Divine Presence

August 2002

We must begin to trust, more and more, the Divine Presence at work in the world and within us. To know that one is an instrument, to become aware of Sri Aurobindo’s unceasing help and develop a deep humility before the Divine, an increasing acceptance of His Will, a surrender to the Force, a sincerity that permeates the entire being, a love all-encompassing, an unswerving devotion to the Mother, an offering up of all the falsehood resident within us, an aspiration that grows to encompass every part of our nature, a thirst for Truth, a quest for Beauty, a prayer and seeking for Light.

The help is ever present, lifting us after every fall, guiding our half-blind eyes towards a divine seeing unclouded by emotion or desire, clearing our personal impediments for an unswerving look upon the goal to be attained, aiding our stumbling steps along the path, absorbing our sorrow, assuaging our grief, transforming our pain into joy of oneness, the mystic union, birth of the divine child.

In all that has been, is and is yet to come the Grace is there, leaning down to touch our hearts, to open our minds to higher levels of consciousness, our bodies to the radiance of cellular awakening.

For this we have come, suffered birth and death, riches and poverty, illness and health, the joy of comradeship and the silence of the Alone. Now the evolution is in an accelerated phase, churning, bring up to face the Light, all that resists, is enamoured of the darkness, wed to the inconscience, attracted by evil and its lures.

There will be an apocalypse as the divine manifestation on the physical plane nears. We see its beginnings already. Who among us will shed the dead skin of ego, the torn dress of desire, the clothes of ignorance and step nude into the burgeoning dawn.

Can we forsake our attachment to the past, our need for the human drama, our attraction to greed, envy, anger, sloth, the programmed dissolution of the body so ingeniously designed by Death? There is much to be done and we have no time to waste.

The trumpets of the future sound for us, a music of supreme delight, unalloyed joy. How quickly can we hasten to their call?