Swami Vivekananda on the Mother

Say, “I am the Spir­it! Noth­ing exter­nal can touch me.” When evil thoughts arise, repeat that, give that sledge-ham­mer blow on their heads, “I am the Spir­it! I am the Wit­ness, the Ever-Blessed! I have no rea­son to do, no rea­son to suf­fer, I have fin­ished with every­thing, I am the Wit­ness. I am in my pic­ture gallery—this uni­verse is my muse­um, I am look­ing at these suc­ces­sive paint­ings. They are all beau­ti­ful. Whether good or evil. I see the mar­vel­lous skill, but it is all one. Infi­nite flames of the Great Painter!” Real­ly speak­ing, there is naught—neither voli­tion, nor desire. He is all. He—She—the Moth­er, is play­ing, and we are like dolls, Her helpers in this play. Here, She puts one now in the garb of a beg­gar, anoth­er moment in the garb of a king, the next moment in the garb of a saint, and again in the garb of a dev­il. We are putting on dif­fer­ent garbs to help the Moth­er Spir­it in Her play.

When the baby is at play, she will not come even if called by her moth­er. But when she fin­ish­es her play, she will rush to her moth­er, and will have no play. So there come moments in our life, when we feel our play is fin­ished, and we want to rush to the Moth­er. Then all our toil here will be of no val­ue; men, women, and children—wealth, name, and fame, joys and glo­ries of life—punishments and successes—will be no more, and the whole life will seem like a show. We shall see only the infi­nite rhythm going on, end­less and pur­pose­less, going we do not know where. Only this much shall we say; our play is done.

Com­plete Works of Swa­mi Vivek­a­nanda, 5.254