For those who follow my instagram, you may notice that I process emotions and experiences through poetry. Below I have chosen to share another snippet from my encounter with the Matrimandir (see last post: temple of the mother)

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“The Matrimandir will be the soul of Auroville…
It is like the force, the central force of Auroville, the force of cohesion of Auroville”

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There are two flashes of light

If you blink, the pupil dilates

If you close, the crystal ball blurs

Darkness ensues

The light tries to penetrate

The flashing leaves

You peel back the grave

Resurrection, rebirth

The eyes scan the scene

You were hiding

Shielded under eagle wings

The room is empty

The dove damned

The white stained

You are not worthy

The inner chamber here

Is a concept

A construct

The puppeteers are watching

You pass them by

They guide

The descent to the lower chamber

Peeling back the white clouds

Feet wrapped

Unworthy to untie sandals

How to enter his presence

Only by the Cross

Only by the empty tomb

The blood washes the memory away

The thunder pelts the night

The earth screams

The spiritual warfare in the heavenly realms

God against god

Spirit against spirit

Love conquers

One thing remains

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I didn’t really want to speak to anyone after visiting the Matrimandir this morning. It was surreal. Sterile. Structured. Eerie. Wrong. So regulated, controlled. Seeking self-purification, cleansing, emptiness. Attaining an impeccable exterior and an echo chamber of an interior. You kind of get the sense of it not being real, a strangeness, when walking though the surrounding garden. We sat under the big Banyan Tree. Extraordinary. Beautiful. Upon stepping in the gardens we were covered with silence. No photography. There was tension in me. I love silence. But. I do not believe silence should be enforced, structured. For a place that cares so much for the natural, many practices and places here boast a surreal unnatural interpretation of ‘natural’. There is the attempt to attain perfection and peace by building it, a self-generated and in-need-of-maintenance form of spiritual reality. I believe in a God who is alive, not dead. A God who does not need to be awakened. I need the waking.

My heart felt heavy after this morning. Seeing so many souls, searching, in sync. It felt cultish, contained. Like you were not worthy to enter the Inner Chamber. There is so much confusion in me. I did like the time to pray, free from distraction. I spent time praying for everyone on the trip, and for my family. Oh how protection is necessary. Hallelujah, I haven’t feel burdened by all that is back in Australia. But I do not attribute this to Auroville or the Matrimandir. I attribute it to God. I praise and thank him, exalt him, for he pursues me and heals me and restores me in Christ Jesus my Lord. Everyone walking in single-file in the Matrimandir before freaked me. It felt like we were being watched. To me the whole thing felt like a concept, a construct.

What is this “supramental consciousness?” If the Matrimandir are the pores of the earth, then I need more Jesus, more of his blood to purify these clogged pores in me. I cannot open myself to this mystical theology. I am yours Lord. 

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