Love is one of the great universal forces; it exists by itself, and its movement is free and independent of the objects in which it manifests. It manifests wherever it finds a possibility for manifestation, wherever there is receptivity, wherever there is some opening. What you call love and think of as a personal or individual thing is only your capacity to receive and manifest this universal force. But because it is universal, it is not an unconscious force; it is a supremely conscious Power. Consciously it seeks for its manifestation and realisation upon the earth; consciously, it chooses its instruments, awakens to its vibrations those who are capable of an answer, endeavours to realise in them that which is its eternal aim, and when the instrument is not fit, drops it and turns to look for others. Men think that they have fallen in love; they see their love come and grow, and then it fades—or, it may be, endures a little longer in some who are more specially fitted for its more lasting movement. But their sense in this of a personal experience all their own was an illusion. It was a wave from the everlasting sea of universal love.
Love is universal and eternal; it is always manifesting and identical in its essence. And it is a Divine Force; for the distortions, we see in its apparent workings belong to its instruments. Love does not manifest in human beings alone; it is everywhere. Its movement is there in plants, perhaps in the very stones; in animals, it is easy to detect its presence. All the deformations of this great and divine Power come from the obscurity, ignorance, and selfishness of the limited instrument. Love, the eternal force, has no clinging, no desire, no hunger for possession, no self-regarding attachment; it is, in its pure movement, the seeking for the union of the self with the Divine, a seeking absolute and regardless of all other things. Love divine gives itself and asks for nothing. We do not need to say what human beings have made of it; they have turned it into an ugly and repulsive thing. And yet even in human beings, the first contact of love does bring down something of its purer substance; they become capable of forgetting themselves; for a moment, its divine touch awakens and magnifies all that is fine and beautiful. But afterwards, human Nature comes to the surface, full of its impure demands, asking for something in exchange, bartering what it gives, clamouring for its own inferior satisfaction, distorting and soiling what was divine.
The Mother
CWM, Vol-3, Pg. 69-70
The force of love in the world is trying to find consciousnesses capable of receiving this divine movement in its purity and expressing it. This race of all beings towards love, this irresistible push and seeking out in the world’s heart and all hearts, is the impulse given by a Divine love behind the human longing and seeking. It touches millions of instruments, always trying, always failing. Still, this constant touch prepares these instruments, and suddenly, one day, there will awake in them the capacity of self-giving, the capacity of loving.
The movement of love is not limited to human beings and is perhaps less distorted in other worlds than in humans. Look at the flowers and trees. When the sun sets, and all becomes silent, sit down for a moment and put yourself into communion with Nature: you will feel rising from the earth, from below the roots of the trees and mounting upward and coursing through their fibres up to the highest outstretching branches, the aspiration of intense love and longing,—a longing for something that brings light and gives happiness, for the light that is gone and they wish to have back again. There is a yearning so pure and intense that if you can feel the movement in the trees, your own being will go up in an ardent prayer for the peace, light, and love that are unmanifested here. Once you have come in contact with this large, pure and true Divine love, if you have felt it even for a short time and in its smallest form, you will realise what an abject thing human desire has made of it. It has become in human Nature something low, brutal, selfish, violent, ugly, or else it is something weak and sentimental, made up of the pettiest feeling, brittle, superficial, and exacting. And this baseness and brutality or this self-regarding weakness they call love!
The Mother
CWM, Vol-3, Pg. 71-72
M.S. SRINIVASAN
