out of curiosity and I will say
nothing to him.”

My little smile,
Your reply to the doctor was very good and you are perfectly

right. One should never talk about others — it is always useless

— and least of all about their difficulties; it is uncharitable because

it does not help them to overcome the difficulties. As
for doctors, the rule is that they should not talk about their
patients, and the doctor ought to know better. I hope you are
not frightened by what happened to Y. Remain very calm, very
quiet, and everything will be all right.

28 November 1932

*

Mother,
While You were playing the organ, I had the feeling
that the others were listening to the Mother playing the
organ for me, and it made me feel proud. I understood,
even at that moment, that it was a wrong feeling and I
didn’t want it; but I don’t know how to get rid of it.
Mother, I believe that if I stay all by myself, apart
from everyone else, I will be very happy. I am very bad;
I don’t know when all these bad things will leave me.
Take pity on me.

You must not exaggerate. Certainly there are movements of vanity

— rather childish besides — but they are not the only ones.
I am quite sure that while you were listening to the music, you
could also feel the pure and simple joy of the music for its own
sake, and that when you are near me, you also feel the simple
and sincere joy of a child near to its mother.

The nature is complex, and always the true and the false,
the good and the bad are mixed together. It is very useful to
see one’s faults and weaknesses clearly, but one should not see
only them, for that too would be one-sided. One should also
be aware of what is good and true in the nature and give it all
one’s attention, so that this good and true side can grow and
ultimately absorb the rest and transform the nature.

5 December 1932

*

Mother,
When I saw You this morning at Pranam, it seemed
to me that You were very serious.
I write to You whatever I think I ought to tell You,
because I have promised to write about my thoughts and
feelings and I don’t want to deceive You. I have nothing
good to tell You. I have a hoard of bad, ugly, foolish and
naughty things to tell You. If there is something good, it
is only that I work for You (Your sari): this is the only
thing I can call good.
Today I was sad all day, I could not smile. You will
receive many such things to read. But if You become
serious, as You were this morning, I would rather put an
endtothe matter.
Today I worked for seven hours.

No, my child, I was not “serious” and I smiled at you as usual;
it was you who had such a sad little face and it is probably your
own sadness that you saw reflected in my eyes. I know life too
well for your confessions to make me “serious”. Besides, your
confessions are not so terrible as all that, no matter what you
may think of them. And as soon as you tell me all the things that
are troubling you, you will see that they have disappeared and
you will feel free and happy.

Keep your smile, little child; it is this that gives you your
strength.

7 December 1932

*

Mother,
I don’t know why, but for two or three days I have
been feeling a bit sad.
Mother, sometimes when I am depressed, when I
feel that maybe I won’t be able to do yoga, my mind
imagines: “Mother tells me that I cannot do yoga and
asks me to go away from here, I have no one to go to and
nowhere to stay; I will remain here even as a servant, but
it is impossible for me to live elsewhere.”
Thinking of all this makes me feel even sadder than
before.
My Mother, today it seems to me that my mind is not
calm enough to write anything to You. Today I worked
for nine hours on the sari.


My dear little child,

You must not accept depression, never, and still less these
suggestions,sostupidand false, that Icouldask youtogoaway!
How can you dream of such a thing? You are at home here —
are you not my little daughter? — and you will always have a
place by my side, in my love and protection.

9 December 1932

*

Mother,
I had an imaginary conversation in my head with X.
I was not paying attention, but at one moment it came
to me that I would have to write all this to Mother and
suddenly the conversation stopped.
That is how I talk to people in my head; my mind
puts the thoughts it likes, as it likes, into someone’s
mouth and this makes a noise in my head.
I am very tired of writing such bad and stupid things.
I don’t know when this distracted mind will become
quiet.

It is not so terrible — the mind likes to be busy with something
always, and making up stories (even when one knows that these
stories are not true) is one of the most innocent pursuits of
this restless mind. Of course, it must become calm and quiet
some day in order to receive the light from above; but in the
meantime, you may surely tell me all these stories. I find them
more amusing than silly and they interest me. So don’t say: I
won’t tell Mother this or that, but rather say: I shall tell her
everything quite frankly.

11 December 1932

*

Dear Mother,
I am never satisfied, even though You have given me
a very rare chance. My vital being always wants more
and more; it is never satisfied with what You give it.

My child, I am going to reveal something that you will try to
understand: you are dissatisfied not because I fail to give you all
that you need, but because I give you more, far more than you
are able to receive. Open yourself, increase your receptivity by
giving yourself more, and you will see that all discontentment
will disappear.

12 December 1932

*

Dear Mother,
Nowhere do I find any progress. Even in my work I
am still not regular, so how can I hope for Your help?

I don’t understand what you mean. My help is always with
you, as complete as it can be; it is up to you to open yourself
and receive it. And it is certainly not by being rebellious and
discontented that you will be able to do so.

*

So many times I have resolved to work regularly and so
many times I have failed! So I thought that if I told You,
I would have Your help and become regular in my work,
but in vain.
How then can I continue my practice of writing to
You in this state of depression and discontent?
But I don’t blame You for this; it is me — I don’t

have a strong will, so how can I get rid of it?

You don’t need to have a strong will — you have only to use
mine.

Be careful, child, do not open the door to depression, discouragement

and revolt — this leads far, far away from consciousness and makes

you sink into the depths of obscurity


where happiness can no longer enter. Your great strength was
your smile; because you knew how to smile at life, you also
knew how to work with courage and steadiness, and in this
you were exceptional. But you have followed the example of
other people, you have learned from them to be discontented,
rebellious, depressed, and now you have let your smile slip away,
and with it your faith and confidence in me; in this condition, if
all the divine forces were to concentrate on you, it would be in
vain — you would refuse to receive them.

There is only one remedy, and you must lose no time in
accepting it: recover your smile, regain your faith, become once
more the confident child you were, do not brood over your faults
and difficulties — it is your smile that will chase them away.

16 December 1932

*

Dear Mother,
I have often noticed that when I wake up from sleep,
there is a kind of noise in my head, as if many people
were talking at once and I can understand nothing of
what they say. And I feel as if this noise has been going on
all night. It is like a bazaar, there is a lot of noise because
people are all talking at once and one can understand
nothing of it.

In your sleep you are becoming conscious of the noises that the
mechanical thoughts of the most material mind make in their
own domain.

18 December 1932

*

Dear Mother,
... And as for X, now I think, “Why didn’t I refuse
him?” But what is the advantage of thinking afterwards!


There is an advantage in looking back after some time at what
one has done; for at a distance, removed from the action, one
sees more clearly and better understands what ought or ought
not to have been done.

20 December 1932

*

Dear Mother,
If You want these imaginations to remain in me, let
them remain, but if You don’t want that, root them out.

Once again, do not worry; what should disappear will disappear;
only what is good will remain.

25 December 1932

*

Dear Mother,
I think this is the last thing I shall write to You.
I should like to stop writing now, as I am feeling very
tired.
I know that You will not like it, but I have to say that
it is better to put me aside. I am quite hopeless. Again for
the last few days I have become irregular in my work.
You once said that to open myself to You is my work,
because Your help is always with me. But I do not know
when I will open myself to You. I am as hard as a stone.
If I had known before that these things are so difficult, I
should never have wished to come here. Mother, I wish
You would not tell me that I am rebelling, I do not like
to hear that.
I do not know, Mother, why I have written all these
things. Mother, please do not be angry with me, I have
nobody except You.

Why this discouragement? Each one has his difficulties, yours

are no more insurmountable than those of others. You have only
to remain confident and cheerful.

27 December 1932

*

Dear Mother,
“What should disappear will disappear; only what
is good will remain.”
You wrote this one day in my notebook. But all the
things I have written about to You up to now have not
disappeared. Perhaps they are all good! And perhaps this
revolt, discontent, discouragement and bad temper are
good too. Because they have remained in me, they have
not disappeared. And the smile and working regularly
and having confidence — all of these are bad perhaps.
Because I see that they have disappeared, at least for the
present.
And if there is nothing bad in me, why are we taking
so much trouble? It would be better to remain quiet because
“what should disappear will disappear; only what
is good will remain. ”
Mother, I know that You will not like all these things
I have written, but what can I do? I have to write all this
to You.

I am not angry because what you write here means nothing

— I pity you, that’s all. Did I tell you that it would disappear
immediately, instantaneously, especially if you yourself are more
inclined to keep it than to reject it?

28 December 1932

*

Dear Mother,
This morning after nine o ’clock X came to my room.
He advised me to reject hostile suggestions and so on.
He gave me a lecture. He did not say so but I think You
asked him to come to my room.
But I must tell You that I don’t like people to
come and lecture me. Can’t You tell me directly what
is necessary? Am I not here with You? Am I so far
away? Then why should I have to listen to the advice of
others?

It is your self-esteem and vanity that are in an exasperated state
and prevent you from seeing affection where it is present.

*

I don’t know whether You tell Y about what I write to

You, but I would rather You didn’t.

Only Sri Aurobindo knows what you write to me.

*

You wrote to me once in this notebook (December 16th),
with regard to Your help: “It is up to you to open yourself
and receive it. And it is certainly not by being rebellious
and discontented that you will be able to do so.”
And again You wrote to me (December 7th) in this
notebook: “And as soon as you tell me all the things
that are troubling you, you will see that they have disappeared
and you will feel free and happy.”
So I tell You that even this revolt and this bad temper
are troubling me.

 

Of all things these are the worst.

*

I think I have told You all the things that are troubling
me.

It is not enough to tell them, you must want them to disappear.

*

Mother, today I am sad. I don’t know why but I even
wept.

And yet it is quite natural; how can you not be sad when you
turn your back on your soul, and that simply out of pride!

*

Mother, rid me of this discouragement and this revolt,
please. Will You not save me from them?

With all my will I want to save you, but you must allow me to
do so. To revolt is to reject the Divine Love and only the Divine
Love has the power to save.

28 December 1932

*

Dear Mother,
Am I not Your child? Yes, I know that I am a naughty
child, but what can I do? Naughty or not, in any case I
am Yours.

I don’t think you are naughty and I know you are my child.

29 December 1932

*

Dear Mother,
It seems to me that my mind (or rather myself)
doesn’t want to become quiet. Because if I wanted to become quiet,
I would naturally have tried to make myself quiet, wouldn’t I?

In the psychological domain, only the patients who do not want
to recover, do not recover. Perhaps it is the same for physical
diseases?

5 January 1933

*

Dear Mother,
What is all this about psychological and physical
diseases? I understand nothing of it.

Psychological diseases are diseases of the thoughts and feelings,
such as depression, revolt, sadness, etc. Physical diseases are
those of the body.

6 January 1933

*

Dear Mother,
Yes, I know that You know that now I can hide
nothing from You and that it is impossible for me to live
without You, and this is why, Mother, You like to see me
suffer as much as possible — isn’t it so?

I understand absolutely nothing of what you mean to say. You
seem to be saying that I like to see you suffer; but this is so
absurd that I cannot believe it is what you mean.

When with all my will I am working for the disappearance
of suffering from the world, how could I want, much less like,
one of my children to suffer! It would be monstrous.

7 January 1933

*

Dear Mother,
For the past two days I have felt a great despair and
sadness — so much that I think if it goes on for a few
days more, it may be very difficult for me to get rid of
these things.
I don’t know what is going to happen, but I can’t
help thinking that if I remain in this condition all the time
and if I can’t ever be happy, it will soon be impossible
for me to live. During these two days, in this sadness
and despair, I had the idea of committing suicide. (Don’t
be afraid, I won’t commit suicide; I am only telling You
about my condition in order to let You know about it.)

There are thieves in the subtle world just as in the outer world.
But you must close to them the doors of your thoughts and
feelings as carefully as a prudent man bolts the doors of his
house.

These suggestions of sadness, despair and suicide come from
them (the thieves of the vital world), because it is when you are
depressed that they are best able to rob you. You must not listen
to them — you must reject the wicked suggestions and become
yourself once again, that is to say, my “little smile”.

9 January 1933

*

Dear Mother,
You no longer call me “my child”? Am I so bad and
unworthy?
Mother, I believe that I am doing all I can and if I
still cannot be good, what is to be done? Yes, I know I
am not what I was before.

I did not mean anything by not writing “my child” on the
little note I sent you this afternoon. I was in a big hurry and
I wrote as few words as possible. Of course I miss the time


when you were truly the eternal little smile, spontaneously and
effortlessly, when you felt satisfied with your work, happy to
be near me, and trusting and simple enough not to put a false
interpretation on all I do. Who has poured this poison of doubt
and dissatisfaction into your heart? Who has taken away at
once your happiness, your simple joy of life and your beautiful
smile which was a pleasure to see? I don’t ask the question in
order to get an answer from you, for I think that I know it; it
is only so you may understand that I don’t hold you responsible

for this change which has come over you from outside.
Now there is only one way open, the way of progress — since
it is impossible to go backward, you must go forward and
what was merely instinctive must now become conscious and
willed.

And never doubt my affection, which is always with you to
help you make this indispensable progress.

11 January 1933

*

Dear Mother,
Youtoldmetowrite something toYou every day.
But now I find nothing to say and I don’t know what
to write. As for what I have written: since You told me
that in order to become happy and good, I must want it
with all my will and to work as before, I have started to
do that.
But when I have nothing to write to You, what can
I write (in order, as You said, to keep the contact with
You)?
Mother, You will tell me.

My little smile,

When you have nothing else to tell me, tell me at what time
you got up — (like this, for example: this morning I woke up
at such and such a time after having slept for so many hours; I

got up, washed and dressed, then I ate my breakfast and started
working at such and such a time, etc. etc.). You can tell me
all the people you met and whom you spoke to, what you told
them, etc. It will be a very good exercise in French and at the
same time will create a further intimacy between us.

13 January 1933

*

Dear Mother,
This morning I woke up at 5:45. I washed and
dressed, then went to collect my notebook from X’s
window (I always go there). Then at about 6:30 I
drank my phoscao, then started work at 6:45. At 7:30
I went for Pranam, then at 7:45 I started work again.
At 9:30 I went to Y’s house to get some work for
Z, then sat down again to work until 11:30. Then I
ate my lunch and rested for ten minutes. At 12:00 I
went back to work; at 12:30 Z came to work and at
about 2:00 she made some lime juice for us. I worked
from 12:00 to 8:00. I have finished embroidering the
crown.

Well, it is a success! It is a good account with hardly any mistakes,

and I am glad to know exactly how you spent your day.
It will be good to continue like this.

14 January 1933

*

Mother, I always write to You about the same things:
sleep, work and talk. Mother, do You like reading the
same thing every day?

Why not, my little smile? You can learn to say the same things
in different ways; this is an excellent exercise to learn how
to write and mould your style. It seems that at the moment
you are practising calligraphy! Who has taught you to write so
beautifully?

Your affectionate Mother.

25 January 1933

*

My dear Mother,
I have noticed that X has not stopped his bad habit.
I hate him...

That is quite a big word! It is said that hate is the reverse of love;
at any rate it is a dangerous sentiment which leaves you always
at the mercy of the one you hate: to hate means that you are still
attached; the true attitude is one of complete indifference.

27 January 1933

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The Mother

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If you have within you a psychic being sufficiently awake to watch over you, to prepare your path, it can draw towards you things which help you, draw people, books, circumstances, all sorts of little coincidences which come to you as though brought by some benevolent will and give you an indication, a help, a support to take decisions and turn you in the right direction. But once you have taken this decision, once you have decided to find the truth of your being, once you start sincerely on the road, then everything seems to conspire to help you to advance.

The Mother