Savitri – Eine Legende und ein Symbol. Sri Aurobindo

in man

      Are waiting as the tree waits in its seed:

      His past lives in him; it drives his future’s pace;

      His present’s acts fashion his coming fate.

      The unborn gods hide in his house of Life.

      The daemons of the unknown overshadow his mind

      Casting their dreams into live moulds of thought,

      The moulds in which his mind builds out its world.

      His mind creates around him its universe.

      All that has been renews in him its birth;

      All that can be is figured in his soul.

      Issuing in deeds it scores on the roads of the world,

      Obscure to the interpreting reason’s guess,

      Lines of the secret purpose of the gods.

      In strange directions runs the intricate plan;

      Held back from human foresight is their end

      And the far intention of some ordering Will

      Or the order of life’s arbitrary Chance

      Finds out its settled poise and fated hour.

      Our surface watched in vain by reason’s gaze,

      Invaded by the impromptus of the unseen,

      Helpless records the accidents of Time,

      The involuntary turns and leaps of life.

      Only a little of us foresees its steps,

      Only a little has will and purposed pace.

      A vast subliminal is man’s measureless part.

      The dim subconscient is his cavern base.

      Abolished vainly in the walks of Time

      Our past lives still in our unconscious selves

      And by the weight of its hidden influences

      Is shaped our future’s self-discovery.

      Thus all is an inevitable chain

      And yet a series seems of accidents.

      The unremembering hours repeat the old acts,

      Our dead past round our future’s ankles clings

      And drags back the new nature’s glorious stride,

      Or from its buried corpse old ghosts arise,

      Old thoughts, old longings, dead passions live again,

      Recur in sleep or move the waking man

      To words that force the barrier of the lips,

      To deeds that suddenly start and o’erleap

      His head of reason and his guardian will.

      An old self lurks in the new self we are;

      Hardly we escape from what we once had been:

      In the dim gleam of habit’s passages,

      In the subconscient’s darkling corridors

      All things are carried by the porter nerves

      And nothing checked by subterranean mind,

      Unstudied by the guardians of the doors

      And passed by a blind instinctive memory,

      The old gang dismissed, old cancelled passports serve.

      Nothing is wholly dead that once had lived;

      In dim tunnels of the world’s being and in ours

      The old rejected nature still survives;

      The corpses of its slain thoughts raise their heads

      And visit mind’s nocturnal walks in sleep,

      Its stifled impulses breathe and move and rise;

      All keeps a phantom immortality.

      Irresistible are Nature’s sequences:

      The seeds of sins renounced sprout from hid soil;

      The evil cast from our hearts once more we face;

      Our dead selves come to slay our living soul.

      A portion of us lives in present Time,

      A secret mass in dim inconscience gropes;

      Out of the inconscient and subliminal

      Arisen, we live in mind’s uncertain light

      And strive to know and master a dubious world

      Whose purpose and meaning are hidden from our sight.

      Above us dwells a superconscient God

      Hidden in the mystery of his own light:

      Around us is a vast of ignorance

      Lit by the uncertain ray of human mind,

      Below us sleeps the Inconscient dark and mute.

      But this is only Matter’s first self-view,

      A scale and series in the Ignorance.

      This is not all we are or all our world.

      Our greater self of knowledge waits for us,

      A supreme light in the truth-conscious Vast:

      It sees from summits beyond thinking mind,

      It moves in a splendid air transcending life.

      It shall descend and make earth’s life divine.

      Truth made the world, not a blind Nature-Force.

      For here are not our large diviner heights;

      Our summits in the superconscient’s blaze

      Are glorious with the very face of God:

      There is our aspect of eternity,

      There is the figure of the god we are,

      His young unaging look on deathless things,

      His joy in our escape from death and Time,

      His immortality and light and bliss.

      Our larger being sits behind cryptic walls:

      There are greatnesses hidden in our unseen parts

      That wait their hour to step into life’s front:

      We feel an aid from deep indwelling Gods;

      One speaks within, Light comes to us from above.

      Our soul from its mysterious chamber acts;

      Its influence pressing on our heart and mind

      Pushes them to exceed their mortal selves.

      It seeks for Good and Beauty and for God;

      We see beyond self’s walls our limitless self,

      We gaze through our world’s glass at half-seen vasts,

      We hunt for the Truth behind apparent things.

      Our inner Mind dwells in a larger light,

      Its brightness looks at us through hidden doors;

      Our members luminous grow and Wisdom’s face

      Appears in the doorway of the mystic ward:

      When she enters into our house of outward sense,

      Then we look up and see, above, her sun.

      A mighty life-self with its inner powers

      Supports the dwarfish modicum we call life;

      It