Chapter 7October 22, 1969

In any case, the Divine Force will only do what it wills, and it is the Divine Force Itself which, in him, aspires to divert the storm.

How old are you going to be?

Forty-six.

Oh, you’re still a baby!

I have some white hairs.

Really!... Me, I haven’t one!... It’s strange, not one.

It’s because of this (Mother points to the little goose on her table), I told you the story.... The mind doesn’t work, so I don’t get tired!

I have a lot of work to do with my head, nonetheless.

I no longer do any.

Yes, but as for me, I have all the books to prepare!... It’s necessary.

Of course.

So it must be on purpose.

Yes.

But now, you see, people have made it a habit to ask me for a message on every occasion, and lots of people write to me, asking for answers. So I remain like that, and almost instantly (except in a few rare cases), the answer comes like this (gesture of descent). And if I don’t feel like writing, it persists and persists... and won’t let go of me until I’ve written! Once I’ve written, it’s over! To such a point that I don’t even remember what I’ve written.

I’d like to learn the knack!

(silence)