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At the Feet of The Mother

The Living Earth, pp. 380-381

Opening Remarks
Savitri now feels the earth as a living entity.

Yearning undertone
The inner ear that listens to solitude,
Leaning self-rapt unboundedly could hear
The rhythm of the intenser wordless Thought
That gathers in the silence behind life,
And the low sweet inarticulate voice of earth
In the great passion of her sun-kissed trance
Ascended with its yearning undertone.

If we attune an inner ear within us to the solitude that listens we shall undoubtedly hear a wordless hymn rising from the Earth to the Sun, the symbol of the Divine Presence. It gathers in a canticle in the silence behind life as a low sweet inarticulate voice as if in a passion filled trance with the kiss of the sun yearning and ascending towards it.

Mother of our forms
Afar from the brute noise of clamorous needs
The quieted all-seeking mind could feel,
At rest from its blind outwardness of will,
The unwearied clasp of her mute patient love
And know for a soul the mother of our forms.

We can feel the soul of the mother earth, the builder of our forms when we withdraw awhile from the noise and clamour of the mind and the blind play of the surface life. Then only we can feel her clasp of unwearied patient love and discover her patient soul.

Spaces of release
This spirit stumbling in the fields of sense,
This creature bruised in the mortar of the days
Could find in her broad spaces of release.

Our spirit stumbling in the sense constructed fields of life, the human creature bruised day and night finds in wide spaces of earth a release from the stress and strain.

Not yet occupied with care
Not yet was a world all occupied by care.

The mind of man had not yet come into these spaces filled with solitude with all its anxieties and cares.

Bosom of our mother
The bosom of our mother kept for us still
Her austere regions and her musing depths,
Her impersonal reaches lonely and inspired
And the mightinesses of her rapture haunts.

Mother Earth kept in its bosom still some spaces, mountain summits and musing depths some spaces that were lonely and inspired where her might of rapture could be felt.

Symbol mysteries
Muse-lipped she nursed her symbol mysteries
And guarded for her pure-eyed sacraments
The valley clefts between her breasts of joy,
Her mountain altars for the fires of dawn
And nuptial beaches where the ocean couched
And the huge chanting of her prophet woods.

In these spaces the earth mused and built spaces that were symbolic of inner mysteries. There were happy valleys guarded from the profaning touch, mountains that glowed with the morning sun as altar fires, beaches that were symbolic of the marriage of land and the sea and woods that seemed to chant some prophetic notes as the winds passed through the trees.

Solitary mirth
Fields had she of her solitary mirth,
Plains hushed and happy in the embrace of light,
Alone with the cry of birds and hue of flowers,
And wildernesses of wonder lit by her moons
And grey seer-evenings kindling with the stars
And dim movement in the night’s infinitude.

There were fields full of a quiet laughter, hushed plains happy to be in the embrace of light alone with birds and flowers. There were wildernesses of wonder with the moon shining above. There were evenings with the stars beginning to show up as seers and dim movements in the night sky as if through fields of infinity.

Closing Remarks
The Earth is a living entity, a goddess who has offered to be the field of a great unfolding of the Divine through forms and symbols.

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There is nothing sentimental in the true weeping that comes from the soul. All that you feel now is the blossoming of the psychic being in you and the growth of a real bhakti.