Eva Maria Franchi - Writer - In memory of K.M.

IN MEMORY OF K.M.
- © by Eva Maria Franchi
all rights protected and reserved -

I’m sorry Mr. G. if I brought you troubles, but you understand the human mechanism better than me. You knew the risk you took when you accepted me into your Institute, so I wonder, why am I apologising?

They accuse you of my death but I thank you for my last eighty days of full life.

Little Lama, someone says you are ambiguous, your methods are brutal, your charisma is negative.

Others says you seem more a black Magician than a mystic in search of the light..

But who am I to judge you?

Judgement is division.

Judgement is war, the cause of all our troubles.

Judgement is perdition.

It is the only truth that I have.

All I see is that you know much more than me.

I’ve questions, you have answers.

We all know that we have to leave this body sooner or later, but I knew that it was sooner for me.

My health got worse, my disease was real. A weak, tuberculosis-afflicted writer, very common at the beginning of this century.

They say that if I hadn’t fallen under your influence and if I hadn’t followed your crazy methods, I would have probably lived for longer.

But what is one day, a week, a month, a year or more…compared to eternity?

I didn’t search for longer life when I entered your community but I searched for answers, new experiences and understanding.

Death was part of the answer.

I believed in you.

My time was too short to be wasted wondering if you were sincere or a trickster.

My time was too short to be wasted trying to find defects in you who are supposed to be a great Master, so that I could justify my failings.

My time was too short to postpone the possibility of improving with you, wondering if I was acting rightly or wrongly.

I couldn’t afford to give up the perspective of eternity in the name of ridiculous, vain securities.

My time was too short.

I wasn’t afraid to die but I thanked God for the great gift of Death which stimulate men to move toward knowledge.

I want to tell everybody once and for all!

I didn’t join your "Institute for the Harmonious Development of Man" because I hoped in a miracle to restore me from my illness; if so, I would have gone to Lourdes. I joined you because I wanted to develop as fast as I could.

My time was too short.

But I know that now that I’m dead they are accusing you. Maybe there will be an inquiry. Sorry again for the troubles I caused you and sorry also for the literary form of this letter. "Je ne parle pas francais" is one of the stories I wrote in life, but now that I’m dead I have written two new ones - "I’ve forgotten my good English in this dimension" and " Who dares to sign with my name?"

Sincerely yours,

Katherine Mansfield

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