When the Mother Instructs

When the Mother Instructs

The evening before had been difficult.

I had been studying and compiling material related to a deeper spiritual synthesis. The question quietly pressing within me was whether one could honestly speak about realization while still unsure whether that awareness could remain present with eyes open in the world.

The effort continued late into the night.

Eventually sleep came — but not peacefully.

In the dream my car had a flat tire in the rear. The vehicle was stuck and there was some sense of danger nearby. I had done nothing wrong, yet instinctively I left the car and began to run.

The setting felt like an amusement park built on a hill. Running upward was strangely effortless. I moved quickly through crowds — small groups, large gatherings, families — blending in constantly while never looking back.

There was freedom in the motion. I felt light, almost gliding as I crossed over the hill and disappeared beyond it.

Yet a thought followed me persistently:

How long will I keep doing this?
Sooner or later I must return to the car.
That is where they will probably catch me.

That realization shook me and woke me at 4:20 AM.

I chanted briefly and tried to return to sleep.

Around 5:30 AM, in that quiet interval between sleep and waking, the vision came.

She appeared seated in meditation.

Radiant yet perfectly still.

Four-armed, seated in padmāsana. The two upper hands held red lotuses. The two lower hands rested upon the knees in jñāna mudra, palms open upward — the classical posture of knowledge and meditation.

Her eyes were closed.

This was not an image of chanting.

It was an image of meditation itself.

The instruction was unmistakable:

“Sit in meditation. No japa. Just meditation — to receive what I have to teach you.”

I woke fully, prepared myself properly, and sat.

Beginning with a few repetitions of the Gāyatrī and the nineteen-letter mantra, the mind soon settled into deep meditation.

What followed was not emotional experience but recognition.

Living beings arise when consciousness enters the body prepared by nature through the parents. Intelligence — buddhi — is already present in that system. Yet through association with ignorance and misinformation, awareness becomes entangled with mind and thought.

From that union emerge the senses.

Through the senses the world is perceived, pursued, desired, and judged.

Desire leads to frustration. Frustration leads to anger. Over lifetimes actions accumulate as puṇya and pāpa, shaping tendencies and further births.

But at the beginning there was only pure consciousness.

Paramātma itself enlivening the body.

Over time that same consciousness forgets its own nature and begins to identify with everything except itself.

Returning to the Self means recognizing this truth again.

The body then becomes a vehicle through which dharma and karma are expressed while the deeper work continues — rediscovering one's true nature.

The dream now made sense.

The car was the body-mind vehicle.

When the vehicle appeared stuck, my instinct was to run from it — to escape embodiment altogether.

But the Mother’s instruction was not escape.

It was clarity.

Live through the human body vehicle, but know what you are.

With that knowledge, one can engage in the world without confusion.

Grace had opened the door.

Now the journey had truly begun