August 25, 1962

(Satprem complains that he finds it difficult to write his book. Mother concentrates for about fifteen minutes, then says:)

All right.

He came and put all sorts of things around you for you to write. All sorts of golden things.

So they must be written. You can tell me about it on Tuesday. And again he repeated, "No worry, no worry.... Take it easy, take it easy. " And it was as if he wanted to sit you down by a running river, as if you could see the water flowing, flowing, flowing, flowing so naturally along. As if you were sitting in a lovely flower-strewn meadow by a flowing stream.... And he was saying, "Don't worry, take it easy, take it easy."

He was putting all kinds of things around you. So there you are.

I'm a little tired, too....

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Oh - tired?

I always used to sleep between one and two in the afternoon. Since last April, about five months ago, that's finished, gone.[[This coincides strangely with the turn in Mother's yoga, as though from this time on Satprem would be deprived of all his inner promenades and forced to stay in the body. ]]

Why? You can't, or you don't have time?

No, not at all. I have time but I just can't do it. It's a shame, because it was a conscious hour. I would often go strolling by the sea.

You slept by the sea?

No! In my sleep I would go to the seashore - it was an hour of relaxation ... and then it was taken away.

How strange! ...

I am not responsible.

No, I'm sure of that!

On the contrary, I thought you were resting.

No, that's all over.

Because I do rest, I remain in a very ... (what's the word? - Mother tightens her fist) coagulated, undiluted, and powerful trance from twelve-thirty or twelve forty-five until a quarter to two: a good hour. So it's a favorable time.

It sure is!

Well, tune in!

Stretch out, and then just call me. And let yourself go. Try. Try today.

Just lie down quietly, without thinking of anything, and then call me - that's all.

Let yourself go limp.

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All right.

Try!

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