Ann Conlon's Archive All (Baba) Things Considered

Advice (Sort-Of) for Newcomers

2006-12-19T20:22:00.000-08:00

I'm going to stick my neck out here and offer some advice to newcomers to Meher Baba, and some of it also involves older Baba lovers in their relationships with newcomers. Of course, you should feel free to totally ignore all of it, although parts of it might prove useful. Some of it comes out of my own experience, some of it from other people's experience and some from Meher Baba himself, who sometimes had to intervene on behalf of his young followers.

Now, there is also the question of how you, who have been around for a while, tell someone about Meher Baba. The people who told me about Baba were very sensitive to my being a Catholic and they led up slowly to telling me who he was. You'd think I'd have learned from that approach, but I didn't. I went one day in the late '50s with one of the friends who had told me about Baba to see a friend of hers. The woman had company at the time, a female New York City narcotics officer. The woman asked my friend, "How is Meher Baba?"

The narcotics officer turned to me and asked, "Who's Meher Baba?"

No hesitation on my part. "He's the Christ."

The poor woman went right over backwards in her chair and hit her head on the floor. I have no idea what happened to her as I never saw her again. But the memory of that incident horrified me and made me hesitate for a long time afterwards when someone asked me who Meher Baba was. When I moved to Myrtle Beach I asked Kitty Davy what she said when someone asked about Baba. "I just ask them why they want to know," she said. If they're not really interested, she said, they'd drop the subject.

One day I was taking some photographs for a local realtor and she asked me who Meher Baba was. Why do you want to know?" I said. "I just want to know," she said.

"Well," I said, "he's a great spiritual teacher."

"But who is he?"

"He's what in India is called a Perfect Master."

"But who is he?"

I gave up. "He's the Christ."

Her face broke into a beatific smile and she said triumphantly, "I knew that. I just wanted you to tell me."

Obviously, one has to play this sort of thing by ear. I've just never had a very good ear for it.

But many Baba lovers do. They have an uncanny knack for seeing the possibilities in other people and so they, as an old friend of mine said, "go fishing." Jesus had one fisherman, Peter. Meher Baba seems to have hundreds of them.

As for advice for newcomers themselves, the best place to start is with Meher Baba himself. There's a brief paragraph in a 1969 pamphlet called LIFE IS A JEST, and it grabbed my attention early on. It speaks of a time when Baba told members of the Pune Baba group: "Don't try to bind My lovers with discipline and regulations. Let them have free scope and free play. Suppose you want to write a love letter full of effusion to your beloved. Will you like your letters to pass through some old one in the house?" Being curious about the circumstances of that edict, I asked one of the mandali about it. Apparently some older members of the Pune group had set themselves up as mentors to younger members, and had become somewhat smothering. Baba heard about it, called the group to Guruprasad, and made the above statement. I heard that story with great glee and I've never forgotten it.

The point is if you're new to Baba, run from self-appointed mentors, and if you're an older Baba lover, don't be a self-appointed mentor. The phrase "self-appointed" is key here. If you choose a mentor, then that's your business. However, you might want to find one who will point you in the right direction, not lead you. "Leaders" tend to grow to such size that they eclipse the view of the goal you had when you started.

A similar piece of advice came from Adi Irani, Meher Baba's mandali and longtime secretary. While waiting for a flight out of India one year, I went to hear Adi talk to the Mumbai Baba group. He talked for two hours in Marathi and of course I couldn't understand a word. After the talk, he came up to me and said, "I'll tell you in one sentence what I took two hours to tell them: once you've told someone about Meher Baba, get out of the way."

I have always been grateful to the two people who told me about Baba for doing exactly that. They told me about him, one took me to Myrtle Beach for my first visit, they loaned me books and gave me Meher Baba's address in India, they introduced me to the New York Monday Night Baba Group, they sent me to India to meet Baba (note that they didn't "take" me to meet him), and then told me I was on my own. I think now that it was an extraordinary thing to do and quite rare.

Occasionally, I ran into similar advice during the next 10 or 15 years. When I moved to Myrtle Beach in 1970, Kitty Davy said to me, "Now you turn inside to Baba, you follow your intuition with him and you don't let anyone else tell you what to do." Good advice for anyone, I think.

Basically, though, there are some things you -- a newcomer -- can do to develop your own relationship with Meher Baba without following someone else's lead. For instance, read, read, read, and then read some more. Of course, read DISCOURSES and GOD SPEAKS. But if you want to know what Meher Baba was really like, how he handled different situations and how he treated different people, then look for the stories by people who spent time with him, some of them for many years. Listen to the audio and video tapes of these stories. Meher Baba's life is probably the best documented of any Avatar's life. And listen to other people's stories of how they came to Baba and how it's affected their lives. All of those things, plus just thinking about him as much as possible, will start you on your way.

If you're a Baba lover who has been around for a while, it's very helpful to new people if you can remember what it was like when you first found Meher Baba. Remember the patience on the part of older Baba lovers? Remember that they delighted in your "honeymoon" state without interfering with it? Remember the people who answered your endless questions so patiently? Remember how they welcomed you to Baba gatherings? Can you do the same for today's newcomers?

And when you come right down to it, just how sure are you that a newcomer is that "new?" Considering the millions of lifetimes we've all been through, that newcomer you may dismiss so easily and unthinkingly might very well be far older than you in Meher Baba's love. As Meher Baba once said, there are people who have never heard his name who are closer to him than his closest disciples. That's a very useful thought to keep in the back of your mind when relating to newcomers.

Meherazad -- The Way It Was

2006-12-19T21:00:00.000-08:00

I saw Meherazad for the first time in 1962, when Meher Baba sent us up there right after the East-West Gathering in Pune.

It was extraordinary to see his home, and to be allowed to wander around, looking at everything: the old Blue Bus used on Baba's tours of India in the 1930s; Mandali Hall, where Baba met regularly with his mandali and where he received guests; Mehera's garden, Baba's room in the main house; the dining room. All of that sounds the same as it is today, doesn't it? But it wasn't. At that time, it was like visiting the home of someone you dearly loved while he was away only for a few days, and you were just waiting for him to return.

When we first arrived at the gates, the mast called "Twelve Coats" was sitting there, as he did off and on. He folded his hands in a namaste to each of us, and between the fingers of one hand was a burning cigarette. He was completely unaware that the cigarette was burning his fingers. Someone suggested I give him another cigarette, which I did, and got another namaste gesture in return.

Kitty Davy and Elizabeth Patterson were on that trip and I remember their faces, their faraway looks of remembering the days they had spent there in the past: Elizabeth sitting totally still in Baba's room; Kitty diffidently climbing into the Blue Bus, as if she expected to find someone there.

I didn't see Meherazad again until 1971, when there were still very few Westerners going. What is now a flood had started with one American girl in mid-1969. Not a Baba lover, she had come just to deliver a message from a friend who was a Baba lover. She stayed only long enough to play her guitar for the mandali and then went on her way. Even in 1971, a friend and I were the only ones there for some time. We could go to Meherazad every day except Wednesday, talking to the mandali for hours and listening to stories. We stayed at various places in Ahmednagar and went back and forth to Meherazad usually by local bus, until the time came when Meherabad got its own first small bus.

There were so few of us that all the women could have tea with Mehera, unlike later years when we had to take turns. Mehera would also sit with whoever was there in Baba's bedroom and tell stories. But still shy from the years of seclusion and the separation from men, she would pick one or two women to look at while she was speaking but still would not look at a man, being so used to all those years with Baba when she had no contact with men. She was warm and loving --- and as cheerful as she could manage in what must have been an all-engulfing grief. Impossible for us to understand, just as it was impossible, as least for me, to understand or relate to her utter devotion to Meher Baba. She gave reality to what for most of us would be an old clichÈ when referring to another person as our "whole world."

We went up Seclusion Hill behind Meherazad frequently in those days, sometimes two or three of us alone, a number of times with Eruch in the lead. I remember one windy day when Eruch led a crowd of about twenty up the winding path. When we got to the first level, where Baba's seclusion cabin had been, the wind was gusting so alarmingly (to me) that I declined to follow the others to the very top, and I stayed hunkered down on the lower level. When Eruch and the others came back down, Eruch's face was ashen and I thought he must have had visions of losing a couple of Westerners over the side. He didn't, but a lot of hats went flying off the hill.

One day, Eruch persuaded an oxen-cart driver to come by and give some of us a ride. It was one of the most spine-rattling experiences of my life. I was hard put to remember my manners and thank Eruch for the opportunity.

If we were there when certain fruit was in season, tea was enlivened by mountains of it, including the never-to-be-forgotten custard apples. Baba's birthday at Meherazad was marked by wonderful parties on the veranda, including plays and balloons, acrobatics by children from Arangaon, a big chocolate cake brought from Bombay, and prasad given out in front of Baba's Mandali Hall chair. One birthday party had a circus theme, highlighted by a very life-like elephant costume inhabited by two Western residents of Meherabad.

In those days, Baba's face which appeared on a tree outside Mehera's room, was sharp and clear, impossible to miss. In later years, it slowly became dimmed by new bark growth.

The days at Meherazad passed gently and quietly for the most part, in sharp contrast to the last time I was there in 1998. Then, there were so many pilgrims that it sometimes took two buses to bring everyone to Meherazad and the line to greet the mandali on the veranda stretched out to the parking area. And it was noisy. I stayed at the end of the line one day and when I finally bent down to greet one of the mandali, she said to me, "There are so many people, so much noise, and it's hard on our nerves." I suggested that she tell us all to go home. But that is something these stalwarts of Meher Baba would never do. They have been extending their hospitality, their wisdom, their compassion, their stories to all visitors for thirty four years and I expect they won't stop until the last of them is gone, because they believe it is what Meher Baba wants. Lucky us.

The Strongest Memories

2006-12-19T21:09:00.000-08:00

This column, intended to appear here twice a month, will wander from pillar to post, depending on what strikes my fancy, but it will always be focused on Meher Baba. It may be memories of times with Meher Baba or his mandali. It may be comments on what is happening in the Baba world today, or what I wish was --- or wasn't --- happening in the Baba world today. It may be recommendations for Baba books I personally love. It certainly will be subjective and opinionated.

In this initial column, I want to talk about being with Meher Baba in India in the early 1960s. I'm not going to tell the whole story here, but rather choose some moments that have stayed with me strongly over the years.

We've all heard stories about people asking Baba for what they wanted, his declining, their pushing, his finally giving in. This story is about one such incident, with a result, I'm sure, that was lost on the one who "pushed." During the 1961 Sahavas, one of Baba's long time followers asked permission to make a speech, even though Baba had already said he wanted none. Baba declined permission, the man continued to plead, and Baba finally gave in. There was a little three or four-year-old boy sitting close to Baba's feet and the moment the man began to talk, Baba started wiggling his toes at the little boy. A thousand pairs of eyes went immediately to the boy and Baba's feet, and no one heard a word of the man's speech.

The point: the Baba follower was happy, but it was Baba who got his way. For all its impact, the man might just as well have never spoken. It has made me often wonder, when I think I've gotten my way, if he isn't really getting His and, like that follower in 1961, I'm just too self-absorbed to see it.

Those who met Baba in the body, out of real conviction or just out of kindness, have gotten used to saying to those who did not meet him, "But you've met him in your own way; it's all the same." Well, it isn't. But in one respect, in Baba's own words, it's not the same in a way quite different than what you might expect.

On the day I first met Meher Baba in 1961, he asked me if I knew why St. Francis loved Jesus more than Peter did.

I said, "No, Baba."

Baba said, "It was because Francis never met Jesus; his love and his longing was that much greater."

Think about it: who comes out higher up on the "I-love-Meher-Baba" scale. The seeker who met him and was instantly overcome by that tangible outpouring of Divine love, or the seeker who never met him but whose heart was so open that Meher Baba promptly moved in? I like to think it's actually a tie.

* * *

Baba frequently told the story of Mira, a Hindu princess, whose love for Krishna drove her to give up her royal and wealthy life to spend her years wandering and telling people about her Lord Krishna. When Baba told me about her in 1961, I had never heard of her. He told me who she was and then twice said, "Mira never put anyone or anything between herself and Krishna." That statement struck me very powerfully and I took it as an order. In all the years since, it has sent my antennae quivering whenever I thought I was getting close to doing that or I thought someone else was trying to place themselves between me and Baba. I'm sure there have been times over the years when I've over-reacted to others' attempts just to be kind or to express interest, but I figure better paranoid than naive.

* * *

And then there was the question of "God Speaks."

"Have you read it?" he asked.

I had tried, because Baba had asked every family to own one copy and had asked everyone to read it.

Somewhat embarrassed by the question, I told him the truth, "Baba, I tried, but I only got to page 64 and I didn't understand a word.

I was certainly surprised when Baba threw his hands up in the air, laughed, and signed, "Don't bother, it's not important."

I did not take that to mean that "God Speaks" was not important for anyone, because it certainly has been. I just thought he knew I'd never get through that book, that it simply wasn't my way. He knew, I'm sure, that my relationship with him had nothing to do with philosophy or theology, and to expect me to struggle though "God Speaks" would be like trying to get blood from a stone. I found the one part of "God Speaks" that made sense to me when I jumped to the supplement and found the line that says, "This book was written to satisfy the convulsions of man's mind." What a relief!

Don't misunderstand; I have the greatest respect for people who have not only read "God Speaks" once but many times and who find tremendous value in it. It was simply that my mind was not having convulsions over the origin or purpose of the universe, but was much more preoccupied with how to make the God-Man an integral part of my life this time around. Perhaps I'll get to "God Speaks" next lifetime.

* * *

Perhaps the strongest impression of those five days in 1961 is one of love and laughter, certainly the antithesis of a God perceived by many religions as judgmental, angry and punishing.The love Meher Baba poured out during those few short days was overwhelming, filling my cup, overflowing and turning into a river in which I felt I had drowned. Along with that love was a pervasive flow of laughter that permeated every hour that we were with him. Some of it came from his reactions to his lovers' actions or words, some of it from his lovers' serious attempts to make him laugh.

He laughed the hardest, I think, on the day when young Baba lovers from Pune presented a skit depicting all the Avatars. The finale came when Baba's 15-year-old twin nephews, Rustom and Sorab, impersonated Baba and Eruch. They were so perfect in their act, and so funny, that Baba's laughter brought tears to his eyes. I hope that humor is not lost over the years ahead, that some attempt at turning Baba into a religion doesn't manage to wipe out one of the most endearing, refreshing and memorable aspects of his human personality. If there is such a thing as sin, then I think losing that humor would be a major transgression, and it will be our fault, and our loss.

Baba Lover, Baba Follower or Both?

2006-12-19T21:07:00.000-08:00

This is a topic that gets a lot of discussion from time to time, most of it when a person new to Meher Baba is involved. It can get confusing until one realizes that the terms "lover" and "follower" are not necessarily interchangeable.

I remember a time, when I was editing a newsletter devoted to Meher Baba, and Elizabeth Patterson didn't want me to refer to people as either one, since how can you know? Good question, actually, but we finally came to the conclusion that one could, and should, assume that a person loved Baba because he certainly was easy to love. Following him, however, was a different question. Doing that certainly wasn't easy, but again, Baba would be the only one who would know if someone was following him. Making judgements about it would be a waste of time and most likely would just lead to endless wrangling over what "follower" meant.

So I'm not going to wrangle about it, but just express some thoughts and a comment I remember being made by someone whose opinion and insight I came to respect.

How does one respond when a newcomer asks what you mean by Baba lover and Baba follower and is there a difference? The lover part is easy, right? The follower aspect is trickier. It calls for a commitment, certainly, and it's a serious one. As Kitty Davy once said to a relative newcomer to Baba, "If you're not serious about this, don't get too close." Getting close, she said, meant having your life turned upside down and if you weren't prepared for that – if you weren't committed – it was going to be a rough ride, and probably one that would soon throw you.

Making that commitment means obeying him – or at least trying to – and apparently there's the rub for some people. I can understand that it probably feels safer to stand back and just love him, and try not to get involved in anything as sticky as commitment. And that is what he asks: "Just love me." But he also said obedience is greater than love.

When it comes to commitment, it's sometimes tentative, amounting to sticking a toe in the ocean. Some say they are committed but they like to pick and choose what aspects of Meher Baba's orders or wishes they'll observe. I even heard one young Baba lover say that obeying Baba literally was all right for older Baba lovers but "we younger ones just follow our intuition." I hope for their sakes that their "intuition" actually is intuition, and not just some instinct to go with what's comfortable or convenient. Because Meher Baba is not comfortable or convenient. And he warned us about dashing down a path on our own. "Don't get ahead of me," he said, "I know the pitfalls."

He expressed his wishes for his followers many times in many messages. It wouldn't hurt to read some of them. Try Discourses and The Path of Love, both full of pointers. Try the two messages given at the East-West Gathering: "My Dear Children" and "My Dear Workers." Try his "Final Warning to My Lovers." Try "My Wish" and "How To Love God." And then there's this one, from the East-West Gathering: "Don't worry, if you obey me and hold on to my damaan, where I am you will be." If all that doesn't give you an idea of what he wanted from his followers, might it be that you just don't want to know?

As for myself, I can say I love Baba. As for following him, I hope I do. For others who say they love Baba but wouldn't call themselves Baba followers, I hope with all my heart that they eventually know the joys -- and the difficulties -- of trying to follow him. It's an adventure unlike any other.

You're a Baba Lover If...

2006-12-19T20:25:00.000-08:00

You're a Baba lover if you greet every Baba lover you know with, "Jai Baba!"
You're a Baba lover if you greet every Baba lover you know with, "Hi there, how are you" or any variation thereof.
You're a Baba lover if you faithfully attend every weekly meeting of your local Baba group.
You're a Baba lover if you went to one local Baba group meeting and decided it wasn't for you.
You're a Baba lover if you go to India once a year, usually for two or three months.
You're a Baba lover if you go cross country once a year to visit your aging parents, so you can't afford to fly to India.
You're a Baba lover if you moved to Myrtle Beach so you could go to the Meher Spiritual Center every day.
You're a Baba lover if you moved to Myrtle Beach and get to the Center once a month, if you're lucky, because you're so busy working to support yourself and a family.
You're a Baba lover if you know the names of all five of Meher Baba's Perfect Masters and the facts of their lives.
You're a Baba lover if the only name you can remember is his.
You're a Baba lover if you can toss off the definitions of Nirvikalpa, Sahajawastha, and fana-e-malakuti.
You're a Baba lover if you can't pronounce Nirvikalpa, Sahajawastha, and fana-e-malakuti, let alone define them.
You're a Baba lover if you produce wonderful paintings of Baba, songs or poetry for him.
You're a Baba lover if your grade school art teacher despaired at your lack of ability, you're tone deaf, and your idea of good poetry is "Roses are red…" But you're the best audience the creative ones have.
You're a Baba lover if your living room walls are covered with Baba photos.
You're a Baba lover if the only picture of him you have is the one in your heart.
You're a Baba lover if you can recite the Master's Prayer and the Prayer of Repentance from memory and you do it every day.
You're a Baba lover if you recite the prayers at the Amartithi and July 10 programs and you need the printed words to do it.
You're a Baba lover if your children are named Merwan, Eruch, Mehera and Mani.
You're a Baba lover if your children are named John, James, Mary and Elizabeth, and so are they.

And finally -- you're a Baba lover if you just love him.

Real Happiness

2006-12-19T20:23:00.000-08:00

If any statement of Meher Baba's is designed to send psychologists up the wall, it's "Real happiness lies in making others happy." Why? Because some of them think that means making someone else happy at any cost. I don't think that's what Baba meant.

In the first place there's the question of what "happiness" itself means. Is it always getting our own way? Is it always being in charge? In other words, is it getting away with being a spoiled brat or a bully? Is it always making our happiness dependent on how others treat us? If that's what we think, than it's not hard to see we're in real trouble.

I don't know what Meher Baba really meant by "Real happiness lies in making others happy." Possibly because many times we don't even know when we're making someone else happy. And perhaps only the Avatar and the Perfect Masters know what it means to make someone else happy in the true sense of that word. But I do know some of the things that mean "real (with a small 'r') happiness" to me, and most of them are connected to Baba.

Real happiness is seeing the look of years of love received and given in the eyes of an older Baba lover.

Real happiness is getting to do something for him.

Real happiness is seeing the awed look of recognition on the face of a newcomer the first time he hears Meher Baba's name.

Real happiness is the day I realized Meher Baba had found me. And the day I finally saw him with own eyes.

Real happiness is knowing Meher Baba just got me out of real trouble because I asked him to.

Real happiness is watching a three-year old girl dart out of a crowd at a book show, come running up to a Baba poster tacked down low on the side of a bookcase, throwing her arms around it, and kissing Meher Baba on the nose.

Real happiness is opening a wrinkled piece of wax paper containing a rose from one of Baba's 1962 garlands and the aroma is still there.

Real happiness is having been lucky enough to share in the 30 years of love and support the mandali poured out on all of us.

Real happiness is walking through the gate to Baba's House at the Meher Center and being stopped in my tracks by an overwhelming sense of his presence. And sometimes it's walking through the door of my own house and feeling the same thing.

Real happiness is growing old with him, and knowing the best really is yet to come.

I could go on, but you get the idea. Sporadic things, mostly, but as close as I can get to knowing what "real happiness" is. And until I catch on in some lifetime or other to what Baba really meant, they're more than good enough.

Remembering Mohammed

2006-12-19T20:21:00.000-08:00

There is a very large hole in the scene at Meherabad now. Mohammed the mast has finally finished his journey and gone home to his Beloved Meher Baba.

Mohammed died June 17, 2003, a few days after a stroke. It is thought he was about 95 years old. The news of his death went out around the world very quickly, and I was surprised at my own reaction. My heart sank, even though I know his own joy must be boundless. He waited a long time for that union.

I have such wonderful memories of Mohammed, most of them from the early 1970s when I spent months in India. But I saw him for the first time in 1962 when Baba sent us up to Meherabad and Meherazad after the East West Gathering. Mohammed came out on the veranda and looked, with simple and telling dignity, at a mob of Westerners standing below him and waving offerings of candy at him.

It seemed to me that he wore that dignity like a mantle and it was almost always there, along with incredible charm and yes, humor, although occasionally broken by what appeared to be a bad mood. At those times, you were well advised to give him a wide berth.

Early in the 1970s, a friend and I were patching and painting the Rahuri cabin at Meherabad, and Padri was kind enough to provide us with lunch. One day, I was up on a ladder painting near the roof line when we were called to lunch. We were a bit slow responding and I heard a grunt behind me. I turned to see Mohammed standing on the veranda looking at us, scowling, with his arm outstretched and pointing at Padri's kitchen. I didn't climb down the ladder, I slid down and ran for the kitchen. Padri and the cook were laughing out loud and I looked back to see Mohammed grinning from ear to ear.

Mohammed had varying responses to visitors. Sometimes, he sat quietly on his bed totally ignoring visitors. Sometimes he acknowledged visitors briefly. One time, when a young man approached him, Mohammed indicated he wanted his visitor to hold out his hands, palms up. The visitor did so and Mohammed made him stand there immobile for a long time. I think it was probably the longest period of stillness for that young man in his lifetime.

Everyone must be familiar with the "True Love" poster which uses one of a set of three photos of Baba hugging a young Mohammed. The first photo shows a very morose Mohammed, but in the third photo (the one used on the poster) he is smiling blissfully.

Mohammed had some favorite things, one of them a ball of string he had made from bits and pieces found around the compound. One day, a friend and I were sitting on the edge of the veranda near the main hall where Mohammed lived. He quietly appeared, walked up to my friend and dropped in front of her an orange and his ball of string. Precious gifts, indeed, and something I don't believe he did very often. My friend picked up the string and thanked Mohammed. Then we looked at each other and decided we better eat that orange right away. Mohammed looked rather pleased at the whole exchange.

Mohammed spent nearly all his time since 1936 in Baba's ashram. He was one of the most beloved of what Baba called his "children." I remember vividly the explanation Padri once gave of what life was like for Mohammed. "Can you imagine what it's like for him?" Padri said. "He's standing on the edge of a deep abyss, able to see the brilliant light of the Goal on the other side. But he can't cross that abyss on his own. So he stands there and waits and waits and waits." On June 17, I hope that Meher Baba stretched out his hand and pulled Mohammed across that abyss to the other side.

A Country of Our Own?

2006-12-19T20:20:00.000-08:00

Someone recently suggested that Baba lovers need to establish a "country of our own." This was prompted, I suppose, by the looming specter of war. The person who suggested it envisioned a country populated only by Baba lovers, where peace and love would reign.

Uh-huh, sure. I expect that this Baba lover lives in an area where there are few other Baba lovers. The impulse is understandable on one hand, but on the other it begs the question, "Are you absolutely mad?"

Just where would this country be located? I doubt that we could buy an already existing country, nor would we want to. We'd just take on its problems and we'd have to evict the current residents. I don't think they'd go for that. How about an unpopulated island in the South Pacific, say? Are any left after years of nuclear bomb testing? Of course, we could buy up thousands of acres in the U.S., secede from the Union and then apply to the U. S. for massive amounts of aid.

Anyone who lives in or has lived in a community with a large number of Baba lovers knows it's a mixed bag. On the one hand, when one Baba lover is in trouble, many others rush to his aid. On the other hand, this same community can well be afflicted with all the problems that come with living too close to each other, anywhere. Everyone knows everyone else's business and feels absolutely free to interfere in it - nay, compelled to interfere. When disagreements arise - and they do - Baba lovers can get just as hostile and mean as anyone else. "Our own country" isn't going to solve that. In fact, it could well acerbate it. More than twenty years ago, when it appeared an event would trigger a battle among Baba lovers, I told one of the mandali that so-and-so said "Baba wants harmony." Her jaw dropped, "Harmony! You're not going to have harmony! You have to try, yes, but Baba didn't come to bring harmony; he brought a sword!" What she meant was that if the pot isn't stirred, how do we learn?

The desire for a separate place also brushes aside Meher Baba's wish that we live an ordinary life in the world. He expected courage from us. He told one Baba lover, "The world is worthy of your love." And I have always been delighted at this remark from Margaret Craske, "I love Maya!" Smacks of balance, doesn't it?

So, where could "our own country" be found? Only one place, I think, and that's in our own hearts, with him.

Manifestation: Did He Or Didn't He?

2006-12-19T20:19:00.000-08:00

The questions surrounding Meher Baba's Manifestation are always good for some intense conversation. Did he? If he did, when did he manifest? If he didn't, when will he? The conversation gets even more interesting when the idea is raised that the Manifestation has already taken place and does so every time Meher Baba touches another heart.

Maybe it's a question of semantics and we've all got different definitions for "manifestation." The dictionary definition is fairly simple: "to make evident or certain by showing or displaying."

Meher Baba's statements over the years, on the other hand, are considerably more complicated. Basically, he said his manifestation would include his violent end, his humiliation, his glorification and the breaking of his silence, and he gave various dates for that Manifestation. He modified each event by saying whether it was said in his language, our language or simultaneously in both. (See The God-Man by Charles Purdom for a good discussion.)

Speaking of the breaking of Baba's silence, Purdom says Baba did not state what form the Manifestation would take, but "it will be of the highest importance." He adds that "all will be able to hear the word, but not everyone will know that he hears it, for some will remain deaf, some will be asleep and hear it in a dream, and some ... may mistake it."

Over the years, there have even been disagreements among his mandali over the part of Baba's manifestation statements referring to the breaking of his silence. In 1969, right after Baba dropped his body, Adi K. Irani told a group near the Samadhi that "Meher Baba has broken his silence." Francis Brabazon stood up and said, "Well, I didn't hear it and I won't believe it until I do." Margaret Craske told the story of Baba announcing he would break his silence in the Hollywood Bowl in 1932. The Western women traveling with Baba prepared for the occasion by having "God-Realization gowns" made. Except for Margaret. She saw Baba's plan as one of the "carrots" he occasionally used to encourage his disciples. So I guess if we need a "carrot," we get a carrot. Personally, I find it a bit embarrassing to think Meher Baba might feel he has to hold out a carrot to me to hold my attention.

In a way, waiting for what we think will be his Manifestation seems to me to be like focusing on a stage waiting for the big show to begin, when the real show is already going on all around us. So I'm inclined to go with the theory that he does indeed manifest each time he touches another heart. It sure felt like that to me many years ago, and still does.

Is That A Religion Coming?

2006-12-19T20:19:00.000-08:00

Oh, dear, the biggest bugaboo for many of us: the possibility that the individual followers of Meher Baba will someday form a religion -- organized to the nth degree with rules, regulations, and leaders, leaders, leaders.

Recently, a Baba lover from India wrote of his assumption that such a religion already exists. I hope he's wrong, although of course we can all see signs of it coming: increasing use of rituals; convoluted interpretations of Meher Baba's statements; the almost desperate search for replacements for Baba's close mandali as their lives come to an end; demands that the "group" take responsibility for more and more aspects of the individual's life. Sound familiar? If you were brought up in a religion -- any religion -- it sure does.

Some things never change and organized religion is one of them. They all probably start pretty much the same way. Followers of the avatar-in-residence are fiercely independent while he's in the body, but once he's departed, things start to change. The need for peer support develops and grows until it isn't just a need, but a requirement. It grows again until the support has to be codified, supervised and cloaked in appropriate language based on the avatar's sayings. Or, too many times, sort of based on his sayings. As time passes, it gets tweaked, modified, becomes muddied by a variety of personal agendas.

Already, a theory has been voiced that even though Meher Baba said he came "not to teach, but to awaken," he actually taught many things, ergo it's all right for us to teach. A name has actually been proposed for this so-called new religion: "Meherian." I don't know whether to cry, laugh or howl in rage, although I'm most inclined to go with the rage. Did it really take only thirty-four years to come to this point, to take everything Meher Baba said about the individual's relationship with the Avatar, throw it in a pot, give it a good shake and turn it upside down? What on earth is that about?

Obviously, some of us can't wait for a full-blown organization. We all know it's going to happen in time, but I can't see any reason to push for it. Does spreading Baba's message really need a church, when he himself said it's all about love and that love spreads from heart to heart? Has something happened to Baba's promise that he could contact any of his lovers anywhere at any time? If he rescinded that promise and instead depends on us and a church to make the contact, no one told me about it. How do you suppose all those new Baba lovers over the past thirty-four years got to Baba without a church? I rather suspect it was the same way it happened before he dropped his body: he reached out and found them, in his own way and in his own time. I think this is a case where it would behoove us to leave well enough alone for as long as possible.

Detachment

2006-12-19T20:18:00.000-08:00

There are many definitions of "detachment," sometimes depending on the context, but I have a favorite: in some circumstances it just means "cut and run."

Of course, that's not what Meher Baba means by detachment. Basically, he said he meant being in the world but not of it. However, we are all still human beings and he knows that, so until we're ready, I'm sure he doesn't expect complete detachment from us. I will bet he thinks we're making some progress if we can just keep our hysteria under a modicum of control.

I do know some people who swear they've achieved detachment, but I'm suspicious of the kind of detachment that comes off appearing cold and uncaring, reeks of denial, and even contains a streak of cruelty. I've had some experience with that brand of detachment. As a young newspaper reporter, I and my colleagues learned very quickly that we had to develop some kind of detachment in order to save our sanity. Unfortunately, most of us sealed off a good bit of our humanity in the process. It was definitely the "cut and run" kind of detachment, and it was very hard to overcome.

I'm sure the detachment Baba talks about is not the cold, cynical detachment we cultivated. Rather, it has strong elements of empathy and compassion, but it cuts out the unhelpful emotion which can make it impossible for one to act intelligently in a crisis. I doubt very much that one simply decides to be detached and, voila, there it is. It develops over time, I think, until it becomes a natural, very balanced part of one's makeup. In this context I think of Elizabeth, Kitty and Margaret. They were loving, caring human beings, but they could put out that kind of love and caring and still remain detached and relatively uninvolved. They never gave the impression, though, that they were simply paying lip service in their expressions of concern.

I still remember my years of made-up detachment and they scare me. I see in that kind of detachment the very real possibility of ending up with a smothered soul.

In the end, I expect it's Meher Baba who brings us, in his own time, to the point where we're truly "in the world, but not of it." Certainly, we can't do it without him.

Elizabeth Patterson

2006-12-19T20:17:00.000-08:00

Meher Baba once said, "Elizabeth is unique." She was that, obviously, or he wouldn't have chosen her to find, develop and run his home in the West, the Meher Spiritual Center in Myrtle Beach, SC.

In partnership with Norina Matchabelli, Elizabeth found the property in the mid-1940s, had roads cut through the semi-tropical jungle, water available, cabins built, Meher Baba's House erected and two meeting places built in time for Meher Baba's first visit in 1952. She said that people couldn't possibly think she would have chosen this kind of work on her own; she did it because Meher Baba asked her to. She did it with an extraordinary focus on Meher Baba and his wishes for the Center.

I worked at the Center's Gateway office for seven years, the first five while Elizabeth was still alive. I still count those five years as an invaluable education in how one should serve Meher Baba. Elizabeth was a total "hands on" manager, checking every detail right down to counting the silverware in the kitchens to make sure there was enough. She also gave complete instructions to employees, and in the beginning, I felt perhaps she overdid it. I was in my 40s, I had been a newspaper editor overseeing 25 people and here I was being treated like --- I thought -- a teenager with a first job. But I knew enough about Elizabeth and how much Baba trusted her with his home in the West, that I had to pause and consider this situation carefully. I decided I had two choices: I could resent the scrutiny and quit or I could make a game out of this, watching and listening and learning how Elizabeth's mind worked, with the goal of one day being one step ahead of her. I chose to play the game.

After some months, a plain sedan pulled into the Center and stopped at the chain across the road. I went out to see who it was. The man in the car said he was from the telephone company and that the phone at Happy House was out of commission. I asked for his ID and a work order, took them back into the Gateway and called Elizabeth. "How do you know he's from the telephone company?" Ah, the day had finally come! "I have his ID --- he's a subcontractor --- and his work order." There was a short pause and a bit of a laugh. Elizabeth knew exactly what I was doing. Our working relationship changed in that moment and she more and more started asking me what I was going to do about a situation, rather than telling me what to do. That hard-earned trust is something I still treasure.

One of my best remembered incidents of seeing how unique Elizabeth's mind was had to do with a young man who brought marijuana into the Center with him. This of course was an absolute violation of Baba's order that there were to be no drugs on the Center. This order was deemed so important that even most Center guests never hesitated to report any violations. In this case, the young man's roommate found out about the marijuana and called me at the Gateway. I called Elizabeth and she was short and to the point: "Call him up to the Gateway and have him leave the Center at once. But make sure you arrange to keep in touch with him." I did as I was told and the young man left the Center. Later that day, when I saw Elizabeth, she said, "I am not angry because he broke Baba's order, because that's between him and Baba. I'm angry because I'm the responsible person here and he forced me to break Baba's order." I don't know anyone else who would have looked at it that way.

On the other hand, Elizabeth had unusual instincts about the difference between deliberate and accidental breaking of rules. One day, a Center guest called to tell me he had found two bottles of beer on one of the kitchen shelves. I told him to leave them there, while I called Elizabeth. I checked to see who was using that particular shelf and then called her. "Bring it," she said, and down went the phone. I got the beer and took it to her. "Hmm," she said, "expensive." Instead of anger, she smiled and said, "Put it in one of the bathrooms, go back to the kitchen and leave a note for the guest. Tell him if he wants his beer back, he should call Elizabeth. Tell him to call Elizabeth in any case."

I did so and the guest called Elizabeth. As it turned out, Elizabeth's humorous reaction was right on. The guest was moving from Myrtle Beach, had everything he owned with him, and had simply not thought about bringing the beer into the Center. He apologized and Elizabeth stored the beer for him until he left.

Elizabeth died more than 20 years ago, and I still remember everything she told me about the Center and what Baba wanted it to be. I don't remember anything of what other people told me, which tells me I did recognize the authority which Baba had conferred upon her, and her total focus on him and his wishes. I never heard any muddled thinking from Elizabeth Patterson. Early on in the years I worked there, she said, "When you run into difficulties --- not problems, because there are no problems --- look to what Meher Baba said about the Center. He didn't say a great deal, but your answer will always lie in what he did say." I found that over the years to be true. And most of those answers lay in one of his first statements about the Center. He said. "It is for rest, meditation and renewal of the spiritual life. It is for those who love and follow me and for those who know of me and want to know more." You can't get any clearer than that.

One of my last conversations with Elizabeth took place shortly before she died. She had invited me to dinner along with a couple who had been very helpful to the Center and who were moving away from Myrtle Beach. As we were leaving after dinner, Elizabeth shook hands with them and said, "It's been a pleasure to know you." Then she turned to me with a twinkle in her eye, took my hand, and said, "And it's been a pleasure to know you."

Ah, Elizabeth, the pleasure was all mine.

His "Last Warning"

2006-12-19T20:15:00.000-08:00

It has occurred to me that we don't hear much about Meher Baba's "Last Warning to His Lovers" these days. A bit odd that, as I remember the impact when it was first issued on July 10, 1968.

The message was aimed first at a Baba group in India torn by a rift, but the last paragraph said it was intended "for all his lovers and workers everywhere." I assume that means even those who were not around in 1968. In other words, brushing it off because "I wasn't there," is probably a bad idea.

There were seven points in the warning, including a call to hold Baba's damaan "very firmly so that it does not slip out of their hands under any circumstances;" not getting "intimately involved with the family affairs of one another" nor should they be emotionally upset by such affairs; they should mend any rifts by "forgiving and forgetting one another's trespasses;" they should not succumb to lust; and they should be less aggressive towards others and less tolerant towards themselves.

But it was points four and five that brought everybody up short:

4. It is equally important at this critical period of the Avataric Age to beware at all times of persons who lead others into believing that they are saintly and pious and profess to possess supernatural powers. However pious such persons appear to be, a Baba-lover must never mix such piety with the Divinity of the Avatar!

5. A true Baba-lover must remember the repeated warning given to all Baba lovers time and again to stay away from persons who feel and assert that they are masters and saints and possess powers to help human beings. His lovers and workers should never get involved with such persons and affairs, much less with perverted 'helpers of humanity' who have no reverence or regard for the Perfect Masters and the Avatar of the Age. Beware of them who exploit spirituality to gain their selfish ends and dupe others in the name of Sadgurus and the Avatar.

This all seems very clear to me: no ambiguities, no room for misinterpretation. So the only way we could get away from it would be to totally ignore it. Which, obviously, some people have found easy to do. One Western visitor to India many years ago told Adi K. Irani he regularly visited a self-proclaimed spiritual master in California and said he couldn't see anything wrong with that. "If you're sure you can safely dance on the edge of a well," Adi replied, "go ahead. But are you so sure of your footing?" I heard some years later that the young man continued to "dance on the edge" of a number wells, until he got to one that was too slippery for him. I don't understand why, once you know you are safe with Meher Baba, you would go on looking for someone else. Does anyone really think there's something better than the Avatar out there?

When we first received Baba's Last Warning, it was a very sobering experience for most people, I think. It was ten years after Baba's last visit to the West and only a handful of Westerners had seen him in India during that period. So, the question was, what was going on that would prompt Baba to send such a strong message to "everyone?" All I knew was that a few Baba lovers at the time were drifting hither and yon from one so-called spiritual personality to another, looking for what? Possibly for some kind of entertainment value? Whatever it was, it was one of those times when Baba stepped in, read the riot act, so to speak, to those who needed it and at the same time warned everyone else to be careful.

Rereading the message now, after a long time, is still a sobering experience and I think that's good. I've always felt that any Baba lover worth his salt needs a good set of street smarts. This Last Warning hands us those street smarts in a very concise package, and we'd be well advised, I think, to look at them again and to remember them.

Clicking this link will open up a copy of the Last Warning, it's print ready so feel free to make copies for your friends. Consider it one of the essential safety items you'll need on your spiritual journey.

The New Life

2006-12-19T20:15:00.000-08:00

The New Life quote is one of Meher Baba's most beautiful messages, and it holds out such extraordinary hope to everyone:

"But this New Life is endless, and even after my physical death will be kept alive by those who live the life of complete renunciation of falsehood, lies, hatred, anger, greed and lust, and who, to accomplish all this, do no lustful actions, do no harm to anyone, do no backbiting, do not seek material possessions or power, who accept no homage, neither covet honor, nor shun disgrace, and fear no one and nothing; by those who rely wholly and solely on God, and who love God purely for the sake of loving, who believe in the lovers of God and in the reality of Manifestation, and yet do not expect any spiritual or material reward, who do not let go the hand of Truth, and who, without being upset by calamities, bravely and wholeheartedly face all hardships with one hundred percent cheerfulness, and give no importance to caste, creed and religious ceremonies. This New Life will live by itself eternally, even if there is no one to live it."

Do you think any of us are living it now? I doubt it. It's a nice thought but, aside from the mandali, I don't think any of us even come close. Believing it to be so is on a par, I think, with believing we're the New Humanity. The generations that will earn that name, I believe, are still to come.

As for the New Life, the criteria is certainly clear enough. If you sit down and look carefully at them, I think you'll see either you or someone you know may be meeting one or even several of those criteria. But all of them? Come on! And I don't think a partial New Life is what Meher Baba had in mind. It's all or nothing.

There's another theory out there that we all start living the New Life at the same time. That sort of thing hardly ever happens with Baba. I like my own theory, based on the last sentence of the message: "The New Life will live by itself eternally, even if there is no one left to live it." That conjures up in my imagination a sort of bubble which is always there, hovering, waiting. And when we're ready, as individuals, we simply step into it.

Books, Books and More Books

2006-12-19T20:14:00.000-08:00

There are now many books by and about Meher Baba, but when I first heard about him, there was very little available. My first book was the English edition of Charles Purdom's God To Man and Man To God, Purdom's edited version of Discourses. I ate it up, read it over and over.

I came across a used copy of Purdom's first biography of Baba, The Perfect Master, for which I paid ten cents and I devoured that. Someone gave me a copy of Jean Adriel's Avatar, and that was about it. Newcomers to Baba like me made up for the lack of written material with hours of listening to other people's stories.

Slowly, new books came out or I was lucky enough to find copies of old books. One of my most treasured gifts was the original five-volume Discourses, given to me by John Bass. Granted, the English wasn't very good, but the flavor stunned me. It was at once redolent with Baba's vitality and power, which hadn't quite transferred to God To Man and Man To God. I loved William Donkin's Wayfarers and his lyric descriptions of Baba and the masts.

A major publishing event was Meher Baba's God Speaks, well beyond me, but it was soon followed by Francis Brabazon's Stay With God, which Baba called "the most important book next to God Speaks." Francis explained God Speaks in language I could understand.

In the years since, there have been many other books, including personal memoirs of life with Baba. The most meaningful of those to me have been Kitty Davy's Love Alone Prevails, Margaret Craske's The Dance of Love, Arnavaz Dadachanji's Gift of God, and Eruch Jessawala's Is That So? My copies are ragged from repeated readings.

And my favorite version of Discourses has become the 1987 edition still in print. I remember when I got my hardcover copy, I carried it around for weeks, hugging it as if I feared I'd lose it.

Now, there are many choices among old and new books, a veritable feast. And there are more to come, some published recently, some still in writing or editing stages, some probably just ideas in an author's mind. They are all welcome. We already have in hand within the last year Darwin Shaw's fascinating, 600-page memoir, As Only God Can Love; David Fenster's three-volume, 1,700-page biography of Mehera-Meher, A Divine Romance; and A Mirage Will Never Quench Your Thirst, an updated version of God-In-A-Pill, compiled and edited by Laurent Weichberger. Still in the editing stage and planned for publication in 2004 is Meher Baba's Infinite Intelligence -- dictated by Meher Baba sometime in the 1920s or 1930s. Containing a significant body of Meher Baba's early metaphysical writings, the manuscript was first found shortly after Baba dropped his body. Dr. Goher Irani's My Life With Meher Baba, memoirs of her long service as Baba's doctor, is also planed for publication in 2004.

All of that is more than enough to keep us busy. But we all know that the perennial question remains: where is "THE book"? Theories still abound about what happened to this manuscript penned by Baba and which has been lost to view for many years. Where is it? Will it ever turn up? Just before Meher Baba dropped his body in 1969, Eruch asked him, "Shall we do something about the book, Baba?" Baba's reply was to make his gesture of tipping a hat, meaning -- depending on the context -- Adi Irani, the West, or a Westerner. "Don't worry," he gestured, "It is there."

Maybe it is and maybe it isn't. Sometimes I think it may be one more carrot-on-a-stick, held out to us to keep our attention. Even if it never turns up, it certainly has accomplished that.

Gateway Days

2006-12-19T20:13:00.000-08:00

Anyone who comes to the Meher Spiritual Center knows The Gateway is the Center's office where you check in on arrival and check out on departure. It's the hub of information and assistance for Center guests.

I worked there full-time for seven years, 1976 to 1983, and off and on as a volunteer for a few years before that. My first full-time job was as the Gateway's secretary and it was supposed to be temporary. I was there only a few months, working with Fred Winterfeldt, when Fred died, a heartfelt loss for all those guests who had experienced Fred's bear-hug welcome and sympathetic ear. Suddenly I was thrust into his role and I quickly learned it could be a tough one. Elizabeth Patterson told me I was "the lion at the gate" and my job was to protect the Center guests from anything or anyone that might disturb their retreats. I did my best to carry out that charge and I do remember the people to whom I refused entry and the people whom I removed from the Center for breaking that "do not disturb" rule. Most of those incidents were very sad as the people involved were emotionally disturbed. Baba himself did not allow emotionally disturbed people to stay in his ashram because such a spiritually charged atmosphere was too much for them. I certainly found that to be true at the Center. Visitors who came only slightly emotionally shaky quickly lost what little poise they had. Which usually meant calling the parents to come and get them, sending them home with an escort, or, in the most serious cases, getting local mental health help.

There weren't that many serious cases when I was there until the last few months and then there were many, eight of them the last five days I was there. One I remember very well, because it also had its humorous aspect. A young man who had previously toured the Center with his comparative religion class, arrived one morning, asking to stay on the Center and asking me to take his car keys so he couldn't leave. Hmm.

I had him sit down and as we talked he said he was "on the eighth plane." I didn't have the heart to tell him there were only seven. Finally, it became clear what was going on. He was a "professional college student," who was married and his wife was expecting their first child. Life had hit with a vengeance, and he was simply running away. I managed to get him to leave quietly, then called the professor of his religion class, who was aware of the young man's problem and promised to follow up on it.

The tough ones aren't the only ones I remember, though. The most powerful memories are of people tangibly touched by Baba's hand. One Saturday, I was in the Original Kitchen, serving as a tour guide, while Marshall Hay was staffing the Gateway. He called to tell me two Baba followers we knew were bringing in a new person, a young woman, and Marshall wasn't sure what was going on with her because she couldn't stop crying. I met them near the Refectory and, sure enough, she was still crying and the two young men looked very worried. They said their friend had started crying when they were still a hundred miles from the Center. I asked the girl if she wanted to walk around the Center a bit. She nodded and we went on a walking tour with her wordless and crying all the way. They left after an hour or so and I knew I'd seen an extraordinary example of Meher Baba reaching out and touching someone.

I remember a similar incident. A newcomer went into the Lagoon Cabin and came out weeping, unable to stop. Someone called Kitty Davy and asked what to do. "Nothing," Kitty said, "and don't try to explain it to her. This is Baba's doing."

Another time, a young man came for the first time and I let him go into the Lagoon Cabin by himself. He came rushing out after only a few minutes, saying, "You really shouldn't burn incense in there; it's overwhelming." He went white when I told him there was no incense, and he left in a hurry.

There were many other times when I saw people arrive exhausted and depleted and then saw them when they left a few days or weeks later, vibrant and glowing. Baba had told us to come often to his centers to fill our cups.

And that's what we all do, over and over again, refilling our cups from his bottomless pitcher. In my seven years in the Gateway, it was my privilege to witness the miracle of the endless outpouring of Meher Baba's restorative love.

Padri

2006-12-19T20:12:00.000-08:00

As the Irish would say, "He was a darling man." Padri would have scoffed at that description but it was true. He could be gruff and demanding and he called Westerners who came to Meherabad "savages." That one had to do with our table manners or lack thereof.

But he was kind and warm and loving, intelligent and blunt. And there was a lot of Meher Baba in his eyes.

I had met Padri in 1962 when Baba sent us up to Meherabad and Meherazad after the East West Gathering, but I don't remember him very well. But I got to know him a bit when I went back to India in 1971 and then made a point of seeing him on subsequent visits. Baba called him one of "the pillars of Meherabad" and he certainly was that. He was tall and wiry, his hair completely white even then, and his stride covered a lot of ground very quickly. It seemed to me he was aware of everything that was going on at Meherabad. He certainly was aware of everything the visiting pilgrims were up to. He kept an eye on us and kept us firmly in line.

I seldom saw Padri during those days without a tool in his hand, fixing and patching whatever needed his attention. There was no Pilgrim Center then and we got to stay at Meherabad three or four at a time in Dr. Donkin's old cabin, and only for a few days at a time. Padri oversaw preparation of our food by a wonderful woman who had cooked for Baba, and who cooked for us outside the cabin. Once, Padri brought us some of his buffalo-milk yogurt so we could make our own. I have never tasted such wonderful yogurt. Later, when a small dining room was built, he would appear at mealtime, warning us "savages" to "keep your hands out of the food."

He insisted that new arrivals go up the hill to the Samadhi "to greet your master" before they did anything else. He was very patient with our attempts to help. When a friend and I got permission from Mani to patch and paint the Rahuri Cabin behind Mandali Hall, I discovered that in India, you did not simply walk into a paint store and buy the color you wanted, already mixed. Oh. no, you had to figure out what colors you needed to get the shade you wanted and then you had to mix them yourself. Padri sat down on the ground with me and showed me how to hold the paint can between the soles of my feet while I used both hands to mix the thick paint. Not something I would have figured out for myself.

One of my most treasured memories of Padri is of him speeding along on his old German motorcycle, free in the wind. Others that stand out are his pointing out the stars to us one night and his explanation of Mohammad Mast's state of anguished waiting for God-Realization. He didn't talk a great deal but when he did whatever he was describing came alive. He didn't smile often, either, but that smile was worth waiting for -- it broke through that facade of gruffness to envelop the recipient.

I went back to India a couple of times after Padri died and for me Meherabad has never been the same. It is definitely missing one of its pillars.

Then and Now

2006-12-19T20:11:00.000-08:00

I look back at the time in 1956 when I first heard Meher Baba's name and I am stunned that he's been consciously in my life for forty-eight years. I suppose that should make me feel old, but oddly enough it just makes me feel younger than I know I am.

There's something about this person, this Avatar, that has that effect on me. I expect it had the same effect on other longtime followers, judging by the glow, the vitality that emanated from people like Kitty Davy and Margaret Craske and Elizabeth Patterson and, of course, all the Mandali in India. Their hair may have turned gray, their steps slowed, but they were youthful up to their dying days. I would hope that turns out to be true for me.

Do you remember your early contacts with Meher Baba, the effect on you of simply hearing his name or of being told who he was? For me, it was being told that he was "the Christ." It made the whole world turn upside down, take on a magical look and feeling, and never seem ordinary again. When I heard who he was and accepted it as fact immediately, I did not want to run off and meet him. That came later. In the beginning I was content to know that he was alive in the world again. How incredible, I thought, that what I always wanted as a child had actually happened. Even though he was on the other side of the world, he was here, walking on the same earth as I was. Colors were suddenly stingingly brighter, objects stood out from each other, trees that usually formed a mass of green were suddenly sharply clear as individuals. That didn't last, of course, but it was extraordinary while it did.

I was living in New York then, an hour by train north of Manhattan. Almost every Monday night I took the train into the city to go to the Monday night Baba meeting. It wasn't so much that I enjoyed having someone read to me at those meetings, it was the people who were there, who had met Meher Baba and could tell me what he was like. People like Beryl Williams who would go to a coffee shop after the meetings and tell stories about Baba until it was time for me to run for the 1 a.m. train back to Westchester. Precious times, and also a wonderful learning experience. Beryl could tell me what Baba did in certain situations and also why. I absorbed more of who Baba was from her stories than I ever could from books.

There were also more characters per square foot in that meeting room than any other room I've ever been in. Among the ones that stand out in my memory were "the little old ladies in sneakers." There were four or five of them, dressed in their Sunday best, who came every week and sat together on the sofa. I don't remember any of them ever speaking, but they smiled and nodded through the entire meeting. Apparently, they attended one spiritual group meeting or another every night of the week. This was their entertainment.

I went to those meetings religiously and also managed to take part in the group's social occasions; dinner out where toasts were made "to the Boss," and joint picnics at a state park with the Schenectady group. I was convinced that having great quantities of food around was a required part of following Baba. And I waited. And waited. And waited some more, hoping we would hear that Baba was coming again or we would be allowed to go to India. When I finally gave up that hope, it happened.

In the spring of 1961, Baba decided to open a crack in "the door of his seclusion" and let his lovers come for one hour on any one day over a two-week period. Just to make things more interesting, we heard about the opportunity when there were only nine days left out of the two weeks. Most people in New York thought it was meant only for Easterners so there was no rush out the door. But on the theory that this was my one and only chance, and with the incredible help of my two Baba contacts, the Passport Office and Air India, I got out the door in three days and got to Poona when there were still five days left of the darshan.

I was fully prepared to stay only an hour and return immediately to New York. But Baba told me to go to him at Guruprasad on each of the remaining five days of the darshan. I am still overwhelmed by the luck of that gift. I was ready to settle for one moment, one look at his eyes, but he gave me five days to sit and fill my eyes with him and store it all up in my memory, convinced that this would be the only time I'd see him. When I tell the story of that first meting, it usually takes an hour, but I can sum up its impact in a few words. I had never felt so at home, never so loved, never so safe, as I did during those five days. Certainly, they were the most exciting days of my life.

My relationship with Baba then was very new, very young, and I think he was very understanding of that. I could see that understanding in his smile and appreciated it. I know I did some dumb things, but he passed over all of them.

As the years went by, that relationship changed. I knew he was with me every moment, could even imagine that he walked beside me, on my left with my hand in his. More and more he became my personal Baba, my best friend, the one I could say anything to and know he still loved me.

And now? Now, it's like a good old marriage: quiet, comfortable and familiar, but he can still totally surprise me every day. And those surprises are like bouquets, whose scent -- of jasmine and roses --- lingers on the air for a long, long time.

Middlemen Revisited

2006-12-19T20:07:00.000-08:00

I tend to think quite a bit about "middlemen" as that term applies to following and/or loving Meher Baba. I suppose because I see so many of them coming and going, hopefully mostly going.

They seem to pop up every once in a while and I suspect there will be more of them more often the further we get from Meher Baba's lifetime. The ambitious see a vacuum where there is none; it exists only in their imaginations and, unfortunately, in the imaginations of those who fall for them.

This middleman thing has taken many forms over the years. I've known Baba lovers who spent a great deal of time in India trying to ferret out masts, trying to find someone who could tell them who the current five Perfect Masters were, and looking for saints. They chased after Poona cab drivers who had met Meher Baba (few hadn't). A few left Baba after he dropped his body because they felt they needed a "living master." That alone took great confidence – or maybe cockiness – since Baba had said clearly that during the Avataric Age, the current five Perfect Masters are in retirement, unknown to the world. He did at one point describe them by religion and country, and none were in the West. People have also looked for a possible chargeman, again despite the fact that Baba had said the Avatar has no chargeman. Some Baba lovers decided they didn't like that statement and tried to create their own versions of a chargeman. Pretty sorry versions they were, too. But the most telling point, on Baba's part, I think, was his statement that we were incapable of recognizing a Perfect Master, let alone a saint or mast. Which I assume means the only reason we recognize him is that he showers his grace on us.

The whole act of looking for some kind of teacher or middleman appears to me to be an insatiable desire to "know" every step of the way, to be able to look down and watch yourself put one foot in front of the other. But when your eyes are down, you are apt to lose sight of the goal up ahead of you, as well as get distracted by whatever else glitters on the path ahead. It would get confusing, I would think. I take more comfort and assurance in Baba's statement that he's takes his lovers "blindfolded" to the goal. Don't try to get ahead of him, he told us, because he knows the pitfalls on the path and we don't.

But it seems to take a lot of bruises from repeated tripping over our feet for some of us to grasp that concept. Too bad. Surely it is easier, and certainly more productive, to let him lead the way at his own pace.

"Baba's Group"

2006-12-19T20:05:00.000-08:00

Anyone asked you lately what Baba group you belong to? And if you say "I don't," how do they react? Perhaps a bit puzzled? And then the conversation either dies or they ask, "Why not?"

There are many answers to that "why not?" Sometimes it's as simple as "there isn't one near me" or a bit more complicated as in "well, I went to a couple but . . ."

I remember many years ago, back in the 1950s, I overheard a conversation in which a few Baba lovers were talking about another Baba lover to the effect that "she must have left Baba; she doesn't come to the Baba meetings anymore." Didn't ring true to me; still doesn't. I don't know of any rule or even suggestion that one has to "check in" to a Baba group in order to love and follow Meher Baba.

On the other hand, Baba himself did speak several times about groups, once during his 1956 visit to America. There are accounts in the old Awakener magazines and in Lord Meher. Apparently there was some tension between Sufism Reoriented and the NY Monday night group, a bit of a territorial disagreement. Baba spoke to the situation, saying that "for me there is no need for centers for different places, nor different groups, with different heads or names. My center is the heart of every lover. Every lover with a heart that loves Baba is a center. The second point is . . . that whoever wants to work spreading my message of love and truth absolutely needs a central office and groups of workers who can function from the central office. There is always a need for a group to have a center. You can have many such centers - Myrtle Beach is such a center - and it stretches for many miles."

Commenting on an allegation that one group was trying to take members from another, Baba said, "But there should be cooperation, harmony, and the group heads should not try to win over other members from one office to another. Why? What for? When all work for Baba." He added that it was all right for one to change groups, but he warned that running from one group to another would cause confusion and misunderstanding.

But the final statement is this discussion, I think, is the most telling. Baba said, "What about Elizabeth Patterson? To what group does she belong? Yet she may be loving me even more than any group heads or those working in certain groups. There may be greater lovers of Baba than the group heads; that is not to be judged. Someone who does not belong to any group may be the greatest lover of all!" A clear warning, I think, to group leaders not to get swelled heads about their positions. And also a warning not to let that kind of title make a group head think it confers some kind of spiritual authority. Witness Baba telling the Poona group heads at one point to leave his young lovers alone and not to interfere in those relationships.

I look on all that as a clear indication that whether you belong to a group or not depends on the circumstances, and either way is fine with Baba. How much appreciation he always showed to writers, poets, musicians and artists over the years, all engaged primarily in solitary projects, but none the less spreading Baba's message.

Baba's idea of what constituted a group could also be a bit unusual. Sometime between 1961 and 1962, he began referring to Liz Sacalis and me as the Liz-Ann Group, all two of us. One day at the East-West Gathering, Baba called people into Guruprasad by groups. When he called the NY Monday Night Group, Liz and I went in with them. We weren't quick enough to realize the two of us could have seen him alone. But Bili Eaton was: she said she didn't belong to a group and she got to see Baba alone. I've always regretted our dumb move.

These days, however, there seem to be more "independent" Baba lovers than those who belong to groups. Perhaps that's because there are more and more people who have become stronger in their individual relationships with Baba, and more newcomers who arrive as independents and stay that way. They don't belong to "a Baba group," but rather to what I would call "Baba's group," one encompassed only by his arms and his love.

His Promise

2006-12-19T20:05:00.000-08:00

Can you imagine what it was like for the Baba lovers who, in 1954, heard from Baba that he was severing all external links, that possibly they would never see him again, that he would soon drop his body? Devastating, to say the least.

Hundreds of anxious, grief-stricken messages poured in from all over the world. The announcement that Baba would drop his body was part of the Final Declaration he had given in September during the Three Incredible Weeks, and he was in Satara when the flood of letters started to arrive.

His reaction to those letters, his reply, was one of stunning compassion, a prime example of his love and concern for his lovers.

"Oh, my lovers," he spelled out on his alphabet board, "I love you all! It is only because of my love for my creation that I have descended on earth. Let not your hearts be torn asunder by my declarations concerning the dropping of my body. On the contrary, accept my Divine Will cheerfully. You can never escape from me. Even if you try to escape from me, it is not possible to get rid of me. Therefore, have courage and be brave."

In this, his last message on the alphabet board, he assured his worried followers, "Baba was, Baba is and Baba will also be eternally existent. Severing of external relations does not mean the termination of internal links. It was only for establishing the internal connection that external contacts had been maintained until now. The time has now come for being bound in the chain of internal connections. Hence, the external contact is no longer necessary. It is possible to establish the internal link by obeying Baba's orders. I give you all my blessings for strengthening these internal links."

In those last three sentences, he gave those who had met him everything they needed and gave it as well to whoever would come in the years that followed, both before and after he dropped his body. Thousands did and most of them did not meet him. But it is obvious that he kept his promise, that the internal links would bind his lovers to him, wherever they were, whenever they came.

I have heard a theory that eventually the "path of love" will narrow, but I prefer to take Meher Baba at his word. His love for us brought him into the world, our love for him kept him here for a long time. Those love connections, I think, are for always. Perhaps the intellectuals who predict the path of love will be superseded by meditation and other brain activities, and long for it, have somehow missed out on the love connection. If so, too bad; they've missed an extraordinary experience. As Adi K. Irani was wont to say, "Better luck next lifetime."

Hearing His Name

2006-12-19T20:04:00.000-08:00

I had a recent conversation with someone about telling a family member about Meher Baba. The family member isn't interested and that's been a bit frustrating for the Baba-lover relative. Understandable; of course most of us want to share the most important thing in our lives, but the recipients don't always want us to do that.

So what to do? Well, we could start by remembering that Meher Baba said it is enough for some people to simply hear his name. In other words, say his name and then, if there's no response, leave it alone. I remember many years ago saying his name to a group of beings from whom I didn't even expect a response. They were the lions, tigers and bears at the Bronx Zoo. Who knows what effect his name had on them? It is actually none of my business, but I'm sure Baba knows and that's what's important. I don't have to actually see a result. But I do sometimes wonder when I meet a Baba lover with a definite leonine look!

One of the best stories I ever heard about someone simply hearing Meher Baba's name happened some 30 years ago in Miami. A girl was walking down the street when a young man came dancing toward her, yelling at the top of his lungs, "Meher Baba loves me! Meher Baba loves me!" Totally intrigued, the girl set out to discover who "Meher Baba" was. She did and promptly accepted him. She never saw the young man again, so of course he had no idea of the result of his cries.

There are so many stories which should tell us that it is Meher Baba alone who attracts his lovers. He certainly uses us from time to time, but he just as certainly doesn't need us beating people over the head because we think they should be interested. Remember what Baba said about not proselytizing? I think we have to develop a feeling for who might be interested, even drawn to Meher Baba. Going about it willy-nilly doesn't seem to work very well. Large efforts to spread Meher Baba's word seem mostly to draw one or two people and they are certainly worth the effort. Our mistake, I think, is in expecting a deluge of interest. Yes, I can think of one exception: that wondrous time in the late 1960s and early 1970s when there was a deluge. But expecting that to happen over and over again has only brought disappointment to those who expected it.

Better, I think, to watch and wait for "the few among the many" who, whether they know it or not, are about to be touched by his love and his grace.

Rites, Rituals and Ceremonies

2006-12-19T20:03:00.000-08:00

Having been brought up a Catholic, I have a long acquaintance with rites, rituals and ceremonies. As a child, I loved some of them, at least once to the embarrassment of my very proper grandmother. She had taken me to Sunday mass -- I must have been about three years old -- and we came to the Consecration where the priest raises the host and bells ring. I stood up on the pew, pointed at the altar and yelled at the top of my lungs, "There's my Lord; there goes my Lord!"

Over the years, however, my fascination with rites and rituals began to wane, until I got to college (Catholic) and they actually began to irritate me. I began to put them in the same category with my growing irritation at the idea that the only way I could get to God was through the church's priests. Arrogant teenager that I was, I wanted to know why: why couldn't I go directly to God without all the ritual baggage and the so-called authority of those who insisted on them.

So, when I found Meher Baba in 1956, it was with much delight that I discovered there were almost no rituals attached. Let it be said at the outset, however, that although Meher Baba said there was no value in rites, rituals and ceremonies, he did recognize love when that was the reason for them. Occasionally, in my early days with Baba, someone did try to lay their own invented rituals on me. I remember one older Baba follower in New York who started berating me at a Monday Night Group meeting for going out to have coffee and listen to Baba stories after the meeting, instead of going straight home. To him, that was the way it was done. But Kitty Davy, who happened to be visiting that evening, overheard him, tapped him on the shoulder, and said sternly, "John, stop acting like a bishop."

It was some years later when creeping ritualism began, I think because a large number of Baba followers had gone to India for the 1962 East-West Gathering and for the Last Darshan in 1969, bringing home with them the ingredients for rituals that not only persist today but are downright embedded. Saying "Jai Baba" to each other was originally something that was said only to Meher Baba himself. When I asked one of the mandali in the early 1970s about how it became an almost automatic greeting, she said she didn't know, but when younger Baba followers started saying it to the mandali, the mandali simply responded in kind. Dhuni (fire) is another ritual that simply grew like Topsy. It started in the 1950s when Baba held the fire ceremony in response to pleas from the Arangaon villagers for rain. It is still held at Meherabad on the 12th of every month at Baba's behest. But it has also spread to the West and is now very much a part of almost every Baba gathering, and some Baba groups have made it a weekly ceremony.

Arti -- songs in praise of God -- is probably the most popular Baba ritual in the West these days. It is of course a daily morning and evening event at Meherabad. I have no argument with that; I'm a firm believer in "to each his own" as long as you don't try to make "your own" "my own." For a number of years whenever I went to India, one or two Westerners living there kept trying to persuade me to go to arti on a daily basis. I did go occasionally, when I felt the pull to do so, but not regularly. Eventually the persuaders gave up. But an odd kind of pressure continued from other pilgrims, particularly newish Baba followers. For some reason, my disinclination to attend made them uncomfortable, perhaps because they weren't yet quite sure of why they were doing this, and they were depending on total group compliance to assure themselves it was the right thing to do. On my last trip to India, when I had, with age, begun to settle into curmudgeoness, I actually enjoyed the consternation caused by my refusal to go to arti.

Rites, rituals and ceremonies, of course, will continue to grow. I have a theory about all of this and a scenario. Baba followers who found Meher Baba early on, up to the 1950s, say, were brought up in orthodox religions. Coming into adulthood, they rebelled, but quietly, and there were few of them. Then came the 1960s and 1970s and the children of parents who raised them in a religion rebelled in great numbers and with a lot of noise. Many of them flocked to Meher Baba. They grew up, got married, and had children of their own, who have not been raised in an organized religion. Those children are now showing a keen interest in and desire for rites, rituals and ceremonies, I suppose because at that age they feel the need for structure. They are even creating new rituals, and I must say, showing some imagination. The scenario for the future? These young people will grow up, get married, and have children raised in the midst of their parents' rites, rituals and ceremonies. Then those children will rebel and the whole pattern starts all over again. I expect it all probably evens out in the end. What seems important in all of this, I think, is that we allow space for both the pro-rituals and the anti-rituals, but that we do not impose either one on coming generations. I'm not sure I have a lot of hope for that, given the history of past Avataric Ages and current holy wars, but it's certainly worth treating as a goal.

On the other hand, if we paid attention to everything Meher Baba said about the way things should be and got it right the first time, would the Avatar have to keep coming back? If we fouled things up faster, would he come back more quickly? If so, given the fact that I very much want to see him again, I sometimes think it might be worth the tradeoff.

Backbiting, etc.

2006-12-19T20:01:00.000-08:00

Backbiting: that's the activity that provoked Alice Roosevelt Longworth to crack, "If you can't say anything good about someone, sit right here by me."

I gather she had a lot of takers. And, given the chance, most of us would have been among them wouldn't we? But most of us have learned-pretty much the hard way-that Baba was right when he pointed out that backbiting can be deadly, both to the person who does it and to the person on the receiving end.

But there's another activity very akin to backbiting and one perhaps we are not so conscious of. It's spreading misinformation-about anything or anyone. I remember when I was first hearing about Baba in the mid-1950s being told that Baba said not to spread misinformation. I haven't heard anyone mention that in many, many years. But it is something that I see as rampant right now. And it seems to be growing. Think about it. Someone you respect and trust starts spreading stories about others that have just enough reasonableness in them to be believed. So you have no reason to think you should question them. You just accept-and spread them further. And along the way person after person is hurt, disparaged, perhaps really damaged.

Sometimes, the misinformation is an innocent mistake, a story that simply got distorted as it was passed along. But too often, it is used by the manipulative to put down a perceived opponent while raising ones self to the level of the all-knowing, or simply to get one's own way. All of a sudden, even Meher Baba's words are distorted. Something that unquestionably was an order is dismissed by the statement, "Baba didn't say it; that was someone else." This in spite of the fact that the statement is attributed to Meher Baba in print or at the very least is communicated by his closest and oldest disciples. The manipulator is relentless: even when confronted, he will mumble something about "it was what I was told." You never hear who told him and he never concedes the fact that he might have been mistaken, and certainly not that he was just plain lying.

The easiest way to combat this sort of thing is to do your own research before you pass on the so-called "information." And it never hurts to have with you your own street smarts and more than a few grains of salt.

I Wonder ...

2006-12-19T19:50:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wonder:

When Meher Baba comes back, what will he look like? Will he be different than he was this time? Maybe tall and redheaded and blue-eyed? Not that I'll care.
How are the sanskaras we build up counted? Is there a point system, where murder counts for a whopping 100 points and sticking your tongue out at someone counts for 1? And is the same point system in play when we're unwinding them? And who keeps the scorecard?
Does it really matter if we're not all "God Speaks" scholars? To hear some people tell it, you'd think so. But my hunch is that it doesn't. Check out the supplement where it says it was written to "satisfy the convulsions" of man's mind. If your mind isn't having convulsions, you'd probably enjoy other books better. And if your mind is having convulsions, you should probably keep reading it over and over. I expect it sort of works like aspirin; you have to keep taking it.
When Baba tells me to make sure I come back when he returns in 700 years, does that mean that will be my next lifetime, or will I have five or six more lifetimes in between? I'm betting on five or six more; skipping 700 years seems too easy.
Where will the next Avatar have his Meherabad and Meherazad? He seems to be partial to desert-like locations but I'd sure like to see him just once choose something like Lake Atitlan in Guatemala. And will Meher Baba's Meherabad and Meherazad still be drawing pilgrims? Will we all recognize the next Avatar and flock to his center instead?
What will the world be like when the Avatar returns in 700 years? If he lives in the East and we're in the West, will we be able to fly there in an hour or two, instead of 16 to 24? And if we're still going to Meherabad and Meherazad, will there be a superhighway between Mumbai and Ahmednagar? Or, as Aloba was fond of predicting, an airport at Meherabad? Will Ahmednagar be a huge city surrounding Meherabad? Will millions of people be trying to get to Meherabad?
When will we see the generation that will be able to follow the Discourses implicitly, as Baba's sister, Mani, predicted? It's not here yet, that's for sure.
Will Meher Baba as the next Avatar come again to the Meher Spiritual Center? I have real hope for this one. He said it would be a place of pilgrimage for a thousand years; that someday, it would be, like Central Park, the last green space in the midst of a huge city; and --- most promising of all --- that it should be kept in "100 percent repair," ready for his return. I'm going to take him at his word on that one.
Will we meet again all the people --- friends and family --- who enlivened our lives this time? Is it true that in each lifetime, we look for the ones we have loved in previous lifetimes?
And finally, if Meher Baba were still here, what would he have to say about us and what we're doing? I probably don't really want to know the answer to that one.